TW- childbirth, talks of death,and the stranger himself💀
RHAENYRA POV
“ ARGGH YOU CUNT “, she hears herself scream hoarsely, a sound that was came from deep within, so far yet so close. Her body burned with pain and agony, terror visible in her face as she breathes through her nose and exhales through her mouth. She swallows, terror now replaced with determination “ I will not end up like my mother “ she swallows the lump in her throat so thick as if she is choking on a rock.
Rhaenyra was incredibly nervous and terrified of giving birth, of dying like her late mother, those memories still ached into her memory forever ingrained into her mind. she wishes her mother was here to soother her, to guide her through the pain. But she is gone, of ashes and dust and she will never meet any of her grandchildren and that pains the princess deeply.
she continues to push and breathe, every breath like flames in her lungs, just like she was told and the pain…. oh the pain …… agonizing. The child bed is our battle field, her mother had one said. How Wise Queen Aemma was….. and how brutal she died.
Rhaenyra so deep in her thoughts didn’t feel the pressure between her legs,gone… empty, she opens her purple eyes, shrill screams of another…. a babe…. her babe… her firstborn.
There is still pain lingering in her body, but without a babe clawing there way out, the pain almost immediately subsided and she was grateful for it. She cries when she sees her babe, oh how beautiful her darling girl was, her babe being wrapped in a cloth and placed in her arms.
oh this feeling… this is what her mother always tried to tell her and there was nothing like it….. oh a mothers love for it is beautifully haunting. She looks down at her little one, her girl, her heir. There is a small tuft of white hair on her head and her skin is dark but a bit lighter than laenor but certainly darker than hers. This makes rhaenrya want to cry and scream with relief and accomplishment, a heir of house Velaryon and House Targaryen.
So enchanted by her babe she barely registered the midwives calling the guards to call for her husband and father. her cries have quieted down the long she feels her mothers warmth causes Rhaenyra to coo at her.
You will understand how much I love you when you have your own children, her late mother once said to her. In her younger years she scoffed at her mother claiming them to be foolish terms for she thought she would never have children, but now she understands the words of her late mother. It only took one look at her daughter to realize what she would do whatever it cost to make sure her babe was safe, unharmed, happy.
“ You little one have caused me a great deal of pain, but how can I scold you for when I’m so in love with you my darling girl. My little dragon i see it, you were born for this world to conquer it like our ancestors, to lead men into armies, to make them kneel and obey. my sweet girl you will show this world that women can be anything they put there mind to. “
Rhaenyra brings the babe to her chest cherishing this moment, peaceful and quiet, looking at the babe she carried in her belly for nine moons, so beautiful…
When she looked up she realized the sky was clear and the sun shone directly on her babe, creating an ethereal look... something inhuman... something dark....
"The Dragon has been born and they shall foresee a great prophecy in which the Prince that was promised shall fight in the war of death and darkness. For they shall bring the light-bringer and the Prince that was promised together to foresee and defeat death. For they are the most important piece in the game." whispered the stranger, looking down at the babe in the arms of her ethereal mother.
Summary: If you would have known you'd get into a serious situation such as this, you would have never bothered to work on your time machine. One minute you're working on the time machine with Shuri, and the next you're in a different world. A large hole in the sky opens, and you fall through.
Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, no use of yn for reader-insert, reader is black panther, black!reader, smut, soldier boy being an asshole, warning: homelander, mischaracaterization, eventual smut, age gaps, take place during the events of season three.
I'm of course going to finish my holdovers au, but I was really inspired and I wanted to start getting some parts out. This will be a series rewrite, so there will be plenty to come. I hope you all like it. I don't see a lot of powered/number readers so I wanted to write one that extends through all the seasons. A good amount of chapters will probably include multiple episodes in them, depending on the season. But enough yapping I hope you guys enjoy it!!!
TW: Canon level violence, gore, death, and blood, kidnapping
WC: 3.6k
Childhood best friends to Lovers
Steve Harrington x Powered!Fem!Sinclair!reader (she/her)
Series Masterlist
1977 - Age 11
The Hawkins Six O’clock news’s reporting on the weather forecast for the next week had been abruptly interrupted. The forecasted sunny week was about to be rain on by a heavy melancholic cloud
“Breaking News, A young girl has been reported missing, Y/n Sinclair, age 11.” They described your features and height while displaying a photo of you from your eleventh birthday party. “She was last seen by her best friend, the two splitting up at approximately 4:00 pm. She left Hawkins Junior High on a purple bike. If you believe you have seen her or have any information on her whereabouts, please reach out to the number below or call 911. Thank you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That day began as it usually had. Steve arrived at your house at 7:30 am to bike to school.
You said your normal goodbyes to your parents and siblings before running to meet Steve at the end of your driveway where he had your bike already stood upright, supported by its kick stand. You did your special secret handshake before climbing onto your bike and was officially on your way at 7:35.
The day took a turn however when the two of you had been biking for five minutes and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the van behind you was definitely not for a new plumbing business in town.
“Are you ok?” He questioned after the fourth time you looked over your shoulder.
“I don’t know. Do you think that van’s following us?” Your question prompted Steve to look behind him as well. As soon as he looked, the van took a sharp right turn.
“It turned, so I guess we’re ok. If it comes back, then I’ll protect you. A knight protects the damsel in distress.”
“I am not a damsel in distress. Out of the two of us, I am definitely the knight. You’re more like the jester.” You teased. He swerved his bike into yours in retaliation, the two of you falling into fits of laughter.
You were so caught up in your moment that you hadn’t even noticed the van creeping out from an alley like a lion stalking its prey.
You saw the van again when you were out in the school yard. You didn’t want to believe that it was following you. You tried to reason it away, thinking that it was maybe what Mr. Clark described as apophenia. You noticed more vans cause you couldn’t stop thinking about the one from the morning. Simple pattern recognition.
You hadn’t realized how long you’d been staring until Steve shoved you out of the way when a soccer ball nearly took your head off.
“Y/n? What the hell? I was shouting for you to move for like ten seconds. Are you ok? You’ve been acting funny all day.
“Sorry, I don’t know. It’s been a weird day.” You rubbed your forehead like a genie contained lamp.
If one came out, you would’ve ask it to poof you home, leaving behind a cloud of purple smoke.
~
It had completely slipped your mind that Steve had basketball tryouts after school. You felt a little bad considering it was one of the only things he’d been talking about for the past week. As much as you wanted to go home, you knew you had to stay with him. He did the same for you when you tried out for the soccer team a month ago.
“You can go home without me.” Steve offered when the pair of you walked up to the gymnasium. The line had been out the door.
“No way! I’m supposed to be here. It’s what best friends do.” You locked your fingers with his. The contact brought a smile and light blushto his face.
“I know and I really want you here, but it’s almost four. There’s no way you’ll make it back home before curfew if you wait with me. Your parents almost killed you last time and I don’t know if I can go another week without you. Your punishment is my punishment, so go home before we’re both in the doghouse.” He reasoned. You were annoyed that he was right. It sucked when you were apart from each other. School wasn’t enough, especially since you started middle school. You had only been sharing on class this year.The school hadn’t realized you were a dynamic duo. A package deal with a red notice stamp that read ‘THIS IS A SET DO NOT SEPARATE.’
You were about to concede until you remembered what had been the reason for your constant uneasy feeling.
“What about the van?” You whispered as if it was top secret information.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. And I said I would protect you. Even if you think I’m just the jester. Even from here at school. I’ve got your back. Always.” He held his pinky out which you promptly accepted.
“Fine! I’ll go.” You groaned dramatically. “Call me when you get home. Tell me everything.”
“Duh! You’re first on the list.” He chuckled pulling you into a parting hug.
Steve’s promise to you would haunt him for years to come. He really thought he could do it. He thought he could protect you from across the world. He was your knight in shining armor no matter what you said. It destroyed him that day when he realized he couldn’t. That his broken promise would hurt the person he loved most in the world in ways he couldn’t yet comprehend.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you had known then that it would be the last time you would hug your best friend in two years, you would have clung to him tighter. Like he was your life raft while you were adrift at sea.Before you left in the morning you would’ve stayed in your father’s embrace and gave your mother an extra kiss before you ran out the door to meet Steve. You would’ve entertained your Erica’s toddler babble for longer and let Lucas finish his rant about Dustin scamming him out of his latest Spider-Man comic. Every silly little thing that you hated, every chore assigned to you that felt like the end of the world. You would have cherished them. It was true when your parents would say ‘you never know what you have until it’s gone.’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You had no idea the trouble that would follow you when at the age of eight, you realized you could move things with your mind. It started with little things. You would stare at a pencil a little too long then it would launch itself off the table. If you got mad, objects around you would crack or shatter. If you had nightmares, you would wake up to a room in ruins. When your parents would ask what happened, you answered truthfully. You had super powers, but of course they didn’t believe you. Who would? Every child thinks they have them, but they never prepare parents for when it’s true.
The older you got the easier it was to control. You could move things in neutrality. It felt freeing to not worry about shattering a window because you flunked your math test.
You had no idea at the time that you were special. Someone that people in lab coats would search and scour for.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The lab discovered your abilities by accident.They were doing routine surveillance of the area when they saw you in the woods on Valentine’s day. It was the first time in a while that your emotions caused you to lose control of your powers. It was the day Tammy Thompson kissed Steve on the cheek. She thought he sent her a valentine gram, never knowing the blue eyed girl sitting behind her was the true sender. That day the two of you shared the sorrow of watching the person you liked being interested in someone else.
As soon as school had ended, you ran into the woods behind the high school. You sat at the lone picnic table, sobbing. You hadn’t realized that the trees around you seemed to bend and crack at every ragged breath you made. Your destruction only being evident when the tears subsided and you lifted your head to see that the trees around you had snapped in half.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It all led to this pivotal moment. In a stand off with four men who wanted you in their van so they could dump you at Hawkins Lab to be poked, prodded and tested by scientists in white coats.
You had put up a good fight as long as you could, running circles around grown men. It would’ve been pretty comical when you remove the ‘fearing for your life’ aspect from it. You were so close to getting away until you collapsed to the ground. Your body unable to take anymore stress, let alone all the blood that was rushing from your nose. You had never knowingly used your powers like this before and it felt like they were draining everything your body had to give.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your vision had been spotty when you woke up. The blinding fluorescent light above you definitely wasn’t helping. You began to panic when you didn’t recognize your environment. The EKG machine’s beeping sped up when you began to panic. The noise drew the attention of the nurses from the hallway.
