#telling him he's chosen and all and then throwing him out after one fuck up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs | Tumgik

#telling him he's chosen and all and then throwing him out after one fuck up

warlordfelwinter · 10 months

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oh we love to see gale say 'you might be onto something' when rain says mystra is probably manipulating him. that's growth

#i thought he was going to be mad at rain for suggesting that #i know i'm literally playing a character that's sleeping with a god in my dnd game so like i can't really judge gale #but mystra's thing with gale always seemed a little manipulative to me #telling him he's chosen and all and then throwing him out after one fuck up #only to come back and be like 'no i'll forgive you if you kill yourself' when she could definitely probably fix him pretty easily #and just hasn't until now when it's suddenly useful to her does she decide to have someone come put a pause on gale's impending death #like if we meet her rain is going to give her a piece of his mind #fel's bg3 #oc: rain #at least asmodeus is straight forward with celeste #and weirdly more forgiving than mystra lmao

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kirain · 1 month

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My favourite bit of BG3 lore is that Withers is legitimately responsible for the Dead Three, but he's probably too embarrassed to tell you, so every time you ask him to elaborate he just gives you a very stern, "Noooo."

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I also love that the reason he's responsible for their uprising is because he got bored. He literally got bored of his position as Lord of the Dead and wanted to retire, so when these three morally questionable humans came looking for godhood he was like, "Hmmm. Yes, okay. Here. Take my portfolios. Fight over them. I don't care. I quit."

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So after bowling with skulls in a friendly competition to decide who would get what portfolio, they took up his powers and wreaked havoc on the world. Only at that moment did Jergal, AKA Withers, AKA our precious Bone Daddy think, "I'm just now, internally, asking myself, in quite a worried way, whether I might've made an error."

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So he joins your merry band and watches your escapades, calmly twiddling his fingers while you clean up his mess. He's happy to lend his aid, even to the point that he'll bring Durge back to life if they reject Bhaal, even though he technically shouldn't. But he's Withers. The rules don't apply to him. If Ao doesn't like it, he can descend from the Heavens and say it to his rotting face.

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And the reason he saves Durge isn't necessarily because he likes them or because he's a morally good entity (though one certainly could make that argument), but because he wants to add insult to injury. He steals Bhaal's child with a big smile on his face, dubs them his Chosen, and praises them for rejecting all the power they were promised. But of course, he still doesn't tell them who he is—or rather who he was.

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Then, when all is said and done, he throws Tav and their companions a cute little party. No one knows it's probably half a thank you party and half a "Withers is bored again" party. And if anyone misbehaves, he'll get irritated and whisk them away. Because how dare they? He put a lot of work into that.

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And at the end of it all, he walks up to a mural of the Dead Three and basically goes, "Lmao. Thou didst fuck around, and thou didst find out." Just savagely roasting them.

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And then poof!

He waves them into non-existence.

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moongreenlight · 1 month

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Soap (who you’ve never met before ever in your life) being your server during an anniversary dinner with your long-time boyfriend except he took one look at you by the host stand and decided he had to have you.

Calls you “sweet thing” while he unwraps a straw and puts it in your water glass for you.

Asks if you’re out with your brother (without making eye contact with your boyfriend) and even after you told him no, he still ‘makes the mistake’ a few other times during the meal.

Stops over way more than is necessary. Probably has the kitchen intentionally screw up your appetizer so that when you bring it up he can make you feed him off of your fork. For quality control, of course. “Cannae have a sweet thing like you wasting the talents of a pretty mouth like that on something below par.”

Your boyfriend is pissed. Sends back his food twice and makes such a scene that the manager comes over. When he throws accusations of an “overly fucking friendly waiter,” you try to smooth the situation over by saying that everything was fine. Your boyfriend gets so riled that he throws a fistful of cash on the table and tells you it should cover his meal and your ride home.

Soap swoops in while you’re sobbing at the table. Slides in your side of the booth carrying a scoop of vanilla ice cream topped with an obscene amount of whipped cream and a cherry. Squashes you up against the wall while he coos kind things in your ear. Like he’s reading off a script meticulously chosen to include all of the right things that make you let down your guard enough to agree to let him drive you home.

“Wouldnae hear of you driving yourself home in this state, kitty.”

And once he finally gets you back to his, he goes in for the kill. Keeps saying the right things, keeps wrapping his arm around you and pulling you right into his side, keeps pushing his face close to yours. So much so that it almost feels like it’s your idea when you- still hiccuping and sniffling softly- lean forward and close the centimeters wide gap between you.

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stylesharrys · 4 months

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All That You Are | Part 1 [Mafiarry]

Y/N is thrown into her new life as Harry’s wife, and Harry has to learn and prepare himself to take over the New York Famiglia.

A/N: grab yourself some snacks and get comfy cos you're in for a long ride! I really hope you guys love this series like I do <3 p.s. this used to be an OC fic, I have edited to make it reader instead, so if you come across any certain descriptions of the readers hair colour, skin etc. let me know as they were all supposed to be edited out!

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence, sexual themes, mentions of r*pe, swearing, arranged marriage, mentions of alcohol and drug use

WC: 19.5k

//

Her tears have dried, though they still threaten to spill from her eyes. Eighteen is supposed to mean a party and your first sip of alcohol for a woman of the mafia.

Not for Y/N.

It’s an engagement party and her final social activity as a free woman. As if she could ever have been considered free. Women are never free. Only free for men to fuck and abuse whenever they please.

Y/N has never liked parties and she doesn’t exactly like people, either. Well, the only parties she’s ever attended are those of strict rules and professionalism and, maybe, being locked away your whole life does that to someone; makes you socially awkward and nervous in the presence of boys.

She shivers at the thought of a boy even noticing her, and now she’s engaged to the most attractive Made Man she’s ever heard of.

Her mother stands behind her, stern face and dressed in a tight lavender dress. She zips up Y/N’s cream dress and admires it in the mirror for a moment.

It’s form-fitting, small ruffles across the waist and it ends a few inches above her knees. It’s the most daring and revealing dress Y/N has ever worn, and it bubbles nerves and excitement within her.

Gaia gazes at her through the mirror with a distant look in her eyes. She can remember when she was Y/N’s age, married off to Giovanni. She can remember the fear and terror that consumed her body… that still does.

Y/N frowns. “Are you okay, Mother?”

It’s meant to come out much louder than it does. She sounds like a frail child. She is. Gaia snaps out of her trance and plasters on a smile, but it’s the same smile she uses after Giovanni finishes beating her. It doesn’t sit well in her daughter's stomach.

“You look absolutely gorgeous, figlia,” she tells her.

Y/N keeps her back to her and continues to admire the dress in the tall mirror. At least she’ll look pretty. Gaia brushes the top of her shoulders and twirls her curled locks around her finger.

“Behave tonight. This is more than just an engagement party. We can’t have Stefano changing his mind.” She warns.

She isn’t thinking about the heartache and pain Y/N will have to endure, she’s thinking about the countless nights that Giovanni will abuse her if this wedding doesn’t happen. Y/N nods her head, nerves bubbling in her stomach.

In thirty minutes, she’ll be surrounded by strangers as they judge and prod her. In thirty minutes, she’ll be meeting her future husband; one of the youngest, most dangerous Made Men in New York.

She’s known for two months now, since she got home from school and Giovanni broke the news. She spent the night fighting, sobbing and kicking and begging him not to throw her away like that. Begged for him not to hand her over to a man of such power, who will beat and hurt and abuse her.

Though when she thinks about it, it’s not much different from her current home life. She gave up fighting after he beat her bloody and blue. Her lip is still swollen from it and a soft bruise is hidden under her eye.

It’s lucky Gaia knows how to apply makeup. Y/N supposes she’s had enough bruises and scars of her own to hide over the years.

She thinks she should consider herself lucky, really. Most girls in Y/N’s position never even meet their husbands before their wedding day. At least she will have an entire night to find out who her sick father has chosen and have three years to prepare herself. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

Her eyes meet Gaia’s in the mirror. She hopes to find a hint of sadness in them, a flicker of guilt that she’s allowing her husband to do such a thing to their daughter. Y/N can’t hate her, no matter how much she tries. Gaia doesn’t have a choice in the matter. This is business between her father and the New York Famiglia. She’ll only get a black eye and a bollocking if she tries to intervene.

“Where’s Bruno?” Y/N asks softly, voice hoarse from the way she cried herself to sleep the night before.

She hasn’t seen her brother in almost a week, and she’s beginning to wonder if he’s actually going to show up at the party tonight. She needs his support—not that he’ll ever really offer any. He’s too far up Giovanni’s ass.

Bruno Saccaro is his father's son. Dirty, loyal and merciless. He’s only three years older than Y/N, but every inch of his black heart serves for one thing only.

Murder.

He was initiated at thirteen, just two days after his first kill, where he tortured and maimed a man twice his age before stabbing him in the side of the head with his beloved knife. He’s sick, just like Giovanni.

Though when they were children, he was her protector, the second he took his first kill, he became blood-hungry and protecting his baby sister was at the bottom of his list of priorities. Y/N’s sure she isn’t even on the list anymore. The only thing Bruno cares about is pussy and the Famiglia. She wouldn’t be surprised if Bruno was the one that suggested marrying her off in the first place.

“Business,” Gaia responds. “He’ll be at the party later, don’t worry.” She must sense her discomfort, but even her words don’t soothe her.

Y/N can’t imagine what her brother will be like at the party. Will no doubt have his cock buried in some girl within the first ten minutes. The thought makes her heave. He’s not the brother she used to have. He’s just like their father now.

A soft tap on the door breaks Y/N from her daze and Maria pops her head through the crack in the door. Short pink hair is the first thing she sees and a relieved smile breaks onto her face.

Maria Saccaro. Y/N’s first and only cousin, barely three weeks younger than her and the only descendent of Romero Saccaro, Giovanni’s younger brother and Y/N’s Uncle.

“Auntie Gaia, can I have a moment with Y/N, please?” She asks softly, like butter wouldn’t melt on that pierced tongue of hers.

Y/N almost rolls her eyes at the girl. Her bright pink hair gives away everything anyone needs to know. Maria doesn’t obey rules, she breaks them and finds loopholes just to piss her father off.

Y/N remembers one night when they were ten, when Maria told her she purposely did stupid shit in hopes of giving her father a heart attack so he’d finally die. Six years later and she’s still unsuccessful. Though, Y/N did hear that her Uncle Romero has to watch his cholesterol. Maybe her cousin's insolence is finally paying off.

Gaia hums and leaves the room, not sparing a second glance at her niece, keeping the door ajar and Maria rolls her eyes, flouncing down onto the chaise lounge.

“God, your Mom is such a drip,” she scoffs.

Y/N stifles a laugh and stares at her reflection in the mirror. Her mother may be good at makeup but nothing will ever cover up the insecurity in her eyes and three weeks of sleep deprivation under them.

Y/N shakes her head and turns to her cousin. “What did Uncle Romero say about your hair?” she asks, concern swimming in her eyes and Maria lifts her bangs from her face.

There’s a thick purple bruise across her temple and an angry line of stitching down the centre of it. Y/N gasps, hand covering her mouth with wide eyes. Maria shakes her hand in dismissal.

“He clubbed me with his fucking ashtray,” she sighs. “The look on his face was totally worth it, though,” she tries to break out in a grin but Y/N sees right through it.

Maria may act like she doesn’t give a shit, but really, she’s just as scared of her father as Y/N is of hers.

Romero Saccaro, Consigliere to his older brother, Giovanni, and widowed father to Maria. He’s been married twice already in his lifetime. His first wife was killed by his own hands and his second by suicide.

Maria could never blame her Mother for taking the easy way out. She often contemplates it herself. It’s a surprise that he hasn’t tried to marry Maria off yet to form an alliance. Though perhaps it’s for the best that no one has tried. She’s too temperamental, too disobedient. Her husband would get tired of her and give her back.

When an arranged marriage occurs, the husband is promised a beautiful, unscathed wife. While Maria is incredibly beautiful and just as much of a virgin as Y/N, she’s also gobby and dominant. She fights back, and that kind of attitude will get her killed. Maybe Romero does care for his daughter after all. Or maybe his ego is too big for his daughter to ruin.

“Can’t believe you’re meeting your future husband today. Happy fucking birthday,” she mutters out, words laced with venom.

Y/N sighs, shoulders sagging as the nerves come back with full force. “He’s worse than Father. Harry Dellucci kills for fun. At least Father waits until he has good reason to murder somebody… not that it makes it any better,” she mumbles.

Maria stares at her cousin with an incredulous look. “Uncle Giovanni is a fifty-year-old fuck-tard with bigger tits than me,” she begins, trying not to laugh at Y/N’s grimace. “Harry Styles-Dellucci is a twenty-two-year-old God, with a body of a God, the voice of a God-“

“Okay, I get it. He’s God-like,” Y/N cuts her off through a burst of laughter, cheeks flushed and Maria howls that maniacal laugh with her.

“Who’s God-like?” A thick, northern voice booms through their laughter and the room falls silent.

Y/N jumps in her skin out of fear, shrivels into herself as she turns on her feet. A tall, brown-haired man stands before them, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips in a cynical yet playful manner and Y/N’s heart plummets to her knees.

In all of his 6 foot glory, Harry Styles-Dellucci stands tall, thick body clad in a typical oxford suit and Y/N gulps at the hard sight of him.

Harry eyes his future bride. Soft hair curled and twisted into an elegant updo, gentle makeup on her brazen features, but the look in her eyes screams terror. She’s tiny. He knew she was only eighteen, but God, he hoped she’d be somewhat of a woman already. But she isn’t, she’s a child, and Harry struggles to keep that smirk on his lips.

She’s a child.

Mike stands beside him, eyes focused on Maria and her bright pink hair. She catches his intense gaze, the flirtatious smirk on his lips that screams mischief and she blushes, returning the look with false confidence.

Though she may try, even Maria is a blushing mess in the presence of mafia men. No amount of hair dye and secret piercings in the world can ever change that.

“Does Uncle Giovanni know you’re up here?” Maria quips and Harry turns to her, brows raised.

He knows who she is, who all of Y/N’s family and her tiny group of socialites are. He did his homework. He takes in her pink hair, the attitude in her eyes and the way she pops her hip out with a hand resting on it. Definitely the troublemaker.

“Giovanni sent me up here. I want to be alone with my fiancée for a moment before the celebrations begin,” he tells her.

God, his voice drips sex and the sound of it alone has both fear and comfort setting in Y/N’s stomach, and an unrelenting pulsing between her legs. She knows that feeling all too well, though she’ll never admit to it.

Y/N bites back a gasp and clears her throat. Harry watches her nervously twiddling her thumbs. “Is that even allowed? You’re not married yet.” Maria reminds him.

And thank God, Harry thinks to himself. She’s just a child.

“Maria, it’s okay. If Father sent him up, it’s okay. I’ll see you in a little while,” she nods to her cousin but Maria doesn’t want to leave her alone with the notorious Made Man and his right-hand man.

Harry notices her hesitancy.

“Mikey, why don’t you escort Maria downstairs.” His eyes never leave Y/N as he speaks in a slow, dulcet tone, but her eyes remain glued to the floor. Goosebumps break out onto her skin, but she isn’t cold.

Mike silently escorts the young girl out and closes the door behind him, leaving the soon-to-be couple alone. Harry squints at her. She’s curled into herself, fear dripping off her body in waves.

He takes a tentative step toward her, hands in his pockets and retrieves a small velvet box. Harry opens it and offers it to the girl.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers.

With arms around her middle, Y/N finally looks up at him and his breath is lodged in his throat. She’s beautiful, absolutely gorgeous. Bright eyes and soft, gentle skin that he wants nothing more than to caress. If she’s this gorgeous now, Harry can’t comprehend what she’ll be like in three years time.

Being so up close, he sees her properly. The perfect slope of her nose, the sparkle in her distant eyes. He can see the sparse dotting of freckles across her nose and cheeks beneath the thin layer of makeup, the twitch in the arch of her shaped brows, the fullness of her painted lips.

Y/N takes the box from him slowly. The golden band stares right back at her, a thick diamond sitting in the centre and she lets out a shaky breath.

“It’s beautiful,” she forces herself to mutter out but Harry can see she’s trying to bite back a sob.

It is beautiful… but it’s plain, generic. A wedding ring should be personal, should mean something. Harry takes it from the box and gently reaches for her hand. Her skin is warm, even softer than it looks and his lips twitch. Y/N purses her lips. His fingers are rough and cold as he slides the ring onto her finger and just like that, she’s his.

The ring hangs heavy on her hand. A golden cage. She bites back another cry.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, hands close to her chest again and Harry tilts his head.

He can read her body like a book and he’s only known her for a few moments. There’s fear in the way she holds herself, but now her eyes are void of emotion, like she’s suddenly completely coming to terms with what will happen. Like she’s accepted it — like she’s empty.

Y/N looks back down to her feet and a strand of beautifully curled hair falls into her face. Harry reaches to brush it back, wonders if it’s also as soft as it looks, but she flinches back and he stills. Harry frowns. What has Giovanni done to the girl?

“Y/N,” he speaks softly, regarding the girl with a tone he’s only ever shown to his mother and sister.

The sound of her name slipping from his lips has her peering up at him, crystal eyes boring into his emerald ones and his heart leaps.

So fucking beautiful.

He reaches a hand against her face again and caresses her warm cheek. She flushes under his touch but doesn’t flinch away.

“Are you scared of me?” He asks.

Y/N gulps and lets out a shaky breath. “You’re a Made Man. You kill and you torture. Of course, I’m afraid of you,” she breathes and it’s the first proper sentence she’s directly said to him… that she’s afraid.

Harry remains quiet, letting himself revel in the sound of her voice. Silky soft, just like her skin and hair.

He dips his face down so he’s level with her. Even with her four-inch heels, he still towers above her, Y/N’s eyes level with his clavicle.

“I kill and torture those who deserve it, those who betray me,” he tells her. “But you are going to be my wife, Y/N. And fear has no place in a marriage.”

She dares to gaze up at him, his face stoic as she notices the sparse hairs that coat his chin and upper lip and she wishes she could read what he’s thinking, like he can read her. Her eyes are dazzling up at him, thick and dark lashes fluttering beneath the thin coating of mascara on them.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

“I’ve never not been afraid,” she admits and she isn’t sure why she’s telling him.

What if he uses the knowledge to prey on her? What if he laughs in her face? She doesn’t know why she tells him, but the bubbling in the pit of her stomach stops when she does. The confession burns something in the pit of Harry’s stomach and it’s only now that he notices the subtle discolouration beneath her left eye.

Bruises.

His thumb brushes over the soft skin and she shudders, tries to shy away but he keeps her head in place.

“He won’t hurt you anymore.”

Harry’s cocky smirk is gone as he peers down at her, a promising glint in his eyes and she’s never heard anything so tender and honest. She wants to believe him, that he won’t hurt her anymore. But she isn’t Harry’s wife yet, so Giovanni still has free reign over what he does to his daughter, no matter what Harry tries to promise.

Y/N nods her head and takes a step back. She avoids his gaze and Harry knows she doesn’t believe him. The wedding isn’t for another three years. Three years of being under Giovanni’s hold and dreading the day they’re bound for life.

He never asked for this marriage either, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to make his wife’s life a living hell. He’s seen the pain and torture Stefano inflicts on his Mother and in early years, on his sister too, and he’d rather be slaughtered than to inflict that same pain on another so undeserving.

He always promised himself that whether he marries for love or for the Famiglia, he’ll never lay a hand on his wife. Never do anything to hurt her.

Harry wishes to change many things when he becomes Capo, but what men do to their wives can never be one of them. Once married, the woman becomes the man’s possession, and not even a Capo dei Capi can decide what husbands do to their wives. Willing or not.

Y/N doesn’t say anything on the matter though, she knows how it works and she’s too couped up in her own thoughts. She doesn’t want to argue back, so she bites her tongue and remains silent.

She doesn’t want to be one of those submissive housewives that keeps a nice house and their husband's bed warm. She doesn't want to be silent like her Mother. But she has to be realistic, and in her unfortunate luck, she’ll never be able to marry for love. She'll never have the freedom of going anywhere without a guard, or have a job or go to college. She'll never make friends with women her age, or go clubbing and sleep around a little.

She’s his possession.

Her life was signed away the day she was born. Hell, Giovanni started seeking eligible husbands when she was still in the womb, it didn’t matter that they were already in their 20’s at the time. She’s considering herself lucky that Harry is only four years older than her.

She’s come to terms with it. Of never being able to make any decisions for herself. Of never having freedom. Of never feeling loved or safe. She’s spent her whole life in denial, hoping, praying that a fairytale Prince would crash into her life and sweep her off her feet, take her away from the mafia and the pain. She’s always known better, but maybe now it’s only just sunk in.

She glances back down at the golden cage on her finger. A beautiful ring to bind her to a lifetime of misery.

“Our fathers think it’s best if we arrive together.” His rugged voice cuts through the silence again.

Y/N clears her throat and nods her head, patting down the soft material of her dress and it clings to her body even tighter than before. Harry stifles a groan at the sight of her round hips and straightens his back. The longer he watches her, the less childlike she looks.

He offers his hand to her, palm outstretched and Y/N gawks at it like it’s from another planet. His fingers are adorned with intricately styled rings and he almost forgets she’s probably never held a man’s hand before.

He’ll be her first everything and the thought alone makes him twitch in excitement. She takes his warm hand with a hidden blush on her cheeks.

When they arrive at the doors, all eyes are on him and her. Hushed whispers echo through the ballroom, talk of her beauty and how he’s going to corrupt and break her. Harry smirks at the attention, he always has been one for the spotlight, but Y/N cowers into herself.

Her grip on his hand becomes tighter but she doesn’t notice it. Harry doesn’t say anything.

He tightens his hold on hers just enough for the reassurance she needs. Harry leads them both into the ballroom, soft music playing from the little string quartet in the corner and it looks like a fairytale wedding.

But it’s not.

It’s a forced engagement party for an arranged marriage that she doesn’t have a choice in. Harry had the choice of who he could marry, he wasn’t going to complain about the situation when she wasn’t given the same.

//

The party consists of uncomfortable dancing, heavy alcohol and Y/N and Harry’s families subtly digging at the other. She’s been tucked under his heavy arm for over an hour, a third glass of champagne in her hand and she bravely ignores the warning look on Giovanni’s face.

He told her before the party she was allowed two glasses at most. She knows what happens when she disobeys him, yet she finds herself finishing the third glass and reaching for a fourth.

Harry notices, too. He squeezes her hip each time she finishes a glass. It’s not a warning, nor a recommendation to stop. It’s a reminder of what Giovanni will do if she continues. It’s his way of trying to protect her while he can’t just yet. She ignores it, nonetheless. Maybe a good beating might make her feel a little more alive.

As his cousins leave their side, she lets out a deep breath and her shoulders relax with her exhale. Before Harry can say anything else, a broad figure is making its way over and he feels Y/N stiffen beside him again.

He reaches down for her hand, their fingers bumping and he loops his pinkie finger around hers. The touch doesn’t go unnoticed by the guest as he holds his hand out for Harry to shake.

“Congratulations on your engagement,” his gruff voice speaks and Y/N peers up through her lashes.

Dante Vitiello, The Boss.

People quaked in Harry’s presence, but in Dante’s? There were hardly any survivors. He’s a ruthless killer, initiated at the age of 11 after he killed a man with his bare hands. Y/N supposes that’s where he got his nickname from; Dante ‘The Vice’ Vitiello. She shudders under his gaze. She doesn’t know the man, only the stories that brave souls dared to chatter.

But Harry… Harry knows Dante. He trained with him when he was younger and they both thought themselves as friendly colleagues, a few stressed nights often sharing one another's company in Harry’s club, surrounded by a few women that they tended to pass around.

They had a bond, one Harry knew would always secure his position as future Capo and Dante always knew Harry would come through. Then there’s that one thing they both have in common; a mutual hatred for the fucked system their ancestors put in place; arranged marriages, the presentation of the sheets, disrespecting women.

Harry thanks him as Dante addresses Y/N, palm barely open as he offers a soft hold. She takes his hand and Dante brings it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. He can feel her body stiffen further but it’s tradition. He drops her hand gently and she curls closer to Harry again. Even in the mere hours of knowing him, she seeks comfort in his embrace.

Harry says nothing.

Dante doesn’t look back at her. Though she appears much older than just eighteen, he’s nearing thirty and the last thing he wants is to make her even more uncomfortable. Besides, he remembers how he felt when the last Boss kissed his fiancée’s hand and eyed her up like a piece of meat, all those years ago.

“I’m sure Stefano and Giovanni will talk to you later about the arrangement but I’d like to let you know in advance,” Dante begins.

His accent is much thicker since the last time Harry saw him. He’s a typical Italian man. Tall and broad, dark hair, structured face and a well-maintained stubble.

“The wedding is set for October 16th…” he turns to Y/N, “... two weeks after your twenty-first birthday. The wedding will be here, again, and after the formalities and traditions, the next day you’ll both go back to New York.” All three wince at the sugar-coated mention of the bloody sheets but Y/N is the only one that makes it known.

She zones out after that, too caught in her own thoughts. Harry’s attractive, undeniably, but it doesn’t make the idea of having to sleep with him on their wedding night any easier.

Maybe if he was a family friend that she grew up with and was forced to marry, it wouldn’t be so bad. She’d have that bond of trust and familiarity with him, but that’s not the case. She doesn’t know him, therefore she can’t trust him. Every man in her life has beaten and abused her. Every man apart from Gomez.

Her eyes flutter across the hall in search of him. Now that she’s thought of him, she doesn’t remember seeing him since he came with her to the Saccaro Mansion. She searches and searches until she finds him standing off to the side, hands folded in front of him.

His dark blond hair is swept back in a formal quiff and his suit is tight on his body. Y/N doesn’t shudder when she looks at him, instead, she finds a sense of relief and safety wash over her.

Antonio Gomez has been by her side since she was born. He was Giovanni’s right-hand man when he first became Capo and was trusted with the job of protecting his little baby girl when she was born.

Gomez was only twenty when he was trusted with her life and had vowed to himself to always protect her. She still remembers the first time Giovanni hit her. She was five and had dropped her water on the rug.

She remembers the sting of her Father’s hand across her chubby face and the way Gomez ran for him, pinned him against the wall. But she remembers the sound of Giovanni’s gun exploding as he put a bullet in Gomez’ thigh as a warning. He never protected Y/N from him again, despite how much he wanted to.

“Y/N?” she hears Harry’s drawled voice call her name and she snaps her eyes away from her guard and back up to her fiancée.

“I need to speak with my Father. Would you like to come or join your family?” he asks her quietly and she reaches up to scratch at the bridge of her nose, a nervous habit, when she realises their pinkies are still linked.

He lets go and she clears her throat, taking a small step back and patting down the dress that hasn’t given her the confidence she hoped it would.

“Uh, I’ll go see Maria,” she mumbles with pursed lips and awkwardly walks past him, not standing around long enough for him to reach down and kiss her cheek in a polite manner.

Instead, he watches her walk away to her gushing, pink-haired cousin who has definitely drunk at least two bottles of champagne in the past hour. He waits until Y/N reaches her and he sees her shoulders relax, then a hand sits on his and he turns, his Father already by his side.

“She’s a real beauty, Harry. Don’t know how you can wait another three years for your wedding day.” Stefano’s perverted voice leaks through his ears.

Harry tries not to grimace or put a bullet in his leg for his comment. “I like my women with consent,” he mumbles, eyes back on her curved frame as she nervously wrings her hands while listening to Maria.

Stefano barks out a laugh, like not wanting to rape someone is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Suit yourself.”

He thinks that’ll be the end of it, that no more will be said about his fiancée, but Mike joins them both, eyes alert and posture sturdy. He reaches Harry and stands beside him, hands folded across his chest.

“Pretty little thing you got over there,” he remarks teasingly, though his voice holds no threat. He’s just stating facts but it still doesn’t sit well with Harry.

Mike has been his guard for three years now, and was one of Stefano’s soldiers beforehand. Harry and Mike have always been close, always shared too much between them both and Harry’s right-hand man and best friend, Jeff.

The three of them often spend their nights at the club, fucked between six or seven girls with strobe lights flashing. It’s a much more regular occurrence than when Harry does it with Dante.

He supposes there won’t be any more of that when he’s married.

He hums. Y/N’s eyes find him as she listens to something Maria says. She holds his gaze but something is off. Her body is rigid as she stands straight but her shoulders are slumped. Harry stares at her for another moment, eyes squinted when he notices hers are void of emotion.

She stares at him, like he’s not even there. Her face is blank, an expression that his soldiers have taken years to master. Harry gulps down something he doesn’t understand.

He hopes he hasn’t already broken her.

//

When the evening is over and the guests have left, Y/N and Harry are standing idly by the exit. Their separate cars are waiting for them as they say their goodbyes, families watching from their cars. She hasn’t relaxed much as the night progressed and now that she’s standing back by his side, her shoulders are stiff again and there’s a lump in her throat.

She knows she won’t be seeing him for another three years, that this is a temporary goodbye. Her heart begins to thump. Is he going to kiss her? Is he allowed? They’re not married yet but they will be.

Harry senses her quarrel and reaches for her hand, pulling out a little flip phone from his inner jacket pocket and turns her palm upright, sitting it in her hand. Y/N frowns, fingers closing around the old device and she looks up at him with pinched brows and an upturned lip.

“Um… what…” she doesn’t quite know what to say, doesn’t know how to ask him why he’s giving her a brick burner phone.

Harry reaches for her other hand and brings it over the phone, covering it and holding her hands in his. “My number’s in there and so is Mikey’s in case ya can’t reach me. I don’t know if your Father allows you t’have one, but now you do,” he explains briefly.

She doesn’t tell Harry that she’s never been allowed one, that she’ll no doubt get a black eye and a bloody lip for hiding it from Giovanni.

Instead, her tongue swipes across her lower lip and she nods. “Thank you.”

She isn’t sure what she’s thanking him for? It’s an old burner phone with two numbers on it. She can’t access the internet, can’t play games. No doubt all other numbers are blocked and she’ll only be able to call him and his guard, but she still feels a sense of relief? Maybe because he gave her that little bit of freedom… could it even be considered that?

“If he lays a hand on you in these next three years, I want you to promise you’ll tell me. I don’t care what time it is, you tell me.” His face is stoic, stern and set jaw.

She can see the seriousness in his eyes and she nods, like she’s hypnotised by the way his concern and worry flitters in his eyes. Maybe she is, she’s never seen that look directed to her before, at least not for a very long time.