“I can’t be here. I need to go home. My parents are gonna go crazy if I don’t get home before curfew.”
“You are home, dear.” The nurse tried to soothe you.
“No, I'm not. This is a hospital. I need to call my mom. I can’t stay here.” You were starting to hyperventilate as you pulled every uncomfortable piece of medical equipment off your body.
The nurse tried all she could to make you calm down without needing a sedative.
“How about this sweetheart, I go get the doctor and he’ll explain everything to you. Will that make you feel better?” She offered as kindly as she could, but you could hear the contempt bubbling under the surface. You gave her hesitant nod, hoping you could figure out how to get home where you belong.
You jumped when the nurse came back with a tall man with gray hair. Just like the nurse, he wore a friendly veneer to hide the ugly underneath. He was an evil man who locked away children in a facility like they were his little lab rats.
It quickly became clear that you weren’t leaving. This is “home” now. After that you spent the rest of the day sedated. You had already causing problems and the couldn’t handle anymore power related outbursts. The lightbulbs in the room shattered when they tried to take the razor to your head to shave your luscious hair and the door almost blew off its hinges when you realized what the big buzzing needle filled with black ink was for.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You finally gained full consciousness when you woke in a small white box in an incredibly uncomfortable bed, with a bandage wrapped around your wrist that felt sore when you touched it. You peeled it back to see 009, tattooed into your inner wrist. You pulled your knees to your chest, sitting against your headboard and began to cry.
Once you were cried out, you spent the next hours trying to pry the door open. It never budged once. You were only hurting yourself at this point. You let out an exasperated breath and flopped onto your bed after your most recent attempt. You were getting out of this place one way or another.
1978 - Age 12
The past year had been absolute hell for you. You spent three days a week doing tests with ‘papa’ as the other kids called him.
You had become a thorn in the sides of the scientists and the orderlies. They were sick of your non compliance. While you grew to speak to the children, you never opened your mouth for them.
You would fight when they tried to put the monitor on your head. You would defy simple instructions. When they told you to crush a soda can, you would launch it into the examination window, giving them the middle finger.
At skill checks, you would purposely under perform when they knew you could do better than that.
‘Papa’ would always give you a talking to, but he had absolutely nothing on Diane Sinclair.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You began to notice a specific orderly hovering around you and another girl you knew as eleven. When you would exit the testing room he would be there. Even when he wasn’t assigned to escort you back to your room he would be there. His eyes would always send a shiver down your spine.
When you were forced to spar, it was like a fire lit behind his eyes, excited to see what your abilities could do. Whenever you tried to avoid him, he would be there, especially if you were around eleven.
When you would have time alone, you would scheme. You would take stationary with you under your bed. You began to keep track of times. When doors would open how long they would stay open. Gaps when things were left alone when they shouldn’t be. You would write and collect every opening. When you had time, you would walk the halls ‘aimlessly’ counting steps to write down later. You had spent the year trying to map everything the best you could. Every possible exit and hurdle. Freedom felt so close that you could taste it.
1979 - Age 13
The door to your ‘bedroom’ was cracked open. Your brown raised in confusion when you approached it. You couldn’t decide if this was a mistake or a trap to ambush you. You hoped that it was the former.
As soon as you excited the room the red emergency lights began to flash and the ear pricing alarm blared.
You creeped through the halls checking around every corner. Your confusion only heightened at the lack of orderlies. They were always roaming the halls, either patrolling or to escort children to and from the testing rooms.
Your heart hammered at the eerie energy radiating through the walls. A rapidly flickering light illuminating a previously pitch black hall grabbed your attention.
The closer you got, the hair on your arms began to rise.
When you were close enough the speed of the lights flicker slowed.
You screamed in anguish when you saw the path of dead mangled bodies. Blood streaking from their noses and eyes. Their bones twisted unnaturally. Their attempts to flee were evident when you saw small bloody handprints smeared on the walls. The further you went through the hall the worse it got. You finally arrived at the recreation room, decorated with a rainbow covered wall. When you entered of course there were more bodies. The only difference was the orderly standing in the middle of the room, covered in blood. He stood tall, proud of his actions.
“What are you doing out of your room nine?” He tilted his head, sending you sinister smile that made your stomach turn and your heart rate speed up.
You ran through the door slipping on 005’s blood, rushing to get back to your room,tears streaking down your face. As soon as your room door shut, you jolted awake, body soaked in sweat. You climbed out of bed as fast as you could. You pushed your bed and desk against your door, before sitting down in the corner furthest from the entrance.
You pulled your knees to your chest and sobbed, rocking back and forth to self soothe. Your body felt bone dry but you kept crying anyway. It didn’t feel like a normal nightmare. Not like when you and Steve would watch scary movies and you’d get scared. You felt like you were there. Seeing the bodies, their metallic blood overpowering the sanitized lab smell. How real the blood felt under your foot when you slipped on it. You began to think that you walked through your dream into a doorway of the future. You should’ve known that it was him. He always hovered where he didn’t belong and stared like he was calculating any and everything that moved all while trying to present as the young friendly orderly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were resolute in your decisions when you decided that the only way to protect everyone was to stop him before he had a chance to act in his sick desires.
Your plan to escape had been put on the back burner. You instead focused you attention on him. Every road you could think of always led to the same dead end. You had to kill him. It was the only way to ensure everyone’s safety.
~
“Mr.” You shuffled up to him with a frown. You tugged on his white shirt like a child begging for their parents’ attention.
He was a slighty taken aback by your actions. To his knowledge, he would be the first staff member you’d ever spoken to since you arrived.
“Yes?” He leaned down to look at you with piercing blue eyes. Any doubt that you had about what you were about to do left. Those eyes carried nothing but anger and evil, no matter how well he tried to mask it.
“My head hurts really bad.” You began to sway in place like you were on the brink of collapse.
“Really? How about I fetch you an aspirin and see if that helps.” He offered, placing a hand on your foto feel for a fever.
“No Mr, I don’t think so. The last time I had one, the pain would go away so the nurse had to give me morpha something.”
“Morphabond?” He corrected. You nodded lightly, bringing your hand up to your forehead to offset your action. “Those are in the medical wing. It’s going to take a minute to get them. I can bring them to you.”
“Can I come with you? ” You answered a bit too quickly for someone in as much pain you claimed to be in.His eyes squinted at you in slight distrust.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?” He countered.
“I just want to take them right away. It hurts so bad.” You whined.
“How about this? You sit here.” He pulled out a wheelchair stashed behind a cart. “And I’ll wheel you with me. We both win. Does that sound like a deal?” He held his out for you to shake. He smiled widely when you shook it.
“Great! Let’s get you fixed up.”
The medical bay was almost vacant when you arrived just as you expected. As part of your escape plan, you had been monitoring shifts, silently faking ailments to different orderlies.
“Ah-ha! Found it!” He cheered, dumping two pills into a small cup. He handed them to you before grabbing you a cup of water.
“Thank you.” You replied before ‘swallowing’ them. You had been pretending to take your ‘vitamans’ for weeks when you first arrived, before they caught you and forced you to start swallowing them in front of them.
“Feel better?” He bent down to your level. You meekily nodded.
“Perfect, let's get you back.” You almost shuttered when he placed a bent finger under your chin, just like your mom did as a ‘good job’ when you swallowed all of your cold medicine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As soon as he stepped forward, you spit out the pills and held your hand up, your power focused on his throat. You could feel his pulse thrum against your fingers as if they were really on him.
His hand flew to his neck clawing at his throat as if he could pull your hands away. His eyes bulged, turning red as his pulse continued to slow and slow. You could feel his end approaching until a hard object prodded straight into your back, electricity pulsing through you, forcing you to drop your hand and crumble to the floor. The other orderlies were on you in an instant. Each of them held down a limb to keep you pinned to the floor.
“No! No! Let me go! I have to finish!He’s gonna kill them. He’s gonna kill them all! Please! I saw it! Please!” You screamed through tears as you fought against them. The objects in the room began to fall and break in quick succession. The harder they held you down, the more objects crashed around you.
They wouldn’t listen and they wouldn’t let go. They had no idea the horrors that would follow if they didn’t let you finish your self appointed mission. You couldn’t pass up the opportunity to save all the kids that you have bonded with and protected.
You sucked in a deep breath, clenching your eyes closed, pulling something from deep inside you, sending them flying off of you in different directions. The effort forcing a scream through you that almost made your vocal cords rupture. You tried to crawl away from them until the man you almost murdered slammed a syringe into your neck. His dark eyes and mocking wave was the last thing you saw before your eyes shut.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You woke up your lungs feeling like they were on the brink of collapse. Your door was ajar, the red lights flashing and the emergency alarm blaring, just like your nightmare. You didn’t want to believe it, but when you pushed through the door, and turned the corner, everything was identical. Blood and dead bodies, lining the hall.
You didn’t want to see the sight ever again, but a part of you hoped that the men in the hallway would be the only casualties. Hoping if you pushed forward some way or somehow the other kids would be safe. You felt stupid for hoping. You had come to know better. Your stomach lurched when you followed the flickering light, once again seeing some of the kids lifeless on the floor. Tears rushed down your face. You decided that this was enough, you couldn’t stand to see anymore. You couldn’t handle seeing him in his blood soaked clothes. This wasn’t a dream to wake up from.
Your stealthy plan of escape had been completely abandoned. You had to get out now before you were next.You tried everything you pushed every door ran through every room and nothing would budge.
A lightbulb almost appeared above your head as you stepped through the bloodied bodies until you found an orderly. You turned him over, unclipping his ID badge and keys from his belt. Your heart was thundering, scared that at any moment he would come for you.
You swiped the blood slick keycard connected to the reinforced door was the only thing keeping you from freedom. When the little light finally flicked green, you pushed through and ran as fast as you could. You swiped it at every checkpoint until you made it through the exit.
A wide smile cracked through your tears when you felt the rain hit your skin and the earthy fresh air fill your lungs.Your tears transformed to those of joy. You were free. You looked back behind you every few seconds to see if anyone followed you.
You were sure your lungs would explode at the speed you ran, only stopping when you reached the familiar fence that lined the Harrington backyard. Even though it had been two years, you scaled it as if you hadn’t missed a day.
You sighed in relief when you saw a dim light on in Steve’s bedroom.
You found the trellises on the side of the house, climbing it just how you used to until you flopped on the first story roof. You carefully tip toed across it until you reached his room and began pounding on the window, covered by curtains
Steve nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the banging against his window . He was assuming that it was Tommy trying to play a prank on him. He rolled his eyes, standing to push his curtains apart.