“I promise,” Y/N swears, her eyes on his, and for a moment, she forgets the whole arrangement, that he’s going to be her husband for the rest of her life.

Because for that fleeting second, she feels like a shy girl in front of a handsome man that makes her heart flutter. For a blink of an eye, she feels normal as he gazes down at her with a look she can’t point. But that’s all it is. A moment and a look.

He doesn’t expect her to actually tell him, not when he can tell how embarrassed she feels when it’s mentioned. So when he’s on the private jet back to New York that night and he gets a text, his heart sinks to his feet. He’d left her for three hours and Giovanni had his grubby hands on her already, punishing her for something she didn’t tell him.

From: Y/N

What was it that you said? That he wouldn’t hurt me anymore?

He calls her immediately, but before the first ring can sound through his ear, the call is ended. His grip on the phone tightens and it takes everything in him not to throw it across the fucking plane. He can’t afford Stefano pressuring him about what’s wrong, he can’t have him knowing that he wants to protect Y/N. He can’t show that weakness.

Mike sits beside him, clicking his tongue as Jeff sits across from them. No one says anything, they don’t need to. Harry always took pride in his stoic expressions in times of agitation or fear, but the boys know him better than that.

They grew with him, watched him master that monstrous cold exterior that refuses to falter when he was beaten and tortured. Harry has been forced to bite his tongue in worse scenarios, so why is something so minuscule so difficult for him?

“This isn’t going to end well. You’ve met her once and you’re getting attached,” Mike says quietly, lips barely moving so as to not attract Stefano’s attention while he talks on the phone to Harry’s Mother, no doubt scolding Anne for something he did wrong.

Harry’s knee is bouncing, a nervous tick he hasn’t shown in years. He’s pissed that Stefano wouldn’t allow Anne and Gemma to the engagement party, Harry wanted his mother and sister to meet his fiancée, needed that support, even if he would never admit that out loud.

Jeff reaches over and kicks Harry’s ankle, stopping the jitters and he gnaws at his inner cheek, nostrils flaring and gently shaking his head.

“Not getting attached, Mikey. Just don’t like the idea of her Father laying a hand on her,” he seethes quietly through gritted teeth and Jeff squints.

He’s known Harry his entire life, knows how he feels about the lack of respect women receive in mafia families, how much he fucking loves his Mum and Gemma. And he knows he’s never seen Harry this pissed over some girl before, much less some girl he’s met once and hasn’t even touched.

Nothing else is said on the matter and in the following sixteen months, he doesn’t hear from her. He calls often and most nights the call ends before it rings, and others, all it does is dial in his ears.

He knows she’s kept the phone on, that she’s been reading the two-weekly check-in texts that he makes. He can see every call she makes and texts she sends, but she doesn’t send or receive any. Only from him.

He’s found it difficult. He’s never believed in affairs or homewrecking, call him old fashioned, and being in an engagement to a woman he doesn’t know or love has taken its toll. He knew he’d never be able to marry for love, that he would have had to marry for the Famiglia, for power and status. And he truly thought he’d have no problem in remaining faithful to his future wife, that whether they grew to love each other or not, she would be able to quench his thirst.

But Harry didn’t expect to have to wait three years after getting engaged and for his fiancée to be only just legal when they first met. To him, a four-year age gap is nothing, but remembering she’s now just turned nineteen and he’s almost twenty-three, he feels a bit funny about the whole situation.

He’s cut down on his fucks of the week. No more endless nights at the club with Mike and Jeff, fucking six or seven of the dancers between them. He’s been re-acquainted with his hand and on the odd occasion that it isn’t enough, he’s found himself in one of the private rooms in the back of the bar with Lily, one of his favourite dancers and fucks, just like tonight.

It’s been a long day of calls and fights and bullets and blood, and he needed to fuck his frustrations out somewhere. It’s no surprise to him when he comes much sooner than usual, but Lily doesn’t seem to be complaining.

Harry always had a knack to make her cum long before he did. She’s panting and giggling, pushing those bleach blonde locks from her face as she readjusts her outfit and spins on her heels, dazed eyes and drunken smile.

Harry doesn’t need to look at her to know. She watches him tug off the condom and shove his softening, yet still impressive length back in his pants with a smirk, bottom lip caught between her teeth as he fixes his suit to a more presentable standard.

It’s when he’s tucking his shirt in that she notices the silver band around his ring finger and she’s reminded he’s engaged. Lily isn’t stupid, she’s been in the business long enough to know it’s an arranged one.

“You get married in a few months, right? Wonder if she’ll be able to satisfy you like I can… though you are here now, so I suppose she can’t,” she snickers, eyes dark like she thinks Harry is about to laugh and agree, like he’s pleased with his infidelity.

He isn’t. His eyes darken and not in the way she wants them to, bile rising to his throat. He’ll be damned if he lets anyone talk about his fiancée like that.

“Probably not, I hear she’s a little virgin anyway. But hey, maybe her Dad broke her in for y-”

Her back is smashing against the wall, air knocked out of her before she can finish her sentence. Harry’s got his ring-clad fingers gripping her chin and jaw, nose pressed to hers and he’s seething.

“You better watch your fucking mouth, Lily. Just because we fuck, doesn’t mean you can get away with shit. Have a little respect, or I won’t go so easy on your old man next week when he doesn’t have my fuckin’ money.”

He doesn’t stand around long enough to see the fear in her eyes grow. Instead, he lets go, grabs his gun and leaves the girl standing in shock, silent tears rolling down her rosy cheeks and a trembling jaw.

Harry’s never laid a forceful hand on a woman until now and he thought he’d hate himself for it, but right now, all he can think about is Y/N. Of the disgusting things Lily said.

He texts her when he gets to his car, his usual ‘just checking in, how are things?’ and he grows impatient when she doesn’t respond immediately. But she never responds immediately; usually, she never responds at all. He’s speeding his way back to the penthouse, knuckles white as he grips the wheel and it only takes the usual 20-minute-drive just six.

By the time he’s storming into the elevator and punching in the security code to get to his floor, his phone is vibrating in his pocket and he fishes it out quickly, shoulders tensing when he sees Maria’s name after he made it very clear to only contact him if it was an emergency for Y/N. He unlocks the phone and reads over the message.

From: Maria

He found the phone.

Harry’s blood runs cold, sweat dotting at his hairline and for a second, he feels an unfamiliar lump climb up his throat. All he sees is red and his chest is heaving. He hasn’t felt this angry in a long time, so rageful. Harry shakes his head, teeth gritted and jaw set hard. How fucking stupid does Giovanni think he is that Harry wouldn’t find out? That he wouldn’t have given another phone to Maria in case something like this happened? How fucking brave is he, laying a hand on something that belongs to Harry? How fucking dare he.

Harry’s dialling numbers before his mind can even catch up to his action and after the first three rings sound through his ears, he lets out a growl and seethes through his teeth.

“Move the wedding forward. I want her with me now.”

//

It feels like déjà vu, standing in front of the same curved mirror with her mother standing behind her, pulling the same distasteful expression.

The flowers decorating the bride’s suit are the same; beige carnation bouquets with baby’s breath scattered sparsely between. The same, stupid classical music plays from the same scratched record, and the same golden cage is still wrapped tight around her ring finger.

The only thing that’s changed is her.

She’s grown a few inches taller and she’s filled out nicely. Her hips have rounded well and her breasts are full and perky. The chubby cheeks left sometime six months ago and her facial structure is strong and defined.

Her eyes are different now, not the same as they were two years ago, and she’s cut most of her hair. It sits just below her shoulders now, gappy bangs long across her forehead.

She got Maria to cut it on her birthday.

Gaia is struggling behind her daughter, lacing the back bodice of her wedding dress. It’s pretty—gorgeous, actually; a long mesh train with embroidered roses and petals across the hem of it.

A perfect fit across the top, a generous amount of suitable cleavage and as it meets her hips, the embroidery fades and the dress gently puffs out, accentuating her curves just a little more.

She feels pretty, like a Princess, but she silently reminds herself this isn’t a fairytale wedding, no matter how badly she wishes it was. Y/N watches herself in the mirror, short hair curled and pinned perfectly, wavy bangs framing her face and she looks ethereal.

She doesn’t have a black eye beneath the makeup like last time, nor does she have a busted lip.

Gaia tugs at the back of the dress again.

“Succhialo, figlia,” she scolds and Y/N rolls her eyes but she sucks her stomach in even more, nonetheless.

The last few months leading up to the wedding have been gruelling, to say the least. Y/N has been poked and prodded by several tailors and designers and she’ll be happy once this whole thing is over with.

She’s also had time to think. With Harry’s insistent texts and sporadic calls, she’s felt a little more at ease about the situation, like she was starting to get to know him a little better through the blank messages.

But as she stands in front of the mirror again, her nerves are ten times bigger than two years ago.

Giovanni only told her three months ago that the wedding was being moved forward—that she’ll be a married woman before her both her 20th and 21st birthday.

She didn’t question it, not when by the looks of his face, it definitely wasn’t his idea and he didn’t have much of a say in the matter.

When she found out, a part of her was thankful, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders because Giovanni wouldn’t be able to hurt her anymore. He hasn’t laid a hand on her since the night he found the burner phone.

She stupidly left it on the bed while she showered and Harry had texted her. She didn’t hear the message alert, nor her Father waiting for her in her room.

She did, however, know about the mistake she made when she left the bathroom in a towel and his fist kissed her cheek in a brisk greeting.

A lump rises in her throat at the memory. It didn’t stop there, why would it. She cried herself to sleep that night and every night after for three weeks.

She was unrecognisable for twelve days, bloody and bruised and banned from leaving the house. She tried to end it all that night, after he left her sobbing on her floor, naked and vulnerable.

Maria had stopped her just in time, snuck into her bedroom through the window and held her until she passed out.

She hasn’t looked her parents in the eye since. Gaia had stood by and watched it all, face stoic and void of emotion. Bruno ignored her screams of terror and begs of mercy.

And Gomez?

Gomez was shot in the foot for trying to intervene. She’s only had one thing giving her the will to power through this, to marry a monster.

Fear has no place in a marriage.

Maybe this arrangement will be her escape.

Y/N zones out as Gaia finishes lacing the back of her dress, too busy trying to calm the erratic thumping in her chest and will the pooling tears away. She blindly follows her mother out of the suite and down the stairs, holding her dress gently bunched in her hands.

It’s like everything moves in slow motion and all sounds are white noise. She can hear her heart thumping against her rib cage, can feel the sweat growing between her fingers, the lump forming in her throat as she notices Giovanni waiting for her outside of the chapel doors.

She stands behind him silently, not daring to make eye contact as Gaia takes a side entrance to join the rest of the guests.

They wait, Giovanni watching his daughter with cautious eyes. She’s too busy staring at the dark oak doors, knowing her future is waiting on the other side, another ring to bind her angelic soul to his tainted one.

Y/N feels her eyes stinging with burning tears as Giovanni loops his arm around hers and the double doors slowly open.

“You look beautiful, figlia,” he tells her through a strained whisper, like the words any normal father would shower his daughter with were burning his lungs.

The lump swells back in her throat. Of all her eighteen years of life, he’s never once said something so fatherly.

She can feel her chest aching, the idea that maybe seeing his little girl marry a stranger is hurting his heart like it’s hurting hers, but as she peers up at him for the first time in months, she sees a smile pulling on his lips.

His heart isn’t hurting. He’s just happy to get a power boost.

Y/N doesn’t pay attention to the piano ballad that begins to play softly as her father guides her through the arch of the chapel. She doesn’t acknowledge her family and his standing from their seats and cooing at the gorgeous young woman she’s turned into.

She stares at her feet as they take their first step into purgatory, before her eyes find the devil.

Harry freezes from his view at the altar. Clad in a slick red suit with ungodly curls, his mouth runs dry and knees almost buckle.

She’s fucking gorgeous.

He can feel his heart thumping in his chest as she gets closer, can feel the anger bubble in his blood at the sight of Giovanni’s arm looped around hers.

His hands are tensed into tight fists in front of him, jaw ticking and teeth gritted. But then he glances back at his bride and his heart skips a pulse.

She doesn’t have a veil over her head and he can see just how gorgeous she’s become. He hasn’t seen her in two years and now he feels speechless.

She dodges his gaze as her father kisses her cheek briskly, leaving her to walk the little step of the platform and stand before their families.

She turns to Harry, hands trembling as she picks at her nails. His gaze wavers from her face, drinking her in and as he eyes her generous chest, he notices the little green emerald that sits across her neck.

The emerald necklace he gifted her for her birthday two weeks ago.

Neither of them pay attention to the priest as she looks up at him through fluttering lashes. He’s grown even more attractive in the past two years and it’s intimidating.

She feels small under his soft gaze, but not unsafe. Maybe she just feels uncomfortable knowing what’s to come between them, what will be expected of her as his new wife.

Over his shoulder, Bruno stands tall with a cocky smirk and shimmering eyes. He doesn’t watch his baby sister be sold off to a killer. Instead, his eyes are on a blonde from Harry’s family, a dirty smirk on his lips.

Mike stands behind him, stuck out like a sore thumb. The only redhead in the entire chapel yet he fits right in.

It’s Mike behind them both that catches Y/N’s attention. He’s watching her closely, just like Gomez has for years but there’s something off in the way he observes her; like he’s memorising every tick and nerve in her body.

Her eyes land back on Harry but he’s been watching her the entire time. He doesn’t need to look over her shoulder to know his Mother is gleaming and sister picking her nails in boredom. He doesn’t need to look to know how apprehensive Maria is.

Neither of them can focus on what the official says. Y/N doesn’t dare look anywhere besides his face, trying to gauge his reaction, his mood.

He’s stoic as ever but a hint of a smirk tugs at the deep corners of his pink lips and his eyes are twinkling with a thrill of the unknown.

Hers are swimming in tears.

She tries to master his same expression, to prove she feels emptiness––but while her heart thumps shallowly in her chest, her eyes sting with the realisation that this is the end.

“You may now say your vows.”

The words drum through her ears and Harry nods, taking her hands in his open palms. Neither of them look away and Harry knows his Mother is trying to bite back a cry.

She always wanted her boy to marry for love, not for this.

Their official holds a small cream cushion, two pretty bands sitting on the velvet and Harry reaches for Y/N’s, lining it with her ring finger.

“With this ring, I take thee to be my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to love and care, and cherish every inch of your body and soul. I promise to protect and provide and stand by your side through light and dark. I promise my soul and heart to you, to our future children. I promise to love you until my final breath.”

Y/N feels a piece of her heart break as he slides the ring down her finger, greeting the engagement and promising their unprecedented future.

Her facade doesn’t falter and her mind draws blank.

She doesn’t think about her childhood, when Bruno used to carry her around the house on his back, when she and Maria painted each other's nails, when Gaia taught her Italian for the first time, or when Giovanni taught her how to tie her shoes.

Y/N’s mind rolls blank, like the person she was before is dead. Like she’s just been rebirthed into another life.

She reaches for the cushion and takes the band between her fingers, crowning it over Harry’s first knuckle as she looks back up at him.

An arranged marriage takes two, but she knows she’s in this alone.

“With this ring, I take thee to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold, to love and support. I promise to stand by your side through the dark and the light. I offer my heart and soul, my body and mind. I promise to be eternally yours, until my final breath.”

And as she slides the ring past his second knuckle and the official pronounces them man and wife, the shaking begins.

Her body screams, igniting in a blazing fire, eyes frantic in terror and uncertainty.

But Harry gently cups his palms around her soft cheeks and with eyes on her, he kneels just enough to press his soft lips to her full ones and the uncomfortable burning eases into a welcoming warmth.

Her screams are silenced as his kiss offers a sense of comfort, like a mother and child’s first touch.

Y/N Saccaro dies a coward, but Y/N Styles-Delluci is born a survivor.

//

When they stand outside the chapel, she doesn’t have time to think about anything. She gripped his hand tightly as he led her down the aisle, ignoring the cheers of praise and excitement for the two.

They stand in the little entryway, side by side with Gomez a few steps to her side and Mike a few steps to Harry’s.

Giovanni and Gaia are the first to follow the newlyweds into the entryway, shaking Harry’s hand before moving along a few steps to shake Y/N’s.

Her parents look at her like she’s a stranger, no pained smiles or familiarity in their eyes. They move along as quickly as they came and Maria follows, her Father close behind.

She shakes Harry’s hand timidly before moving to her cousin, eyes watering and chin trembling.

Y/N doesn’t hesitate to pull her into a quick embrace, arms strong around one another and Y/N can feel her cousin’s heart thumping against her chest.

Romero is who pulls them both apart, offering his niece a firm handshake before a tight clasp on Maria’s shoulder pushes her away from the couple.

Y/N’s eyes are glued to them, wild in fear of what will happen to her best friend now she won’t be home to protect and comfort her.

Harry reaches for her hand, notices her worry and loops his pinky around hers, squeezing just enough to get her attention. When she turns back to him, she blinks back tears and her blurry vision settles on three bodies that stand by Harry’s side.

Stefano stands in front of the two women, shaking his son's hand with a proud smirk before he moves along to his daughter-in-law, reaching for her hand and kissing her knuckles. There’s a dirty smirk on his lips and Y/N squeezes Harry’s finger.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N. You’re a Delluci now,” he grins.

She slips her hand from his hold and takes a tentative step closer to Harry’s side.

“Styles-Delluci,” Harry corrects him, jaw set and eyes gleaming a fire he’s desperate to burn.

Stefano grits his teeth behind closed lips and walks on, allowing Y/N to take a brief breath of relief before she’s quickly introduced to the rest of his immediate family.

Anne stands in front of the girl, eyes regarding her with concern and kindness. In a cream dress, she reaches for both of Y/N’s hands and smiles kindly at the young woman.

“My name is Anne, I’m Harry’s Mum,” she introduces herself.

Y/N looks back to her mother-in-law; a beautiful woman with kind eyes and a welcoming smile. Every inch of her screams maternal natures, something she’s lacked all her life.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she replies politely, allowing Anne to pull her into a cautious embrace, close enough to ensure warmth, but far enough to not warrant fear.

She squeezes her softly, lips finding her ear.

“You’re safe with him, I promise,” Anne swears and Y/N can do nothing but nod.

When they pull away, Gemma stands by her mother with a gleaming smile and she sticks her hand out for her sister-in-law to shake.

“I’m Gemma, Harry’s little sister… and you're really pretty,” Gemma grins through chubby cheeks, a silent squeal of excitement.

She doesn’t understand the full extent of the marriage, Harry and Anne have always tried to shield the fifteen-year-old from the harsh truths of the world she was born into.

Y/N’s eyes widen and a shy smile tugs at the corners of her pink painted lips. She can feel her heart flutter in her chest and she reaches to shake Gemma’s hand softly.

Part of her nerves seems to falter around the Delluci women and Y/N misses the way Harry watches the exchange with thin lips but sparkling eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gemma. And you’re very pretty, too,” Y/N tells the young girl, a soft smile on her lips and the youngest Delluci blushes under her gaze, looping her arm around her mothers.

Harry reaches down slightly, bending to his mother’s level and pressing a kiss to her temple before turning to his sister to set his lips to the top of her head.

“We’ll see you both in there,” he tells them.

Y/N watches with curious eyes, can’t take her gaze off him as he stands by her side and their fingers brush again. This time, neither of them link their pinkies.

“They’re nice,” she finally speaks, gaze fluttering to the ground when Harry cranes his neck to look at her.

He hums with a small nod.

He doesn’t say anything else as the rest of the hundreds of family and friends filter their way through the little entrance, shaking the hands of the couple and offering words of congratulations to Harry.

Between great uncles and underbosses, Dante greets the newlyweds again. This time, he isn’t alone. There’s a gorgeous blonde on his arm, tucked in his side with a loving smile as she stares up at The Boss.

“Harry, Y/N, congratulations,” he shakes Harry’s hand first then reaches for Y/N.

He clasps another hand over her knuckles and nods politely. The blonde hugs Harry as he thanks her for coming and she turns Y/N, a bright smile on her lips.

“You make such a beautiful bride!” she gushes. “My name's Daigle, I’m Dante’s wife.”

Y/N’s eyes widen as she’s pulled into a warm embrace and another bundle of relief is whispered in her ear.

“You got lucky with Harry.”

When she pulls away, Y/N’s eyes are swimming with tears of relief and gratitude. The couple congratulates them again as they make their way toward the banquet hall.

As Y/N’s about to say something to her husband, to tell him she didn’t know Dante had a wife, his hand sits at the bottom of her back and pulls her to his side, effectively cutting her off before she can even start.

“Congratulations my boy, what an impressive little bride you’ve got yourself,” a dark voice rattles through her ears and Y/N feels herself coil into Harry’s side.

The man is a little shorter than her husband, dark hair on his balding scalp and a slight podge to his lower stomach. He looks at the young bride with a sickening grin that awakens something in the pit of her stomach.

This is what she’s used to.

The lingering looks from pervy uncles and passers-by. Being subjected to nothing but a pretty face, even since she was young.

“Uncle Salvatore,” Harry greets through pursed lips and gritted teeth.

Salvatore’s eyes are glued to Y/N’s chest and Harry’s blood is boiling, knows he’s going red in the face and the vein in his neck is no doubt ready to pop.

Salvatore reaches for Y/N’s hand and kisses her knuckles, gazing up at her with a creepy stare but it doesn’t make her squirm in discomfort. This is the look she’s grown accustomed to over the years.

She’s mastered her poker face when old men hit on her, touch her. For Y/N, this is the norm. What she isn’t used to and what does make her curl into Harry’s side, is Salvatore’s son.

“Nino Delluci…” he begins, eyes wonton as they reach the bride, “... And you are a sight for sore eyes. What in Hell are you doing with my cousin?”

She doesn’t break eye contact when he smirks down at her with hungry eyes, gnawing on his bottom lip. She doesn’t break eye contact when he reaches for her hand and kisses her knuckles.

Twice.

She only breaks eye contact when he hums something incoherent along the lines of ‘I’d love to make you bleed’ under his breath, while taking her in.

Harry’s grip on his wife’s side tightens.

“Can we go inside now?” she asks softly, a hand reaching up to rest on his chest.

Harry squares his shoulders, eyes firm on his cousin which only encourages Nino’s smug face. She doesn’t notice the small boy that gazes up at her with a lovestruck smile from Nino’s side, nor does she notice Salvatore smirking grimly by the door.

“So soon, baby? Don’t you wanna get to know your new family a little better?” Nino taunts, taking a step toward her but Harry’s quicker.

He gently nudges Y/N behind his towering frame and squares up to Nino, nostrils flared.

“Back the fuck off, Nino.” Harry’s jaw is locked in place, lips pursed.

His cousin chuckles to himself, hands up in surrender.

Gomez and Mike remain still in their positions. They know not to interfere unless it’s completely necessary. Nino walks away, the young boy following as Salvatore holds the door open for them.

Harry doesn’t let his posture fall as they walk through the door, and Y/N lets out a shaky breath, skin breaking out in goosebumps as she rolls her shoulders and twists her neck.

Harry turns back to her, eyes cautious as he tilts his head to get a better look. He knows Nino shook her up, that she’s used to the unwanted attention from older men, but never from men so close to her age.

But what he doesn’t realise is while Y/N heard him raise his voice, her mind was sent into turmoil. Will he shout at her like that? Should she feel safe because she knows he can protect her? Would he use that same tone with her if she doesn’t do what he wants?

“Your cousin’s a little forward,” she coughs out nervously, shaking her head to rid the thoughts. Harry’s heart ticks and he scoffs a laugh.

“My cousin’s a cunt,” he corrects her.

Y/N’s eyes widen as she stares up at him, innocence swimming in her features. Harry forgets again that she’s been raised a young lady, that she’s never been around much potty mouth, and he realises just how much he’s going to corrupt her in this marriage.

As much as Harry wants to protect his wife, he won’t pretend to be someone he isn’t for the sake of an arranged marriage. His potty mouth is just one of the things she’ll have to get used to.

“Stay away from Nino. You may think I’m a monster, but I have my morals. Nino is merciless and evil. He will do whatever he wants and take whatever he pleases. No matter the consequences,” he warns her, his voice timid.

Y/N doesn’t say anything. She thinks her father is the same, so what could someone two decades younger do to scare her?

She listens, though; takes what he said into consideration. Y/N doesn’t have any desire to talk to Nino ever again.

//

Her fork has scraped across her full plate for almost forty minutes now. She’s not hungry, not even in the slightest.

Harry’s been watching her, peering over to his side and often gently nudging his elbow into her arm, nodding to the plate which only makes her shoulders slump.

Y/N hasn’t listened to any of the speeches from their families, nor has she acknowledged much of what Harry’s said to her all evening.

But Harry has hardly looked away.

He isn’t angry, he couldn’t be. But she’s only eaten a few mouthfuls of the meat and she’s almost drunk her body weight in champagne and rosé. He’s a little worried. Her eyes have been drooping for over fifteen minutes and her vibrant skin looks sickly grey.

The last thing he wants is for her to embarrass them both and throw up all over the head table.

“The potatoes are good,” he murmurs slowly in her ear.

She slowly turns her head to look at him, blinking slowly. She cranes her neck and purses her lips together. He’s handsome, that much she can’t deny, and in her hazy, drunken state, she wonders what her lips would feel like on hers again.

He is her husband now, surely she could just… reach up… connect their lips…

“And now for the first dance!” Y/N sinks back a little more in her chair and she suddenly feels sick for even considering kissing him again.

He’s dangerous and he’s a monster.

He doesn’t love you, he doesn’t care for you, Y/N, stop this!

Harry raises from his seat as all eyes find the couple.. He’s danced drunkenly with his Mother enough times to know how to cover up her alcohol intolerance.

She’s tucked in his side, their fingers intertwined as he guides them both to the dancefloor. The lights are dim, a twinkle from the fairy lights that are wrapped around wooden beams and looped across curtains illuminating the stuffy room.

With her hand in his, he raises it above her head and gently nudges her hip to spin beneath his arm. She falls gently into his chest with a soft ‘oof’ and Harry wraps his arms around her.

Y/N’s head rests against his hard pecs as he slowly begins to dance with her. She can’t keep up, though, the heels are too high in her drunken state and her knees start to buckle.

She feels her cheeks warm in embarrassment and she knows all eyes are on them. Harry hears her whine softly in his chest and with one arm around her waist, he gently lifts her so her feet sit on his.

He guides her arms around his neck, slowly stepping in a slow dance and she dares to peek up at him, innocent eyes and swollen lips. Harry cranes his neck down to meet her gaze, and those gorgeous eyes are swimming with threatening tears.

He doesn’t understand that she’s grateful for something as little as saving her from embarrassment. He doesn’t understand that she can’t understand her own thoughts.

Neither of them pay attention to the beautiful ballad that plays through the hall, nor do they appreciate the piano or string quartet that carries their dance.

Instead, she stares at him like it’ll be the last time she ever sees his handsome face, and he watches her with wonder and curiosity while his heart begs his mind not to break her like he knows he inevitably will.

For a fleeting moment, all of her doubts slip from her mind. She lets herself believe that he will protect her from pain and anguish, that he will love and cherish her, that she will be able to trust him for the rest of her life.

For a fleeting moment, she forgets again that this isn’t a marriage bound by love, but one bound by honour and duty.

Then the music stops and Salvatore takes a step forward, raising a half-empty glass in the air to gain the attention of the other guests.

“You wed her, now bed her!”

And just like that, the entirety of the male wedding party is chanting those same words. The pair pull apart and Y/N’s wide eyes are scanning the crowd for an escape. She knows she can’t run but fuck, does she want to.

“Wed her, now bed her! Wed her, now bed her!”

“Make a masterpiece on those sheets for us, Harry.”

“Make your wife bleed!”

“Wed her, now bed her!”

Her frantic eyes find those of her mothers, but Gaia looks away, head tilted and chin up like she can’t bear the thought of looking in her daughter's desperate eyes. Y/N begins to panic, chest rising and falling in terror and she finds Maria.

Her cousin stares at her in shock, jaw slack and she tries to run for her, to pull her away from Harry but Mike stands in her way, blocking her from Y/N and ultimately escorting her out of the hall.

Gomez watches, swallowing the bile that crawls up his throat. He knew this day would come, that one day Y/N would be married off and forced into a new life she never agreed to.

He just hoped it wouldn’t hurt so much watching it happen. With a tentative hand on her back, Harry leads Y/N out of the hall. The party follows, cheering them on as she holds her dress and wanders up the thick spiral stairs.

Their room is at the very far end of the hall, away from all the others where they can’t be disturbed… or heard.

Her heart thumps sporadically and the alcohol feels like it’s worn off, and she’s far too aware of what’s supposed to happen now.

Because now, she has to give herself to him. Every inch and fibre of her entire being is about to be his, by choice or not, he’s going to take it all.

He closes the door behind them as they wander in and the frantic terror begins, surges of confidence smacking her.

Harry turns to face her, face stoic as ever and she stumbles over her feet, hands reaching out to steady herself and she shoves at his chest. Harry can smell the alcohol on her breath. He doesn’t know if it’s the first or third bottle of champagne.

He cocks a brow at her bravery and she glares up at him through droopy eyes.

“Just because I’m a woman, doesn’t mean I’ll bow down to your every order.” She slurs, almost losing her footing.

Harry holds her up by her elbow.

He’s shocked by her sudden change in attitude and he has to bite back a laugh. Was this the real Y/N breaking through?

“Is that so?”

There’s an amused grin on his lips. He finds it fucking hilarious. He’s never been turned down by a woman before, but it’s too amusing to watch her in her drunken state for him to take her refusal as a punch to his ever-growing ego.

He was never going to take advantage of her in such a vulnerable state. Maybe that’s why he’s so amused by the situation.

Y/N stumbles again.

“If you so much as force yourself on me tonight, I’ll make your life a living hell.”

It’s an empty threat, Harry’s sure of it. He squints his eyes at his wife, but she doesn’t show any signs that she’s unsure of her own words. He thinks the seriousness of the situation is starting to sober her up and she’s brave, too brave.

“Think you’re forgetting who the Capo is here, princess.” He warns.

She holds her glare as he dips his head closer to her face. He expects her to look away, to cower under his gaze like every other woman, but she doesn’t. She holds her chin high.

“You’re not Capo yet. But when you are, I will make deals impossible, I will run and believe me, I can run. I will burn you and your stupid Famiglia.”

Something flashes in his eyes, and it’s not amusement. He no longer finds her insolence funny. It’s anger. Anger that she thinks she can talk to him like that and get away with it.