“Real funny assho-” His heart nearly stopped when he instead saw you shivering, soaked in the rain.
His hand flew to the window, unlocking it before sliding it up so hard he thought he would break it. He stretched his hand out for you to grab ,wrapping his arm around your waist to help your shivering form make it through.
“A-Are y-you real? Is it you?” Tears welled in his eyes. He brought his hands to your cheeks, using them to feel your presence and ground himself in what he hoped was reality. He’s had a recurring dream at least once a week since you went missing. You would either arrive at his window or his front door. He would hug you tightly and cry because you're finally home only for him to pull away to look at you and you’d be gone.
You nodded through tears, your mouth not able to form words.
“Oh, what did they do to you?” His eyes raked over your appearance. You sunken eyes and your shaved head. They had sucked all the life out of you. That sunshine girl with shining eyes and a smile so bright it could light up the whole block.
He pulled you into him, holding so tight like he were the jaws of life. You clung onto him, burying your face into his shoulder. The two of you sank to the floor forming your own puddle of tears. You were finally home.
synopsis: After a failed rebellion, Superman spares your life. Alone in his frozen home, you realize he not only owns Metropolis, but he also owns you, too.
warnings: noncon, pet play dynamics, power imbalance, size difference, clark but if he actually listened to the message his parents sent him with, hurt/comfort, breeding, kidnapping
word count: 3.8k
clark kent masterlist
The moment you feel like you’ve finally gained the upper hand is short-lived. It’s brief, but the excitement of it truly fills your heart. Your rebel cell had finally perfected the design of a weapon made from Kryptonian tech – a bomb. It was crude and unstable, but it offered a chance of defeating the supreme leader of Metropolis, better known as Superman. You’ve worked for weeks on its calibration. Now, it was only a matter of time before the strike would occur. It could very much tear a hole in the dimensional fabric, but after three long years of living under his rule, you were very much willing to take that chance.
Your walkie-talkie chirps from your pocket, and you bring it to your ears quickly. You glance around the room with the intention of giving the other ten members of your cell the go-ahead. You expected to receive word that you were all clear to move the device. You expected that the time and location of its detonation had been set. Instead, a shaky voice on the other end shouted, “Code Red! Code Red! He’s – he’s fucking here–”
Instead, full of raw determination, you looked at the men around you and sharply relayed the message. “Code Red,” you bark, voice cutting through the stunned silence. “Get ready!” You readied your own weapon as everyone did the same. You also secured the detonation pad. Superman was coming to you this time. It certainly wasn’t plan A, B, or C, but you wouldn’t squander the opportunity.
You feel the metal roof shaking from the force of the wind that he brings with him. The next sound is not a crash. It’s much worse. The entire warehouse shakes, and suddenly, the rusted metal of the roof is torn through like paper. A shockwave ripples through the concrete as he slams down. He’s faster than all the debris that begins to fall, landing before it even makes it to the ground.
You’ve already been thrown to the ground, your body sliding against the ground, before your back collides roughly with a metal support beam. You don’t scream from the pain. For a moment, you’re deathly still. You blink over and over until you can see through the dust. Superman stands in the crater he’s made, red cape moving behind him in slow waves.
You’d never been in the same room as a God. A realization hits you like a second impact. The impossibility of the task set before you.
He doesn’t speak when the shooting starts, metal bullets bouncing off his suit. He stands unmoving until his eyes connect with yours. You would swear they were glowing. It’s less than a second, but it feels like five minutes.
The shooting ceases as your men realize they’ve run out of ammo. Then Superman is moving through the warehouse like a flash of light. You hear bones breaking. The squelching of torn limbs. Wet, choked gaps. The burning of flesh seared by his heat vision. And then nothing.
It’s your turn now. He’s feet away from you, stalking closer, and you reach down to your side for the detonator. Your hands scramble across the concrete, fingers grazing against dust and blood. You couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t feel much of anything but panic.
With shaking hands, you grab the gun at your waist and aim it at his face.
“You looking for something, sweetheart?”
A smile tugs at his lips as he takes in your figure. He’s holding the detonator between two fingers, like it weighs nothing, like everything you’d worked for was worth nothing. He was almost amused. Like the idea that you were willing to blow yourself up and take him with you must’ve been a quirky part of your personality.
You get one shot off before he roughly snatches the gun from your hands. You grit your teeth as you watch him crush both metal objects in his hands. He throws the debris to the side as he kneels before you.
“Now what’s a cute little thing like you doing in a place like this?”
Your face scrunches in disgust, and Clark’s eyebrows raise curiously, “Just kill me!” You groan as you push your back further against the metal beam. He’s close now, much too close for comfort, as if he wants a close look. You feel his body heat and a fraction of the power that radiates from him.
“Kill you?” Clark questions, “No, I don’t think so. You’re precious.”
His hair is dark and thick, and a precise curl falls forward against his forehead. He is strong. His sharp jaw and his straight nose. His face is carved into confident lines.
“Fuck you,” You spit at him, and that confidence doesn’t waver.
“That might be exactly what you need.”
Your instinct is to slap him, and that urge takes over before logic can kick in. It doesn’t faze him, of course; it only makes your hand ache, but something flickers in his eyes. Not anger or surprise. Hunger. Interest.
He’s delighted by the action.
The floor of the warehouse disappears beneath you, and Clark’s hands grab onto both of your arms as he lifts you into the air. As you find yourself exposed to the cold, night air, you hear yourself screaming. You can’t look down. Your eyes sting, and your ears ring thanks to the rush of air, “L-let me go!” You’re moving further and further into the atmosphere.
“This would be a very bad time to let you go, sweetheart.” His voice is calm and teasing.
“You can’t …p-put me down!”
His lips press into a thin line, his expression unreadable.
“Have it your way,” He says before suddenly you’re falling backwards. Free-falling. You really scream then, your body twisting, limbs falling. You see glimpses of lights, the city below, and the large figure in red and blue getting further and further away. It’s too much. Your nervous system, in an attempt to protect you, allows your world to go black.
You don’t ever feel the impact.
You don’t expect to wake up at all, let alone in a warm bedroom. The heat is pumping through a vent right above the soft bed your body has sunken into. It hurts to open your eyes. Your face feels bruised. As your body awakens, you feel soreness all over. The room is flooded with light, which reflects off tall, white walls.
You turn your body until your legs are falling off the bed. Knees weak, you collapse onto the carpet as soon as you attempt to walk. You bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out.
Looking down at your bare knees, you realize that your black clothing is gone. The combat boots and your gun holsters are gone. The tight bun on top of your head had been undone, your unruly curls now falling against your shoulders.
Someone had undressed you. Completely.
“Rough landing,” A deep voice rumbled across your bare skin. Your heart stopped as heavy footsteps approached from across the room. You looked up to find Superman himself staring down at your naked figure. Not in his suit. He’s dressed almost cozily – gray sweatpants and a navy blue crewneck.
“You took me?” Your words are covered in disbelief. You reach up towards the bed to grab a pillow, and you fumble as you try to cover your naked body with it.
He crouches down as he takes a step closer, regarding you like a skittish animal.
“I made a last-minute decision,” He admits, the normalcy in his tone making your heart beat quicken, “You have no idea how draining it is protecting Metropolis from evil-doers like your friends. Killing people I don’t want to kill. I just thought that when I saw you, I could make sure that something good came from the situation.”
He looks for understanding in your eyes but you remain bewildered.
“I tried to kill you and you … you decided to take me?”
“It was a sad attempt, really. I think we’ll be able to call it even soon.”
It’s difficult to attach the mercilessness to him without the suit but he conveys his superiority in every form.
You try to crawl away.
It’s instinct. Your knees scrape against the carpet, and you barely make it three feet before strong hands are on your waist, lifting you from the ground. You fight harder this time, although you have half your strength, and Clark is an immovable force. He’s not rough as he sets you back onto the bed. “Just kill me!” You try to sound aggressive. Threatening. But even you can feel how close your tone sounds to begging.
He settles his weight against you, his thick thighs against yours, his hand against your stomach. Heavy as a chain. He shushes you as if you’re an unruly child having a temper tantrum. “Hey, hey, I already told you I wouldn’t. That’s out of the question,” He speaks calmly, and as he starts to part your legs with his knees, your chest starts to heave as the panic settles over you. A strong hand grips the back of your thighs. Your eyes widen at him, fear settling over your features, and he smiles, “You really didn’t realize this was an option. You thought the worst I could do to you was kill you.”
He was right. You knew he was sick, but you didn’t know he made a habit out of assaulting young women.
“You’re disgusting, you can’t—” You don’t recognize your own voice as it leaves your lips. You’d felt helpless before, but nothing like this.
Clark clicks his teeth as he looks you over. His eyes wander lower to your exposed breasts. Undoubtedly, he’d already gotten a good look at them, but something in his eyes darkened. “You’re really beautiful, you know that? Gosh. And you’re mine now.”
You shake your head, and he presses himself harder into your hips. Leaning down, he nuzzles his face into your neck. “Don’t, don’t–”
“Call me Clark, please,” His voice rumbles against your neck. His kisses are teasing at first, as if he’s testing your reaction, before his lips move more aggressively. Up your neck and then your jaw. His mouth finds you even as you try to turn your head away.
Clark? Big, bad Superman had a human name. You couldn’t dwell on that for long. You felt him reaching down towards his hips, lowering his sweatpants. “Please don’t!” You’re begging hard now, “Please stop! I’m sorry … I’m sorry for what I did.”
He keeps his lips on you, and he’s so entranced that you’re not sure if he’s even registering the words on your lips, “Say my name.” He pulls away to stare down at you. You want to say the right thing to disarm him, but you slowly realize your words won’t matter. He’s already decided what he wants. He decided at the warehouse. “Say it again, and I’ll be gentle.”
You groan, your head tilting back in frustration, “Please don’t do this,” He keeps you pinned as he easily uses one hand to free himself from his shirt. His bare chest, hairy and sculpted presses against yours. Your begging continues, and he continues the assault against your neck. Your body squirms as much as you physically can underneath him, but your worst fears are confirmed when you feel him hard against your thigh, “Please!”
“You’re not listening,” He chided you. You can feel how thick he is even without looking. He presses himself against your entrance. You’re not ready, and he knows it. He promised not to kill you, but the alternative is painful. Every survival instinct tells you to give in, to tell him what he wants to hear, but it’s too hard.
He pushes inside of you, and you whimper with each inch. He lets out a shaky breath, and you see him unravelling. Your warm, unwilling body feels good to him. So good that he has to keep going, pushing deeper inside of you, pinning your hands above your head. “Say it, pet.” He commands. You feel good, but he needs more. You haven’t submitted, not fully.
When you stare back at him, lips parted in a mix of painful pleasure, his face contorts in frustration. His movements quicken, although the force behind each thrust stays the same. He’s already pressing against your cervix, and he raises his hips to deepen the angle. Your body warms to him, your center becoming wetter and more accepting.
Minutes pass, and your body begins to feel foreign. You aren’t used to sex lasting this long. He uses his stamina to his advantage. Wrapping his arms around your back, he lifts you off the mattress until you're upright, sitting on top of him as he continues to thrust inside of you. It reminds you of when he lifted you into the air yesterday, although he seems to have no intentions of letting you go now.
You hold onto him, as if you’re afraid of falling, and he moves your hips down onto his length. You’re shaking now. The position offers more friction against your clit, and Clark slowly coaxes your body into an intense orgasm. “Ah, ah, ah,” You groan, nails digging into his shoulders, “I can’t–please stop.”
“I’m not done with you, sweetheart,” He groans. As your body convulses against him, strong arms lift you again. He lies his back against the bed, leaving your smaller body to tremble on top of his. He holds your hips tightly, making you ride him fully, and allowing him to take in your every feature. You’re mewling, hands pressed against his chest, your own chest bouncing as Clark thrusts beneath you. Normally, a position that would offer you a sense of control, but you felt anything but control in that moment.
It feels like you’re in that position for hours. You orgasm two more times before it even feels like Clark is ready to finish. He savors you completely, until your sweaty, babbling mess. You gasp as he thrusts slowly, and he cums deep inside of you.
You watch Clark’s head tilt back, a guttural sound in his throat, his hands still guiding your hips on top of him. Intentionally, he makes you sit there, his cum slowly sliding out of you. When he finally lifts your waist, freeing you from his length, tears start to well in your eyes.
“You know what?” Clark releases a heavy breath, “I think I will keep you.”
You’re not sure where your next surge of energy comes from, as you’re sure that Superman had just fucked it all out of you, but you attempt futilely to pound at his chest. He grabs ahold of your wrists quickly, smiling lazily up at you.
“Are you hungry, pet?”
Mustering all the politeness you possibly could for the monster in front of you, you asked for clothes. He declined just as politely. You’d muttered something about that being inhumane. He didn’t need to respond; you could read it on his face. He was Kryptonian, and you were nothing in comparison.
You never said that you were hungry, although your growling stomach told another story. Swiftly, he carried you from the large room upstairs towards the stairs. You could describe the interior of Superman’s home as cabin-like, but there were too many smooth, sharp edges and luxury finishes. A mix of human design and Kryptonian tech. Doors that opened as you approached. Lights that flickered on as you passed them. Plush carpets and dark, wood floors that were so clean they sparkled.
He finally set you down in what you could tell was the living room. Huge, L-shaped white coaches created a cozy nook in front of huge, floor-to-ceiling windows. You’d panicked before when you realized Clark had taken you, but your heart sank further at the sight before you. Rolling hills of snow and impossibly tall mountains covered in white stood in contrast to your naked figure.
“Where are we?” You ask him, feeling smaller than before. You felt changed although the way Clark looked at you stayed the same. Wouldn’t he get tired of you at some point?
You’d never seen anything so …beautiful. It felt wrong. Although you were sure you were still on Earth, this was a place of dreams. Freshly made. Untouched by humans.
“We’re pretty far North,” Clark replies with a non-answer and you scoff. He likes that you’re a lost little girl in comparison to him. He wants you to need him.
“This is … insane.” You can’t take your eyes off the view. The clouds touch the peaks of the mountain range. That’s how far up they are … that’s how far up you are. You sink to the carpet, your heart outside of your chest.
“You get comfy, and I’ll find us some lunch,” Clark said from somewhere above you, although you’re fixated on how small you are and the infiniteness of the universe. You’d never felt more bare. Exposed.
Moments passed, and you looked in the direction Clark had left. Undoubtedly, the kitchen was that way. You heard the soft open and close of a fridge and took it as your cue to move in the other direction.
The smart thing would be to map this place out, to understand exactly where he was keeping you, right? It might take some time, but you could formulate a plan. Your life as you knew it didn’t have to be over. You could stay strong. You could keep yourself from completely crumbling.
You move towards the arched doorway that leads into the living room, but just as you approach it, two black doors appear and slide shut in front of you. You yelp in frustration as your palms press against the metal. You turn quickly and find Clark standing across the room, a bowl of fruit in one hand and a plate of food in the other.
“The house is not quite used to you yet,” He says as he walks towards the couch closest to the kitchen, speaking as if his home were a living being, “Come, you should eat something.”
“I don’t want your food.” Clark slowly sits down, eyes fixed intently on you, spreading his legs to make himself comfortable. You press yourself into the cold door.
“You’ve been through a lot, and you’re running on empty. It might be easier to plot your escape on a full stomach,” He teases. You hate how he speaks as if he’s an all-knowing being. He pops a grape into his mouth and sighs. You cover your chest with your hands as you realize exactly where he’s staring. He looks hungry, and the grapes seem to be satiating him, but only temporarily.
“What is actually wrong with you?”
Clark’s face twists and this time when he smiles at you, it’s forced.
“Fine, I don’t wanna burst your bubble, little one, but the only way you’re getting out of here is with me. If you did manage to make it outside, and you won’t, you’d be hypothermic in half an hour. That’s if you found something substantial to wear, and that won’t happen either.”
You pause for a long moment and Clark waits patiently, “So what do I have to do for you to take me away from here?”
He shrugs casually, “I wouldn’t dwell on that. You look good here. I like you here, so this is where you’ll stay.”
“How many girls have you done this to?” You ask incredulously.
“How many other little human girls have I commandeered? None. Geez, I know you think I’m a supervillain —“
“What exactly would you call taking over the free world and killing anyone who opposes you?”
“I call it my purpose. We all have one. Mine just happens to be greater than yours.” Again, his tone implies that this is a normal situation and an ordinary conversation. It’s as if he’s playing devil’s advocate. As if human rights are something to be debated. “You’ll thank me later for showing you your true purpose.”
Trembling, you find yourself maintaining eye contact just to maintain a sense of control. The blood beneath your skin is boiling. You’d never felt so angry, although another emotion began to cloud your thinking. Failure. You thought of all the work that had gone to waste. All the efforts of thousands of humans just to have a small chance at defeating him, and you were the one left alive. It had all meant nothing.
All your friends were dead. He’d killed them without a second thought. He could kill you just as easily but you’re more frightened of living at this point.
“M-My purpose?” Your voice is weak. Shaking.
“You’re exhausted. Please, c’mere,” He waves you closer. The “please” he offers is a peace offering. It’s the only reason you can convince yourself to move. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Again,” You added for good measure.
“I won’t hurt you again,” He concedes, and you stalk closer. You know it’s wrong, that your mind is playing tricks on you, but in this warm house in the middle of a frozen kingdom, he’s the closest thing to human. He reaches out to take your hand, and you let it fall limply in his grasp, “Kneel, little one.”
You swallow. Hard. He looks at you expectantly for a long moment.
It’s a punch in the gut. The large room offers many places to sit, but he intends for your place to be at his feet. It’s intentional.
He squeezes your hand, more gently than you thought he was capable of. Before now, he was a flying speck in the sky. Up close, in his normal clothes, he really does look human.
Sinking slowly, you maintain your expression. Empty. Unimpressed. At least, that’s what you hope you’re conveying. Your knees brush the carpet as you settle in the space between his legs. He’s quiet as he leans forward and brings one of the grapes to your lips.
It’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. Better than the rations and dehydrated food at the rebel camp. You hadn’t realized how much you missed real, fresh food.
You eat each one from his fingers. In between each bite, he lets his hands wander. Brushing curls from your face and tucking strands behind your ear.
“Good girl,” Clark hums. He’s a God, but he gazes at you as if you’re worth something. “My parents saw little to no value in humans. They didn’t get the chance to live among them, obviously, so maybe that would have changed their opinion. But I think if they were alive today, they’d think I was soft.”
Your eyebrows raise curiously, and Clark appears amused at your reaction. “No, really. They wanted me to rebuild the Kryptonian empire. To take as many lovers as possible,” He adds, and you hang onto his every word. “To be honest, I think the most human thing about me is that I want a real family.”
The implication is there. He doesn’t need to verbalize it. Something twists in your stomach as you realize he may have already gotten his wish.
reblog with your thoughts to be added to my clark taglist :)
[insert cynthia erivo gif] the concept of clark giving reader a child and talking about wanting a family but he doesn’t even see her as a being with a purpose outside of fulfilling his need to repopulate. LOL this nigga think he omni-man bro just give me some clothes before i start to get ashy.
My first time writing an erotic story or one shot if you call it so bear with me and give me feedback but nobody’s writing it so I’m going to please give me your feedback and I’m open to constructive criticism. I only write for black and brown women so if you have a problem with that, keep it pushing. 😊😏

Derry, Maine, 1962.
Dick Hallorann pushed through the front door of the little pink house without knocking—key Diana had pressed into his hand two nights ago still warm in his pocket. It was late, past midnight, the street outside dead quiet except for the low hum of crickets and something else he didn’t want to name. He’d been on base all goddamn day, shining harder than he ever had, peeling back layers of Derry’s rot until his head throbbed and his stomach turned. After he came from base, he went straight to a spot that he knew where he can get some moonshine and he got drunk with the boys. 
He needed her. Needed something clean and warm and real to burn it all away.
Diana was in the living room, fresh from her bath, wrapped in a short satin robe the color of ripe peaches. The fabric clung to her damp curves, sliding high on her thick thighs every time she moved. Her long curls were pinned up and wrapped tight in a pale pink silk scarf, a few rebellious tendrils escaping to frame her face. She looked soft, lush, edible—and the second she saw him, her eyes went wide with concern.
“Dick? Baby, what’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer with words. Just kicked the door shut behind him, crossed the room in three long strides, and hauled her up against him. His mouth crashed down on hers—hard, desperate, tasting her surprise and then her surrender. She melted instantly, arms looping around his neck, satin sliding against his uniform.