But he’s conflicted. He knows she’s scared, that she’s shaking as she grits her teeth and stares in defiance.

“Then I’ll just have to torture you like all the other traitors.”

Lies. Big fat lies.

He’d never lay a hand on a woman, traitor or not. But his blood still boils at Y/N’s stubbornness. He never intended on taking what is rightfully his without her permission.

Y/N coils in disgust, a sardonic laugh slipping past her lips. Her sad smile falls as quickly as it had appeared, and she’s back to looking stoic.

“Do it, I dare you. Because I’ll just keep rebelling. I’ll publicly humiliate us both, just to see you fall.” She threatens, and Harry wants to believe it’s an empty one.

He doesn’t think he’d ever go against his own morals, but she’s beginning to wear his patience thin, not that he’s ever had much of it.

“Then I’ll put a fucking bullet through your skull.” Another fucking lie.

She steps closer, alcohol thick on her breath but she looks as sober as the day they first met.

“Baby, I’ll be pulling the trigger. My life ended the day I was born. Killing me would do us both a favour. You might as well just get it over with.”

Harry regards the girl for a moment as her voice breaks. He tries to read her, to get a glint of any flicker of emotion he can. But there’s nothing. Plain emptiness. He knows that resolve would fall under the touch of a blade or pliers pulling off her painted fingernails.

The thought of someone even touching a hair on her perfect head sends fury through his veins.

He doesn’t notice just how angry the thought makes him until the metallic taste of blood lingers on his tongue, a taste all too familiar. He’s bit into his lip.

“Forget what I said on your birthday. Fear has every place in a marriage and I hope you’re fucking terrified.”

He spits blood on the white sheets, his saliva turning it pink as it soaks into the fabric. “There, you saved your virginity for the night.”

She stares at him, shoulders sagging just an inch as she wobbles on her feet. It’s like the alcohol is making another appearance as she grimaces at him.

“Who said I was a virgin?”

//

When dawn breaks and light filters through the musty room, Y/N stirs from her slumber with a groggy head and unsettled stomach.

At first, she doesn’t recall the night before, but from the dull throbbing across her temples, she knows alcohol had a strong play in the evening.

It’s when she shifts in the bed, that she realises something is off.

Her bed isn’t this soft… and the sheets in her room are definitely not white cotton. She turns her head, eyes meeting the sleeping face of the notorious mobster, and she shrieks, startling him from his light slumber.

Y/N falls off the bed in an attempt to flee the situation, but when she stands, she realises she’s not in her heavy wedding dress anymore and she feels light.

Bile crawls up her throat at the realisation that she’s in his dress shirt, that she isn’t wearing a bra and while the shirt ends mid-thigh, she’s only got on those sheer panties underneath.

Harry watches her gaze trail over his body–his very naked body, besides his black boxers. She gulps at the sight, shaking her head and trying to ignore his thick thighs and toned abdomen.

Her mind conjures up the worst.

She slept with him, he took what innocence she had left.

Her thoughts are only confirmed when she notices the dark pinkish spots of blood on the sheets and she feels sick, lightheaded – and she knows it’s not from the hangover.

Harry watches her freak for a moment, watches the regret and fear flood her eyes and he quickly realises she doesn’t remember a damn thing.

He doesn’t do anything to reassure her. Doesn’t remind her that he spat blood on the sheets, or that the reason she’s in his shirt is because she struggled too much to get out of her dress and didn’t have any other clothes to change into, so he gave her his shirt.

He doesn’t tell her that he didn’t lay a hand on her, that he waited until she was asleep before laying beside her peaceful body.

“You were willing, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he breaks the silence, voice rugged and he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

She doesn’t dare look at him, arms wrapped tightly around herself and she feels ashamed, so fucking ashamed. She believes him, though. He may be a monster but he’s known to be an honourable man, a man of his words, not a liar.

“And even if you weren’t…” he stands from the bed as an insistent knocking begins to pound on their door.

“You’re my wife now, so I have the right to take what I want.”

He doesn’t believe a word he just said. He’d never force himself on her or any other woman, no matter what. That’s one thing he’ll always stay true to.

Y/N backs into the wall at his words. She ignores him opening the door with a tired grin, ignores the gossiping women of the family flooding through the room and whispering about the frail wife.

Her mind is on such an overdrive that she doesn’t see the truth right in front of her. She doesn’t realise that her thighs don’t ache and her core isn’t tender. She doesn’t notice that she doesn’t have any bruises decorating her soft skin, that Harry’s back isn’t littered in claw marks like it should be.

She believes the worst because it’s all she’s ever known.

They take the sheets with giddy smiles and gushing giggles as Harry steps into his dress pants from last night.

There’s no robe for her to cover herself with and unless she wants to wear the wedding dress that carried her into her new, caged life, she’ll have to go downstairs in Harry’s shirt and her panties.

She keeps her distance from him as they descend the staircase, arms still tight around her middle and she curls a little, just to make sure the shirt covers everything.

Everybody is watching as they enter the hall again, waiting for the bloody sheets to be presented for men to howl at and women to blush over.

Y/N keeps her eyes glued to the ground, wiggling her painted toes and biting back a cry that wants to tumble from her trembling mouth.

She ignores the cheers of pervy uncles and distant cousins, pretends she doesn’t notice the praise Harry gets and the pity looks she recieves with jealousy glares from the women.

It isn’t until the fuss dies down that she dares to look up with tear-stained cheeks and a quivering chin. Gaia still refuses to look at her from across the hall, but Maria doesn’t waste a second to see her cousin when Harry turns to talk to Mike.

“Y/N…” she breathes softly, reaching for her cousin’s arm but Y/N shy’s away from her family's touch and clears her throat, blinking back tears.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she mumbles hoarsely, shaking her head and looking away from her concerned eyes.

Maria frowns, glaring up at the tall man beside her and pointing a jabbed finger in his face.

“Hope you’re fucking proud of yourself,” she seethes.

Harry stares at the young girl. Her hair is blue now and her nose is pierced with a hoop, something he didn’t notice last night. He doesn’t entertain the girl, though. Instead, he shoves a hand in his trouser pocket and reaches for Y/N with the other.

They’re both shocked that she doesn’t cower away from his touch when he rests his palm on the small of her back.

“Let’s go get ready, then we can say goodbye. Jet leaves for New York in two hours,” he tells her.

Y/N doesn’t say anything about a honeymoon, doesn’t question why they aren’t going on one. She’s thankful they’ll only have to be on that plane for 4 hours together, there is no way in hell she could survive two weeks in complete isolation with him.

She gets ready in the bathroom, legs jelly as she changes from his shirt and her underwear. She throws the panties in the bin, not ever wanting to see them again.

She’s about to dress in what her mother packed; a beige pencil skirt and a flowy white blouse with four-inch heels, when she notices another small bag beside it.

She doesn’t need to wonder where it came from, she knows Maria found a way to pack her something more comfortable after a bad night and in preparation for a 4 hour flight.

So instead, she dresses in a pair of black leggings and an oversized grey sweater. Her hair is tied in a quick ponytail and her face is void of makeup and emotion.

She feels shy when she leaves the bathroom, wearing something so simple and looking so vulnerable. He’s dressed in another suit when she comes back into the bedroom, a simple black one with a white shirt and he’s strapping a gun to his chest when he notices her.

She looks tired, simple. She looks normal. He knows for a fact Gaia did not pack that outfit.

“You look comfy,” he mentions.

She swallows visibly and raises her chin, lips pursed as she stares at his forehead. He knows that trick. He knows she’s pretending to look him in the eye. He bites back a smile. She’s trying to hide her discomfort.

“The jet’s ready when you are. Would you like to say goodbye to your family now?”

A leather duffle bag hangs in his hand and her tongue pokes at the inside of her cheek as she shakes her head.

“Um… actually, I don’t… want to say goodbye…” she admits quietly.

It’s silent for a moment as Harry’s brows bunch and he tries to figure her out.

“You know we’re not just going to New York for a weekend away, right? You’re going to be moving there, to live with me. I don’t know when you’ll next see them again,” he reminds her carefully, his words slow like he needs her to comprehend them properly.

But Y/N nods her head and relieves a breath.

“I know,” she tells him, her voice the most confident he’s ever heard and he nods once, agreeing.

“Okay, then let’s go.”

//

She’s been sitting beside him the entire time, curled up against the window. Neither of them have said a word, both too in their heads.

For Harry, he thinks about how he’s lied to her, how he’s letting her believe he took her innocence. He thinks about her desire to leave without saying goodbye to her family, about what was said on their wedding night, how empty she looked.

For Y/N, she thinks about her new life. She wonders if it’ll be better or worse. When she was at home, Giovanni took his frustration out on her, was cruel and abusive if she or someone else annoyed him.

She wonders if Harry will be the same when they’re back on his land, in his territory. She only remembers one thing from their wedding night. Fear has every place in a marriage, and I hope you’re terrified. She hopes he didn’t mean it.

It’s only the newlyweds on the plane and sleep comes quicker to her than she expected. The others had taken another jet, insisting that Harry and Y/N needed more time alone together. Really, it was just Anne's way of making sure Y/N didn’t feel overwhelmed on a plane full of Delluci’s.

Harry doesn’t wake her when they stop midway to get fuel. She wakes hours after he sleeps beside her, but she doesn’t wake him. Instead, she observes him for a little while; acknowledges the twitch in the corner of his lip, the little movement behind his eyelids, the gentle snores that tumble through his throat.

She appreciates his dark lashes fanned across his cheekbones, his ungodly waves. This version of him doesn’t look scary, doesn’t look monstrous. This version of Harry looks approachable, soft… dare she think… vulnerable. His jaw isn’t set and his lips aren’t pursed.

She wants to reach forward and caress his cheek, maybe one day she might.

When they land back in New York, a car is waiting for them; tinted windows and bulletproof glass. Y/N isn’t silly. Harry helps her with her bags, piling them into the trunk and they both clamber inside.

A partition separates the couple from the driver as the journey begins again. Y/N is looking out of the window, the soft evening consuming her but she already misses the Californian views.

“I recently had the penthouse redecorated to give you some sense of home there,” Harry tells her and when she turns, his eyes are already on her face.

“I want you to remember that it isn’t just a place that you live in. It’s your home now. I want you to treat it as such,” he says.

Y/N nods but she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say. How do you treat a place like a home when there’s no sense of safety?

“And as for security,” he catches her attention again before she can focus her gaze back outside the window.

“Mike will be your new guard. I’ve known him for years and he’s good. I trust him. If you want to go anywhere and I’m not around to go with you, Mike needs to be by your side.” Y/N can’t help the frown that grows on her face.

Not only is he entrusted with her life, but she doesn’t know him, she can’t trust him.

“Why can’t Gomez still be my guard? Why can’t he come here and guard me?” she questions, brows knitted.

Harry scratches his nose.

“Because while your Father trusted him in his territory, I wouldn’t trust him to protect you in mine. Where you go, Mike goes. No arguments.”

First order.

Neither of them say anything else for the remainder of the drive, but when the driver pulls up to a stop, Y/N’s eyes are wide as she stares out the window in awe.

A fifty story building stands tall before her, tucked between two slightly shorter builds. Her parents' home is massive, but this is something else.

This… this was an apartment building?

Harry doesn’t say anything as he walks her inside the lobby; everything is all white and pristine. The blonde receptionist behind the desk offers Harry a flirty smile that Y/N watches him completely ignore and something flips in her stomach. In the elevator, he reaches for the code and shows her the seven digits he punches in.

“We’re in the penthouse, right at the top. That’s the code. Only a select few know it, so don’t go telling everyone,” he warns, standing back as the doors close.

When they arrive at the penthouse, Y/N doesn’t know what to expect, but softwood undertones and fluffy rugs are not it. He guides her inside as she takes it all in.

The entirety of the first floor is open planned, white walls with gorgeous art hanging across them. The kitchen is huge, black and white and Y/N feels her heart flutter at the thought of all the baking she’ll be able to do.

She isn’t given much time to admire it before Harry leads her through the kitchen towards a staircase.

“There’s a library and a gym up here and our bedroom, my home office is up here too,” he says, leading her up the stairs and into a dark room.

He flips on the light as she follows him inside.

“Our room? You mean we’re going to share the bed every night?” there’s a twinge of panic in her voice.

Harry doesn’t think anything of it other than she’s innocent, nervous about sleeping with his body so close to hers every night. But that’s not it, at least, not all of it.

Really, Y/N doesn’t understand why he even wanted to sleep with her on their wedding night in the first place, and now he wants to share a bed with her for the rest of their lives?

She thinks it’s a pride thing, to have his wife sleep in the same bed as him. That has to be it. Because compared to Harry’s past lovers and flings that Maria graciously told her about, Y/N is repulsive – doesn’t compare.

“Yeah… why? Is that a problem for you?” he asks softly.

Y/N shakes her head quickly, clearing her throat and pulling her sweater sleeves past her hands.

“No, not at all… just didn’t think you’d want me in your bed, is all,” she admits, but she doesn’t mean it in the way Harry takes it. He smirks to himself though.

“You’re my wife, Y/N. I’ll always want you in my bed,” he flirts, watching as her cheeks blush in realisation of how she made her statement sound.

She clears her throat awkwardly and Harry places her bag on the bed.

“Anyway, make yourself at home. I have some business to attend to, so Mike will be around, but remember if you want to leave, he goes with you.”

He brushes past her without another word or a kiss to her forehead like he usually would to his mother or little sister. Y/N thinks nothing of it, she much prefers the space.

It isn’t until she begins unpacking one of her bags that she notices a wrapped gift on her nightstand with her name written on a note that sits on top of it.

You’re not a prisoner anymore x

With furrowed brows, she tears the paper off the gift and opens the box. A phone sits waiting for her, her family’s phone numbers saved along with Harry’s, Mike’s and Anne’s already. She feels tears sting her eyes and with a trembling thumb, she calls Maria.

//

In the week of Y/N’s new life, she’s grown accustomed to her new place of residence. She’s gotten used to the penthouse by now, knows where everything is if she needs anything.

She’s spent a fair amount of time in the kitchen (after the first few days of refraining from using anything), making cookies and brownies for her and Mike to snack on.

She’s mainly tucked herself away in the library, often draped across the chaise with a soft blanket and a good book.

That’s about all she’s grown accustomed to, though. She hasn’t seen her husband, at least, not properly. She’s been asleep when he gets home and asleep when he leaves.

Y/N tries to consider herself lucky. She’s thankful that she hasn’t had to interact with him, save for the two days in passing when he offers her a tightlipped smile before scurrying out of the door.

She doesn’t know why his lack of presence brings a sense of uneasiness, not after she’s gotten to know Mike just a little bit over the past seven days.

Y/N tries not to dwell on the fact that she knows Mike’s favourite frosting flavour but has no idea what her husband’s birthday is. She doesn’t know why part of her wishes to know Harry better, wishes for some type of emotional intimacy between them both.

Y/N knows she needs to accept the fact that she’s safe with how things are, not wish for possible problems that could endanger her in the long run.

But then, she supposes she’s never not been endangered, so what does she know? Maybe she wishes for the sense of comfortability with her new spouse because he’s already offered her something she’s never had before: safety.

Maybe she supposes safety and comfortability are meant to come hand-in-hand. Or maybe she’s just lonely, craves the intimacy she no longer has with her cousin.

Either way, she doesn’t get that relief of intimacy from Harry. Instead, she learns an odd quirk of Mike’s every couple of days and loses herself in the stories that occupy her mind.

The library has become somewhat of a safe haven. And despite having the means to remain in contact with Maria, Romero tends to keep his daughter on a tighter leash now and Y/N often worries with the wonder if it’s her fault.

She thinks Giovanni may have said something to intervene, and she’s been letting blame sit idly on her shoulders as the week slowly strolled past.

It’s been hard for Y/N. She’s been confined to the many walls of the penthouse, despite having the ability to leave (with Mike, of course, something Harry made very clear). But she doesn’t want to leave her new home with her guard.

She wants her husband to show her around and maybe show a little attention to her. She tells herself it’s because she needs the reassurance that she hasn’t done anything wrong, that she hasn’t upset him.

She needs him to do something that suggests he doesn’t have a reason to hurt her.

It’s fucked and she knows it. That hearing nothing is considered bad news to her. Y/N hates not knowing, hates uncertainty. She should be well used to it by now, that’s all her life has ever been.

But things are drastically different in New York with Harry, even if it’s only been a week and she hasn’t seen him.

It doesn’t matter that she feels lighter at the fact of no longer being in Giovanni’s reach or hold. She needs Harry to communicate. She needs to know she’s not doing anything wrong.

But Harry’s a busy man, has business to attend to and bullets to fire. He doesn’t have the time right now to reassure his virgin wife of anything.

And why should he?

Not only did she directly disrespect him but she somehow, someway crawled under his skin and made him grow defensive of the frail woman. Weakness is something he can’t afford.

But it’s not that he hasn’t wanted to.

Women cowering under his influence has never been something Harry has enjoyed, but she isn’t just any woman anymore; she’s his wife, bound by love and honour and duty, she’s his wife.

Perhaps she’s in the same boat. Putting a label on a relationship tends to force some sense of kindred feelings on people.

A marriage is the union between two undying souls, for kindred lovers and harnessed spirits. A marriage is a symbol of devotion, trust and love. Everything their relationship is not.

Maybe that’s why he silently observes her while she sleeps, making sure her breathing is steady and comfortable, and why she misses his presence when he’s gone and wants to know more.

Stories of other lovers are what seem to take her mind off things best, but also have her brain reeling and mustering up impossible scenarios in the light of day, encouraging them to run wild through her head in the dead of night.

Y/N doesn’t know whether to be thankful of them or not--whether it gives her a sense of false hope or weightless relief.

Today is no different from the past six. She wakes alone with no idea where Harry is or what he’s doing.

After her shower and getting ready for the day, she finds herself in the library, lounging across the chaise with Jane Eyre in her hands, but she can’t seem to grasp the words on the first page.

It’s with a sigh that Y/N puts the book back and allows her fingers to brush against the spines of endless stories and fantasies.

There’s not a speck of dirt on the pad of her finger when she comes to the end of the shelf and she wonders if it’s because Harry secretly loves to read or because a maid frequents.

She can’t help but suppose it’s the latter. The thought of Harry reading is somewhat amusing to Y/N, but she knows it’s not something she can just rule out. She doesn’t know the man.

She’s huffing with boredom when she’s ready to leave the room, but as her eyes flitter effortlessly across the clinically white bookcases, she catches something golden that’s tucked away at the far end of the room, shoved beneath a lip at the bottom of a case.

With a tilted head and gently furrowed brows, she goes to inspect it, pulling out a large photo album.

It’s dusty, looks like it hasn’t come out to reminisce old times in a while and Y/N blows the thick coating of fine powder off. There’s nothing but soft, intricate golden leaves designed and embroidered across the expanse of the outer book and it feels heavy in her hands.

Maybe not the weight of the book itself, but the weight behind it.

She doesn’t know what compels her to leave the library with it wrapped in her arms, what forces her to sit on the couch with it out in the open on the coffee table in front of her.

Y/N feels sick at herself for even opening it, she knows old photos are precious past memories that she suspects someone like Harry would not particularly wish to share with his new wife.

It doesn’t stop her from looking, though – doesn’t stop her heart from aching and swelling at the sight of a three-year-old Harry wandering around butt-naked in a backyard with a cheesy grin on his lips and a green bucket hat on his head.

She keeps looking; flipping the pages with a gentle smile but it quickly fades with one of slight confusion.

The only people in the almost hundred photos are the same three: Harry, Anne, and a mysterious man. Y/N’s never seen him before but he looks familiar, she can’t help but see traces of Harry in him.

She supposes maybe it’s Harry’s uncle; maybe even a family friend and Y/N’s just thinking too deep into it. She needs to stop allowing her mind to think everything to be a fucking conspiracy.

She wants to appreciate the pure vulnerability she’s able to see in regards to Harry, even if it is just through photos that are almost twenty years old – older than her.

She doesn’t know whether she’ll get to see a side of him that isn’t stone cold and doesn’t absolutely petrify her.

Knowing some part of him used to be young and innocent offers a sense of relief, a reminder that he has some sanity about him; whether he wants to admit it or not.

She gets to the end of the photo album when she learns the strange man's name. On the back of a photo of the unfamiliar face and Harry digging dirt in the garden, dressed in overalls with a beer in the man’s hand and a sippy cup in Harry’s, there’s a little note written in what she supposes is Anne’s calligraphy.

Danny and Harry -- summer 2000 x

Y/N finds herself mumbling his name under her breath, brows furrowed as she scours her brain. She’s heard that name before, she’s sure of it.

She doesn’t have much time to continue her mindful search before the creaking of the living room floorboards quirk in her ears and Mike is slowly swaying into the room.

He’s dressed in a slick suit, something that Y/N has tried to tell him isn’t necessary and he has ignored, and his hands are stuffed in his pockets with a stoic expression on his regularly threatening face.

“Where’d you find that?” his low voice asks and even though it’s just about audible, it manages to sound through the room and ricochet against the walls and beams.

Y/N nearly jumps in her skin, despite already knowing of his presence.

She feels no threat from Mike--she knows he’s here to protect her and both he and Harry have made that very clear--but he’s still very intimidating in the way his posture holds him and his general blank expression.

It’s something about his eyes. Icy blue but she knows something dark burns behind them.

She clears her throat and quickly closes the book, tucking loose curls behind her ear. Y/N pushes the album to the centre of the coffee table and sits further back on the couch, as if to make a point--she’s just not sure what point she’s trying to make or prove.

She clears her throat.

“Uh, I found it in the library,” she explains lamely and Mike notices she can’t make eye contact with him.

He also knows she isn’t lying.

Over the week he’s been guarding her, he’s learnt all her ticks and tells. Y/N isn’t a liar, she’s just constantly in fear and silently requires the reassurance that she hasn’t done anything to upset anyone.

Mike hums, nodding his head, knows she has more to say; he knows what photos are in that book.

“There’s uh, there’s a lot of pictures of Harry with his Mom and some man… Danny,” she says carefully, articulating her words in a way that isn’t going to seem out of place or something he’ll consider mentioning to Harry to have her scolded and punished.

“That’s for Harry to explain, if he ever wishes to,” he responds cooly, hands still shoved in his pockets but Y/N’s eyes are fixed on the book and she wonders if she has the balls to try and push further.

“It’s just… he looks like him, you know? Looks like he could be a relative,” she speaks freely, though her throat feels like it’s being constricted.

She tries to word it casually, like she’s making an innocent observation but they both know it’s more than that. Mike doesn’t say anything for a few moments, allowing her to understand that he isn’t about to say anything in regards to the photos.

“Are you missing yours?” He asks, her eyes meeting him with a frown and he shifts his weight from his feet, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed against his chest.

He clears his throat.

“Your family, I mean… are you missing them? I know it's a long way from sunny California,” he tries to lighten the mood for her sake; he doesn’t particularly want her to grow agitated with him for not telling her part of Harry's past.

Y/N purses her lips and maybe keeping quiet would’ve been a better idea but Mike tends to run his mouth before really thinking out situations that involve sad emotions.

“Not really. I feel safer here than I ever have back in Cali,” she admits through a pathetic laugh, like she’s trying to cover up the hurt.

“Your Dad?” he asks in a gentle tone, one she’s never heard before but she’s only known him a week.

She smiles weakly, nodding her head and Mike hums, adjusting his suit as he stands taller. Y/N’s gnawing at the inside of her cheek and picking at the skin around her nails -- nervous habits, Mike’s come to learn -- so he takes a step closer to her and clears his throat once more.

“Come on. Let me take you for lunch and show you around New York a little,” he offers, a hint of a smile on his lips but Y/N thinks she might be seeing things.

She isn’t used to this type of kindness from men of any ages. She frowns harder.

“Is that a good idea? Won’t Harry be mad?” she twists her hands nervously.

“Harry entrusted me with your life, Y/N. I’ll always keep you safe when he’s not here. And you’re not a prisoner anymore. He’ll never treat you like one.”

//

It’s a little after three when Harry feels a nervous twitch in his cheek and a tick in his fingers. He’s been gnawing on his bottom lip for the past twelve minutes and both Gemma and Anne have noticed.

His mother is concerned for him while his younger sister offers a look of disgust and is five seconds away from chastising her brother about how chapped his lips will be.

“As much as your sister and I want to stay, Harry… we can’t. You’re going to have to prove to Stefano that you can do this. We believe in you.”

Her gentle voice tries to coax him back into the room but the only thing that does is when the elevator sounds just seconds later and he stands from the couch.

Harry doesn’t fucking know what’s gotten him in such an aggy and irritated mood. His palms are sweaty and he doesn’t know why. He tells himself it’s because Y/N’s never been out before and that she and Mike have been gone for almost three hours.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust either of them; he trusts Mike with his life and he trusts that Y/N won’t try something stupid. Ideally, Harry would have liked to have been the one to take Y/N out first, maybe to prove something to the people watching his every move, he’s not sure.

Part of him feels a little guilty. He hasn’t seen her for more than five minutes since she moved to New York and he feels a little bit sick. He’s taken her from her family and everything she’s ever known.

As her husband, it should be his duty to care for her and ensure she doesn’t feel alone in this transitioning time. But Harry has to remind himself that this isn’t any regular marriage and there are no loving feelings shared between the two beneath their label.

But that doesn’t make it easier for Harry to try and understand why he feels the way he does about the matter.

When the elevator doors slide open, she’s got a shy smile on her lips and her shoulders are drooped in a relaxed state. The sight is a jolt of relief to Harry.

Wife or not, he never wants a woman to feel unsafe or intimidated in his presence or his men’s. He takes a brief moment to quickly get a good look at her.

She seems a lot lighter in the way she carries herself since she arrived at her new home. In a pretty beige pinafore with a ribbed white turtleneck underneath, she looks pretty -- very pretty.

Her hair falls in loose curls that sit just past her shoulders and her plump lips are painted pink with a subtle gloss.

When her eyes flitter up from her feet, she finally notices him watching her, a warmth rising to her cheeks and she shuffles in the penthouse behind Mike.

Her eyes are too glued on Harry, worried she may have done something wrong, for her to notice the presence of Anne and Gemma.

It isn’t until Anne is cooing at her and pulling her into a motherly embrace that she breaks her nervous gaze on her husband and shakily returns the hug to her mother-in-law.

“Was worried we wouldn’t see you before we left, love. Mike took you out for lunch, Harry said,” she smiles warmly, holding the girl by her shoulders and Y/N nods, lips pursed inwardly.

“Before you left? Where are you going?” she asks, ignoring the latter part of her question but she doesn’t mean to… she wonders if Harry will scold her for it when they leave.

Anne lets out a soft huff.

“Back to England, love. Now you’re married, Harry’s got his trial period as Capo to prove himself in the event Stefano is no longer able to reign as Capo,” she explains briefly, hands waving a seemingly dismissive manner, like she doesn’t much care for the topic.

But Y/N sees the glimmer of fear in her eyes.

She nods her head and smiles softly at the youngest Delluci who’s already gleaming up at her. Y/N doesn’t know what it is, but knowing Gemma appears to like her makes her feel a little more at ease.

“Will we be seeing you soon?” Y/N queries shyly, wondering if Anne can sense her need of having them around.

She does, and she reaches for the young girl's hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“I hope so, darling.”

She zones out as Harry kisses their cheeks goodbye and sees them to the elevator, she’s too busy twiddling her thumbs and preparing herself for the numbing loneliness she'll be forced to face again tonight.

“Mike, you’re off for the night,” Harry’s low voice squeaks in her ears and Y/N’s head perks up, brows furrowed with sweaty palms.

“Do you not have work?” she blurts out before she can even think about what she’s doing.

Her face pales, head lowering as her gaze fixes on the floor. If she spoke like that to Giovanni, he would’ve kicked her to the ground by now.

Harry hates the way she quickly reels into herself, a vile taste on his tongue at the thought of her thinking he’d ever lay a hand on her like that.

He shakes his head and lowers his voice to a softer tone, ignoring the squinted look Mike gives him.

“Not tonight, I figured we could spend some time together,” he starts, dipping his head slightly as Y/N slowly raises hers to look up at him through mascara-coated lashes.

Mike bites back a smirk. In all his life, he’s known Harry to only ever use that soft tone with the women of his family: his mother and sister. He leaves the couple without another word and when Harry hears the elevator doors close again, he continues.

“I feel bad for not spending any time with you and leaving you all alone since we got here.”

Y/N feels part of her heart swell at his confession and she feels her cheeks blush harder than before. She offers a shy chuckle and shrugs her shoulders.

“Not all alone, Mike’s kept me a little company,” she’s nervous and she wonders if this is actually his way of making sure he gets laid tonight.

She doesn’t want to sleep with him again, doesn't want to go through the pain of remembering it this time.

She can feel herself beginning to panic, the sweat in her palms increasing by the second. Maybe if she plays along it won’t hurt so much, maybe he won’t be so hard on her.

She doesn’t want to think of him as such a person to do such a thing, but he’s a Made Man and Y/N is his wife. Her permission doesn’t matter.

He seems to notice her apprehension and takes a tentative step closer, trying to sag his shoulders to make himself look smaller; less intimidating.

“I thought maybe we could cook together? Get to know each other a little more,” he suggests and with a brief second of her gnawing on her inner cheek, she agrees.

They settle for making pizza. Harry’s kneading the dough as she stirs the tomato puree in a small bowl. She’s cut the pepperoni and mushrooms, a little plate full of peppers and spices ready to be sprinkled on when the dough is thick enough.

Y/N takes her time to admire Harry.

He’s got his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his tie long forgotten on the couch and the first few buttons by his collar are undone, dark and sparse chest hair peeking through.

He looks good, she can’t lie about it. And there's something about seeing an easy smile on his lips that makes him seem all the more normal, she finds herself feeling comfortable in his presence, safe.

In the hour of prepping, they’ve learnt little bits of information about each other. Harry learnt that Y/N’s favourite colour is yellow because it brings her a sense of light. She told him that her favourite movie is Romeo and Juliet, “Cliche, I know,” and that ever since she was little, books have been her little escape from how bad her home life has always been.

He learnt about her relationship with her brother when she was growing up and how it all fell to shit when he was initiated, when he sided with their Father and left her alone.

It isn’t all one sided with learning new information. Y/N learnt about Harry’s ability to hold his breath for seven minutes, how he taught himself to play the guitar at a young age, and as much as he was tempted to tell her he once killed a man with his guitar string, he didn’t.