“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he rasped against her lips, voice raw from exhaustion and strain. “I didn’t come here to be rough. But Jesus Christ, you standin’ there lookin’ like this… I can’t think straight.”
Diana pulled back just enough to search his face, fingers stroking his jaw. “You don’t gotta be gentle tonight. Take what you need, baby. I’m right here.”
That was all it took.
He spun her around, bent her forward over the back of the couch. The satin robe rode up instantly, exposing the full, round swell of her ass—bare underneath, no panties, just smooth dark skin glistening from her bath. Dick groaned, low and filthy, palming both cheeks hard, spreading her open.
“Goddamn, look at this pretty ass,” he growled, voice thick with that low gravel probably from moonshine that she can smell on his breath. “Been thinkin’ about buryin’ myself in it all day while I was seein’ all type of shit on base I missed my woman .”
Diana whimpered, pushing back into his hands. “Then take it, Daddy . Fuck the day out of you. Use me.”
He didn’t need telling twice. Belt clinked open, zipper down—he freed himself fast, already rock-hard and leaking at the tip. One hand fisted in the silk scarf, yanking her head back just enough to arch her spine. The other guided his thick length to her entrance—she was soaked, slick heat coating him the second he notched against her.
“ I love it when you call me that sugar,” he rasped as he pushed in slow, savoring the wet sound of her body taking him. “Pussy so greedy it’s suckin’ me in already. You been waitin’ for this dick, huh? Waitin’ for me to come home and wreck this pretty ass shit ?”
“Yes—fuck, yes—” Her voice broke as he slammed the rest of the way in, bottoming out with a grunt.
He set a brutal pace immediately—hips snapping hard, the slap of skin on skin loud in the quiet house. Every thrust jolted her forward, satin robe slipping off one shoulder, small breasts bouncing free. He kept one hand wrapped in that silk scarf like reins, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise.
“This what you want?” he snarled, leaning over her, chest to her back, breath hot against her ear. “Want me to fuck you stupid?”He bites his lip looking down at her from the upside down angle He’s holding her neck making her look up at him as he continues fucking her hard from the back he slaps the side of her cheek signaling for her to open her mouth she does and a clear line of spit comes out of his mouth into hers and she swallows it immediately .
Diana cried out, fingers clawing at the couch cushions. “Harder—please, Daddy , harder—” She pouts with tears in her eyes, looking up at him before she starts biting her lip.
He gave it to her. Pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in, over and over, relentless. The couch creaked beneath them, shifting with every thrust.
“Gonna fill you up so deep,” he promised through gritted teeth. “Gonna pump this pretty pussy full of me till it’s leakin’ down your thighs. You’ll feel me every time you sit tomorrow—remember who you belong to even if I’m gone for long hours .”
She shattered first—body locking tight around him, a broken scream tearing from her throat as she came hard, gushing around his cock. Dick followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural roar, spilling hot and thick inside her in long pulses.
They stayed locked like that for a long moment—him draped over her back, both panting, sweat-slicked and trembling. Slowly, gently, he eased out, turned her around, and pulled her into his arms. The satin robe hung open now, her body soft and pliant against his.
He pressed his forehead to hers, voice softer but still rough. “I’m sorry I came in here like a damn animal.”
Diana cupped his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks. “Don’t you ever apologize for needin’ me like that. I’m yours, Dick. Every way you want me.”
He kissed her slow this time—deep, reverent—then scooped her up and carried her toward the bedroom.
When the Hanlon family moves to Derry, Celeste Hanlon tries to hide the rare psychic ability she's had since childhood - a mind like vast Radio Room filled with frequencies she can tune into across people and places. But Derry wakes something beneath her gift... and something beneath the town.
Private Dick Hallorann is drawn into a mystery he doesn't understand - a girl he sees in visions, a presence he can't fight, and a horror the military is desperate to weaponize.
IT doesn't want to eat Celeste. IT wants to wear her - to inhabit her mind and use her powers as a doorway into everyone in Derry.
As the military hunts IT for control and IT hunts Celeste for possession, Celeste and Hallorann must fight the darkness within the town, the darkness within each other, and the bond pulling them closer together.
Warnings : crazybabydaddy!cameron, angst?, pinch of smut, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE‼️, karma, abuse of money/power (ending) , use of n-word, it’s a bit intense yall fr, blackfem!reader, plussize!reader, 3k words (got carried away), hope that’s it..
a/n : I truly think I entered flow state with this one y’all…
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Daysha never thought her life would circle back to revolving around Cameron.
Not after that night.
Not after the doctor's words.
Not after she spent two hours in her car sobbing in the parking lot because she was pregnant with the same man's child who pretty much said fuck her feelings.
But time had a twisted sense of humor.
Now?
Her baby boy, Caisen, six months old and chunky with deep dimples, slept sprawled across her chest most nights. His soft breaths on her neck made it feel like the world slowed down just for them.
And across the city, in a house she would never set foot in again, Sierra had given birth to her own son—Camden—a few months before. Another boy with Cameron's whole face.
Two boys with two different mothers and one messy, narcissistic father trying to pretend he didn't make a mess of his world around him.
Cameron did what Cameron always did, he stayed. Not out of loyalty but, out of guilt.
And because Sierra was unraveling due to Cameron weighing on her emotions.
Sierra's sweetness had worn off just around when Caisen turned 3 months.
Cameron never told Daysha everything, but what he did say painted the picture clearly..
"She don't like me bein' out. Don't like me coming to see Caisen. Don't like my teammates. Don't like my damn mama."
"I can't sit in the bathroom too long or she swear I'm cheatin'."
"She be screamin' while the baby sleep. I can't even think in there."
"She don't let me be myself. Like she hate me"
It wasn't Daysha's business.
She didn't care. This was his karma but she did find herself feeling bad every now and then
And every time he came over to spend time with their son... he found a way to slide the conversation back to her.
He always showed up with that same quiet, beaten-down energy, wearing sweats and a fitted tee like he was trying to add to the drama..
At least that's how Daysha saw it.. but little did she know he bc was actually miserable at "home"
And every time he saw Caisen?
His whole face melted.
"Look at my lil man," he whispered, picking him up with gentle hands. "Damn, seem like he get bigger every day."
He'd sit on the couch, bouncing the baby on his knee, eyes soft in ways he never was with anyone else.
But eventually—as always—his eyes drifted to her.
"You ain't miss me not one bit?" He genuinely questioned. He felt she didn't understand how bad he wanted to come back home
"Cameron.. please let it go." She sighed, continuing to wash Caisen's bottles
"I'm saying though, I miss-"
Daysha always cut him off.
"No. We not doin' that, Cam."
But she could lie to herself, not God. She did have her weaker moments—her slip-ups.
It happened around Caisen's two-month mark.
She had just put the baby down, exhausted, milk-stained tank top clinging to her. Cameron had shown up unannounced, eyes dark, jaw set, hands itching for something.. something he was well familiar with.
"You still mad at me?" he murmured, cornering her at the counter.
"Dude leave me alone." She laughed pushing at his chest playfully
But then he leaned down—like muscle memory took over before sense did, kissing her.
Her body betrayed her first.
Her heart betrayed her second.
They fell into each other the way addicts fall back into habits.
"s-shit!" she cried into the pillow, Cameron delivering slow, deep strokes up into her from behind.
The two were lying on Daysha's king-sized bed in a cuddling position. Cameron behind her stroking her deeply gripping her boob, kissing her shoulder every other stroke.
He was making love to her, he wanted her to feel how much he loved her.
"I love you so fucking much, mama" he moaned out rolling her hard nipple between his thick fingers, angling his hips differently grinding on a spongy spot he felt
"oh—ouu shitttt, right there right there." She screamed, head thrown back pussy gushing on his dick.
He took that as an opportunity to suck on her sensitive spot on her neck and up her jaw. He was in such a euphoric state watching the woman's love faces and how vulnerable they were for each other at the moment.
Old memories washing over him, how'd she been treating him as if he was an afterthought now.
Feeling his heart get heavy and throat burn, he was about to cry. The pleasure, the memories, his emotions. He was overwhelmed and only wanted to hear one thing...
"Tell me you love me ma, p-please.." he clung tighter to Daysha feeling both of their climaxes approach
Daysha brought a shaky hand back to his face feeling her orgasm about to take her over the edge.. she just needed him to get her there
"Ohh fuck! Shut up and f-fuck me nigga!" She cried out rutting her hips back against him, face screwed up in pleasure.
Cameron on the other hand felt hopeless— tears dropping on their own but he clung to her tighter lips on her neck. A few pumps later and the two reached their climax.
Letting out a huff Daysha was limp on the bed—Cameron trying to cuddle with her but she took the last bit of strength to push him off.
'she bein' so fuckin' mean to me' Cameron thought, he wanted to voice it but he couldn't shake the thought of him sounding like a bitch.
She didn't kick him out of the bed so he'd take what he could get...
Not that it mattered much because of what she said after did nothing but solidify what he was feeling.
"This don't change nothin'," she whispered.
Cameron had stared at her, jaw tight, frustration all over his face.
"You really don't love me no more?" He asked sincerely but Daysha didn't really catch the mood
actually, she did.. she just didn't care
"Cam, you just fucked the shit out of me, don't start this shit right now." She spoke with her back to him, closing her eyes
Cameron didn't know what to say, so he just left it alone. His feelings were far too hurt to argue
Cameron felt so played with that he even tried bringing Caisen to his house..where Sierra lived. Like he didn't know Sierra borderline hated Daysha
And only like Caisen enough to tolerate him.
Daysha absolutely refused to let her baby go to that woman's house.
Not after the shit she pulled on social media trying to get a rise out of Daysha. Spreading lies and misinformation, personal business that was about Caisen
@SierraBaby:
"Whole time bitches be swearin they the main but he come home to ME ..stay safe luv."
@SierraBaby:
"It's 100 degrees outside and yo baby in the house.. no A/C"
@SierraBaby:
"This bitch baby had a hernia on his privates.. the fuck you doin to him?"
Daysha promised Cameron that she would have a beat ass if she came up on her. Now never responding publicly, she wasn't about to give Sierra what she wanted
But she damn sure did confront Cameron
"I handled it," he claimed. "She was trippin'. You know how she is."
"How she is?" Daysha repeated. "You her man, get her together. She can be mad with me all day long but don't let the bitch say nothin' else about my son." She was mean about it but oh well
He always said the same weak "my bad."
"Yeah yo' bad." She mumbled
‘punk ass nigga’
So no—her baby wasn't going to that house.
He wasn't breathing the same air as that woman.
Cameron still came over to see him though.
Always at Daysha's house running behind her, always respectful around Caisen. Still... he had his toxic moments where she was over his shit.
This was one of those moments
It was a Friday.
Cameron was stretched out on her bed—the one he used to sleep in to escape the reality he created—shirt off, chain link still on, their baby drooling on his chest.
Music played quietly from her Alexa throughout the house. Her phone was charging on the pillow next to him.
She had stepped out to finish her meal prep for the week.
That minute was all he needed.
Cameron glanced at her Lock Screen and saw a notification
"Ant: I had a good time last night, beautiful."
That alone made his stomach grow uneasy. But the moment he opened the phone and saw the thread?
'She really fuckin' with this nigga? The fuck?' He thought to himself eyebrows furrowed reading the messages.
He forgot he was holding his son.
Dates, selfies, texts full of affection. How she used to talk to him
The worst one yet... Ant standing in the same house he was in right now.
Cameron's chest tightened with a rage that felt primitive.
By the time Daysha walked back in, he was sitting upright, baby laid in his crib now but, his eyes were lethal.
"You good?" she asked, wiping her hands with a towel.
He didn't answer.
He just stared at her.
"Ant been fuckin' you too?" He spoke crudely
She blinked slowly, she needed the words to process what had just come out of his mouth
"Cam, what—" she scrunched her face
He stood up, face beat red.
"I asked you a question." He stalked toward her with a crazy look in his eye
"And if he was? The fuck you goin' through my phone for?" she snapped.
"You got another man in the house my son lay his head in? Another man in the house I paid for?" He looked at her like she had two heads
"Then yo' trifling ass go and fuck him.." he lowly spoke scoffing, that statement took her for a fucking loop
"...with my nut leaking from outta' you." He laughed sarcastically looking down, then looking back up at the shit face she had.
Her mouth dropped open.
"You deadass right now?" she demanded. "You got TWO kids! With TWO different women! Was fuckin' us both! While claimin' you love me! And you worried about who takin' me on a damn DATE?"
His nostrils flared.
"Did he fuck you?" He was growing impatient with asking the same question
"That's none of your business." She retorted
Wrong thing to say.
Cameron's voice dropped to a deadly tone
"Everything in this muthafucka' my business." He stooped to her height eyebrows scrunched
"No," she shot back, louder. "All your business is Sierra, y'all's son, your house, and, your choices. Not me and my son. Trust me, I got us." She was done with his shit and tried stepping around her but he wasn't letting that happen
"I'm trying so fuckin' hard not to choke yo' ass out right now Daysha.." he fired back, pacing. "Caisen got my fuckin' last name so my son is my business." He gritted out vein protruding from his neck. He was starting to scare her but she wouldn't back down from him
'fuck him' she thought
"That can change.." she laughed bitter. "This my house. My bed. And that's my baby. He came outta me, the only thing you contributed was DNA and money."
That one hit him.
He pointed at the phone.
"You entertained that nigga while I was here bein' a father, tryna do right by you, Daysha." His voice cracked but the angry expression on his face was still prevalent
"You weren't bein' my man," she corrected. "Two different things."
An ugly silence filled the room.
Cameron's breathing got heavier and he started to pace again, his big frame making her start to hyperventilate, the look in his eyes when he looked at her..
If looks could kill
"Get out," she said finally, she'd be lying if she said she felt safe at the moment
He looked down to her, now all in her face, intimidating her, "the fuck you just say to me?"
"Get. Out." She looked everywhere but him, but she could just feel him staring directly at her
He laughed.. like a fucking maniac, then got quiet. Daysha still looking at the ground trying to inch for the door
"..sit on the bed, Daysha." He said out of nowhere not even looking her direction. She whispered a quiet no and continued for the door
Suddenly his voice boomed
"SIT YO' DUMBASS DOWN DAYSHA! NOW." His voice boomed, which startled her. She cautiously made her way to the bed
"Cameron I told you to fuckin' leave, you doing this yelling gone' wake the baby up, now get ou-" she was going but cut herself off with how fast he was moving to get in her face
"Daysha I don't want you to do shit but shut up and think.." he was bent down now whispering to her looking her dead in the eye
"I'll hurt you in real life, Daysha.." he laughed gripping her chin. The laugh didn't reach his eyes and he looked so—different. The look in his eyes was faraway.
"...it's always been me and you and it's gone end that way." He mumbled now in her ear hand gripping her neck
Kissing at her jaw he went to whisper again, "I hate to get like this witchu', so go ahead and tell that bitch ass nigga that y'all over with.." he nodded his head toward her phone, noticing her hesitancy he went to look he directly in the face.
She started to cry, she couldn't look him in the eyes, all this mess had driven him to be a whole other person. And she still had yet to get the phone
"Do what I just said, is you fuckin' stupid?" He gritted out shaking her by the hold on her neck—her now crying out shaking her hand
Grabbing at his hands she tried to pry them off but had no luck—breathing was getting harder so she started to thrash around.
"I just wanted you to fuckin' love me Daysha! You the reason this happenin'." He cried out shouting, pressing down harder, squeezing tighter. Caisen woke up from the chaos and started to wail out—in a way it seemed he was crying for help for his mommy.
Running out of options she tried to reach for the phone but she started to get lightheaded and dizzy, losing the ability to move and breathe—chest burning like it was on fire.
The last thing she saw was Cameron over her, hands around her neck, and his tears mixing with hers.
As she went limp on the edge of the bed, no more fight in her he dropped down to his knees next to her limp body. Hugging her he was no longer present mentally, passing out right next to her.
The beeping noises in the hospital room were echoing throughout her ears as she came to. Tubes down her throat, IVs all in her arms. Looking at her elated mother she tried to speak but winced. Everything was so painful..
"Nurse! She's up, her eyes are open." Her mom cried from the door, pressing the button for nurses over and over
The doctor came in and gave her the prescribed medication, and referred her to a therapist for the trauma. He closed with, "Nurses are coming to remove the tube and detectives are coming to take your statement." Her mom thanked him but Daysha was a complete wreck
She had to make a statement? She didn't get the option of whether she wanted to press charges or not? She started to spiral her heart rate shooting up, and nurses came to calm her before removing the tube
The detectives were wrapping up their interview with her but she had questions, "What if I don't want to press charges? Just a restraining order.." she rasped out hopeful but the detective gave a look of disapproval
"Ma'am we're past that, you had to be resuscitated three times, and the shared child wailed for an hour straight. Your neighbors had to call. It's a miracle you're alive. Mr. Cade was also found unresponsive in the room due to an unknown substance in his system." His words settled in and broke her heart
"Where's my baby?" She looked to her mom panic rushing through her. "He's fine baby, yaya got him." She eased her, referring to her grandma.
"..is Cameron okay?" She whispered, scared of the answer remembering the last sight of him she had.
The detective sighed, "I can't say much but he is in stable condition and up walking around." He got ready to leave out before stopping.
"Just so you know, you legally cannot see him for the moment." He spoke before heading out completely.
Everything was happening so fast, they had diagnosed Daysha with PTSD and had her taking medication for it. And finally, they had made it to the last day of Cameron's trial—where a verdict would be read.
"Mr. Cade," Judge Holloway began, her voice firm but even as she folded her hands over the bench. "This court has reviewed the evidence, the victim impact statement, and your record. While this is your first official offense, the severity of the incident leaves no room for leniency."
Cameron's jaw flexed once, but he kept his eyes forward.
"Domestic violence is not a lapse in judgment. It is a choice—one with consequences. Today, those consequences come in three parts."
The courtroom was silent.
"First," she continued, "you are hereby ordered to pay a fine of three million dollars. This is reflective of both the seriousness of the offense and your financial capacity."
A murmur rippled through the gallery.
"Second, you will complete a certified twenty-four-week anger management and batterer's intervention program. Attendance is mandatory. Failure to complete the program will be considered a violation of your sentence and you will be ordered to spend a minimum of three years in the state prison."
Cameron's attorney shifted uncomfortably.
"And finally," Judge Holloway said, leaning forward slightly, "you will abide by all related protective orders currently in place. You will have no contact with the victim unless modified by the court. And custody screenings and schedules will be discussed in my chamber and decided by the end of the month, until then 7 month old Caisen Cade will remain in the custody of his mother. "
Her gavel came down with a decisive crack.
"Sentence imposed. Court is adjourned."
a/n : thank yall for readinggg!! I’m lowkey running out of plots so… chat come in clutch and give me some plz
Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Thor Odinson x Reader
Summary: Another year, another Purge spent at Bucky's cabin has you questioning your sanity when you think your best friends want to kill you.
Warnings: NON-CON, g*ngbang, The Purge AU
🕸 HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🕸
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies
ྐ❤︎
You stumbled over a tree root you'd manage to miss in the darkness, but it didn't deter your determination to get as far away as you could. In the back of your mind you knew that there was no realistic way to get out of your predicament, but the desperation and self preservation inside of you wouldn't let you admit defeat.
You had to try.
Sweat coated your skin, evidence of just how much you'd pushed yourself the moment you realized the danger you found yourself in. It was insane to think that only some five hours ago you were relaxed and surrounded by who you thought were friends, feeling comfortable and protected with people you'd known for years. Now, you were running for your life from those same people.
You should have known that something was wrong from the moment you'd stepped inside of the cabin.
“What time is Nat getting here?”
That was one of the first questions out of your mouth as you'd sat your things down. Steve was the one to answer you, and looking back, you should've paid more attention to the slight pause before he gave you a response.
“She's not,” he'd said, turning to you with a sheepish look and a shrug. “Said she was going to wait it out at home this year”.
You recalled the way you'd frowned, finding it odd that Nat wasn't coming. Since the first year it was put into place, all of you always holed up during the Purge together in some fancy backwoods cabin Bucky owned. Your disappointment must have been obvious because Steve had reached out, playfully flicking your chin.
“Hey, you still have us,” he'd told you with a small smirk. “It'll still be fun.”
“Yeah, I know.”
You'd fought to keep your tone even, but you had been disappointed, and it wasn't just because of Nat. The day before Bucky had told you that Wanda wasn't coming either and a few days before that Tony made the sudden decision to stay in one of his many expensive buildings with Pepper. It wasn't like you hated that it was just going to be you and the guys, but naturally you loved being around your girlfriends.
“Cheer up, Lady Y/N,” Thor had said when he got a good look at your face. “I have brought you your favorite movies at your request, and we will watch them as many times as you'd like.”