He lets her revel in the innocence he offers her in sheltered childhood memories. Like how he used to read Gemma bedtime stories and train with Mike and Jeff every evening.

It’s when he mentions how he once made homemade pizzas with Anne when he was younger and she thinks he’s opening up to her.

She doesn’t understand that he only tells her these things to make her feel a little more comfortable. She mistakes his consideration for trust.

“I uh, I found some old photos in the library this morning. A bunch of ones of you and your Mom,” she begins in a shaky tone and Harry hums, sprinkling the cheese over the tomato based path she created for him.

She dares to snatch a peek at his face, fearing the worst -- but he’s calm and concentrated as he evenly distributes slices of pepperoni in the cheese’s wake.

“And there was a man in them, too. You look kinda like him, you know,” she continues, fiddling with a couple of olives between her fingers and she’s too caught in the way they roll against her fingertips to notice his mood falter and body stiffen.

So she continues.

“Is he your uncle? I didn’t see him at uh, at the wedding,” she cranes her neck just enough to wince at his reaction and he’s sprinkling chopped onions and mushrooms with a little more force than he did with the cheese.

Y/N swallows.

“No. He was my father,” he tells her.

His voice is rough and short -- a quip, less than a casual reply. Y/N frowns at his bluntness and the new information, dropping the olives in the ceramic bowl and twisting to face him.

“What?” she asks, brows furrowed. “But I thought that—“

“That Stefano is my Father? No, my step-father. Why else do you think you and I are Styles-Delluci?”

His replies are short and blunt and he doesn’t miss the way she sinks into herself out of fear and embarrassment. Nothing more is said on the matter, Harry opting to change the subject and attempting to lighten the mood to the best of his ability, but Y/N doesn’t budge.

He’s come to learn that when she fears she’s upset someone or gotten herself in some kind of trouble, she tends to bottle herself up and doesn’t allow forgiveness upon her.

Or maybe it’s that she doesn’t believe the forgiveness is ever genuine and Harry starts to wonder if she’s ever even been forgiven before. The thought rattles something unsettling within the pit of Harry’s stomach.

They wait for the food to cook in silence and eat in silence, opposite ends of the dining table. Y/N keeps her gaze on her food while Harry keeps his gaze on her, but neither says a word.

Harry cleans the dishes while she showers and as they climb into bed together for the first time since she’s been there, their backs stay faced to the other as sleep consumes them.

//

omg please do let me know what you think so far of the series? the next part is out next week and it's another long one, too. feedback is massively appreciated!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines

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samandcolbyownme · 2 months

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Summary: anon request- "Hear me out, y/n is on a girls trip to Vegas. When out at a club one of her friends spots Colby (and friends) and plays wing woman mentioning to Colby that he is y/n's "hall pass." He's interested and they party and hook up all weekend. Including heavy smut and dom Colby, please"

Warnings: this story is going to contain reader CHEATING on fiancé with Colby, SMUT18+, Hall pass Colby, LOTS of unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, oral (f rec), hair pulling, choking, creampie, scratching, biting, lots of filth

Again, this one shot is going to contain reader cheating on fiancé with Colby as their chosen hall pass.

Word count: 8.2k | kinda proofread

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

N I G H T * O N E

"I'm so excited for this trip." You say walking to your rental car, "I can't believe we're here!"

Your best friend, Hadley sighs, looking around, "I know! Im so glad we agreed on doing the solo bride and maid of honor trip."

You nod, throwing your suit case into the car, "So the hotel?" You ask getting into the drivers seat. Hadley gets in and nods, "Yeah we gotta get ready."

"Ready for what?" You look at her with a laugh.

"Please tell me you didn't think we were staying in the hotel room all weekend.." she shakes her head, "No baby. We're throwing a bride sash on you and not having to pay for any drink."

You laugh, "Okay. Yeah. Your idea sounds so much more fun."

"There's the spirit." She punches your arm handle and you laugh, "I'm so glad you remembered the bride sash. I literally forgot about it until right now."

She points to herself, "I'm the maid of honor, of course I'm going to be on top of things."

You nod and shake your head as you continue to drive to the hotel.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

By the time you got settled and showered and all dressed up to go out, a few hours have passed by, making it time for you and Hadley to go out.

"Oh!" She rushes to her suit case and pulls out the sash, "can't forget this!"

"Yes!" You laugh and point to her. She walks over and lifts it over your head, "Perfect." She steps back, pointing to the door, "Let's go."

Luckily, the club you were going to, was only a short walk away.

You get your ID back from the bouncer and you walk in, looking around.

Every thing was so, alive.

You were amazed and excited because you can scratch going to Vegas off of your bucket list.

"Alright." Hadley says, "Let's make that sash, work."

She interlocks her arm with yours and pulls you towards the bar. You had to admit, you didn't think the sash would work.

A guy does a double take, smirking as he reads over your sash, "Bride to be? Huh." He nods, "You get a drink yet?"

Haley nudges you and you laugh, "Oh, Um. Not yet."

"Here." He waves the bartender down and motions to you and Hadley, "Add the next two drinks to my tab."

The bartender nods and you smile at the guy, "Thank you." He winks and looks away. You turn to Hadley and laugh quietly, "Oh my god."

She prances in place and squeals quietly, "I knew it would work."

After the last two hours of mingling and sipping on drinks, Haley rushes up to you and grabs your arm, "Guess who the fuck is here."

You look around, "Who?"

"Colby Brock."

You feel your face relax with shock.

Colby is your celebrity crush basically. You adored him. He was in fact, who you told your fiancé your hall pass is.

"Isn't he the-"

You nod, already knowing what she's going to ask, "Yes. Yes." You laugh slightly, "Avery knows my hall pass is Colby."

She covers her mouth, "how often does this fucking shit happen?" She sighs, "So if you meet him do you get to use it?" She look at you and raises her brows, "Cause I mean.. I would."

You laugh, "um, no. I don't think that you can ac-"

"Come on." Hadley pulls you through the crowd and your heart starts beating. You can't sit there and say you haven't thought about Colby while having sex or while doing it solo, because you have.

Colby's hot, like godly, you'd let him ruin your life hot.

So, you would in fact risk it all, "Hey." You pull Hadley back to you, "Keep it low key, I don't want very many people knowing about my embarrassment if I get rejected."

She smirks and nods, "Alright. I gotchu."

You move over to an empty table and sit down, your eyes scanning the crowd. Hadley leans in, "Okay, so I'm going to wait for Colby to go up to the bar and then I'll go talk to him."

You laugh at her, "You're too good at this." She shrugs, "Wingwoman things."

You look around, anxiously thinking about what you wanted to do.

Well, you already knew what you were going to do, you were mainly anxious about the possible outcomes for the repercussion of it.

After a little bit of waiting, she gasps, "Oh. There he goes." She quickly gets down from her stool and she looks at you, "Look cute, okay?"

You nod and quickly go into the mode of trying to be cool and cute.

You force yourself not to look over there, you couldn't believe that this was even happening, like, Hadley was right, how often does this shit really work out?

A few moments later, Hadley returns and she nods, "He's interested."

Your eyes go wide, "no." You shake your head, "You're lying." She laughs, "That would be a sick joke. I'm serious! I gave him your number. I told him to text you because it's a big deal. Blah blah privacy. You know."

You stare at her, slightly in shock, "This isn't real. This isn't happening."

Hadley sighs and reaches out, pinches your arm. You wince in pain, "ouch?" You look at her and she smirks, "You're awake. This isn't a dream."

You laugh, "Oh my god." You sigh, "What about Avery? Oh god. I don't think I can do this."

Hadley lays a hand on your arm and leans in, "y/n. Look at me." She squeezes your arm, "You know that saying, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?"

You nod and she nods, "Exactly.."

"The fact that you're thinking about passing up the chance to fuck Colby Brock." She shakes her head, "Are you seriously going to do that?"

So along with the whole wanting to fuck Colby, you also have had this, weird feeling, that you could always pull him.

Maybe it was just your ego expanding because you know you're hot enough to actually pull him.

"Is he really the person you'd risk it all for?" Hadley asks and you sigh, "Fuck, yeah. I mean, look at him."

She laughs, "Good, because here they come." She straightens up and you sit up, "Oh fuck. Fuck." You smile as Colby's eyes meet yours.

The way he makes you feel soaked just by looking at you, really tells you that you made the right choice.

"Hey, guys." Hadley smiles, "Colby, who's your friend?" Colby smile and motions to the blonde next to him, "This is Sam."

You laugh slightly, smiling at you nod, "We know. We watch your videos." Your eyes move from Sam to Colby.

He smirks and nods, "We appreciate it."

"So which one of you is the bride to be?" Sam leans in looking for the sash, "Ah. There she is." He smiles up at you and you tilt your head, "Here I am."

"I'm going to go get a round for us, be right back." Sam points and you nod, your eyes following Colby as he sits down next to Hadley, "So when's the big day?"

You couldn't lie. You were so nervous you could throw up.

"Um, three? Weeks? Three and half maybe." You slowly lick over your bottom lip, "It's been quite crazy." You laugh and bring your drink up to your lips.

"That sounds like you need to take this-" Colby pauses and looks at Hadley, "How long are you here for?"

"Mm." Hadley pulls her straw from her lips, "The weekend. Friday to Sunday."

Colby looks back at you, "you need to take this weekend to relax."

You slowly pull your bottom lip between your teeth and if it was just you and him, you'd jump him right then and there.

"That's what I've been telling her! The whole plane ride here." Hadley sighs, "she deserves this." Hadley looks from you, motioning to Colby with her eyes and you can't help but laugh, "Yeah, yeah. I know."

"Tell you what, our friend is throwing a party tomorrow night, why don't you guys swing by?" Colby looks between the two of you and you nod.

This man has you in a mental chokehold, "That would be great, just text me the details."

He smiles at you and nods, "I'll do that."

Sam walks back up and sets the small tray down on the table, "Here we go." He grabs a glass and holds it up. You all follow along with raising yours and Sam looks at you, "To the bride to be."

Your she's move from Sam, locking onto Colby's and he smirks, tilting his head slightly, "to the bride to be."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Alright. I think we're going to head out." You say getting down from your stool.

"So soon?" Sam jokes and you laugh, "Yeah, it's almost two am."

"Fair enough, did Colby tell you about our friends party?" Sam asks and you nod, "Oh right, yeah. Colby. Text me the address and stuff."

Colby points back, "Yes, thank you for reminding me."

The more you drank, the more the tension of wanting to fuck each other was growing quickly.

You smile and link arms with Hadley, "Thank you for the drinks!" Hadley turns, "Bye guys!" She waves and you walk out.

The cool, night air chilling your overheated bodies.

"That did not.. just fucking happen." You press your fingers to your lips and think for a moment, "What the fuck."

Hadley sighs, "Ah yeah. That's what you get for waking up in Vegas." You laugh, "Yeah, but wait, we didn't wake up here this morning."

"Can you just-" she laughs, "don't ruin this for me."

"Oh. Sorry." You both drunkenly laugh as you walk back to the hotel. As you make your way in, you dig your room key out of your purse.

You step onto the elevator and the only thing on your mind right now is Colby.

"Are you thinking about him?" Hadley asks and you nod, "Oh yeah."

"Are you gonna do it?" You can tell she looks over at you but you keep your eyes on the doors of the elevator, "Do you think it's worth it?"

"So you think Avery was serious about the whole hall pass thing?" Hadley asks, and you both walk off the elevator.

"I mean.." you sigh, "I couldn't tell if they were joking or not."

Hadley looks around and leans in, her voice going quiet, "The way Colby was looking at you tonight.. tells me that there's no way that man didn't catch feelings for you right then and there."

You roll your eyes and she tilts her head, "I'm your best friend, so I'm going to be honest with you.. let's not forget who doesn't even want you on this girls trip to celebrate their upcoming wedding."

You nod, "We talked about it.. it's fine now."

She nods, "Okay. But still."

You look up at her, "Look I know you don't really care for Avery, but they're who I'm here, celebrating to being married to soon, okay."

You both needed to sleep. You've been flying, driving, and just non stop going all day.

You sigh, "We just need to go to bed and the alcohol isn't helping.. so yeah." You turn around and walk into the room.

You go over to the door that conjoins your rooms and you stop to look over at her, "If this happens, are you going to tell anyone?"

A smirk grows on her lips and she shakes her head, "I promise I won't." You nod, laughing slightly, "I'll let you know how it goes."

She salutes you, "As you should."

You laugh, "goodnight."

You walk into your room, leaving the door unlocked and you go to get undressed. As you're stripping down, you can tell your phone goes off so your heart starts to beat faster.

You grab your phone and walk in to the bathroom, smirking as you see it's a text from Colby, mainly just giving you the address.

You bite your lip and type up your text back, Sounds good. See you tomorrow.

You set your phone down on the counter and take a deep breath as you turn on the shower. As you're waiting patiently for the water to get hot, Colby responds.

You pick up your phone and smile as you read his text, It was really great to meet you and Hadley.

You hop into the shower and pull the curtain closed. You turn your back to the water and tilt your head as you type, It was really nice meeting you and Sam. You both are just absolutely unreal.

You hit send and rest your phone on the little shelf thing so you can take an everything shower.

You couldn't go without checking your phone, in hopes to see his name pop up.

You couldn't lie. This was all a lot for you right now, like you couldn't believe that Colby Brock and Sam Golbach know who you are.

When Colby finally answers, you give it a few minutes before you unlock your phone and read over his text, Speaking of, I gotta say. What she said kind of really peaked my interest.

You take a minute, because this could go one of two ways.

Something tells you to just roll with it, so that's what you do, what did she say to you again? I just want to confirm that she got all the details that we talked about, lol.

You sit your phone down, forcing yourself to finish your shower before looking at your phone again.

It was a twenty nervous filled minutes.

You wrap the towel around yourself and walk out to the room. You sit down on the bed and read what he said, Oh, I see. So you were in on it. If I have to say, that's probably the hottest pickup line ever.

Something flips in your stomach, peaking your interest even more.

You lay back, holding your phone above your face as you type, I just need to know if it's a real thing, ya know?

You jump slightly when you see Avery's name pop up at the top of your screen. You let out a sigh and accept the FaceTime with a smile, "Hey, babe."

"What's going on, baby?" They ask and you sit up, "Just got back from the club a little bit ago.. you?"

They shrug, "Nothing. Just got back from Cam's house."

You nod, "Oh yeah? How was that?"

"Eh. I just can't wait until you're back on Sunday, but you probably are having way too much fun without me."

You laugh slightly, seeing Colby's text appear at the top of the screen, It can be as real as you want it to be, y/n.

"Do you miss me?"

You chew the inside of your lip, nodding as you look at Avery through the screen, "Of course I miss you, too!" You laugh slightly, "Why would you think that I didn't?"

"I'm just messing with you, babe." Avery laughs and you roll your eyes, "Very funny." You yawn and Avery sighs, "Yeah I'm going to head to bed."

"Yeah, me, too." You nod, "I'll call you tomorrow, alright? I love you."

"I love you, sleep good." Avery smiles and waves before hanging up and you take a second to process the call.

You get this really strange feeling that you, honestly, have never felt before.

You didn't like it.

You thought about what you wanted to do, and either way, if your suspicions are right, at least you can say that you fucked Colby Brock, right?

You go to Colby texts and type, The Venetian. Floor 25 room E, last room on the left.

You hit sent and you toss your phone as you now anxiously await the sound of a knock on your door.

A few moments later, theres a soft knock on your door.

You walk over, peeling back the tape on the peep hole to look and to your shock, you see Colby. You push the tape back over and open the door, "How'd you get here so fast?"

"I was down in the casino actually, how weird was that?" He glances down, raising a brow a he tilts his head to the side, "So.. you're really getting right to it, huh?"

You look down, completely forgetting that you were in just a towel, "Oh.. shit. Wow this is embarrassing." You turn around and Colby walks in, "Mm. I like it."

You look at him shyly and smile, "Oh, okay."

"So.." Colby walks up to you, "Can I ask you a question?" You look up at him, giving him a smirk, "Of course."

His eyes stay on yours, which makes it kind of hard for you to stay focused as he asks, "Out of everyone, why me?"

You bite down on your lip, "I mean." To step back and motion to him, "Have you seen yourself?"

Colby chuckles and shakes his head, "I should be asking you the same thing." He bites his lip and sighs, "I am very flattered that I am what you call your - "He puts air quotes up, "Celebrity Hall Pass.." he laughs, "And you being hot makes it ten times better."

You bite your lip, "How do you.. wanna do this?" Your eyes flick up to meet his and he shrugs, "How ever you want to do it, baby."

Baby, you smirk, god you wanted him.

He steps closer to you and you can feel yourself freeze.

His hands hover over your body. Teasing you with the oh so close presence. You grab his wrists and push his hands to meet your body.

His fingers dig to grow his grip tighter. Your hands slide up to his neck and your eyes never move from his, "I want you."

That's all it took - Colby lifts you up, your legs wrapping perfectly around his waist and he walks you over to the bed. He gets up on his knees before laying you down.

His lips crash into yours with that fiery passion you knew you felt. You moan against his lips as he grinds his bulge against your bare cunt, causing you to whimper out.

You needed him, you want him so bad it hurts.

"You sound so pretty, baby." Colby leans up, shifting all his weight onto his left arm as his right hand drags up to the top of your towel, "Can I take this off?"

You nod, "Yes, yes." You bite your lip as he pulls back the towel, revealing your fresh out of the shower body.

Colby can tell you instantly want to cover up. He licks His lips and leans down, "I think.." he presses a kiss to your neck, leaning back to make you look at him, "You are the hottest fucking person I've ever come in contact with." Your pussy grows wetter and your cheeks grow hotter from his words, "You hear me?"

You nod and lift your body so he can pull the towel from under you, "Hey." He tosses it and leans in, "You are fucking beautiful. Okay?" He nods at you and you nod back.

He plants a kiss to your forehead and you feel his hand drag down your body. He stops at your waist, looking from his hand to you, "Can I touch you?"

You nod quickly, laying your hand on his to push it down to your achy cunt, "Yes." You breathe out, "Please."

Colby's voice is low, "Spread 'em for me, baby."

You comply, parting your thighs. He smirks and you move your hand so you can watch his hand slide down to press his middle finger to your clit.

You let out a gasp and buck your hips, you needed more, "Colby!" You whine out and he chuckles, resting down on his side and presses a kiss down your shoulder, "Tell me what you want, sweetheart."

"I need you in me." You whine out, turning your face to look at him. You lay a hand on your cheek and moan out.

He watches your face twitch with pleasure as he drags a single finger between your folds, listening to you let out another moan as he pushes that finger into you.

"Fuck." You breathe out, rolling your hips, "C-Colby."

"What, baby?" Colby asks and you whine, "more.." you whimper, "I need more."

"How do you want me to fuck you baby?" Colby slowly pushes in another finger, obliging to your request, making you moan out.

Colby chuckles, "Want me to be slow and gentle?, Or do you want me to fuck you rough and hard?"

You nod, whimpering out, "y-yes."

"Which one baby? Talk to me." Colby curls his fingers inside of you and you arch your back off the bed, "F-fuck me.. hard and rough."

"Hard and rough? Mm" Colby leans down, kissing up your neck, "you want to be treated like a slut now don't you?"

You nod and Colby chuckles, "Words, sweetheart."

"Yes." You whisper out, "I want to be a slut for you."

He pulls his fingers out and stands up, "Rub that clit for me while I undress, baby." Your hand drags to your clit and you gasp as you slowly rub circles over your it.

"That's it, baby." Colby nods as he strips his clothes from his body, "You're so wet already." He smirks, as climbs onto the bed, "I turn you on that much?"

You nod, laying your hands on his shoulders, "oh yeah." You bite down on your lip as he positions his hips in between your thighs.

"I couldn't wait to be inside of you the second I saw you sitting at that table." Colby whispers as he rubs the head of his cock against your opening, "So fucking hot."

He inches his cock in, a groan from him mixing with your moan. Your nails dig into his shoulders and you squeeze around him.

Your eyes roll back as you feel him stretching you the further he pushes in, "C-Colby."

You drag your nails up his back, moaning out loudly as he pulls out and thrusts back in. His pace is slow, but his thrusts are hard.

"Does your fiancé make you feel this good?" Colby mumbles with his lips against your forehead. You gasp out, tilting your head back, "Fuck, no no no."

Colby slips an arm under your back and holds you up slightly. His other arm supporting his weight as his thrusts grow faster, more vicious.

"You have the pussy that was made for me." Colby moans lowly and you whine, "You feel so good."

Your nails sink into his shoulders as he rams himself into you. You moan out with each thrust, eyes rolling back as he lays you back on the bed.

He leans up, hands reaching down to hold your hips, and his thrusts grow hard, "F-fuck."

Your back arches against the bed and you groan loudly, "F-fuck.." you gasp, feeling yourself come undone around him.

"Fuck, fuck." Colby groans, tilting his head back. He pushes your thighs back, pinning them down as he watches his cock disappear into you repeatedly.

As he's fucking you through your orgasm, you feel his thrusts growing sloppy, "Where do you want me to cum, baby?"

You roll your eyes, shrugging as you whimper out, "Anywhere, I don't care."

He groans and nods, "Fuck." He thrusts his hips forward, slowly thrusting as you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You couldn't help but moan.

Colby slowly pulls out, still keeping your thigh pinned back, "Fuck. Tell your fiancé that I'm sorry in advance."

You bite down on your lip and furrow your brows, "Huh?"

He lets go of his grip on your thighs and leans down, hands beside your head, "I said." He chuckles lightly, "Tell your fiancé that I said I'm sorry because I'm about to murder this pussy every day you're here."

You swallow, nodding desperately. Now that did fuck him, you're addicted.

"Really?" You whimper out quietly and he smirks, "Any chance I get, baby. This pussy is mine this weekend, right?"

You nod and Colby tilts his head, "Come on baby. Let me hear it."

You smirk up at him and nod, "This pussy is yours for the weekend."

Colby presses his lips to yours, "Glad we're on the same page." He winks and moves off of you, "Now come on. I need a shower."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

N I G H T * T W O

You and Colby fucked again last night.

You fucked again this morning.

And you're one hundred percent sure that he's coming back to your hotel room after their friend's party, which was honestly kind of boring.

You and Hadley were loners until Sam and Colby and some of their friends joined. Once you got a few drinks in you, the night got a little bit better.

When you're finally ready to leave, you look a Colby, "Are you, um." You laugh slightly, voice going lower, "Coming.. over tonight?"

He gives you a nod, "Do you want me to?"

You smirk, "I think we both already know the answer to that question." He nods, a smile on his face, "I think we do, yeah."

An hour later, Colby is opening the hotel door from behind you. Your back is pressed against it, and his lips are on yours.

He walks you backwards through the door and kicks it shut before bending down to lift you up, "This dress is fucking hot as hell, baby."

You smirk, "I thought you'd like it."

"Seems like you know me well enough already." He teases as he walk you over to the bed. He lays you down and lays down on his side next to you, fingers gently dragging up and down your thigh.

You giggle, "I mean, I can't lie. I've followed you on social media for so long, so that kinda helped prepare me for this."

"Smart girl." Colby slips his hand under your dress and you part your thigh a little more, "Sometimes." You breathe out with a laugh.

Colby's fingers drag up and down your clothed pussy, "Are you wet for me?"

"I've been all night."

He smirks and presses his lips to yours as he reaches down to undo his belt. You eagerly pull your dress up and work it up over your head before moving to get your panties off.

As soon as the clothes are off and scattered, Colby's on his knees on the bed by your feet, "Roll over." He motions, "Ass up, sweetheart."

You smirk and roll over onto your stomach, glancing back over your shoulder as you feel his hands on your ass.

They stay on your ass as you raise your hips, keeping your arms bent flat by your head.

"Good girl." Colby says lowly, gliding his cock up and down your soaked slit.

You push your hips back as he slides in and you grip the sheets, letting out a loud moan, "Fuck, Colby."

His hands tightly grip your hips and his speed picks up. He pulls you back to meet each of his thrusts, "Can't get enough of you."

You moan out in response, pleasure consuming you as he hit that perfect spot with each of his thrusts, "F-Fuck." You whine out, "Gonna cum."

You felt so close already and you blame the connection you and Colby have.

It's incredible.

Colby leans down, sliding his hands up your body to grip your shoulders. He pulls you up and you push yourself up onto your hands.

His hands slide around your throat, gradually closing his grip tighter, "Such a good little slut." He breathes out, "Fuck."

You let out a strangled moan, eyes rolling shut as he pounds you into orgasm.

Colby groans as your walls squeeze his cock, "Fuck, baby. That's it, cum for me." He focuses on guiding you through your high, loosening his grip on your throat and you gasp.

His left hand goes to your shoulder and his right hand grabs your hair and gathers it into a makeshift ponytail, "Can I fill you again. Sweetheart?"

You nod your head, wincing as he pulls, "Words. Baby."

"Y-es." You moan out, "Fill my pussy."

Colby smirks at how much control he has over you. He knew you would do anything for him. He had you wrapped around his finger.

"If you say so." He smirks, pushing your face down to the bed.

You let out a loud moan as the slight position change and Colby's hand keeping a tight hold on your hair, "Fuck."

Colby moves his left hand down to your hip, gripping it right as he thrusts harder into you. You clench around him, urging him to fill you, just like he did before.

"Please please please." You whimper, "Fuck, fuck fuck."

"Whose pussy is this?" Colby asks and you smile as you moan out loudly, "Yours, baby. It's yours."

He pushes his cock all the way in as he lets go of your hair to grip your hip. He pulls out slightly and pushes back in, "Fuck."

He allows you to feel his cock twitching as he fills you completely before he pulls out fully. He lets out a sigh, "You are fucking perfect." He leans down to look at your face. He brushes hair from your eyes and smiles, "Do you need anything?"

You shake your head, "No I think I'm going to go for a shower though."

He tilts his head and before he can even say anything you smile, "Come on."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

S U N D A Y * M O R N I N G

Colby ended up staying the night with you again and you found yourself wide awake around four a.m.

You just laid there, rethinking everything.

You reach over slowly, making sure not to wake Colby and you grab your phone from the stand. You bite your lip as you navigate through your phone and into your text message threat with Avery.

You struggled to type out your question, because you didn't want it coming off as bad, but you just had this feeling that either way, with you being in Vegas with a fiancé who doesn't even want you here isn't going to make it better.

You locked your phone, deciding on not sending a message. You cuddled back into Colby's chest and he pulled you closer, "You okay?"

You nod against his chest, a soft toned lie coming from your mouth, "Yeah."

It's quiet for a few minutes and you clear your throat, "I'll be right back. I'm going to see if Hadley has any melatonin or something..."

Sounded like a decent excuse.

You got up, walking over to the connecting door and quietly unlocking it. You push it open and step in. You quietly prance over to her bed and sit down on it slowly, "Hey." You whisper, "Hadley."

She stirs but still no luck. You lean down, "Hey. I need to talk to you." You whisper slightly loud and her body jolts, "what.. the fuck? Y/n?"

She rubs her eyes, "what time is it?"

"I don't know like four thirty?" You move to get over the covers and your sigh as you lean back against the headboard, "I'm stuck."

"On?" She knows, she just wants you to make yourself say it out loud, so you do, "Calling.. off the wedding.."

"Why?" She rubs her eyes, "Like, because you've been hooking up with Colby or because you want to be with Colby."

You know the answer, but you stay silent.

"Do what makes you happy.. I mean.. all I'm gonna say is that you're with someone who doesn't even want you here celebrating their wedding."

You nod, "But.. I still slept with Colby."

"Okay, before he starts to get skeptical about what-" she tilts her head, "what are you here for?"

"Oh." You nod, "I told him I was coming to get some melatonin. I was going to text Avery but I chickened out."

"Well before he starts wondering why you're taking so long, I think first off you need to find out whether or not Avery was serious with the whole hall pass thing but you can play around it either way. Just tell them that you got to meet Colby and I was joking about it or something."

You stare at the bed, thinking for a moment before you nod, "Yeah." You look at her, "That's good. Thank you." You go do get out of her bed, "Sorry for waking you up."

"Mhm." Hadley mumbles as she moves around to get comfortable again, "Night. Good luck."

You let out a soft laugh as you make your way back to the conjoining door. You quietly slip through, closing it beside tip toeing back to hour side of the bed.

Your eyes move up and down Colby's sleeping figure and you just can't help yourself.

You move onto the bed, sitting on your knees as you lean down to lay a few kisses over his abdomen. You glance up at him and smile as he stays asleep.

You reach up, laying a hand on his cheek, "Colby?" You whisper as your thumb strokes his cheek, "I need you."

"You need me, mm?" Colby smirks and you're not in the mood for jokes, which Colby picked up on when you moved to straddle his waist.

You slip your shirt off and toss it, leaving your boobs in full view. You're thinly clothed cunt hovering above his sheet covered cock, growing harder as the situation continues.

"Yes." You whimper out, "I need you." Colby's hands grip at your waist and slide up to move your shirt, "Whatever you need, sweetheart."

You leaned down, pressing your lips to his and his hands slide around to your ass. He pushes you down as he pushes his hips up.

You moan as his cock grinds against your clit, "F-Fuck." You whimper against his lips, "Please."

He flips you over moving the sheet to bring it over you and he moves his body to hover over yours, "You're needy early this mornin'.." Colby tilts his head, "everything alright?"

His hands move down to slip into the top of your panties and you gasp as you feel his fingers brush your clit, "I'm good."

You were in fact not good.

Far fucking from it.

Your mind was racing as lighting speed, did I just ruin someone's life? What if doing this wasn't worth if? There's a chance Avery could have been serious about it..

You let out a groan, grabbing onto his neck, "Fuck me. Please." You could cry from the amount of emotions you have, you just wanted Colby for fuck them all away for a little while.

He pulls his hand out of your panties and he slips them into the waist band, pulling them down your legs.

He pulls them over your feet and your knees are spread wide. You reach out for him and Colby smirks as he leans down. His lips sync with yours and you wiggle your hips, moaning out as you feel the head of his cock rub against your soaked folds.

You bite down gently on his bottom lip, gasping as you feel his cock slide in to you. Your nails digging into the top of his shoulders as you tilt your head back, mouth parted as you moan loudly.

"O-oh.. F-Fuck." You arch your back and Colby takes the opportunity to slip his arm under your back and hold you like that as he begins to thrust.

His lips meet the valley between your boobs, planting open mouth kisses as he moans against your skin, "Please don't leave today."

"Colby." You whisper, clenching your walls around his cock, "I-I ha-" Colby cuts you off with a sloppy kiss and he shakes his head, "No. no. Baby, please don't say you have to."