The blonde's infectious demeanor and determination to make you smile had relaxed you, forcing you to brush off any reservations you'd started to have. Looking back, you wondered if that was planned too—for Thor to be the one to lessen your unease because naturally he would. He was Thor, and you didn't think he had one sadistic bone in his body.
When your shirt got caught on a branch, it took everything in you not to cry out as the sharp piece of wood broke skin. The saltiness of your sweat hit your tongue as you pulled your lip between your teeth, blinking back tears as you renewed your hurried steps. Your vision was starting to sway a bit, and you knew that you were pushing yourself too much but the alternative end to this night wouldn't allow you to stop.
You could both feel your heartbeat in your throat and hear it in your ears. That observation only served to remind you that they no doubt could as well even from far away, and you fought the urge to cry again as the trajectory of this night once again felt inevitable. How were you supposed to keep out of reach of two super soldiers and a literal god in the middle of the Purge? Where would you go? Who would even help you if you happened to stumble upon someone else out here? What would you tell them? That the friends you'd had for years and who you'd holed yourself up in a cabin with were chasing you down to do God knows what?
You didn't even know what they wanted with you.
In fact, for hours you'd been none the wiser to the danger you were in, oblivious as ever as you and Thor attempted to make Wanda's signature dish. You both were very bad at it, laughing at the mess you were making while Bucky and Steve were getting fire wood. Finally admitting defeat, you'd decided to go ahead and hop in the shower, opting to just go and get ready to call it a night.
You could hear Bucky downstairs talking with Thor when you got out, glancing at the clock in the hallway and noting you had about 4 more hours until the Purge commenced. Any other year and you would've been glued to Nat’s hip, but seeing as you found yourself a tad more alone this year, you instead decided to lay down for a bit. The drive up to the cabin was no joke and as much as you'd always been encouraged to every year, you never could relax enough to just sleep through it.
“You're in a house full of a couple of assassins and some of the most dangerous people on the planet,” Nat would say to you. “What would we possibly let happen to you?”
She was right of course, but even still your body would never just let you sleep through it, and this year was even more nerve wracking without her by your side. You found yourself in and out of sleep for what felt like ages but in reality it was only about two hours. Occasionally you'd wake up to the sound of Thor’s voice asking you if you wanted or needed anything but you'd continuously give him a grumbled ‘no’ before going back to sleep.
It was in those throes of sleep that you heard it.
Steve’s voice was so recognizable and clear, but his words were so off putting that you immediately thought you must be dreaming. You were convinced that you were dreaming because your body still felt too heavy to be awake.
“No, she's asleep,” you heard him say, his voice carrying ever so softly from the hallway. “Why would we be? We only have a couple of more hours.”
There were a few beats of silence before his voice carried again.
“Well, you can just never be too safe. Anything done during the Purge is legal,” he softly laughed to himself. “Why chance it?”
His words created a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, and you weren't able to place why until a few moments later.
“Bucky took care of her starter,” he said, making your heart sink. “She won't be going anywhere.”
His words were so vivid in your mind even when you did eventually wake up, and while you were sure your mind had conjured them up, something deep down in your gut wouldn't let you be convinced. You had sat in your room for a while just playing it over in your head and repeatedly telling yourself it was just a dream no matter how much something said otherwise.
Your jumbled thoughts must have been evident because Bucky asked you if you were alright when you eventually made it downstairs.
“Yeah,” you'd told him after a while, shaking your head. “Just slept weird, I think.”
The dark-haired man had looked at you for what felt like too long before humming to himself.
“You want something to eat? I know you and Thor’s attempt at dinner didn't turn out too well,” he'd chuckled.
His light demeanor made your shoulders relax a bit, and you knew he noticed by the way those blue eyes of his shifted.
“Yeah I might as well,” you'd sighed, moving to sit on the couch. “I won't be able to do much else for a while.”
The brunette only threw you a smile before getting up, and you’d flipped through the DVDs Thor brought. As nice as the cabin was, at the end of the day it was still just a cabin in the middle of nowhere, and while the lack of internet never bothered you before, it was glaringly obvious this year without Nat or Wanda to keep you busy.
Among other reasons.
You’d found your thoughts drifting as you stared at the DVD in your hand, eventually convincing yourself that you were losing it. Of course, it had been a dream. Even if it wasn’t a dream, what could you possibly think it meant? Bucky had broken your car and Steve was talking to someone about their plot to what? Kill you? It was almost laughable, and you’d shaken your head.
You’d finally chosen a movie to put on just as Bucky finished up in the kitchen, the sound of the opening door reaching your ears as Thor and Steve brought in more firewood.
The smell of said firewood still clung to your clothes and hair as your gaze roamed along the dark trees in front of you. You needed to make sure you weren’t just mindlessly running in circles, but you also didn’t have the luxury of stopping and assessing where you were. You held your hand to your bleeding shoulder as leaves crunched beneath your feet. You were out of breath and so tired and so…confused, but most of all you were scared.
The thought that that phone call you heard was real was one that almost paralyzed you with fear. It seemed too insane—too sick—to be true, and yet you found yourself running in the middle of nowhere during the height of the Purge in the hopes that you would last the night. You hadn’t wanted to believe it, but the short phone call from Nat that managed to get through still made your head spin.
“I’m surprised I even managed to get a signal,” you’d told her hours earlier with a smile, stepping out onto the back patio. “The service out here is almost the same as the lack of wifi.”
“Out where? The cabin?” she’d asked, and her genuine confusion had made you frown.
“Uh, yeah,” you mockingly told her. “You know, the one you decided not to come to this year.”
There was a pregnant pause.
“Bucky said he didn’t think they were going up there this year.”
The redhead’s words only made your frown deepen, that sinking feeling returning to your chest.
“The asshole didn’t tell me he’d changed his mind,” and you could almost see her rolling her eyes on the other side of the line. “It’s so boring waiting this out without my partner in crime.”
She was chuckling to herself, but you had fallen quiet. You’d stared at the woods behind the cabin, going over both her words and what Steve had told you. You gently shook your head, telling yourself that there must have been some miscommunication. In fact, you were just about to bring up Steve’s contradicting words when you turned around…and froze.
The man in question was just on the other side of the sliding glass door, an unreadable expression on his face and two mugs in his hands. There was a brief moment where you both just stared at each other, and then suddenly a small smile graced Steve’s lips as he held the mugs up, brows lifting.
“Yeah, I guess he did,” you slowly replied, distracted. “I’ll call you back later once we’re locked in and settled.”
You and Nat said goodbye, and you swallowed as you reached out to open the door.
“What did Nat want?”
The blond didn’t even try to pretend like he didn’t hear who was on the phone, and so you knew that he heard exactly what was said.
“Just checking in,” you told him, grabbing a mug of hot chocolate. “She misses me.”
You looked at him as you said that, and Steve only shrugged.
“Well, no one told her to stay home this year,” he said to you, bumping his arm against yours as you walked inside.
You only smiled at him, desperately trying to get your thoughts together.
Was it possible there was just some innocent miscommunication? Maybe Bucky hadn’t relayed it to Nat that he’d decided to come back up here, after all and maybe Steve thought her absence was because she just wanted to stay home this year, not knowing she was under the impression no one was coming to the cabin. It was plausible, and the simplest answers were often the truth, but…
That phone call.
It had to have been a dream because the alternative was too terrifying to think about. Steve was your friend. Bucky was your friend. Thor was your friend. They were friends that you’d known and worked with for years, and the idea that you were alone with them up here for less than genuine reasons was making your stomach twist into knots. You knew that you were scaring yourself, and you forced yourself to take a deep breath.
You forced yourself to ask yourself a few questions, wondering what the reason would even be? They weren’t homicidal violent men or anything like that, and you’d never once felt unsafe with them. In fact, it was always the opposite, so what would the reason even be? Why would they orchestrate this whole thing that left you alone up here with them…during the Purge?
You’d told yourself that you were losing it, and after some time you’d offered to take everyone’s empty mugs to the sink. You could hear them having some debate about some game a month back as you did, placing the empty dishes into the sink. Your hands found the counter, and your eyes met your reflection in the kitchen window. You acknowledged that you were making yourself paranoid, but you couldn’t stop.
You were normally such a rational person, and everything about your train of thought was irrational, but yet you could not let it go. It made zero sense because they weren’t even sort of like the kind of guys who would hurt you—or any woman—but something kept nagging at you in the back of your mind. Something inside of you refused to let you relax.
As Thor’s loud laugh reached your ears, your gaze drifted to Steve’s phone on the counter. The blond—still refusing to grasp technology to the fullest degree—never kept a passcode on it, and your hand was moving without a second thought. They were still talking as you looked at Steve’s call history, searching for something that would ease your worries, but you only got the opposite.
Tony was the last person Steve talked to, and while that wasn’t cause for any kind of suspicion, you did notice that the call was taken when you were asleep—or at least in and out of sleep. You placed it back on the counter as if it were on fire, staring at it with wide eyes and telling yourself that it didn’t mean anything.
A coincidence.
You told yourself it was a coincidence, but you didn’t feel convinced.
“Hey, I’m kind of cold,” you loudly said, making your way to the key hook. “I’m grabbing my scarf from the car.”
It wasn’t a lie. You were indeed still a little nippy, and your scarf was still in your car, but your brain wouldn’t let this go. You kept coming up with more scenarios to prove yourself wrong and ease your worries, and you didn’t know why. You were outside before any of them replied, and you did just as you said, unlocking the vehicle and grabbing your scarf.
However, before you could talk yourself out of it, you were sitting in the driver’s seat and your key was in your ignition and you were turning it. You turned it twice. Then a third time, and a fourth time, and each time…it wouldn’t start.
It was quiet outside aside from the odd sound of an owl or two as you just stared at your dashboard. You could see your breath as you exhaled, telling yourself all kinds of excuses for what you were experiencing. It was cold and maybe it just needed a minute, but even after trying it again after a few minutes, there was no such luck. You swallowed, turning the key again, and you felt like you were having an out of body experience as it just wouldn’t start.
“What are you doing, doll?”
The scream you let out scared you more than Bucky’s sudden presence, and you dropped your keys to the floor of the car. You pressed your hand to your chest as you turned to look at him, unsure of how long he’d been standing there. You blinked a few times as you stared at him, heart threatening to beat out of your chest and lips parted.