He rests his forehead against yours and you moan out, "why?" Colby rolls you over so you're now the one riding him, "Why, what baby?" He asks, hands tightly gripping your hips as you move your hips up and down.

"Why shouldn't I leave?" You breathe out as you dig your nails into his chest. He bucks his hips upward, "Do they fuck you better than me?"

You shake your head, "N-not even close." You smile and look down at him, rocking your hips against his as you tilt your head back.

Colby slides his hands up from your hips, gripping your boobs to knead at them.

You let out a moan, whimpering as you look down at Colby, "I'm so close."

Colby slips you back over, one arm bent by your head to hold his weight and the other on your cheek, "You feel so good."

You were desperately chasing that high when all of a sudden your phone rings. Your head snaps and to the side and from as far as you can lift it, you know it's Avery.

"Fuck." You gasp, trying to sit up. You groan when Colby doesn't move and you groan, "Colby, I need to answer that."

"Answer it. I'm not stopping." He leans up and you quickly grab your phone, "please don't say a thing."

He smirks at your plea and shrugs, "My mouth will be full don't worry."

You answer the phone, sounding like you just woke up, "Hello."

"Hey," Avery says, "What are you doing?" Your eyes fix on Colby bending up your legs and pushing them up and away from him, "Trying to wake up." You laugh slightly, gasping quietly when Colby's tongue presses to your clit.

I mean, he did give you a few minutes of talking normal to your fiancé, so you can't be mad.

"Yeah." Avery laughs anxiously, "Sorry about that."

You hum in response, mainly towards Colby slipping a finger into your soaked cunt, "No.. it's fine." You breathe out and Avery stays quiet for a few seconds, "Doesn't sound fine."

You know this is turning into an argument. The anger rising within you, is starting to make you not want to care if they hear another person making you cum.

You arch your back up off the bed as Colby adds another finger and you manage to choke out words, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You huffed when you said it's fine." Avery says, a hint of anger dashing their words, "No. no. You know what. You come home today, I don't want to fight with you. I shouldn't have even brang it up."

You look down at Colby who is staring up at you, beautifully to add. His fingers thrust into you at a slow pace, curling up ward right when you needed him to.

You felt awful for being on the phone with your fiancé while Colby Brock is knuckle need in your pussy.

Also, turned you on in such a way that could never ever be waterboarded out of you.

"Avery." You say, pausing as Colby moves to rub your clit with his other hand, "I just woke up." You breathe out, turning it into a fake yawn, "What's going on with you?"

They take a breath and start speaking, "I just wanted to call and say that I love you so much and I'm so excited to see you today. You're going to make sure a beautiful wife. My beautiful wife."

Your stomach drops and you get that same gut feeling that you got when you were on the phone with them.

Your whole demeanor changes and Colby notices, stopping his actions as he sits up. You hold your hand out to him displaying one finger and he nods.

You move to sit up, "Avery.. what's going on?"

"What do you mean what's going on?" They ask and you rest your head in your foreheads, "I don't know, you must haven't ever called me to tell me you love me like this before."

You mainly repeat it just so Colby can know what's going on. You lay back down and roll your hips towards him. He smiles, taking the hint right away.

He leans down, tongue sliding in between your folds and you fight back a moan. Luckily, it was Avery's turn to speak.

"I'm just.." they sigh and you bite down on your lip, waiting for them to continue, "I'm nervous but so excited about the wedding I just wanted to tell you that I love you."

Their excuse didn't sit right with you.

"Oh." You laugh slightly, "I see. Well.. I love you, too, baby."

Your words made Colby's grip tighter on your hips. You look down at him just as he rises to his knees, hand gripping the base of this cock as he slides it against your glistening cunt.

You know this was going to be hard.

"What time does your flight get in?" Avery asks and you hum as you keep your lips pressed together, "Five.. I think."

Colby pushes his cock in and you lay a hand over your mouth, "Fuck." You quickly cover it up with a laugh, "I'm so excited to see you."

Colby thrusts his cock deeper into you and you clench your jaw as you close your eyes. He lifts your right leg, placing his hand flat against the back of your thigh so he can push it back.

You fight back the moan from the new angle his cock is sliding in and out of.

"That's the spirit." Avery laughs and you weren't sure, but you thought you heard the sound of a distant door shutting, "Alright, I think I'll let you go back to sleep."

"Mm." You hum lowly, "Okay." You lay your left hand on Colby's as you keep the phone pressed to your ear.

He leans down, replacing his hand on your leg with his bicep so he can interlock his fingers with yours. You squeeze his hand and tilt your head back, "Wait." You laugh, trying to make it a funny story, "Hadley and I were at the bar and you'll never guess who I seen leaving just as we got there."

The lying is good, keep it going. Avery hums, "Mm, I'm not sure."

"Colby Brock." Your eyes meet his and his gives you a wink, followed by a cocky grin. He didn't give a fuck about your finances feelings.

Only yours.

Colby really didn't you. He thought you were literally the perfect girl ever for him. He wanted you so bad that he sprinted to you at every call or text.

He wanted to be yours just as much as he wanted you to be his.

"I'm not su- wait." Avery laughs, "Colby Brock, isn't he the.. fuck, what do we call it?" They pause for a minute and you ask, "Hall pass?"

You smirk at Colby and take your hand from his grasp, moving it to place your fingers on either side of his slowly moving cock.

He fights back groaning at the sight and you bite down on your lip as Avery laughs, "That's wild. What did Hadley have to say?"

"She pointed him out as he was waking away and all she said was, How often does that shit fucking happen." You answer, sliding your fingers up to your clit.

Your eyes stay locked on Colby's as you continue to speak, "She asked if that meant I could have sex with him and I said no. Avery wouldn't like that very much."

A laugh leaves their lips and Colby bites down on his, smirking as he shakes his head.

"Exactly. I would in fact, not like that. Thank you, baby." They sigh, "Alright. I'm going to bed. I love you."

"I love you." You whisper, "Mhm.. bye." You hear the three little beeps and toss your phone off the bed, sitting up at you reach up to grab Colby's neck slightly rough,"fuck me good."

Colby smirks, taking your hand from his neck and pins it above your head. He does the same with your other one. He holds both of your wrists against the mattress with one of his hands as he holds his weight up on his left arm.

Your legs wrap around his waist and your arms go to his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair as his thrusts speed up.

His face is buried in your neck, leaving little love bites on where he can kiss. He whimpers out quietly, "I can love you better than they can." He kisses up your neck, whispering in your ear, "I can fuck you better than they can."

He lets go of your hands and you instantly sig your nails into his back, squeezing his cock with the walls of your soaked cunt.

You drag your nails upward which causes a groan leaves Colby's lips, "Fuck, baby."

He lifts his head to look at you, "Stay. Please." He presses a sloppy kiss to your lips, whimper the next words against them, "Stay with me."

You bit your lip, "C-Colby.. wh-"

"Y/n." Colby moans out quietly, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes on you, "We work. I know you know we do."

You arch your back, rolling your hips to meet his, "Fuck.." you moan, looking up at him, "Yeah." You breathe out, "We do. We do, baby."

"Fuck." Colby groans, "As soon as I saw you." Colby shakes his head, letting out a sigh, "I just fucking knew that you were who I needed in my life."

You smile, panting as your orgasm is teetering on the edge, "F-Fuck, s-so cl-" Colby lays a hand on your clit and you gasp, nodding as he runs fast circles with his fingers.

"Fuck. Fuck." You moan out loudly, "C-Colby." You cling to him, moaning constantly as your body explodes with fireworks. Your walls pulsate around him as he kisses your neck, moving up to kiss your lips.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you and you use your ankles, that are interlocked behind his back, to pull him in closer to you.

You could tell that he loved it.

"Fuck." He groans out, a smile on his face, "So fucking good for me." He presses a kiss to your temple and slowly pulls out, "Come on."

Colby stands up and holds his hand out, waiting to lead you to the shower with him. You smile as you sit up, taking his hand to follow.

He walks in, closing the door behind you and you go to turn the water on. You turn to face him, "I think.." you swallow, she's searching the ground as you the strength to say it out loud.

"What's going on?" Colby is hesitant now, unsure if you're going to say anything towards him.

You bite your lip and try to fight back crying, "I think Avery is cheating on me." You keep your eyes on your feet you quickly see Colby's before he tilts your head up to look at him.

"What makes you think that?" Colby asks, thumb rubbing over your cheek. You sigh and nod towards the steamy shower, "Come on."

You pull him back and get into the shower with him. The warm water rushing over both of your bodies.

"They said they went to Cam's house and I've heard from multiple people that Cam doesn't like me. And then they call me at five am and wants to tell me how much they love me?"

Colby keeps his hands on your waist, nodding as he continues to let you rant, "I just.. usually that isn't a good sigh. I've been through something like this before with another person and they were in fact cheating."

You take a breath and Colby cups your cheeks, "You deserve someone who worships you. Who love you inside and out."

Was he referring to himself?

He places a gentle kiss on your lips but that quickly grows into a slow, hands groping each other make out.

"I just.." Colby sighs, "Fuck."

"Say it." You urge him, "Tell me."

Colby's hands slide up to the sides of your neck. His eyes search your face, "I.. I don't want to scare you away."

You shake your head, "You won't." Your eyes stare into his and he nods, "I honestly.. think I may be falling in love with you."

You nod, "I think.. I may be falling.. in love with you, too."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Hi hello! Thank you so much for reading! Please tell me what you thought of it, as always I love you all! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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beomglocks · 3 months

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☆.｡.:* pairing: asshole ceo!hyuka x assistant!reader

☆.｡.:* warnings & other : enemies to less hated enemies/lovers, kai is an asshole, very mean, reader is nonchalant, sub!reader, softdom!kai but like meandom aura idk how to explain it, reader lowkey likes kai but like hell no that's ur boss!, unless..., idk if i will ever expand on this concept but fhwuwe i just love the thought of mean CEO kai, im back just for this ig

☆.｡.:* wc : …

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you hum to yourself quietly, picking up a white collared shirt that you believe best fits the vibe of the upcoming business meeting.

"what do you think of this one?" you ask calmly. you watch silently as your boss glances up briefly from his phone to look at the attire you've chosen. he cranes his neck back and forth before groaning dramatically.

"i hate it."

you stare at him with a neutral expression on your face as he goes back to gluing his eyes to his phone as if whatever he was doing on there was more important than the task at hand. "that's the fifth one today sir," you speak up.

there's not a hint of mockery in your tone whatsoever. you're just doing your job after all. was it easy? hell no. however, you weren't about to let this stuck up brat get you out of line.

you were used to kai's constant demands. as his secretary and right hand women it's only normal for you to be able to deal with whatever bullshit was thrown your way. you were tougher than he gave you credit for and he had never acknowledged it but you were the only one who had stuck around.

the thing was, kai was used to getting everything he wanted but that all halted once you became his assistant.

normally he could get anything and anyone no matter what. the latest car or prettiest girl to play around with, you name it. he had a habit of fucking around with his assistants until you showed up. the moment you stepped into his office for the interview you were already on his hit list. thankfully you had a friend who worked here already so you knew of his advances towards the woman he worked with.

"its a good thing you're pretty, we'll look good standing next to each other," he had quipped once you sat down. you had held a straight face and answered plainly, not giving in to his advances.

"with all due respect sir, im here to work, not be a trophy on a wall to you." you still remember the way scoffed at you. as if to say, "we'll see". you can tell he didn't like that one bit.

sure, he had hired you despite the rudeness you gave him on the first encounter, why wouldn't he? your resume was impressive. long list of amazing companies he rivaled with in the past and you were smart. sure, he cared about all that in the grand scheme of things but he mainly hired you because you were his type. however, he kept you on a tight leash. metaphorically but he wouldn't be opposed if it were literal. he knew you weren't the type to condone his flirtatious advances and he hated that so he made your life a living hell in return.

no longer was he the boss who occasionally flirted with you and held the door open whenever you were running late. no. he had turned into somewhat of a tyrant, throwing fits over you not liking him in that way and penalizing you for even being just a second late. everyone in the office knew it was never a good day for you if you had to physically be around him.

he sighs, throwing his phone haphazardly on his bed. he rubs his face with his hands as if he's trying to cool himself off from exploding at you. you put the shirt down on the chair closest to the walk in closet, preparing for whatever he has to say to you.

"y/n-" he pauses to look up at you. his blonde hair is strewn all over the place and he has a bored expression. his eyes are narrowed and the way he's looking at you should make you feel small but it doesn't work. at least not outwardly. you'd be lying if you said the way he looked at you didn't make you throb a bit. but you couldn't and wouldn't ever let him win. you didn't care if he was nice or mean to you.

right now though, he's clearly masking the irritation in his eyes with a neutral face.

"i give you the keys to my very expensive, very lavish house not so you can chastise me about my fashion choices and my likes and dislikes but so that you can do your goddamn job and choose the best option for me."

"if i knew what i wanted to fucking wear i wouldn't have hired you in the first place don't you think?" he finishes. you raise your eyes row when he curses at you but remain silent.

he must've really been in a bad mood to curse at you because you don't think he's ever done that. he was mean but never to the point of swearing at you. that's how you knew today he wasn't having it.

he walks up to your still figure at the front of the closet. you're significantly shorter than him which he uses as a way to assert his dominance. he holds your jaw and inspects your face. he hates that you have such an indifferent expression on your face, you swear you see his eye twitch a bit.

"i hate that stupid look on your face," he mutters. "i curse at you and you don't even flinch, i flirt with you and you turn me down.. what do i do to break you?" he asks more to himself than you.

he holds that position for a while, waiting for anything, any sign that will help him out in this situation. you purse your lips because you know exactly what he's waiting for.

an invitation.

"im just here to do my job kai. i don't want to fool around with you." you say. "no matter how you are," you say to yourself. you hope your voice isn't faltering because kai has always respected your personal space but now he's all in your face. "are you serious? you're telling me you haven't thought of me fucking the mess out of you not even once. i mean.." he glances at his king bed for a second. "we're in my room right now, don't be so crass, its offensive.." he smiles a bit at his own intentions.

you hold your stare to the best of your abilities although the wetness that's pooling in your underwear is telling you to just give in. sure, he's your boss, your hot boss who has mentioned time and time again how badly he craves you, so what harm is it?

before you almost let your pussy do the thinking, suddenly you remember the fact that he only wants you just to say he broke you. it was almost like a game to him and you were the prize. you definitely weren't gonna let him win.

you clear your throat, trying to pull away from his grasp. "your meeting will be soon can we please get you dressed?" you say it with so much monotonous that it causes kai to blow another short fuse.

with a light shove he removes his hands from your jaw and sighs heavily. "the day i fuck the indifference out of you will be the day this whole building hears my name," he says to himself as if already imagining how it'll go down. "but it's ok, i suppose i can keep playing this game."

he turns around to look at you still standing stupidly near the closet.

"although im not sure how much longer im willing to play."

#txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt reactions #drabble #angst #hueningkai imagines #hueningkai angst #hueningkai x reader #hueningkai drabble #hueningkai fic #txt angst #tomorrow x together imagines #txt fluff #hueningkai drabbles #txt headcannons #smut #txt smut #hueningkai smut

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cryptidghostgirl · 4 months

Text

Understand (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)

Pairing: Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Wife!Reader

Description: Y/n has been using the exterminations as a way to try and search for the soul of her earthly husband for years. What happens when she actually succeeds in finding him?

Warnings: Cannon typical violence and angst. Also uh,, not healthy. (The end is kinda fucked up)

Word Count: 2,411

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

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Y/n slid the dark mask over her face, jiggling it slightly to make sure it had clicked properly into place. She had never wanted to be an exorcist, hated the very thought. When she had been alive, she was the type of human who felt bad about accidentally stepping on bugs. If she had had any other choice, she would’ve taken it but she didn’t and so Y/n tried her best to detach herself from the experience.

Exorcists were a handpicked group by Adam. If you weren’t one, you didn’t know about them and if you knew about them, you were fucked. Y/n’s entire existence in the peaceful afterlife had been turned on its head when she’d been chosen. Pulled out of normal day to day and pushed into harsh, year round training. There was nothing nice about it and nothing she could do. No one listened to a thing she said, not even Sera. Sometimes, Y/n caught herself wishing she’d just been sent to Hell instead.

There was, however, one small benefit to these yearly trips. While it was a pain to act like she was being more violent than she was on the field, a constant terror in her life that Adam and Lute would find out she’d been letting demons go, it also gave her the opportunity to search.

Y/n had been married in life. Her husband had been a criminal, one of the worst, something she hadn’t learned until after his death. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from loving him. Every day on earth she’d lived without him by her side had been abysmal. No other love was quite like his love.

When she had first arrived in Heaven, Y/n had searched everywhere for him. There had been no luck. It had been a foolish hope, she knew: looking for a serial killer among the blessed but, she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to hear him explain, wanted to understand. Most of all, though she tried not to think about this part, she wanted to give him a kiss. To throw her arms around his neck with abandon the way she did when they were young. She wanted to hear his voice, have him tell her he still loved her too and mean it. She wanted to know she hadn’t wasted her life, her one chance at a living love.

The gates opened and Y/n dove through with the hundreds of other exorcists. Their game was underfoot, their cat and mouse sadistic chase. For Y/n? The search was on.

----

Alastor watched as the exorcist descended upon him. He was feeling brave and stupid, empowered after his near win against Vox just a few weeks before. Cracking his knuckles, he wondered what the exorcist’s voice would sound like if added to his broadcast.

A wicked grin on his face, she hovered before him. Her wings flapped with great strength, sending gusts of wind Alastor’s way as she kept herself vertically in the air. Alastor simply looked down, pointedly away from the exorcist, and straightened his lapel with his hand that wasn’t holding his microphone. He was trying to make her angry. As she inched closer to him, Alastor assumed it had worked.

“Don’t see many of your lot around these parts this time of year.” he mused, checking his nail beds, “What can I help you with?”

There was a silence. Alastor looked up towards the angel, confused. Normally a blasé statement like that would have gotten a rise out of anyone intent on killing him. Instead, the lights of her eyes on the mask just stared at him. Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground.

“Say that again.”

Her voice came out muffled and harsh through the mask, clearly altered by some equipment within. He laughed, taking a menacing step forward. Leaning down condescendingly, he conceded to her demand.

“How may I be of use?”

The exorcist was silent again. After a moment, Alastor shrugged. He straightened himself up again, his hands on top of his microphone as if it were a cane. He summoned his shadows.

“Well you’re certainly making this easy.”

His horns began to grow, throwing strange and menacing shadows across the walls of the ally way. Still, the angel stood there.

“It… it can’t be.” she mumbled under her breath.

Alastor raised his eyebrows.

“Can’t be who, darling?” he asked, feigning innocence, “The Radio Demon can’t be such a big name you folks up in Heaven hear my shows, can it?”

Alastor let out a laugh, taking a step forward as the exorcist tentatively took a step back.

“Oh who am I kidding, of course it is!” he exclaimed.

The exorcist took another step back as Alastor threw his microphone into the air, catching the center of its stand neatly in his outstretched hand. Her back hit the shadows he had put up to block the ally way and she frantically turned her head to the side, checking what it was she’d run into.

Alastor tsked her, walking up so they were just a few feet apart. Harshly, he used his microphone to turn his face to hers again.

“Don’t look away from me, dear. I might get jealous.”

“Were you married?” the exorcist asked suddenly.

Alastor froze in his tracks, his brow furrowed the slightest bit.

“Sorry if that’s weird.” she stuttered out, rubbing her arm holding the spear uncomfortably, “I just, well, I’ve been looking for my husband? He died in the early 1930s and well, he sounded a lot like you.”

Alastor’s heart dropped, crashing into his diaphragm. The angel watched him nervously as he removed his microphone from the side of her head. She let out a breath she’d been holding, something that was quickly taken in again as he used the end of his microphone to life her mask from her face.

It clattered harshly against the concrete as it fell from her face. Alastor’s eyes went wide. There was no doubt about it. Sure, she had a soft ethereal glow about her now, but hadn’t she always in a way? Sure, her hair was cropped around her ears and she was in armor. It didn’t matter, in an instant he knew. The shadows fell from around them, his horns shrunk back to their normal size.

“Y/n?”

“Alastor?” she asked back, just as breathless.

Slowly, she reached a hand out to his face and cupped his cheek. He leaned into it on instinct. Y/n’s spear clattered to the floor, her other hand finding his other cheek as she looked up at him in simple amazement.

“You…” gingerly, Alastor reached his free hand up, laying it on top of one of Y/n’s, “Of course you’ve been in Heaven this whole time. You were always so good, much too good for me.”

“Oh hush, Alastor.” Y/n scolded lightly, her eyes filling with tears, “You know I don’t like it when you put yourself down like that.”

“No, Y/n.” he let his microphone disappear, taking both her hands off his face and holding them intently in his own, “You don’t understand. I did terrible things when I was alive, I still do them now. There is a reason I am down here.”

“I know.” she responded almost immediately.

“No, y-”

“I don’t mean to interrupt but Al, I do know.” Y/n cut him off, “You were killed hurrying a body hun, hard not to. Plus, when the police searched the house they told me what they’d, um, found in the basement freezer.”

Y/n chose her words carefully, her eyes averted. When she looked back at Alastor, he was still smiling yes but, there was something confused about him too. They had grown up together. She had always known exactly what was going on in that head of his. Well, most of the time anyways.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“You have?” Alastor asked, “After everything, after… God, how long did I leave you up there alone?”

“About thirty years.” Y/n shrugged.

There was a moment of silence. A question tugged at Alastor’s tongue, one he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer to. Still, time was running out. The screams of demons being attacked were becoming more and more infrequent. He didn’t know if he’d ever get another chance.

“Did your new husband make it up to heaven with you?”

Y/n’s eyes went wide.

“New husba- Alastor, I never remarried.”

“Why not? You deserved to be treated well, Y/n. To have had a good life. Why waste it all on me?”

“I loved you. I still do.”

Y/n knew it was a bad idea, knew the risks if any other exorcist in the area heard her. Still, she couldn’t help but feel it would be worth it to die, knowing she’d found Alastor and that he knew she still loved him.

“You find anyone down here yourself?” Y/n asked awkwardly after a moment, looking around the ally.

Alastor took a step forward, closing what little space had been left between them. Like he had done it a thousand times before, because he had done it a thousand times before, he raised a hand to Y/n’s cheek and turned her face to his. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, she stared up at him.

“No one.” Alastor shook his head, “There’s no one but you.”

A horn sounded from a ways away and Y/n turned up to the sky. Waves of exorcists were flying over head, going back to the portal, back to heaven. Y/n took a step back, Alastor’s hand falling from her cheek.

“Al, I have to go.”

“Please, Y/n. Stay with me here. I can’t get to you up there, I don’t want to lose you again.”

“I have to go, Al. I don’t want to cause any more trouble for you and everyone else down here.” she insisted, turning to where her mask lay on the ground, “I’ll be back in twelve months, I promise.”

As Y/n leaned over to grab her called disguise, her wings splayed out behind her. Light hit the tip of her spear just right in that moment, catching Alastor’s eye. A wicked idea filtered into his mind. Something he never could have done, would have ever even imagined when he’d been alive. But now? Hell had hardened him, taught Alastor sometimes you had to be cruel to get what you want and not just when it came to killing creeps. He had tried life without Y/n before, tried nearly sixty years of it. Alastor didn’t like it one bit.

“We will get to see one another then,” Y/n was saying as her trembling fingers fumbled for the edge of her mask in the dim light, “and I promise I’ll find a way we can end up together for good, I really d-”

A searing pain shot through her, causing her words to catch in her throat. It was worse than anything Y/n had ever felt before, emanating from the center of her back. Panting in pain, she reached a hand behind her back. It came away wet with sticky, golden blood. Her vision blurring, Y/n looked up at Alastor. Clutched in his right fist was the head of her spear. From the other hand, he dropped her left wing to the floor.

“Alastor…” she panted, her breath weak, “what…”

He took a step forward and an arrow of fright shot through Y/n. She tried to take one back but the pain was starting to really get to her now and she stumbled, falling to the ground. Alastor stood over her, smiling menacingly down as she scooted back from him. Y/n was full on hyperventilating now.”

“Al, what are you doing? What… how… I don’t understand.”

Alastor hushed her gently, the way he used to when they were little kids and he found her crying. Tears began to drip from Y/n’s eyes and she jolted violently with fear as his clawed hand grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to twist around and giving him access to her other wing. He grabbed it, pulling it out to its fullest extent.

“Alastor please.” Y/n begged, tears rolling hotly down her face, “Please don’t. Please.”

“My, these sure are pretty.” Alastor hummed, admiring the weft of the feathers as he held Y/n’s remaining wing.

“Why would you do this!?” Y/n screamed, her voice echoing in the empty ally.

Alastor fell to his knees behind her, still holding her wing out, still immobilizing her in pain.

“I’ve already lost you once.” he said softly, leaning into Y/n’s ear. She whimpered, trying to scoot away from him but unable to due to the hold he had on her appendage, “I won’t do it again. If Satan, or God, or the fucking universe think they can keep us apart, then not a single goddamn one of them has been paying attention because you are mine. You are mine and there is nothing that I wouldn’t do to keep things that way.”

As the final words left Alastor’s lips, he cut through Y/n’s remaining wing in a single motion. She let out an earsplitting scream before passing out in a steadily growing puddle of her own golden blood.

“There, there my love.” Alastor hummed gently, dropping the spear to the ground and smoothing her her wild hair down around her face as he pulled himself to his feet.

Straightening his jacket, Alastor leaned down and picked her limp body up off the sidewalk. The injuries were bad, but nothing he couldn’t help her handle.

“I just can’t explain to you how happy I am to have you back in my arms.” he said to Y/n’s sleeping form, looking down at her tired and tearstained face with nothing short of adoration, “You might be mad for a while, but I can handle that. At the end of the day, we will both know that you’re not going anywhere.”

Leaning down, he planted a soft kiss on Y/n’s forehead. For a moment, his smile went hollow. He hadn’t meant to go this far, to hurt her this bad. Alastor had just been so scared, so utterly terrified at the prospect of losing her again.

“She will understand.” he reassured himself, “She has to understand.”

——

Part Two → Caged Bird (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)

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volturissideslut · 7 months

Note

Hi! Just read your Marcus x reader fic where they get compared to Didyme.

I was thinking maybe a Poly! Volturi comparing Reader to their ex/late partners and Reader shuts down. They don't mention it, but it really hurts cause they've always been a replacement, so they leave Volterra. The Volturi don't realise for a while.

Feel free to ignore this if it's too repetitive or you've done one like it before.

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 (𝖕𝖔𝖑𝖞)

Angst, no comfort. Pure angst, literally no fluff at ALL. Bad relationship, couple of swear words in there, let me know if you want a part two of making it up <3

It's not like you were the second choice

They had been adament that they wanted you, that you were their true mate

So why were they acting like this now?

After almost a year of being together, they were starting to fall out of the 'honeymoon phase'

Had it always just been a phase? Was this doomed from the get-go?

It started with little snippy comments about acting proper. You were human, not raised in the fine luxury and manners they were, and apparently that showed in your actions. And apparently the way you dress too.

It's like they were moulding you into their exes, it it was making you miserable

And it's not like you didn't try to tell them, you did. Only to be shut down. "Cara mia, I'm working. This is not an appropriate place to discuss this" Aro told you, despite being within the privacy of his study

Caius was no better, in no mood to 'entertain you' and your 'whims' as he put it, brushing you off with a sigh

Marcus, too, was no use, disregarding the emotion and making it perhaps worse by saying that didyme would have taken of the constructive criticism

So there you stood, looking at yourself in the mirror. The big dress, the light makeup, the haircut, even the fucking posture just want you.

And so you left.

Silently, seeing as communicating clearly wasn't an option

How long had it been when they realised you were gone? Three days at least

Honestly, Aro had assumed you were annoyed with them and wanted space, telling his brothers suck. It had never crossed his mind that you had left

I mean, the clothes you wore every day were still there, all the gowns and dresses still in place and -

Where were the clothes you brought with you?

The ones they insisted you wouldn't wear?

Caius walkers into your personal room with a huff, intending to talk some sense into this tantrum you've been throwing, and instead intruding on Aro's realisation

The grounds are searched and Mar3is informed

It is pure and utter panic

Chaos as they look for you

Demetri was called back from his mission early to search for you and you were in another country

Marcus was practically having heart palpitations, he can't lose another mate. "Why would she do this, Didyme would never scare me like this"

And he pauses

So does Aro

And so does Caius

And for the first time, they truly hear themselves

Caius is the first one to remember you bringing it up. "Did she talk to you about it too..." the proud kings' voice is for once delicate and quiet

"... I made her leave" Aro practically folds in half, having to grip over where his hear would be in his chest and lean over because of the burning sensation. It aches, it physically aches him to know he messed up this badly - he didn't give you the time of day

"... I told her I don't have time for this" Caius' fist is buried in his hair, gripping in stress and nearly ripping the strands out of his head. His hands are jittery, shaking, and his hair is tussled - a perfect relection of his inner turmoil

"... In the very moment she asked me not to compare her to Didyme anymore, I told her Didyme would take the criticism" is it possible for vampires to be sick? Because I think Marcus is about to be. His eyes sting and he makes a gagged choking noise like he's dry heaving. Like his fight or flight has chosen freeze and the rising anxiety makes his stomach churn

A knock on the door is what pulls them away

Instead of coming to the turbulent kings and taking them with him, it seems Demetri picked you up on his way back instead and brought you right to them.

There are bags under your eyes, and your skin is sickly. Your cheeks are stained with dried up tears and your eyes are bloodshot like you cried so hard you broke a vessel

They rush toward you and Demetri takes that as his cue to leave

Marcus ever so gently holds your face, eyes scanning you for any physical harm, and when he finds none he feels so much temporary relief he almost collapses into himself. "Thank goodness you're okay, I couldn't bare to lose you-"

"what, like you did Didyme?" you spit back with more venom in your voice than their combined fangs have ever produced in their millennias of life

"No, no" Caius' voice has never been so gentle, he takes your hand in his and places a kiss to the inside of your wrist

"Oh, so I'm gone for three days and suddenly it's about me and not your exes?" there is spite in your voice, but it still wavers with how upset you are

Exclaiming "three days?!" was a big mistake on Aro's part, but in that moment he was so full of concern he hadn't realised it would only worsen the situation

"... You didn't know?" and the look on your face is absolutely heart shattering

And they have no words, nothing to say. Because there is no words, and there are no excuses.

"I was gone for three days, and you didn't care enough to notice?!?" your angry now. And you have every right to be. But they have no idea how to fix what they've done

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plasticferal · 6 months

Text

hate that i love you | matt sturniolo.

authors note: i am sickly obsessed with his mattitude so i had to, also not really proof read so sorry, i’m tired.

warnings: dom!matt, fem!reader, angst, mentions an argument, explicit language, physical and verbal degrading and kind of rough, unprotected sex. reader discretion advised.

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the dramatic clinking sound of ice cubes hitting the glass was enough to make your eyes snap open. you had chosen to sleep on the lounge as opposed to with matt after a heated argument. you were prone to arguments, but tonight in particular, tore the house apart.

tiredly, you raise from the lounge to watch where the noise was occurring, hearing him pour himself a drink. “didn’t mean to wake you,” his low voice travels through the silent, dark house. you roll your eyes, knowing he purposely made no efforts in being quiet.

“whatever, matthew.” you huff, tense from the distaste in his full name. sliding your body off the couch, you shuffle into the now brightly lit kitchen. ignoring him completely, you brush past him coldly to grab a glass from a top shelf, feeling his eyes on you as your shirt lifts with a stretch. you turn around and stare at him, waiting for him to move away from the sink that you need to access.

he rolls his eyes, stepping to the side. his lower back is resting against the kitchen island, one of his hands' curves around the counter while the other wraps around his beverage. annoyed, you flick the tap on, letting the water rush heavily before slamming it shut.

“can you calm down?” you hear him cut through the tension.

you chug down your water glass, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before locking your eyes with him, waving the empty glass in your hand and making it clear that you’re lowering it into the sink at a slow pace, to satisfy him. calmly. more or less to shut him up.

before you get a chance to leave the kitchen, matt's hand lunges forward to wrap around your wrist, an unexpected touch. your face is flat as you look at him, wondering what on earth he could possibly have to say.

“no goodnight kiss?” his words are underlined with mock, knowing how much it would get under your skin. you pull your hand out of his to storm off, but not before muttering something under your breath.

“asshole,” you aim toward the hallway cupboard to collect blankets for the couch, where you intended to sleep.

your fights lately have been escalating, but tonight was the final straw. this fight was still fresh in your mind. you remember slamming the laundry basket of clothes against the wall and him yelling that the neighbours could probably hear you. you didn’t care. you remember him saying maybe you two should take a break, that it was getting too much. but there was no such thing as a ‘break’ in your mind. just a break up.

he chuckles bitterly, having heard your whisper. you wave him off with your hand. he gives you a “whatever,” before you leave momentarily. you return with a white soft knitted blanket and silk pillow that you typically slept with in your arms. you throw them on the couch with a defeated sigh.

“don’t be ridiculous, you’re not sleeping on the couch, come on,” you hear him speak, sauntering into the dimly lit open living space and placing his hands on the back the couch.

“yes i am.” you look at him.

“no, you’re not.” he debates, almost thinking this conversation is a game.

“stop telling me what to do, i’m so sick of you,” you grumble with clenched teeth, as you begin to tuck one of the blankets into the couch cushions.

“fine, whatever sleep on the fucking couch, i don’t care anymore,” he turns his shoulder on you abruptly, and your eyes go wide.

“like you cared at all in the first place?” you pushed back, arms folding across your chest as a wall to defend your feelings. your words were coming from a place of hurt. of course he cared about you. but for a while it seemed as though he didn’t want to.

“don’t you dare say i never cared,” he turns back and points a finger at you, firing up in defence. "i still do, you just don't appreciate shit," and his words are clearly in retaliation.

“god, i hate you sometimes,” you thought that sentence came out in your head, but it didn't. you speak out loud. he freezes, eyebrows scrunching in query. he steps forward slowly.

“what did you just say?”

you look down at your feet, flushed with remorse but more confusion on if what you said, you meant. you grind your teeth together, contemplating whether you should even look up at him.

you ignore his question, choosing instead to lock your eyes with his, almost feeling like a stare-off. his hair is a mess and still wet from his shower earlier, his white tee-shirt contrasts his dark tattoos, and his sweats hang dangerously low on his waist. all things you wish you couldn't see. your own arms cross over your chest, mirroring him. he takes a small step forward.

“you didn’t hate me last night when i had you clawing at my back,” his voice lowers an octave, making you drop eye contact with him to gaze at anything but his face, knowing it would just make your words catch in your throat.

“because we didn’t fight last night” you fire back quickly, starting to walk into the dining room. trying not let him get under your skin.

“we fight every night, y/n!” he huffs a bitter laugh and follows you, throwing his hands up as he speaks.

“because you’re never happy!” you pause your steps with scoff, mimicking the way he talks with dramatic gestures before turning on your heels and storming off once again, or attempting to at least.

matt grabs your arm, longer limbs making it effortless for him. tugging you to toward his chest and you collide with him. matt's lips are inches apart from yours, breathing heavily from the exasperating bickering.

“don’t walk away from me,” he states firmly, eyes darting up and down your face. a smile threatens to curve your lips, knowing it would just tip him over the edge. you take the initiative to lean in closer, lingering so close to his face you can feel his breath, body heat and light peach fuzz that covers both of your skin. with your voice soft and gentle, you utter your next sentence.

“fuck you.”

his eyebrow perks up and jaw tenses slowly. his stark blue eyes darken, looking deep into yours. an easy, smug smirk pulls and dimples appear in his cheeks.

"as you wish, sweetheart,” he speaks in a relaxed manner.

his fingers brush against your hip bone, sending a chill across your side. you want to lean into his delicate touch, but keep your self control together. you push his hand away, sharing a sharp, distasteful huff.

“you think that will resolve this?” you narrow your eyes, daring his response. he raises his hand slowly to brush them across your cheek, down your jawline. creating a flowing rhythm further down your neck, warm fingers past your collar bone.

“with how hard i’d make you cum, yeah, i do” his response is fearless and direct, like any other confident line that has ever left his pretty, smart mouth. you feel excitement trying to push through the stern front you’re attempting to keep up.

“i’d like to see you live up to that,” you retort, making his hand stop at your hip to grip tightly, pressing deep into your bone and tugging the lower half of your body to touch his.

“baby, i can live up to my word on one condition,” matty speaks. you wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t waste a second in sliding his hands down the back of your thighs to lift you up, turning you around to place on the cold wood of the dining table.

“don’t talk back.” and just like that, he was over the edge. he forces you in place, shuffling your shirt up past your hips eagerly. you support yourself on your elbows and lean back to still be able to see him, and allow him to take control.

his coarse, hot hands plant themselves at your side, thumbs digging deep into the crease where your hip meets your leg. the pressure was sure to leave a sore spot in the morning. spreading you open for his pleasure, he dips his head down to brush his lips along the inside of your thighs. he starts at your knee, and you feel his breath as he travels closer to your heat, teasing you.

you crave him to come closer, to make more contact. knowing what you want only makes him do the opposite. he brings two fingers to your black lace panties, pulling them to the side, whereas usually you’d help guide them off. while his fingers are there, the takes his middle and ring finger and slides them through your folds, feeling the pool that’s starting between your legs.

“matt-” you exhale.

“shut up.” he doesn’t give you a chance to merely breathe his name, hand holding your lace to the side and mouth attaching to your cunt. his tongue scoops upwards, soft yet firm. he enjoys going down you more than he’ll ever admit, but when he thinks he has the upper hand in a disagreement, your punishment is having to let him focus. therefore, no speaking.

you feel him flick your clit, before making a stripe back from the start. he keeps attacking with his tongue, moving his mouth rhythmically but not focusing on your sweet spot as he doesn’t want to overwhelm you just yet.

his free hand leaves your thigh and makes his way to your heat, the tip of his middle finger tempting your entrance before he spits harshly, making you hum, as he slides in slowly. you gasp as his finger curves inside you, exploring you. inserting a second finger, he quickens his pace, thrusting into you hard and firm, tips brushing your walls with every push.

you grind into the palm of his hand with a heavy moan, friction from both matty and the table beneath you stimulating every moment. his tongue fixates again on your cunt, moving fast. you’re desperate for more, and he’s dragging out every second he can. you try to encourage his movement, running a hand through his perfect subtle curls. you grip his soft brown hair between your fingers, pushing him down to force pressure.

“y/n, keep your hands to yourself,” he swats your hands away, and you groan in annoyance at the loss of momentum.

“but i need more,” you almost demand with irritation, seeing as though this was not only his idea, but emphasising the pent up annoyance lingering from the fight earlier. all he wants is for you to be quiet and take it. you’re a challenge for him.

“like the needy slut you are." he states.

“actions speak louder than words.” you counter.

“fuck are you gonna stop talking or do i have to make you?” matt groans, growing more direct.

“i never agreed to stop.” you rebutted. he laughs with a scoff, licking in the inside of his cheek slowly. he leans up to straighten his posture, looking down at you with his hips flush against the table.

“y’wanna be that way? okay,” he exhales while slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down teasingly to show the soft pale skin sharply leading down to his already hardening cock, pressing against his boxers. it’s all your eyes can focus on.

“turn around.” he speaks faint, raspy. when you take a few seconds too long to manoeuvre your body the way he desires, he takes it upon himself, forcing you by your hips and pressing into your lower back to flip you over. his strength is beyond you, and there’s no chance you’re unable to be manhandled. you’re on your knees, ass out for his viewing pleasure on this huge table. you still use your elbows as support, back arching.

his right hand crawls around over to your face from behind, around your neck, then up to your lips. the fingers that were inside you make their way into your mouth, prying your lips apart and forcing entrance to make you taste yourself.

he keeps them there, using his free hand to slide his boxers until they fall. he traces the arch of your spine. when he reaches the curve just below your ribs, he abruptly grabs your body, pulling you toward his waist.

you feel the tip of his cock push against your exposed perineum, warm and wet, inching closer to your entrance where he finally fills you. you moan as he swallows his own, heavy exhaling with relief as he slides out and slams into you heavily.

he repeats his motions once your body gives him the green light, thrusting into you at a steady pace, giving you time to feel his full raw movement when he pulls back before aggressively crashing your skin together. you can feel the sweat starting to glaze your skin, rocking back and forth with each moment. you moan with each stroke of his thick throbbing cock, the friction becoming a fire between your core.

“gonna try speak with my fingers in your mouth, huh?” he grunts, still thrusting into you deeply.

without warning, he brings his free hand down to the side of your thigh with a hard spank, stinging badly. you gasp, teeth digging into his fingers as he makes a mess of your saliva all over your lips and chin, not being able to keep his hand still.

matty prides himself on how long he can last, and his stamina meaning he has the time and patience to edge you until you’re on the verge of tears. you can feel the familiar feeling of a climax buzzing in your stomach, nearing closer with the consistent pace. you bring a hand up to put pressure on your already sensitive clit, making you shutter.

he finally pulls his fingers from your mouth and you pant, cussing and yelling "fuck, shit, s'good" your eyes shut tight, trying to match his pace and slap your ass into him while he thrusts. he slaps your cheek just hard enough to snap your eyes open, and you realise you're being far too loud.

he curves himself over your body so his chest is pressed on your back and he bites your shoulder, leaving marks all over your upper back. he bites hard enough to make you wince, and it's a very clear punishment for you.

"says i don’t care," he mutters, recalling the words you spoke earlier. he never drops anything easily. he'll use anything against you when he has you a moaning mess underneath him. he thrusts slow and hard, the noise so loud and hard you cry out.

"you hate me now, princess?" another hard, almost painful thrust. his thick cock fills you and hits so deep, feeling him the entire time and heavy in your cunt.

"n-no," you cry out again, feeling a tear slip. he'll never admit it, but the sight of your face wet from tears is the prettiest image for him. he wan't to be the only one to make it happen, and the only one to kiss it better, wipe your face, kiss it better.

"yeah, that's what i thought," thrust. he picks up his pace again and you know you can't last long.

"i'm gonna cum, matt, i- i need to," your breathing is jagged and voice is strained. you feel yourself clench around him and matt grabs your ass with his hands, repositioning to pull you back and forth aggressively onto his cock, and you're gripping the table so tight.

"god you feel so good. this pussy is so fucking good," he speaks through tight teeth. the moment you scream out and let your body collapse he pulls out and you feel his warm cum land all over your lower back.

"sh-shit, fuck," he moans out his climax, in a shuttering breath, the sweetest sound you could ever hear. he slaps your ass again, making you kneel up.

"cm'here" he uses your own shirt to clean you, wiping you down before helping you off the table. your legs are jelly, so you hold onto him tight.

"come back to bed?" he asks, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep you standing. you nod, and he starts guiding you both toward his room. you pull him back to face you.

"i don't hate you, matt" you bring your lips up to his, kissing him softly. he doesn't kiss back.

"not what i wanna hear," he shakes his head. you hesitate, leaning back to think. you really do not want to escalate it, but you think it's more suited to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"i hate that i love you," you look him in the eyes. he laughs through his nose, an exhale of air.

"i'll take that," he leans down, connecting your lips. he wraps his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, pressing harder. squeezing lightly. he pulls back, brushing your noses together.

"i hate that i love you too, baby," he starts.

suddenly leaning over he’s sweeping his arms under your thighs, carrying you bridal style. you hold onto him tight, letting a laugh out as he yawns.

"now let's go to bed before we break up again."

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo one shot #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets

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h0nkch0c0late · 8 months

Note

ahhh stop ur gen v fics are too good. Maybe could you write abt reader having some sort of like super scream powers and they’re dating Jordan

You're too nice, anon 😭😭🫶🫶 also when you said super scream powers I immediately thought of the girl from Danger Force so that's kinda funny.

Scream Queen

Jordan Lee x Reader

SUMMARY: you've always hated your powers. Sonic screaming to you wasn't as cool as being able to teleport or moving things with your mind. To Jordan, your powers were amazing.

WARNINGS: swearing, a very supportive gushy Jordan.

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You felt like out of everyone, your powers were the most boring.

Now, to the normal human eye, your powers were awesome as fuck. With just a scream you could knock someone against a wall or paralyze people by making their eardrums bleed.

Jordan, although not a normal human being, absolutely adored your powers. It was one of the many things that made you unique. Not to mention it was fun watching you throw Rufus around when duelling for one of your classes.

The only problem was that your powers absolutely fucked with your throat afterwards and you would go hours without talking just to make yourself feel better, that or Jordan would stick you in their bed and make you lay there so they could take care of you.

And today was one of those days.

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"Jordan, babe, really I'm fine." You tell her, voice scratchy, trying to lift yourself from her bed.

She gave you a knowing look before pushing you back down, "you are definitely not fine, I can hear it. Now just lay there and wait." They demanded.

You sighed before clearing your throat, flinching at the pain that shot through your body at the action.

"Where the fuck are you gonna get the tea anyway?" You ask, regretting your choice of speaking as your throat felt like sandpaper.

Jordan smirks, "I have my ways. Now just lay there, do not move or speak while I go grab it." They retorted before rushing out of their dorm door.

You huffed, crossing your arms as you waited.

And while you waited, you thought about the events that had lead you to that moment.

Rufus had been his usual, creepy dickish self, and had chosen you as the main target that day.

Unfortunately for you, Jordan wasn't at your side to save you, so you had to save yourself.

So, as Rufus continually tried to get into your pants (more so you into his), saying things such as "I'm much better than Jordan" and comments about how his dick was bigger and better, you had just about enough.

Turning to him, and screaming as loud as you could, sending waves at the boy so loud that it had began to make his eardrums bleed. He had fallen to the ground paralyzed, his eyes frozen wide.

You smirked at him being defenseless as you rubbed your now-sore throat, just in time for Jordan to find you, ans that's how you ended up in his room for the millionth time.

They were fine with taking care of you, after all it was part of the job description of being your partner, and all.

In fact they absolutely loved it, because it meant that they're attention was on you and only you. And she loved those moments where it was just the two of you.

------------------------------------

Jordan came back shortly with a mug of tea in her hand, sweetened with mostly honey to the point where you couldn't tell what flavour the tea was.

Your favourite.

It also meant endless Jordan snuggles so you weren't much of a complainer when it came to that.

It was the fact that you constantly needed care. Yes, it was only a sore throat, but Jordan continuously refused to tell you what her sore throat remedy was BECAUSE she wanted to take care of you.

"Be careful, it's hot." They warned as they handed you the mug, then climbed into the bed with you.

"Yes, yes, I know. I'm careful." You reply hoarsly before taking a sip of the drink, enjoying the feeling of the tea going down.

Jordan turned their body towards you, wrapping one arm around your torso and the other to entangle their fingers in your hair, kissing your shoulder as they snuggled close to you.

"You're too nice to me." You tell them as you take another sip of your tea, one of your fingers circling the rim of the cup as an unconscious fidget.

"Please, im the perfect amount of nice. You're just not used to this much attention, which I get." She noted, resting her head on your shoulder.

You rested the mug against your legs as you leaned your head against their's.

Jordan was right, you weren't used to all the attention.

Your parents had always been distant with you, making your nanny or a made take care of you whenever you got sick or when you used your powers because they were too busy living their own lives to take care of you.

And even then, those who did take care of you were absolutely terrified of you and your powers.

So when you had met Jordan, and first got into the relationship, the immediate switch of having no one to having someone was a big step.

"I love you, Jordan." You said after a moment of comfortable silence, your cup of tea half finished as you put it on your bedside table.

"I love you too." They replied, pulling you closer to them as you wrapped your arms around their waist.

Even during the times you hated your powers, Jordan somehow managed to make you love them.

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BOO another Jordan fic for you thirsty gentlebitches <3

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#x reader #imagine #jordan li x reader #jordan li #gen v fanfiction #gen v

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ddejavvu · 9 months

Note

Love to think that Anakin purposefully lets you land hits on him during training so that he can go back to his rooms and press and poke his bruises you’d give him. He’d imagine it was you, and it gets him so rock hard

-el (@anakin-skywalker-always)

i had to take a deep breath after i read this... i wanna beat the shit out of him <333

obvious cw for impact play/masochism, don't read if it'll bother you

this post is 18+, minors dni.

you notice that after the first couple of times that you spar by chance, he ends up standing conveniently next to you in your saber class from then on. he tries to play it off as just having found a seat/corner that he really likes and maybe you believe it, maybe you don't, but what he's really after is to get you to beat the crap out of him. he finds out that this is so enticing after only your first session together, because you were partnered together by chance and he'd stayed up a little too late watching a holoshow and after three tries obi-wan probably gave up on telling him to get some sleep. so he's tired and a little grouchy (he's absolutely pissy) but the one thing he's a master at over all else is dueling, right? he flourishes in his saber classes, he steps up to it with a liiiiittle too much confidence, and it only takes one second late for his sleep-lagged brain to register your foot heading for his face until your heel is ramming into his jaw and he's knocked to the floor.

you're not thirteen anymore, you're either older padawans or already knights, so no one monitors your matches too closely. you won't be reprimanded for kicking him rather than swinging your saber, because this class is less about learning the different forms of dueling and more about honing your sparring skills to fight in actual battles. your move had been totally fair, and if he'd just gone to bed on time, he'd have seen it coming and been able to block it, but now he's knocked on his ass with a searing pain in his jaw, wide eyes, and a feeling he should not be experiencing now of all times below the belt. he stares back up at you, and at first, he's pissed. how dare you beat him at his best game, how dare you fight dirty and knock The Chosen One on his butt in front of the entire class? but then he watches your sly smirk as you stare down at him, your saber still ignited as you hold it by your side, and he fully registers what that misplaced sensation is down below, and oh maker he thinks you're so fucking hot.

he's a little slow to get back up on his feet, and he's ridiculously grateful for the loose jedi garb that hides his predicament from you. he nods once, trying not to let it show on his face that he'd actually liked getting k.o'd by you, and gears up for another fight.

he doesn't want to seem too obvious, but he wants to test his theory again. so he lets you win roughly half of your matches, and the other half, he uses the rest of his quickly dwindling energy to overpower you. he has a fleeting thought that you might also be taking pity on him for having such an off day and you might be letting him win, but that bruises his ego too much and that's about the only part of him he doesn't want you to bruise, so he pushes the thought away.

he's careful to avoid your saber, but you quickly catch on that hand-to-hand combat is what usually trips him up, and you're very generous with the punches and kicks you throw his way. every time his body makes rushed contact with the mat below him, whether it be his shoulder slamming against it when you knock his feet out from under him, or his nose cracking against it and leaving behind a dull ache, he lets the pain spread through his body, letting it rush straight south to his embarrassingly stiff cock. he feels so juvenile, popping a boner in class, but he wrestles it down as much as possible before your session is up. he relishes the surprisingly arousing feel of your knuckles smashing against his face or arm, and kriff it feels so good when you knee him just above the dick, somewhere on the left side of his waist. Like you know he's achingly hard beneath his flowy tunics, like you're teasing him.

he passes up the opportunity to eat after the session is dismissed, and rushes straight back to his quarters. he locks himself in the bathroom and sees a bruise quickly forming at his jaw where you'd initially kicked him. peeling away the layers of his robes, he finds several more aching splotches across his tanned skin, a sight that makes him greedy for more. he tentatively pushes his fingers into one on his side and though his instinct is to get away from the pain, his fingers press relentlessly into him as his cock twitches in his briefs. he moans, he audibly and uncontrollably moans at that first contact, feeling the memory resurface of your elbow jamming into his skin and staining it black and blue.

he gets off three times in the bathroom before his next engagement. three times. he tugs on his cock with embarrassing desperation as he uses his other hand to aggravate the painful marks you'd left all over his body, each persistent push of his digits against a bruise flooding shameful heat and pain through him. he cums on his hand, then his stomach, and by the third orgasm he slumps against the wall and zones out while staring at a bruise you'd left on his thigh. he cleans up and gets himself re-dressed, but the bruise on his jaw is still tantalizingly visible. he inspects it, turns his face to the side while his eyes track it in the mirror. his mind conjures up the most delicious image of your mouth latched onto the mark, sucking and biting and making it worse, so much worse. he wants you to make him worse, he wants you to pummel him into the ground and then bite at all of his bumps and bruises until he's blacking out from the pain. his exhausted dick threatens to jump in his briefs at the image so he pushes it down, if only to be on time for his next class or meeting or meditation or whatever else he's got planned for the day. he does, however, revisit the image in his quarters later that night, where he again receives shamefully less sleep than he should. this time, though, he's not taken by a holodrama, he's enamored with the thought of you beating him up further, and he formulates a shoddy, half-baked plan to get you to knock him around some more.

he spends the next few sparring sessions as your partner, once again pretending he's losing to you a fair amount of times. you grow to be friends, if you weren't already, and you even touch the bruise on his jaw before it fades completely. you brush your fingers over it softly, apologetically, like you're trying not to hurt him, when all he really wants you to do is slap the mark, slam your hand against his face so that it gets worse, not better.

after those few sparring sessions, whoever's officially supervising you realizes that you two are always together. he doesn't want either of you to fall into a rhythm of each other's fighting styles, doesn't want things to be predictable or easy, so he bans you from being partnered for a while. he tells you both to find new partners, and while you shoot him a sympathetic smile, anakin's busy glaring holes into the back of the master's head when he walks away. he feels that rush of anger again, like he had when you'd first knocked him over, but this time of course it doesn't fade to pleasure. it burns white hot through his body, how dare they take you away from him? how dare they try to separate you? and he almost feels bad for taking that anger out on the poor man he'd had to partner with. he doesn't feel the need to fake a loss with the guy, and he pulls victories in every single match that they have together, just like he used to before he discovered his penchant for pain. for your pain, for your violence.

he uses this as an excuse, though. to ask you to spar with him outside of your classes. he pitches this sob story about how everyone else in the class isn't as good as you are, and how you're the only one he can't consistently beat. how you two should start sparring on the side, to keep each other on your toes. and of course you agree, because you're friends with him now, and you're somewhat ego-boosted by the thought of being too good at sparring for anakin skywalker to beat.

private sparring sessions are so much better, anakin finds. there's no audience, no one to marvel at how he so easily drops to the mat after a punch from you. no one to call your attention over to them, even for a second. it's just the two of you, and you always lose track of time and spar for hours. it means that anakin leaves your sparring sessions a lot more broken and bruised than he typically did from your classes, which only means more late nights relentlessly jacking himself off while pressing his hand against the marks.

when he does it he snaps his eyes shut, imagining it's your hand. he likes seeing the bruises, but he likes imagining that you're the one aggravating them even more, so he screws his eyes shut and pokes at the spots until they scream with pain. his other hand is busy beating his dick, slicked with his own spit but well-smeared with precum now, as he drives his fingers against his own sore spots envisioning you tormenting him further. his breathing comes hot and heavy and panted as he does it, aching chest convulsing as he spits the foulest stream of huttese curses he can fathom. his teeth are clenched and his fist is too, accidentally squeezing his poor abused red-tipped cock too hard and only hurting himself further. there’s something so carnal and feral and lustful about the thought of you doing it on purpose, you bursting blood beneath his skin and hitting him, staining his skin with the residue of your want for him. he gets off every night, multiple times a night to the vision of you sneering at him, slapping his sore spots and biting at them until he's in agony. he truly doesn't know why his brain has crosswired pleasure and pain, but he'll let you beat the shit out of him any day, if it means he gets to fuck his fist later and pretend you're the one poking and prodding at his bruises until he cums hard.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker scenario #anakin skywalker oneshot #anakin skywalker one-shot #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker headcanon #anakin skywalker headcanons #anakin skywalker hcs #anakin skywalker hc #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker dialogue #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker smut

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strawberries-and-summer-days · 26 days

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ITS NOT MIDNIGHT ANYMORE . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

pairing: Show!Luke Castellan x apollo!fem!reader!

warnings: swearing + derogatory names i think thats about it

a/n: alrighty!! we're here for the final round of this whole part series thingamajig. i kinda put this off cause i know luke's gotta make a whole oscar worthy speech and i was worried my writing wouldn't cut it lol. but anyhoo i hope you enjoy!!

part one: midnight troubles | part two: meet me at midnight

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what.

the.

fuck?

wait... no yeah, what the fuck?

"what?" your voice is quiet and you turn around slowly, your eyes narrowed.

"...because, i- i love you,"

"you're telling me that you don't want to be friends... because you love me?" you eye luke. "you think you can just say you love me and i'll throw myself at your feet and all with be right again?" you take a menacing step forward. "you think you can tell me a lie and get out of this?"

luke's eyes shine with an unrestrained emotion you can't quiet place. "you think i'm lying?"

another step forward. "yes."

luke takes a hesitant step forward. "im not," his voice is soft.

"you are."

"i'm not."

"bullshit."

the look in luke's eyes cause you to hesitate for a moment. is he actually being serious right now?

"then what the fuck luke?" your arms fly out and you drop them. "what in the ever-loving-actual-fuck is wrong with you?" you shake your head and try to repress the anger bubbling beneath your skin. "you think you can just throw this shit in my face? i've been in love with you for years. years. do you see me acting like the worlds biggest asshole? no! do you see me freezing up when someone calls my best friend a slut or a whore? no! do you see my trying to get out of this whole fucked up situation by telling my best friend that i don't want to be their friend and that i'm in love with them? NO!" you heave you breath coming out harshly.

"w-what?"

"i-i'm just done luke," you say quickly barely even noting you'd just told him you love him in your anger.

"y/n-"

"i'm done!" you snap stepping back from him. "i'm giving you until tomorrow afternoon to sort your shit out, and work out whatever the fuck you want to say or do. but after that, we're done. this-" you motion between the two of you- "is done. luke and y/n? over. we're fucking done. you've got," you look down at your watch. "like eighteen hours, and considering how long it takes you to answer, you better get cracking." you roll your eyes and walk away from the twinkling glow of the fairy lights. not even caring when you step in a puddle from percy's shenanigans earlier today. not even caring that it's dark.

your world has been dark for a week.

~~~

everyone in camp could tell you and luke had some sort of falling out. it was obvious when you didn't sing this morning, it was obvious when you didn't come and watch him train, it was obvious when you had brushed past him and he had looked torn, it was most definitely obvious when luke had somehow managed to be bested during sword sparring.

and that was what had set campers off.

sides had started to be chosen and feuds had started to form.

chaos was brewing already and it had only been a day. rumours about what happened - curtesy of the grape bitch, you wanna say phyllis..? - had formed and spread like wildfire.

it was almost scary how much unknown power you both had over campers.

so now you're sitting on the beach watching as the waves lap against the shore contemplating if you should just hunt luke down and smack him instead of talking - it seems really reasonable you guys.

"hey..." a deep voice comes from behind you.

"hello."

luke's warm presence appears behind you and it takes everything in you to not lean into it.

"so..." you start, hoping luke gets the idea.

"so yeah..." luke sighs. "y/n, please, listen to me- no hear me out okay? just let me get this all out and then you can yell at me." he takes a deep breath and lets it all out in one go.

"i love you. i've loved you since the day you showed up at camp all grumpy and refusing to socialise with anyone except me. i love the way your singing can create immense peace, i love the way you scrunch your nose whenever you get embarrassed. i love the way your face lights up when campers come and talk to you. you're a star in the night sky, shining brighter everyday. you're my best friend and im hopelessly- desperately in love with you. i have been since forever. and i'm the world biggest asshole for letting the shit that went down last week happen. please, please, forgive me. i'll do anything."

your heart burns with every word he says. luke's eyes shine with barely unrestrained emotion and his face is the epitome of adoration.

you're both so wrapped up in his words that you don't notice the small gathering of campers at the edge of the sand watching the two of you. each of them, though they've chosen sides luke or y/n, they all hope for the same thing.

luke lifts his hand and gently tucks a stray curl behind your ear. "please say something."

"um..." you breathe, struggling to find the right words to say. "wow."

luke looks at you so earnestly it hurts your heart.

"luke... i love you. i. love. you. do you get that? i've been practically obsessed with you since i showed up at camp. and you fucking hurt me last week, some big speech isn't going to change that."

"y/n," luke starts.

"luke listen to me please." you breathe out shakily. "i don't want to lose you, but i can't- i just can't-" you're cut off when luke's soft lips press onto yours.

the kiss is soft, searching, hopeful. you lean into it slightly and the campers watching nearby silently start to celebrate.

but then you come to your senses.

pulling away, you look at luke with tears in your eyes. "no luke, no. you can't kiss me and make it all go away. you cant just kiss your way out of this. i love you and its tearing me apart."

"y/n," his voice is filled with anguish.

"its physically hurting me luke. it hurts." tears are freely streaming down your face now. "it hurts so fucking much that the one person i trusted to stand up for me, the one person i trusted with my whole being can't even defend me in a petty situation like that. how am i supposed to move on from this knowing my best friend in everything can't even stand up for me?"

tears shine in luke's eyes.

"so no luke. no. i don't care what you have to say anymore. this-" you motion between the two of you. "is done. im done. i love you but i love myself more."

you stand up then, tears falling down your face like waterfalls. "see ya round lukey."

two broken words a wrenched from luke's throat then. "no. please."

"i'm sorry..."

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a/n pt2: ummm soo im very sorry for that yeah.... sorry about that ending of the series (if its wanted enough i'll make another part maybe possibly)

TAGLIST: @iammightsadyall, @y0urm0m12, @just35yrsandtrying, @kaceyh24, @dancing-inasnowglobe, @purplerose291, @shoyofroyoyoyo, @purple-imaginess, @spqrkles, @itz-lilywelch, @d1lf-loverrr, @cassiopeia-core

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan fic #luke castellan pjo #luke x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson fic #fanfic #fanfiction #emma writes ₊˚⊹⋆

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goofygecko · 8 months

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Every man gets his wish♡

William Afton x Reader oneshot

Inspiration

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Warning

Groping, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, praise, L- bombing, grinding, squirting

Word count: 759

Masterlist

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William loves the way you sit in his lap and watch television with him after he tells you he had a bad day at work. He'll stroke your hair lovingly as his eyes fixate on whatever VHS movie he's chosen to watch with you to get his mind off of how much of a prude Henry was or how some sticky toddler decided to throw a tantrum in the middle of the show.

But, today was different then most days.

When William entered the house he was fuming. His heavy feet pounding against the hardwood floor and the slamming of the front door that had startled you made that fact quite apparent. You rush to the door, not wanting to piss him off anymore. As you try to help take off his jacket he grabs your wrist tightly.

"Not in the mood." He snarls, so low it could be mistaken as a growl.

"Bad day at work today I take it?" You say sweetly, doe eyes looking up at him.

"Very." He says through clenched teeth.

You nod slowly in understanding.

"Do you want to watch something on the tellie to get your mind off it or do you want to tell me what happened? I can make us some tea if you want." Your voice is soft and soothing as you speak, trying to hold onto the hand that is currently gripping your wrist.

He stays quiet for a moment, eyebrows still furrowed angrily, before a slight smirk forms on his face.

"I think you know the answer to that already." He says as he grabs onto your chin roughly to give you a kiss before making his way up the stairs.

You take that as your sign to head to the kitchen and start the kettle. Water quickly reaching a boiling point before you pour it in small cups with Will's favorite tea. Heading out to the living room you place both of the cups on the side table before sitting on your partner's lap, leaning back on him so the back of your head rests on his shoulder.

"What did you pick today?" You move your head to look up at him slightly as you speak.

"Lolita." He replies flatly.

"Really?" You say eagerly, "But I thought you hated this movie?"

"Oh, I despise it." He chuckles darkly.

"Then why'd you choose it?" You ask skeptically.

"Because you like it."

You smile at him, his face still scrunched slightly in anger as he watches the television.

Around 20 minutes into the movie you feel William's hands wondering your body. He's groping and rubbing you before settling on your breast, squeezing and pinching at your soft nipples through your shirt.

"Will–? What are you d—"

"What a good girl, so willing to do anything just to please me. Fuck, I love you so much, doll.." He growls lowly in your ear before sliding one of his hands to between your clothed legs and cupping his hand over your mound, "You're so good for me."

You look down at the hand between your legs before your eyes are forcefully brought back to the television.

"Nuh-uh, baby, Keep those eyes on the movie." He teases, hot breath hitting against your neck as he grinds his palm harshly on your covered clit.

"Will.." You gasp.

"Shh, doll, watch the movie." He purrs as his hand moves under your pants, moving your panties out of the way to rub at your bare cunt.

You try your best to hold back your moans, you really do, but when he starts to grind up against you are his fingers plunge into you it's downright impossible.

"Will— fuck — 'm gonna cum! Please let me.!" You moan and beg as he picks up the pace.

"Mngh. Yeah? Go ahead, cum all over my fingers, you deserve it." As soon as he approves your request you're being hurdled over the edge, pussy squirting and gushing juices all over his hand and your pants (:( ).

"I love you so much! Ah-!" You whimper out as he slowly brings his fingers to a stop as you work your way down from your high. Bulge in his pants now more than prominent on your bottom.

You almost leave the poor man with blue balls! You try to get up so you can change out of your newly-soiled pants and panties before you're quickly pulled back onto him.

"We're not done yet. I still have to show you how much I fucking love you."

Let's just say; he definitely showed you.

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A/N: this is shorter than I wanted it to be! :(

#william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf william afton #fnaf smut #william afton #fnaf fandom #fnaf x reader

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lighterfluid1 · 1 year

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Drunk fuck with Bakugo ( 18+ )

☆ PRO!HERO TOP!BAKUGO X GN/FEM!READER (male ver here) ☆

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☆ !! WARNINGS ; !!

ー Mentions of alcohol, female genitals, they/them pronouns, drunk sex, lots of degration, aggressive sex, creampie, fingering, overstimulation, some dirty talk, edging, oral sex (male and female receiving), half clothed sex, etc.

☆☆☆

As the weather warmed up and the grass grew greener, you could tell spring was on it's way. But not only spring. A friend of yoursーKatsuki Bakugo, celebrated his birthday in the upcoming month of April. You obviously weren't the only one to realize since the moment March became April...Mina had already began planning a surprise party for Bakugo. Her, Kirishima, and the others had chosen to throw the party at the nearby club. You must admit, it would be fun to meet up and have some drinks. So therefore you agreed to show up.

You met Katsuki long before he became one of the top 10 pro hero's. Infactーyou met him back in your UA days. You and your friends from class 1-A we're now deep into the hero business, meaning you lost touch with many of them, but not Katsuki. You realized long ago just how you felt about him, and turned out obvious how much you crushed on the boy. That much hasn't changedーinfact it's the reason you hesitated on coming to his surprise party. Even just being in his aroma made you nervous and flushed. Everything about him turned you into a hopeless mess. Mina being your go-to for these things had told you to hang out with him more and try to get comfortable with him. She made it seem much easier then it really was. If being around him with your friends there was hard, then you can imagine how embarrassing it was to be one-on-one with him. But at least the two of you talk online...it was honestly the only thing keeping your friendship alive.

Getting back home from your hero work you stripped off your costume exhastedly, flopping down on your sofa to check your phone. You we're suprised to see so many notificationsーbut when you checked them you nearly jumped out of your skin. The party...is today?! You thought to yourself. Mina had messaged you nearly a thousand times reminding you about it. Quickly you bolted off the couch and into your washroom. You had to shower, get ready, and leave as quick as you could. You barely had any time even now since your hero work takes up a big chunk of your day. After hoping out of the shower and drying your hair you had to pick an appropriate outfit. You didn't want to wear anything too formal but at the same time you didn't want anything too lazy...Who the fuck cares. Grabbing the most decent clothes you could find, you rushed out the door letting Mina know you we're on your way. Checking the time you let out a sigh of relief. You had just enough time to drive over.

The sun had already set by the time you arrived making the club radiate with lights from the outside. You usually didn't feel this nervous attending a party with your friendsーbut the butterflies in your stomach we're unbearable. Nevertheless, you we're here to have fun and that's all that really mattered.

"Ohーthere they are! Hey!" Mina called, waving to you as you walked over to the bar counter.

"What took you so long?!" Denki asked over the blaring music. You weren't surprised he was willing to come.

"Hey. Jus' got back from hero work n' had my phone off. Kinda forgot about the party, sorry," you reply with a nervous yet friendly smile. You usually remember important events like this, but your mind must'a gotten ahead of itself.

"No big deal! Bakugo hasn't even gotten here yet," Kirishima says. It had been a while since you'd seen him with his hair down.

"Really? That's a shocker..."

"Yeahーit is! Where is that blonde jerk?!" Mina shouts, scrolling through her phone frantically. You weren't the only one being spam called I guess. But just as Mina said thatーa voice called angrily from behind you.

"What'd you call me, bug eyes?!" Katsuki shouted. You and the rest of your friends jerked around at the sound of his voice, faces lighting up with excitement.

"Heyyy! There'y is!" Kirishima roared, raising a hand. Looking up at him from your seat, you studied his outfit in awe. He wore a tight white dress shirtーslightly undone at the top and rolled at the sleeves, black dress pants, and normal white runners. You could feel your face heating up as you looked him up and down. As he sat down, Denki slammed a cupcake down on the table as you all shouted happy birthday. It took him a moment to process this wasn't just a meet upーbut a surprise birthday celebration. Or that's what you thought he was processing.

"Huh?"

"Surprise!!! Are you surprised?!" Mina shouted excitedly leaning over the table. "We decided it would be fun to celebrate your birthday with a few drinks! What'dya think?!"

"I think you're fucking stupid." Mina stopped for a momentーshocked to hear his response. "It was pretty obvious this had something to do with my birthday. Why the hell else would you have dragged me out here?!"

"Ugh...why do you have to be so not stupid?!" Denki whined, flopping his arms over the table with a sigh.

"SHUT UP MORON!"

"Wellーat least you showed up!" Kirishima added positively. At this point you we're just waiting for someone to order the drinks.

"Is someone gonna order the drinks or what..." you huffed.

"IS THAT THE ONLY REASON YOU CAME?!" Mina yelled in shock.

"Of course not!" You bit back.

"I'll get em'!" Denki insisted, rushing over to the bar. You could feel Katsuki's eyes on you from across the table...it was making you that much more nervous. When you looked up he turned away increasing the suspense. You're hoping that once you have a few shots you'll loosen up.

Once Denki returned with a bottle of champagne, vodka, and other expensive liquors that's when the real party began. You even received a free bottle of tequila after Denki stood and flirted with the bartender. Out of all your friends, you were the one drinking the mostーespecially right off the bat. The moment they were placed in front of you, you had already poured yourself a glass. By the time the others started feeling tipsy, you were already drunk. Laughs were shared across the table until your attention began to shift back to Katsuki. As your head perked up, he too shifted his head in your direction. Looking him directly in the eyes you gestured a small smileーyour worries completely leaving your body.

"What're you lookin' at," he spatーtrying to ignore his flushed face.

"You, Katuski." Your face said everything he needed to know as the pink tone on his cheeks quickly darkened and spread across his face. He liked the way his name rolled off your tongue when you were wasted like this. His face grew with amusement as he smirked...catching onto you. You had always wondered what it would be like to sleep with himーbut you were unable to get ahead of yourself right now. Once the bottles were left empty and everyone's drinks were finished, some of your friends began to leave. The party ended faster then you thought, but time flies when your shit wasted I guess. But in the end it was just you and Katsuki at the table. "Didn't know you were sucha drinker," you slurred. Katsuki chuckled.

"Says you." As you and Katsuki also began to leave, that's when you finally made a move. As you watched him turn around the corner to check something your heart began to race as you reached out for him. Maybe it was because you we're drunkーbut the heat deep in your body was killing you. Quickly you pulled Katsuki's shirt making his face fall to your level, as you linked your lips with his. He was shocked at first, hesitating as you held him there but quicklyーhe melted into your kiss. The cold air of the night blew through you both making the moment that much more pleasurable...yet the hot feeling in your stomach never went away. The small yet sensual kiss you left on his lips soon turned into a heated make-out as the Blondie took control. He grabbed your jaw lifting your head as he pushed you against the concrete exterior of the club. Small uncontrolable grunts and breaths left your mouth as the two of you made out, vibrating down his throat. His hands slowly made their way to your waist and under your shirt as his leg shifted perfectly in between your legs. Your body flinched with surprise as a wave of pleasure spread throughout youーmaking your face turn a deep pink shade. That's when you realized the massive bulge in his pants. Katsuki's tight formal-wear made his boner impossible to miss. Suddenly a warm sensation made it's way to your chest snapping you out of your drunken state. His hands caressed your nipplesーpinching and pulling as he kissed and bit your neck. You moaned and groaned in response to the mixed sensations, feeling your cunt throb with need. This was very unlike him.

"Noーnot here..." you whispered. The both of you were perched up against the left wall of the club yet people still passed. His desperate grip on your body never loosened though, as if he was holding onto you fearing he'd be left alone. His breathing was heavy in your ear once he finally did let go, sending shivers down your spine.

"I'll call a cab t'drive us," he replied, pulling out his phone. You jolted in response to his wordsーthe alcohol in your system making it that much harder to process. You we're going to his house...? Your fantasies were slowly becoming reality as he hung up the phone grabbing your wrist and pulling you along into the viechle making sure you didn't trip or fall. Besides, out of the two of you he was the most with it.

Once you both arrived he practically dragged you inside. Katsuki had always been richーbut him being one of the top ten pro heros...made him even richer. He practically owned a literal mansion. When you entered the sound of jackets hitting the ground radiated throughout his home mixed with hitched breathing. As he pinned you against the door kissing and biting at your soft skin, you slowly unbuttoned his white dress shirt. Before long he had you hanging onto his shoulder as he lead you to his bedroom. Everything was pristine and clean, the sheets of his bed feeling like pure silk as he threw you down. Ripping off your pants and your panties he lifted your legs placing them on his shoulders as he buried his face between your thighs...Your legs shook and trembled under his tongue wanting to escape although the world spun around you as you laid arching your back from the pleasure. His tongue swirled around your clit sucking it while he salivated all the creases and flaps of your sensitive cunt.

"NghーKatsukiー!" You moaned, covering your flushed face with your shirt. Out of nowhere you felt two fingers enter you, causing you to gasp and flinch. His fingers slipped in with surprising ease as your insides pulsed and twitched around him.

"Relax, slut. You got yourself into this mess," he spat. His words just turned you on that much more, your pussy leaking with juices. You just wanted him inside of you.

"Just...put it in..." you replied, voice trembling out of embarrassment. You spread your legs for him still covering your face shyly, shocking him. You we're so needy yet so hesitant.

"Impatient are we? Just makes me wanna tease you more, fuckin' whore," he chuckled. He threw his undone dress shirt to the floor as he unzipped his pants, rubbing his dick along your wet hole. "What's the magic word, huh?" Licking your thigh, he makes direct eye contact with you startling you with a small bite. Your body shivered as you watched him tease youーhesitating and stuttering on your words.

"Pleーplease...?"

"Good slut," he bit, smirking cunningly. Finally he lined himself up and shoved his cock all the way inside of youーalmost immediately hitting all of your good spots. You cried out with pleasure as he began to thrust into you, pulling one of your legs above his head as the other laid on the bed. With each thrust you felt your ears ring...your climax already approaching. The wet squelching sounds that filled the air were mixed with some of Katsuki's low grunts and moans in your earーsomehow making him that much hotter. You couldn't even believe this was happeningーyou were fucking your best friend. He quickly sped up after realizing how your insides pulsed and twitched for him. Then, you moaned and gasped for air as your body took over. You threw your head back as your body spasmed with pleasure. Noticing you finished already, he let out a small snicker throwing you over onto your stomach grabbing and spreading your ass.

"Wait I just finishedー!" You cried as he put himself back inside of you. Before you could finish, you practically melted on his cockーeyes shooting back into your head.

"We ain't fuckin' done here. You want me to stop then start beggin'." Every time you though he couldn't get any faster, he did. His thrusts were hard, completely raddling your brain as he grabbed your wrists holding them behind your back. "Ass up," he ordered. You could barely hear him over your moans and gasps yet you still did what you were told.

"Nghー! StopーI'm gunnー!" Suddenly, you felt Katsuki stopーeadging your climax.

"What, y'like it that much that you think you can cum twice in a row? I don't fuckin' think so," Katsuki snickers, grabbing the back of your hair.

"Noーmmphh! Please!" Begging and pleading he finally shoved himself back inside of you, causing your orgasm start all over again. As his thrusts slowed he quickly pulled out releasing his hot seed all over your ass. After pulling out so fastーa crème colored juice slowly poured out of you as he finally finished. Pulling you up he twisted and pulled at your pebbled nipples as he bit down into the crevice of your neck. You winced in pain and pleasure as he threw you down onto your back kissing your chest moving further and further down. Once he reached your sore and sensitive cunt, he licked up your rich cream-pie sucking at your entrance until you were screaming for him. "Katsuki!ーngh...please...I can'tー!" But it just turned him on more. As you gripped and tugged his hair you let out yet another orgasm. He smirked, purposely swallowing every last drop as your face burned a dark pink. Before you could respond he shifted to the end of the bed spreading his legs.

"Your turn~," he teased, snapping and pointing at his boner. You blushed just at the thought of you giving him headーbut it was fair...Holding your shirt tightly you crawled over to him and off the bed crouching down onto your knees. Holding your mouth open, he explored the inside with his thumb before leading your lips to his pink tipーthe precum leaking onto your mouth. You held the base nervously but instead of being gentle he grabbed at your hair forcing your head down, gagging you. As you choked and drooled he thrusted his dick up and down your throat, breathing hitching. "Fuck..." The sound of him moaning quietly, grunting under his breath as he thrusted into your mouth turned you on to the point it was unbearable. You quietly stuck two fingers inside yourself as you sucked him messily, swirling your tounge around his tip as pleasurably as possible. Small moans escaped you as you began to thrust into your holeーcausing his dick to somehow expand inside your mouth. The vibrations made his climax come that much faster as he finally released into your mouth. You coughed and choked as you swallowed it down, practically dripping from your mouth. What a pretty sight it was for Katsuki as he lifted you onto his lap, helping you finish yourself off.

☆☆☆

Once you both finally finished, you laid exhausted beside Katsuki holding onto his heated body. As your vision faded as the alcohol took over your system, you passing out in his arms. Your body was covered in bruises, hickies, and bites yet somehow it made you look that much hotter. He too fell asleep beside you shortly afterーstroking your ruffled hair. The sound of quiet breathing took over the aroma of his bedroom as you two slept peacefully together, tucked under his sheets. You wished you could have just told him how much you loved him in that moment you shared.

!! All characters are over 18 !!

ty 4 reading ♡ reblogs n' stuff are appreciated

ー miles/smiles

ー the fucking weekend >>>>

SMALL NOTE FROM THE WRITTER ; making this I realized just how shit I am at spellingーso sry 4 my terrible grammar and spelling errors on the og lol

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nycbaby21 · 7 months

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7/11 Slurpees

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prompt: where Jamie comforts you when you overhear Trevor says he would never date you

word count: 3,535

“Are you ready for tonight Z,” Mason asked as they were filing out of the locker room after practice. The older boy let out a huff and shook his head. “I mean yes and no,” he says throwing his bag in the back of the Bronco. “What do you mean yes and no? I thought you were pumped for your friends to come out with us this weekend,” Jamie said looking at his roommate confused.

“I am really excited. It’s just Jack called me this morning saying that Y/n’s plans changed and she is able to come today with all of them and not tomorrow like we planned,” Trevor said pulling out of the parking lot and heading to his and Jamie’s house. “Okay, so what she is coming a day early? What is the big deal about coming one day early,” Mason asked from the back seat. “Yeah, she sounds super cool,” Jamie said recalling all the stories he had heard of the girl.

“She is fucking amazing, like literally the coolest girl I know,” Trevor responded with a sigh. “Okay, I am so lost. You are upset she is coming early, but she is amazing,” Mason was beyond confused. “No, it’s just, okay so she is literally the sweetest person ever. Like I’m talking you think she is faking it but it is all true. I love her beyond words, it’s just she has always had a thing for me,” he responds pulling up to the house and seeing a rental car full of his friends. “And it has never bothered me. I mean I think the attention and all that but wherever we go people think we are together. I mean you have no idea how many girls I have missed out on because of her,” he groaned putting the car in park and taking a deep breath.

“You are a fucking idiot,” Jamie says laughing at him and jumping out of the vehicle. “You must be talking about Trevor,” Cole joked from his spot leaning against the car. “Ha ha ha, hilarious,” Z mocks and embraces his friend. “Why is he an idiot this time,” Jack asks jumping in on the joke and hugging his friend. “Y/n,” both Mason and Jamie respond, making the other two guys nod their heads. “Oh god, here we go again,” Cole says grabbing his bag and following Jamie up the driveway to the house.

“Let me guess, he is complaining about how she is in love with him and his life is just so hard. I mean the torture of having a cool, kind, and pretty girl being into. Can you even imagine,” Jack responded with an eye roll. “Seriously Z, I wish she had chosen me over you,” Cole said plopping down on the couch. “If you want her so bad do something about it. It would help me out. Because I am telling you, nothing is gonna stop me from closing the deal tonight with Brittney,” the New York native says walking into the living room and opening his bottle of water.

“Brittney,” Cole and Jack ask looking at each other. “She is this bartender at the place we are going tonight. Trevor has been trying to get with her for like three or four weeks,” Jamie explains finding his spot on the end of the couch near Cole. “She is just playing the long game, she wants me,” Z says sitting down and starting up Mario Cart. “No she doesn’t Z,” Mason says flipping through to find his character. “Dude she flirts with me every time we go,” he rolls his eyes. “That’s her job dude. She gets more tips that way,” Jamie responded scrolling through his phone while the other four played a round.

“You guys will see later, or should I say hear later when I bring her home tonight,” Trevor says being cocky. Before any of the guys can chirp him the front door opening halts the conversation. “Who are you bringing home tonight,” Alex asked walking into the room first dropping his luggage on the floor near the door. “Brittney,” the other four respond. “I don’t even wanna know honestly. I am too tired to get into this,” he says walking towards the couch and looking for a spot to sit.

“Here you go dude,” Jamie says hopping up and giving the Kings player his seat. “No man, it’s your house,” he tries to argue but Jamie has already moved to sit on the oversized chair next to the couch. “It’s no big deal,” Jamie smiled at the older boy. The sound of my footsteps got everyone’s attention.

“Y/n,” Cole screams jumping up and pulling me into a tight hug. “Hey Coley,” I laugh into his chest and sway us a little. “Okay enough. My turn,” Jack says ripping Cole’s arms off of me and wrapping me up in his arms. “I missed you too Jacky,” I smile slipping my arm around his waist as he pulls away and stands next to me. “Also, Alex you have no reason to be tired. I drove here and you sleep the whole way,” I laugh kicking his legs that were propped up on the table. “Brat,” he snickers. “Princess,” I joke back and he laughs. “And don’t you forget it,” he responds with a wink.

“Hey Z,” I smile looking over at the boy who I had crushed on all of those years ago. “Y/n/n,” he smiled and stood up giving me a hug and a pat on the head. I laugh up at him and he flashes me his toothy grin. “Anyway, guys this is Y/n. Y/n this is Mason and Jamie,” he says moving away and back to his spot on the couch. “It’s really nice to meet you guys,” I smile at the two Candian boys.

Mason smiled and shook my hand and Jamie sat there. Cole nudged him and laughed as Jamie snapped out of his trance and turned red. “Hi Jamie,” I say moving to the empty spot on the couch in between Jack and Trevor. “Hi,” he says back smiling. I lean back and feel Jack wrap his arm around me and pull me closer. “Miss me J,” I laugh teasing the boy. “Yes. You should just quit school and move to Jersey so I can see you more,” he says smiling down at me.

“You know I can’t quit school. Some of us aren’t freakishly amazing at sports and go pro. Some of us have to go the boring route,” I say with a pout joking. “Yeah leave her alone Hughesy. She is like what a year out from graduating? You know what that is right,” Alex jokes earning a pillow thrown at him. “Fuck off,” he responds flipping Alex off. “Boys,” I say looking between the two. “Oh, you two are in trouble. Get em’ mama,” Cole says and I laugh at the nickname. I roll my eyes wondering how this weekend is gonna go.

Hours later when the seven of us got motivated we started getting ready for tonight. “So you live in Vancouver,” Mason asked me from the couch behind me. He had finished getting ready first and waited downstairs. I didn’t feel like fighting for the mirror in any of the bathrooms so I used my traveling one to do my makeup down here. “Yeah, I do. I go to school there,” I smile at him through the mirror. “Yeah our girl is gonna be a doctor,” Trevor says walking into the room with Cole. The two finally look my way as I am standing up putting the last of my makeup away. “

“Holy shit,” I hear mumbled under someone’s breath. “Why are you looking at me like that,” I say glancing back at the mirror trying to figure out what was wrong. “No no no. Nothing is wrong,” Cole rushes to say, trying to stop my worry. “Then what is it,” I say raising an eyebrow and crossing my arms over my chest. “Damn Y/n, you look hot,” Jack says walking into the door with Jamie and Alex. My cheeks turn bright red at the compliment.

I was wearing a see-through long-sleeved black top with a black bralette under it. A pair of high-waisted light-wash jeans and my Converse. “You guys ready to go,” I ask trying to get the attention off of me. We all split up between two cars and headed to the club Trevor had picked for the night. Alex, Jamie, and I all loaded up into my car while Cole, Trevor, Mason, and Jack got into the Bronco. “So can I ask you a question,” Jamie asked from the front seat, where I insisted he sat. “Yeah what’s up,” I ask from the middle seat of the back of the car.

“You and Trevor,” he started and then stopped trying to find his words. Alex and I laughed and knew exactly what he was talking about. “When we all first met I had a thing for Trevor. It lasted a couple of years and honestly was pretty sad,” I say wincing at how I used to act like a puppy following him around. “It was not sad Y/n/n,” Alex says looking back at me. “He never once gave me a reason to think he had feelings back so I just settled on being his friend,” I say getting out of the car when Jamie opens the door. “Thanks,” I say smiling at him.

“Y/n has the biggest heart of anyone I know. She loves big and puts everyone else above her. She finally got it through her hard head that she deserved someone who actually had feelings for her, instead of Z only fucking around when he didn’t have any other girl to flirt with,” Alex says and I lean over and hug him. As I go to move back I stumble on a rock and lose my balance. Jamie’s arms reach out and grab my waist keeping me upright. I grab his arm and laugh at how clumsy I am.

“You two look awfully cozy,” Cole jokes as they walk up to us. “Jealous,” I joke sticking my tongue out at him. “Always,” he goes along with it and sticks out his arm waiting for me to slip my arm through. I shake my head and thank Jamie before joining Cole. The two of us lead the group into the club towards the line to get in. After about ten minutes we finally get in and scout the place out for a table big enough for all of us.

“You guys find a table. I am going to find Brittney,” Trevor yells over the loud music. After finally finding a spot everyone gets settled. “I’ll be right back,” I say into Jack’s ear standing up. He raises his eyebrows at me questioning where I thought I was going. “I am going to the bathroom J. I’ll be right back, and plus you can see me the whole way there and back,” I laugh at his overprotectiveness. “I’m watching you,” he says and I smile turning and heading away from the table.

Leaving the bathroom I see Trevor at the bar and head over to get a drink. He is talking to some blonde girl behind the bar. I try to make my way to the bar but it is so crowded. I see a small spot next to Z and slip into it. I was super close to him but that wasn’t even the closest we had ever been. “Hey Z,” I smile and his head snaps my way. “What the hell are you doing here,” he whisper shouts in my ear. I pull back confused and look to see if he is joking. I quickly realize that he isn’t.

Before I can even ask what the hell his problem is I hear the voice of the pretty blonde. “Oh my god Trevor. You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend. She is so pretty,” she smiles across at me and I try and send her a genuine smile back. He steps away from me, bumping into the guys behind him. “Oh god no. She isn't my girlfriend,” he laughs trying to get the attention back of the blonde on him. She isn’t giving him any looking over at me with pity. The way he said the sentence was probably meant in a joking way but his laugh hurt me more than he knew.

I walk away as he is still saying how there is no way he would date me and I rush back to the table. All the negative comments from my past came flooding back. From ex-boyfriends, bullies, and haters online. I finally stumble back to the table. Jamie is the only one sitting there when I finally make my way back. “Hey so everyone went to dance or whatever but I got you this drink and didn’t want to leave it-” Jamie said and then stopped when he looked up and saw my face. He opened his mouth to say something and I shook my head,” I just wanna go home,” I said with teary eyes and a pouty lip.

He nodded and moved to stand and wanted to move toward him and hug him but my confidence was on the floor so I stopped. He noticed this and pulled me forward and wrapped his arms around me. I had only met Jamie hours ago but he was one of the most comforting people I had ever been around. I just felt safe with him. I sniffled into the collar of his shirt and his arm was on my waist keeping me in his embrace, and his other hand was in my hair holding my head. “Okay, I am gonna go tell Trevor-” he starts but I jerk my head up and look up into his blue eyes. “Please don’t,” I say with a wobbly voice.

He flashes me a confused look but nods and looks around the club finally seeing Mason over the crowd. “C’mon, we can go tell the other guys and go back okay? I’m not leaving you over here crying,” his voice is stern but also soft. He maneuvers us through the club and we finally meet up with the rest of our group. Seeing me upset and crying the guys all jump into action throwing questions at me every which way. I shake my head and they all give me a second to breathe.

“Come here mama,” Cole says opening his arms. I unwrap myself from Jamie and let Cole hold me. The others try and get an answer out of Jamie but he doesn’t know anything. “Let me go pay my tab and I’ll take you back okay,” Cole says into my hair and I shake my head. “I’m okay Coley. I swear. Plus I don’t want to ruin your night,” I sniffle pulling back from him. He goes to protest but the arrival of a pretty redhead halts the conversation.

“Hi. Uhm I don’t mean to interrupt but I was wondering if you wanted to dance,” she asked looking towards Cole and then me. I could see her starting to freak out thinking we were together but I quickly spoke up. “He would love to,” I say pushing him towards her. “You sure you are gonna be okay,” he asks looking back at me. “Of course I am. Now go dance before she changes her mind,” I laugh and the girl pulls me out on the dance floor.

“Jamie is gonna take me back to the house,” I say giving the guys hugs. When I got to Mason I gave him a quick one and he smiled,” I may not have known you as long as these guys, but say the word, and whoever it was is done for.” I laughed and thanked him before stepping back and looking up at Jamie. “You ready,” he asks and I nod. He wraps his arm around my waist and slips a finger through my belt loop keeping me close to his side. We make it back to my car and I stop. “Hey they can ride back with Z,” Jamie says opening the passenger door for me.

I nod and get into the car. He rounds the front of my car and slips into the driver's seat. He doesn’t push or try and force me to talk. He turns on the radio a little and starts to drive. “You mind if we make a quick stop,” he asks looking over at me when we hit a red light. “Sure,” I say smiling when he gets excited. He pulls into a 7/11 and looks over at me. I quirk my eyebrow at him and he jumps out of the car. He opens my door and puts his hand out for me to grab. “C’mon. Trust me,” he smiles and leads us into the gas station. We stop in front of the slurpees and he grabs two cups.

“Whenever I was sad growing up,” he starts filling up his cup with the cherry flavor,” my mom would bring me to the 7/11 down the road from our house.” I smiled at how incredibly sweet he was. “It always made me feel better when I was a kid, so I was hoping it would help you.” I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Jamie. This is the sweetest anyone has done for me in a while,” I say taking the cups from him and filling it up with the blue slurpee. “Solid choice,” he laughs paying for the both of them. I protest but it falls on deaf ears.

We get back to the car and just sit and drink our cold treats. “Thank you,” I say looking over at him. He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head a little bit. He looks like a cute puppy when he does that. “Why are you thanking me,” he asked setting his drink down. “You didn’t force me to talk about it. You are just a really good guy, Jamie,” I say looking into his eyes. “Z is an idiot,” he says looking over at me. “Who said Trevor is the one who made me cry,” I ask.

“I heard the conversation earlier. I was getting you a drink and heard him laugh and got pissed off at him. So I walked away and back to the table, then you came back,” he says reaching over and grabbing my hand. I looked down at his lips and then back up to his eyes. I started to lean in just a little and he got the clue and went to close the distance. His phone ringing ruined our moment. It was Mason calling him. “What Mase,” he asked with an attitude. I couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Oh hey Z,” he says looking over at me.

“Yeah, we’re cool. We made a quick stop but we are on our way. Yeah okay man,” he says shortly and hangs up. “They are all back at the house wondering how they beat us,” he laughs. I smile over at him and he starts the car. When we pull out onto the highway I reach over and put my hand over his on the console. He laces our fingers and moves his thumb along my hand

“Well would you look what the cat drug in,” I hear Jack say as we walk through the door. “You guys left like twenty minutes before us,” Alex says waiting for an explanation. I hold up my drink and he whines. “No fair. If I had known that you guys were stopping I would have gone with you,” he pouts. I laugh and give him the rest of my drink. “Also you guys missed Trev completely striking out with the bartender,” Cole laughs and Z walks into the room.

He looks over and sees Jamie and me sitting on the end of the couch together and looks confused. “I didn’t strike out,” he grumbled sitting next to me. “Oh yeah, he did, crashed and burned,” Jack laughed. “Get this she had a boyfriend and was just flirting for tips like we said,” Mason added. “That’s okay who needs her when I already have my best girl,” he says poking my side waiting on me to fall at his feet. “I don’t know Z. From where I am sitting she kinda looks like Jimmy’s best girl,” Mason smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.

Trevor looked between the two of us and waited for one of us to say something. I looked over at Jamie who smiled down at me and bumped my shoulder. I shook my head and laughed. We turned on a movie and slowly I started to drift off and cuddled into Jamie’s side. “Hey Jame? Can you promise me one thing,” Trevor says getting up and looking down at us. “What’s the promise,” Jamie asked. “Appreciate her better than I did,” he said smiling at the two of us.

#nycbaby21works #nhl imagine #anaheim ducks #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale imagine

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auteurdelabre · 5 months

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So Much to Lose Chapter 3 Mean!Joel x f!Reader

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So Much to Lose Chapter 3

Summary: Your second time on patrol with the recalcitrant Joel Miller proves... interesting.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 6.0k

Pairings: Mean!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions) , Ellie x Dina (future chapters)

Warnings: Joel ain't nice. Hand job (m receiving), mentions of come, dirty talk.

A/N: I hope you like it and if you do please reblog and all that good shit. Thanks y'all!

masterlist

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Chapter 3: You make the rules, remember?

"It's a healthy baby boy!"

There's a large round of applause in the cafeteria the next morning. Tommy is standing at the end of the long tables. Your book is spine -up next to your coffee cup.

"Douglas Joel Miller," Tommy announces. "Just over eight pounds."

You clap along with the rest of them, happy for Tommy and Maria. You love babies, so what's not to be happy about?

Maria is at home resting with their son and some friends Tommy says beaming, eyes wet as he's congratulated on all sides.

You're still sick about yesterday. You'd had to throw away all those clothes. No amount of scrubbing had taken the dried blood out of it. You're convinced you can still smell it, the cloying, metallic scent lodged in your nostrils. It lingers even now, ruining the bites of egg that you push around your plate. The only thing saved was the red scarf, buried in the confines of your jacket. It hangs how it always has, on the hook by your front door.

You watch Tommy accept the congratulations from everyone, looking strangely detached as they continue.

You try to focus on the book in front of you, but the words slide over your eyes and your mind just back to yesterday. To the fear you felt at being exposed and vulnerable. How are you expected to do this week after week?

You glance over to see Tommy smiling weakly and chatting with a group from the kitchen and you wonder if you can approach him about patrols.

"Can I sit here?"

You glance up from your book to see the teenage girl from yesterday, Ellie, smirking down at you, holding a tray of food. A quick glance tells you there are a lot of empty seats left so she's chosen this one on purpose. You almost shake your head no, not desiring the company or the attention right now.

But she kept your secret didn't she? She didn't tell Joel or anyone else about the greenhouse as far as you know.

After a moment's pause you nod, shifting your tray towards you and going back to your book.

She sits abruptly, her tray clattering across from you. She doesn't have the usual breakfast food that others do. She has grilled cheese, a cup of milk and what looks like pudding. Strange girl.

You'd assumed that your lack of engagement, your eyes on your book, your head tilted away from her that Ellie would get the message. She could sit with you for breakfast but that was it. But from the moment she sits, she talks.

"I love grilled cheese."

"Mmm."

"Never had it til I got here. Now I eat it whenever I can." Ellie takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

"Mhmm."

"Before we got here it was Chef Boy-ar-dee ravioli every fucking night. You ever had it?"

"Can't say I have." You turn the page in your book.

"Joel introduced me to it," Ellie says, taking another bite and not noticing when you tense up at his name. "You know Joel?"

"Nope," you lie.

The last thing you want is to talk about Joel Miller when you don't have to. You don't push for more information so the two of you continue to eat in silence. You know that Ellie is watching your face, silently studying you.

"So do you always hide out in the greenhouse?"

"No."

"Were you supposed to be in there?"

You sigh. "Nope."

"Then why were you?"

You sigh again heavily, closing your book with a soft thwap. There will obviously be no more reading this morning. Not with your new guest sitting across from you with curious eyes.

"I just wanted some quiet," you explain patiently. "I have. . . There's a lot going on for me and I feel safe when I'm in there."

There's something about Ellie's eyes that coaxes that truth out of you, the part about feeling safe.

"S' how I feel in the garage."

"The garage?"

"Joel's garage. Well, I guess it's like my place. No cars or anything here obviously. I've ridden in one though." She tells you this with pride. You hide a grin, amused. "I have it decorated exactly how I want and the bed is really comfy. Joel says I can do whatever I want in there except smoke."

"S'a bad habit," you acknowledge.

"Yeah, but that's where I feel safest. When I'm in there but I know Joel's just on the other side of the door if I need him."

You don't know what to say in reply to that. You can't imagine a world in which Joel Miller's presence would make you feel calm.

Ellie chews thoughtfully a moment longer and you see the questions there in her dark eyes.

"What was your favorite thing about before?"

"Before what?"

Ellie makes a motion around the room and you understand. She means before the outbreak. Before things changed. You ponder this a moment before smiling at the first thing that pops into your mind.

"Pop Tarts."

"What the fuck is that?" Ellie asks wrinkling her nose. "Candy?"

"Breakfast pastry," you say with a fond look at the memory. "Strawberry filling. Delicious. Had one every day while I walked to school."

Ellie is fascinated by this and you realize she'll never know a world that's not ravaged by plague. She'll never understand the freedom of your lost youth.

"Have you had one since?"

"Nah," you shake your head. "But I like the memory of them. If I close my eyes and focus I can almost taste it."

You do so now, remembering the way your mom pulled them from the toaster warm and crispy. The way---

You stop, snapping your eyes open. You'd forgotten the inherent danger that came along with the lure of nostalgic memory.

"Anyway..."

Ellie sees something in your face and excuses herself, claiming she needs more milk. You just nod, about to open your book again when another shadow is cast.

Christ, when did you get so popular?

A woman, (Jennifer you think her name is?) is looking sweetly at you. She's just come over from a table of giggling young women. She's very beautiful. You often see her at the Tipsy Bison with whatever bachelor strikes her fancy.

"Hey, are you on C Patrol?"

"I am," you nod.

"The one with Joel Miller?" Jennifer says with a poorly concealed smirk. You give her a strained look, confused at the reaction.

"Uh yeah."

"What's he like?" Jennifer is blushing prettily, trying not to giggle.

"Serious."

Jennifer smiles again. A big, broad smile that makes her lovely face even lovelier. You hold in an eye roll. Oh, now you see where this is going.

"I tried to get put on patrols with him," she confides, her voice dropping. "I'm on Patrol B."

What?

Here you are fighting tooth and nail to get away from Joel Miller and there's someone who actually wants to be on patrols with him? This is your answer to prayer, you're sure of it.

"Why don't we switch then?" You ask, eyes bright. Jennifer looks beside herself with delight, her light eyes rounding.

"Are you serious?"

"You can ask Tommy right now," you enthuse pointing at him on the opposite side of the room. "I'm totally fine with the swap."

"Really?" She looks delighted.

"Really," you nod, trying not to look over eager. You’re worried she’ll grow suspicious of your exuberance but she just smiles and walks off quickly towards Tommy who looks deep in conversation with one of the women on perishables duty.

You go back to your book just in time for Ellie to come back. You immediately notice her contraband; an additional glass of milk.

"Gonna get in trouble."

"Only if you say something," Ellie drawls. "But if you do I might just have to say something about a certain greenhouse..."

You shoot her an amused look before going back at your book. She seems to sense that you need quiet, glancing around the bustling canteen as you fall back into the pages of your book.

You find yourself irritated when Jennifer saunters back to your table, interrupting the comfortable silence.

"He says that we have to stick with our original patrol partners," Jennifer says with a frown. "Says that they match partners up by skill."

Joel is well known as the most skilled aside from Tommy. You can only assume this means you are the worst. You try not to look as devastated as you feel as you force a shrug.

"Oh well, you tried."

You expect her to leave but Jennifer lingers looking torn.

"Maybe if you ask Joel directly?" She hedges, trying not to sound desperate and feeling miserably. "Maybe then he could talk to Tommy himself?"

From the corner of your gaze you catch Ellie giving you a wary look, the walls behind her eyes being rebuilt with every word Jennifer says.

"You're welcome to talk to Joel," you reply smoothly. "You can tell him I'm fine with the swap. Eager for it, actually."

You don't miss the hard look that's come into Ellie's eyes now. You regret lying to her before.

Jennifer looks thoughtful before nodding. "Okay, maybe I will. Thanks."

She gives a wave before sauntering off towards a group of her giggling friends. You hold in an eye roll and open your book.

Ellie is still staring at you. "I thought you said you didn't know Joel."

"Didn't want to hurt your feelings," you admit, not looking up from the page. "He and I don't exactly see eye to eye."

"Not a lotta people do with Joel," Ellie relents, tilting back in her seat to stare at you. "He's tough to get through to."

And yet she did. This tiny teenage girl who talks too much and asks so many questions.

How?

You consider asking before you realize you really don't care to know Joel Miller. So far you've seen nothing about him that seems worth getting to know.

"Yeah, well he seems to have a very specific distaste for me," you say poking at your eggs.

"Don't take it personally," Ellie tells you as if she is full of sage wisdom. "Joel's all bark no bite."

You don't believe that for a second. You think of the dead doe. You think of the blood soaking through your clothes. You think of how he said not one word to you the entire way home.

"Just a personality conflict," you end on. You want to go back to your book but feel Ellie's eyes still on you.

"You wanna know how to make Joel like you?"

Not particularly.

"Sure."

"Don't lie to him. Or me," Ellie says. "We can't stand liars."

You don't know me, you think curious that this girl has chosen to open up to you at all. What makes you think you can trust me at all?

A girl with a long, glossy black braid stops by the table ending your conversation. Her dark eyes immediately alight to Ellie's second milk helping.

"Is that your second one?" The girl asks, her face cloudy. "You know you're not supposed to take extra."

"Fuck off, Dina," Ellie snaps, her eyes flashing.

"I should tell Tommy," Dina says with a narrowing of her dark eyes.

"Go on then," Ellie dares her.

"She got it for me," you break in, plucking the milk from Ellie's tray. "I didn't get one yet."

Dina's eyes sail to you but her scowl remains. She gives your tray a once-over before rolling her eyes.

"She's so annoying," Ellie says rolling her eyes and digging back into her breakfast.

Yet her eyes linger on the girl as she strides past your table to join another group of teens at the far end of the cafeteria. There's a pink to Ellie's cheeks that doesn't go unnoticed by you. But just as she kept your secret, you will keep hers.

She sits with you a few minutes longer watching you read before she gives a quick goodbye and marches out into the day. You're relieved to be away from her scrutiny.

Tommy passes several groups before he notices you hunched over your breakfast. You look up in time to see him slide into the seat Ellie was just occupying. With a sharp sigh you slip your paperback into your coat pocket. Fuck reading today apparently.

"Hey there, how was your first patrol?"

Your initial reaction is to tell him everything in detail. How horrible Joel is, how you never want to do patrols again. That you need to get switched to another job because patrols aren't for you. Instead you give a timid shrug.

"I'm not very good at it."

Tommy is amused, the curve his cheek crinkling as he chuckles. "I'm sure that's not true."

"Go ahead and ask your brother," you mutter, frowning.

"I did. He didn't say anything about you being bad at it."

This is surprising. When you and Joel had arrived back at Jackson with the doe he hadn't said two words to you. Just grunted at you when you dropped your end of the carcass and told him you were leaving.

You squint at Tommy for a moment trying to decipher what game Joel is playing at. You decide that perhaps he didn't want to worry his brother. That he wanted Tommy to think that patrols went well because Tommy had enough to worry about with his son being born.

"So are you still gonna switch patrols with him then?" You ask lightly, trying not to sound eager. "Now that the baby's here safe?"

Tommy's normally playful eyes are soulful. You read concern there. You read fear. They drop to the knotted wood of the table.

"Not for a bit," Tommy says honestly. His voice drops to a quiet whisper, not wanting to be overheard. "Didn't want to tell everyone but Maria's not doing so good."

Concern gnaws at your lower belly. "She sick?"

Tommy's long fingers begin picking away at a chip in the table that doesn't exist. You wait for him to continue, holding the silence there.

"In a way, kinda. She uh, she doesn't really wanna see the baby. S'why her friends are over there now with him."

You recognize this, the sign of a whispered malady that has followed women of all races across centuries. You cannot imagine the impact of giving birth to a child who will live in captivity amongst an undead world. You cannot imagine the mental toll it would take.

You're not demonstrative by nature, especially with people you don't know well. But you see the welling of Tommy's dark eyes and something behind your ribs cracks.

You reach across the table and place your hand over his. "Tommy I get it. You don't have to say anything else. My aunt ... She uh, she had a hard time too after my cousin was born."

"Yeah?"

You nod, taking your hand back when you feel eyes on you from other tables. Tommy's expression has changed, the tears blinked back as he straightens.

"Yeah well. Hope its okay if Joel keeps bein' your partner for a little bit longer."

"Sure," you nod. You have no desire to concern him further with it. "Yeah, that's fine, Tommy. No problem."

Tommy hears his name being called and you wave him off. You watch his long legs scissor across the canteen as you feel your stomach drop.

///

A week goes by so quickly. A week of reading, of brisk morning walks, of tea with some of the girls that rise early like you.

But before long its back to patrol day and you wake with that same sickly sensation in your stomach. Breakfast is swallowed down with force.

You trudge towards the main gates of Jackson City with a new jacket pulled tight around you. This one is heavier and welcome as the chill increases daily. Snow is on its way to Wyoming.

You wave at the men who patrol the main gate today, Peter and Hank. The three of you chat politely even though your stomach is churning.

You turn when you hear the sound of hooves. Joel is approaching with two horses in tow, much to your confusion.

"Horses?" You ask when he nears. "We didn't-"

"First patrol is always on foot," Joel explains gruffly handing you the reigns if the light brown horse. "Helps you understand the land better."

You look over the animal at your shoulder, eyes fixed on the deep brown of its iris. You muse that it looks as nervous as you feel.

"Names Chestnut," Hank tells you. "He's one of the sweet ones."

"Hi there beautiful boy," you murmur gently, your hand going to the soft of the animals nose. "We'll take care of each other out there today, huh?"

You smile when he snuffles your palm before he tries to lick your fingers.

You glance over when you feel Joel's dark eyes fixed on you and the horse. He looks away promptly and you watch him mount his own horse, a mighty looking black creature with a serious countenance.

"What's that one’s name?"

"Get on."

Great, he's irritated with you already. It's going to be a long day. You sigh before pulling yourself up onto the already saddled horse with ease. Chestnut gives a small whinny before settling.

Joel looks momentarily surprised, brows raising a fraction and you know it's because he assumed you'd be useless at this too. But you're an experienced horseback rider, have been since you were a kid.

It secretly pleases you to surprise Joel. To show him there’s a lot you're good at.

"Black ones name is Midnight," Hank tells you with a friendly wink as he comes to unlatch the gate. "Asshole riding him is called Joel."

You hold in a bubble of laughter as Joel sidles alongside you, handing you a gun that you sling over your back. You don't shrink under the weight of it this time, in fact you straighten.

Atop the mighty Chestnut you feel braver. Safer. If something comes for you, you'll see it. This high up you feel so much better. You follow Joel out the gates on his horse, clicking your tongue and tugging gently at the reins.

Chestnut gives you extra confidence today. You follow Joel to do the perimeter check first, eyes scanning around you. You hear Joel gently click his tongue and then you're both off towards the village.

You ride in silence, buoyed by the knowledge that Joel can't critique about how you ride. Instead, you take your time to observe your surroundings. You take in the crisp air and the bent trees you pass.

"Good boy," you murmur every now and then to Chestnut, giving him soft pats as you ride.

You take in Joel's broad shoulders moving ahead of you on Midnight, looking like a modern cowboy in his brown leather jacket. He doesn't spare any kind words for his horse. You wonder how Ellie can stand him.

When you arrive at Teton village an few hours later you're almost in a good mood. It's been nice riding today. The thought that this will be a weekly thing for you no longer intimidates you. Yeah Joel will be there, but if interactions are kept to a minimum then there's no reason that you can't get through this.

You dismount outside the large house, the outpost, like last time. Joel scans the house, dark hand over dark eyes to shield from the sun. He murmurs something to himself.

He moves to tie the horses up, showing you how to tie off their reigns to the tree outside. You watch even though you already know how, nodding and then follow him to the door of the large old building.

"Remember the code?"

You'd written it down the second you got home last week, forcing yourself to commit it to memory. You nod again, quickly turning the numbers to the pattern Joel showed you last time. You hide your relieved grin when it unlocks on the first turn.

You glance at Joel from under your lashes, half expecting praise or even a smile. Of course you receive neither. He simply tugs the door open and enters.

In your haste to follow you trip over a fallen board at the threshold, crashing into his solid back. Joel shrugs you off irritably and you stumble back.

"Sorry was-"

"Shut up," Joel hisses, raising a finger to his lips. His voice drops to a whisper. "I hear somethin'."

All your previous bravado vanishes, left back outside with the horses.

You swallow a whimper, sticking close to him as he pulls the gun from its holster. You do the same, knowing it's more for show then anything.

You follow directly behind Joel as he wanders through the rooms, occasionally stepping on the back of his shoes when he stops abruptly. When you do that he elbows you harshly in the ribs to get you behind him at a good distance. You wince, your fear keeping you close by. Knowing that he's worse than a clicker but he's your only hope.

Finally you reach what he's been searching for. A broken window in the library, glass shattered inside along with what looks like a tree branch. The recent windstorm must have caused the branch to smash through the window. It makes a hollow whistling sound, likely what tipped Joel off.

Relief floods you when Joel re-holsters his gun, his fears allayed for the time being. He strides past you to the old storage room.

You follow after him, nodding when he points at the log book and pencil.

"You remember what to do."

You scrawl your name into the log as Joel watches on. You two take a seat as Joel brings out the sandwiches and Thermos of coffee to share. As you did last time you eat in silence, your eyes everywhere but his direction.

It makes you think of lunch with Ellie and your interaction with Jennifer. You think about bringing both up with Joel but decide against it.

Instead you dart a look at him from under your hair, hoping he doesn't notice. You watch him sip his black coffee, the lid dwarfed by his large hand. You watch the flex of his jaw when he chews. You wonder what kind of work he did before the outbreak. Judging by his frame and calloused fingers you imagine a mechanic or electrician.

He gives you a curious look when he catches you looking at him and you quickly clear your throat.

"I like riding the horses here better than walking." When Joel doesn't reply you feel compelled to keep talking. "Chestnut is especially nice. Do we always ride the same horses or-"

"Do you ever stop talkin'?"

You want to point out that you've barely talked to him at all this entire trip but you have no desire to start a fight. Instead you clamp your lips together, cheeks burning and anger and embarrassment.

After lunch you both stand and as you wipe the crumbs of your sandwich off on your jeans, you watch as Joel scrolls his name into the log. He hands you the solitary pencil.

"Make a note in the log about the cracked window in the southeast corner. S'what we do. Then we report back so the next week they give us supplies to repair it or send others out to do it."

"Okay."

You bend over the log book, clutching the pencil tightly between your fingers. You try to write neatly, attempting to make your normally pinched handwriting legible.

You're not expecting Joel to be so close to you when you finish and back up. It takes you by surprise. He's come over to check that you filled in the log correctly and when you back into his solid form you let out a yelp before the pencil is dropped, disappearing between the cracks of the old floorboard.

"For fucks sake-"

Joel rolls his eyes as you drop to the ground. You know that something like this will make him hate you more. And for some unknown reason this creates a wash of anxiety to cascade over you.

"Shit shit shit."

You're desperate to retrieve the pencil; you even think you could grab it if the floorboards were a bit more spaced apart. You pull at them, chipping one of your nails in process. You hiss pulling back sharply and swearing under your breath.

After several minutes of trying to retrieve it you give up, your face red from excursion and humiliation. You’re swallowing angry tears. It's not the end of the world. There are other pencils that exist but your actions just erased all the goodwill you thought you were building.

But maybe there was none to be built upon because Joel is staring down at you darkly, his hands stemmed at his waist.

"You've been a fucking thorn in my side every fucking moment of today," Joel grimaces.

He's so unfair. He's overlooking every good thing you've done today. Every silent test you've passed. Anger flares within you, a small flame that quickly builds to a towering inferno. You bring yourself to a stand, eyes flashing.

"Maybe if you weren't such a miserable assh-"

The word isn't even halfway out of your mouth when his hand is at the collar of your jacket, just as it had been that first patrol. But now he's using it to push instead of pull. Shoving you into the wall beside the table with its chipped paint and exposed brick. It bites into your back despite your thick jacket. Your toes scrape the floor and your hands go to his fist trying to pull it from your collar, but his grip is vice-like.

He lowers his face close to yours, his hot peanut butter and coffee-laced breath huffing over your cheeks.

"You watch how you speak to me."

"Those my orders for today then?" You scoff sarcastically, feet trying to find purchase on the floorboards below.

He pushes you harder against the wall, your spine flush with its crumbling interior and you wince.

"Fucking smart mouth," Joel rasps. "Should teach you a lesson."

He'd said it to be intimidating. To scare you into submission so he could continue patrols without having to worry about you doing something stupid.

But then the words hung between you both and your reaction wasn't to cower. In fact, even in the dim light of the flashlight he could see the way your pupils overtook your eyes, like tiny blackened moons.

"Are you going to?"

"Going to what?"

"Teach me a lesson?"

Joel is very still. So still you wonder if he's still breathing. His dark eyes scan your face, trying to read your intentions.

"You want me to?"

Joel's hand hasn't released you, hasn't softened at all. But he's curious, that much is clear.

"You give the orders, Joel, not me," you whisper with more confidence than you actually feel. "Remember?"

Joel stares at you for what feels like hours. As if time has lost all meaning, lengthening or shortening at his whim.

You wait for him to yell, to bark out something sinister or cruel. You wait for him to turn away, ignoring you. You receive neither. You instead watch as Joel tilts his frame back from you, gazing down at you through heavy lids.

His hand lowers from your collar and you slump slightly forward from the wall. Your feet gain purchase and you straighten. He's testing you, you think. Seeing if now that he's released you from his grip if you'll run.

But you don't. You continue to stand there, making it perfectly clear that you have no desire to flee. And this registers with him. He sways slightly, sucking his teeth quietly as his eyes drift down your body.

"Take me out of my pants," he rasps, looking at your mouth with no intention of kissing it.

You take a moment to look for any guile in his expression. When you see none, you drop your eyes to his middle and fumble at his belt, your hands trembling. He watches your face as you pop open the button of his jeans and lower his zipper. You swallow as your trembling hand slides between the band of his boxers and his taut abdomen.

He's so warm.

You feel his belly jerk at the sensation of your lowering hand and you bite back a gasp when you feel him already rock hard beneath your palm. You wish it wasn't so dark in this room because you'd like to see the gold of the skin there. To see if it matches the color of his hands or face.

You tug him free of his boxers, letting his heavy cock and balls hang over the band. Just the thought of it makes your mouth water.

He watches you carefully from under his dark lashes.

"Make me come."

Simple instructions. You like that.

You lick your lips nervously, shocked when Joel grips your wrist tightly, drawing your hand to his face and tilting it. There's a moment of true confusion on your part before Joel spits into it your hand. You watch with wide eyes as Joel begins rubbing his saliva into your palm with his wide thumb.

You're disgusted.

You're aroused.

You use the spit in your palm along Joel's shaft, watching his eyes shutter momentarily. Both of his hands are now palm flat against the wall next to your head, boxing you in on either side.

His hips thrust into your slick palm and you give a soft shuddering exhale as you begin to work over him, taking control.

"More around the head," Joel tells you grunting. Just like on patrols he leads and you follow.

You do as he says, slipping your palm along the head to feel sticky precum already beading there.

You use it as an aid, a natural lubricant, twisting your hand slightly as you go. You watch his face, trying to see what he likes. Right now his face is relaxed with his eyes shut lightly. Your left hand goes to his side, holding his jacket pocket as your other hand slides along his twitching member

"Like this?"

He makes a little humming noise to indicate you're doing it correctly. You smile to yourself tilting forward slightly to catch the noise. He's coming closer, his cock sliding quickly between your fingers.

"Your hand's soft."

You think Joel must have said this by accident, because it’s murmured so softly and his eyes crack open as soon as the words hit the air. You realize that it's the first positive thing Joel's ever said to you since you met him.

You smile up at him, rewarded with a gentle smirk at the right corner of his mouth from him before he catches himself and it vanishes.

"Don't," he tells you with a frown.

"What?"

"Don't look at me."

You're taken aback when one wide hand comes to cover your eyes. Its sudden blackness startles you into dropping his cock.

“What’re you-“

"I told you to make me come," Joel growls from behind gritted teeth. "So fucking do it."

Joel's free hand grips yours, thrusting his hard cock back into your palm. You take it, your eyes still in darkness. Without sight you're stuck with only your remaining senses. He smells like wood and sweat and leather from his jacket.

You focus on Joel's breathing now, noting it increase as your hand continues working on him, your fingers moving deftly around his shaft. He breathes through his nose, occasionally swallowing.

"Quick learner," Joel observes with a murmur as you swivel your wrist.

You nod, your face rasping against his palm. Your eyes are shut tightly, he doesn't need to cover them but you think that this must make him feel better. Must make him feel more in control.

"Much better at this than shooting," Joel says condescendingly in the darkness. You think you can almost feel the words being huffed against your mouth. "Turns out your hands were just made for handling cocks, not guns."

You scowl.

"Or maybe it's because you're not getting mad a-"

The rest of your sentence is cut off as two of Joel's large fingers come to either side of your mouth, pinching it shut. Your hand falls from his cock and you imagine it hangs there between his legs heavy and twitching.

His other hand is still covering your eyes so the result is no vision and no breathing through your mouth. It's rather disorienting.

"None a' that," Joel rasps from above you. "No smart mouth unless you want it fucked dumb."

You're body jerks at this quiet proclamation.

I do.

No. I don't.

I do,

No, I can't. I don't.

Stripes of light peek through parted fingers as his hand drops from your slowly opening eyes.

"You do," Joel concludes your internal debate as his eyes swim over your face. His voice, always low and graveled sounds measured, unsure.

"You want me to fuck that smart mouth?"

You don't say anything. You can't. He releases your lips. His heavy hand reaches for yours, twisting it back around the shaft in the way he likes. He holds your hand there, fucking himself into it.

"You want me to stuff your mouth full 'a my cock?" Joel grinds out as he thrusts forward into your waiting hand. His wider one surrounds yours, fingers practically lacing.

You can't help but let out a whimper. Joel's hands go back to the wall above your shoulders and his hips cant forward jerkily.

Your hand begins moving faster and faster over the length of his throbbing cock, your own erratic panting matching that of Joel's. He's looking down into your face now, something in it unlocked.

"Fuckin' that pretty mouth," Joel grunts, his cock pistining in your grip as he stares at your parted lips. "Coming down your throat."

You whimper. Why is this so arousing to you? Why do the things that Joel is saying turn you on so much? Because you dislike him so much that this feels taboo? Because for once Joel isn't critical of something you're doing?

Before you can question it further you feel him swell and pulse in your grip. He spills himself over your knuckles in warm spurts as he lets out a shuddering groan, the warmth of it buffering over your forehead.

You're so still as you stand there watching Joel. You watch him breathing heavily through his nose, the grim set of his mouth as he stares at his softening cock in your hand.

Reality sets in. What you've done and who with.

Without thinking you're moving, twisting and scrambling to get away from him. Needing to leave this crumbling room and Joel's haunted gaze.

Your feet make thudding noises over the warped floorboards, matching in tempo to your rapid heartbeat.

You burst out the front door into the cool afternoon and feel it chill your fevered cheeks. You take several deep breaths, trying to stop the gallop of your heartbeat.

What did you just do?

And with Joel?

You drag your hand through the snow, wiping the proof of your altercation from your skin. You move to Chestnut, resting your forehead against his side. You let the steady breathing of the animal soothe your frazzled nerves.

Joel comes out moments later, completely composed and dressed. He gives you a sharp look.

"Time to head back."

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