Bucky was standing in the gap between your door and your car, one hand on the top of the door frame, the other at his side. The cold breeze ruffled his dark hair, and the moonlight glinted off of his blue eyes as he stared at you. It took you too long to remember he’d asked you a question, and you quickly came up with an answer.
“I wanted to see how much gas I have left in my car, but… It won’t start,” you softly said, still fighting to catch your breath. “I thought…I thought maybe the cold had something to do with the engine, but it’s just not starting.”
Bucky didn’t respond right away, and when he hummed, a shiver crawled up your spine.
“I’ll look at it in the morning. Me or Steve one,” he said, offering his hand to you.
Nodding, you quickly grabbed your scarf and your keys, placing your free hand in his flesh one. Bucky closed your car door for you, and you thanked him when he took your scarf and put it around your neck.
“Just trying to keep you warm,” he said to you, rubbing your shoulders. “We don’t want you to freeze to death.”
You forced a chuckle at that, and Bucky joined you as you both stepped inside. Steve was just inside the door when you stepped through, and you watched him look between you two.
“Everything alright?”
“Yeah, her car won’t start,” Bucky answered for you.
The blond eyed you, a slight frown forming.
“Why were you trying to start your car?”
You told yourself that you were imagining his tone.
“I wanted to see how much gas I have left to get back home tomorrow…”
You shrugged at him, and Steve only nodded.
“Bucky or I will check it out in the morning,” he said, basically repeating Bucky’s words as he guided you back to the living room.
You sat on the couch as another conversation started up around you, and you chimed in here and there, but your mind was miles away.
You told yourself that the car was a coincidence, but how many coincidences were allowed before you started putting pieces together that painted a sick picture?
Steve said that Nat chose not to come this year, but Nat said Bucky told her they weren’t coming up to the cabin for the Purge this year. You were so sure that phone call was a dream, but Steve’s call history showed he’d absolutely been on the phone with someone and that someone was Tony…who also chose to sit at home with Pepper this year. It was that same phone call where Steve said Bucky had messed with your car…
Your car that wouldn’t start.
“Y/N, are you alright?”
Thor’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and when you looked around you saw all three of them looking at you in concern. You only just realized that your heart was going crazy in your chest, and they could no doubt hear it. Their worried expressions were almost enough to have you rethinking this entire night, and you blinked back tears.
Bucky was the first to move.
“Hey, hey,” he gently said to you, placing a hand on your back. “What’s wrong, doll?”
You squeezed your eyes shut, placing a hand on your forehead.
“I think, um, I think…” you struggled to speak. “I don’t feel good. My head is all…”
You flailed your hands around your face.
“I don’t know, I just don’t feel good.”
“You want to take something?” Steve asked you, and you shook your head.
“No, I…” you heavily exhaled. “I just feel like I might be sick.”
Your voice cracked, and Bucky helped you stand.
“I just need some air.”
All of you were standing now, and Thor offered to go with you.
“No, I’ll just be a minute,” you hurried to tell him, placing your fingers to your temple. “I just need some air.”
You were stumbling towards the door before you were finished speaking, and you took deep breaths as soon as you were on the other side of it. The cold fresh air was definitely helping you clear your head, and you leaned back against it with your eyes closed. You thought that this would help you think more rationally, now…but it wasn’t working.
Everything you’d added up was going through your head over and over again.
They wouldn’t. You told yourself that they wouldn’t, but what if they would?
You recalled that one Christmas party that involved some Asgardian meade and a bold move from Thor that resulted in you having to let him down easily. The next morning he claimed to not have remembered a thing, but what if he did? What if something you’d written off as a drunken blunder was actually much more than that?
Like the time you and Bucky were undercover, and you swore he was getting a little too lost in the role but he assured you of otherwise? When you thought about the aggressive way he kissed you even now, it still sent chills down your spine, but he’d convinced you that it was nothing, that he was just trying to be convincing, and you’d believed him.
…and it was only a few months ago that Steve—under no influence of anything and under no false pretenses of a cover for some mission—had asked you out, and you’d told him no. It wasn’t because he wasn't a great guy or because he wasn’t handsome enough, but the two of you had been friends for so long that the thought of ruining that was something you couldn’t bear, and that was what you’d told him.
He seemed to believe you, but sometimes you still thought about that hint of something you swore you saw in his gaze. It had come and gone so quickly, and even now you still didn’t know if you imagined it or not, but it had scared you for a split second…and then it was gone and he was smiling, and you were just happy you hadn’t lost a friend.
Every single incident was at the forefront of your mind, now, and it was too many coincidences to keep you calm. You repeatedly told yourself that they wouldn’t hurt you—especially not over something as trivial as that—but you weren’t able to convince yourself. Every single nerve in your body was telling you something wasn’t right, and your internal conflict was driving you crazy. You told yourself they would never hurt you, and you wanted to be right. You wanted to be right so bad.
…but what if you were wrong?
You were unable to sit with your thoughts, and you didn’t know what part of you to listen to.
So…
You ran.
You hadn’t even been running for long when you heard your name being screamed through the trees, and it only made you run faster. There was some small part of you that told you you were being paranoid. After all, you were terrified and running based off of assumptions you came up with on your own, but a much larger part of you was telling you to run faster. A louder voice was in your head telling you that you were in danger.
Every time you faintly heard your voice traveling through the trees it only scared you more, making more tears fall at the predicament you were in. It didn’t seem real, and you wanted to believe it wasn’t happening, but nothing else made sense. The Purge had already commenced, even out here in the middle of the trees you knew that, and you were terrified of what would happen to you if you failed to make it through the night on your own.
But what if it was all in your head? What if you’d driven yourself crazy and took off in the middle of nowhere over nothing? What would you say to them tomorrow? How would you explain yourself? What if they were chasing after you because you took off like a crazy person and they were worried?
A sob caught in your chest because you didn’t know what to believe, and you genuinely felt like you were losing your mind. Your tears were blurring your vision, and you felt like you couldn’t suck in air fast enough. When your foot caught on a rock, it sent you falling to the ground, and your forehead bounced off of the hard earth. Your already questionable vision was now slanted as you fought to push yourself to your feet, and you looked around, relieved that you were still alone.
You felt like you were on the verge of passing out when you stumbled into familiar arms.
The scream that escaped you echoed throughout the woods, bouncing off of trees and making you flinch. Thor’s hands were firm on your arms as you fought to get away from him, pushing at him and hitting his chest as he tried to calm you down. You were inconsolable as your back met a tree, and you struggled to speak.
“Please, don’t kill me,” you choked out. “Please…”
The blond frowned at you, and you shook your head.
“I don’t… I didn’t…” you couldn’t breathe. “I’m sorry.”
Thor only frowned at you as he looked over your face, one of his hands reaching up to gently touch your cheek.
“I’m sorry,” you breathlessly repeated. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings or made you think…”
Your words died in the air again as you struggled to catch your breath, and the gentle touch of Thor’s hand on your face and the way he was looking at you was a lot more calming than you wanted to admit. The blond seemed genuinely confused by your words and your demeanor, pressing his lips together as he ran his eyes over you.
“Is that what you think?” he gently asked you, and you swallowed. “Is that why you ran?”
Your silence was answer enough, and you watched him gently laugh to himself.
“You thought we were going to kill you?”
His question accompanied by his expression made you feel stupid all of a sudden, and you looked away just as Thor laughed again. He was careful in pulling you away from the tree, holding you next to him as he started to walk back in the direction of the cabin. He guided your head to lean against him, and you briefly closed your eyes, taking deep even breaths and feeling…insane.
“Why did you think we were going to kill you?” he softly wondered, and you couldn’t ignore that he was talking to you like some wounded animal.
“It’s…stupid,” you managed to whisper, not even wanting to say it all out loud now that Thor had managed to ease your fears. “I feel like an idiot.”
Thor rubbed your shoulder, and the sound of footsteps other than both of yours reached your ears.
“Is she okay?” you heard Steve ask, the blond closer to you than Bucky, a deep frown on his features.
“I’m fine,” you said the same time Thor told him you were fine. “I got too in my own head and...I don’t know, I just drove myself crazy.”
“She thought we were going to kill her.”
You felt even more embarrassed when Thor said it aloud again to them, and you started to frown at him when you were all too aware of his grip on the hair at the nape of your neck. Your frown deepened, wincing in pain as you reached back just as he leaned over.
“I do not know what gave her that idea,” Thor said seemingly to no one in particular just as he covered your lips with his own.
The kiss took you by surprise, and you pushed at his chest as he stepped closer, forcing you to stumble back. Your back met a tree for the second time that night, and you were unable to speak as Thor moved his mouth against yours. Your brain felt even more jumbled than it did earlier in the night, confusion pouring into you as Thor kept you from pulling away.
Your mind had immediately jumped to murder that you had never even entertained the possibility of…something else.
When you finally managed to get away from Thor’s hold—or when he let you—you stumbled back into someone else’s waiting arms, and you yelped in a mixture of fear and shock. Bucky held both of your elbows to him as his lips found a home in the crook of your neck, tasting your sweaty skin as you struggled in his tight grip.
“Kill you?” Bucky chuckled. “Never.”
“This isn’t funny,” you told them, voice shaking. “If you’re trying to scare me because of something I did or didn’t do…”
Your eyes met Steve’s at that.
“I’m sorry–!”
You cut yourself off with a gasp, crying out at the feeling of Bucky’s teeth in your skin. Your efforts to get away from him doubled the moment Steve started to make his way closer to you. You frantically looked between him and Thor, understanding that if this was for real and they were serious, there was no getting out of this. Your heart was going crazy in your chest, and Steve confirmed that they heard it.
“Listen to how scared she is…”
“Steve, please,” you begged as he got closer and closer, and when he ignored your apologies and pleas entirely, you accepted that this was no joke.
The blond caught your feet as you kicked at him, separating your legs and stepping between them. You were in an uncomfortable position as Bucky still held your elbows behind you. Steve’s fingers dug into your pants, and when his hands started to pull, you moved as much as you possibly could. Thor’s chuckle reached your ears as you found yourself dropped to the ground.
“I do believe she is besting you both.”
The teasing lilt to his voice made your stomach turn, and your attempt to crawl away was thwarted by hands on your ankles pulling you back. Your nails pressed into the dirt and leaves as you were dragged back, no match for the super soldier who flipped you onto your back. Every kick at Steve was futile, and tears blurred your vision again when he sat on your waist. You pushed at his hands as they reached for your sweater, the thick fabric ripping like paper at the mercy of his strength.
It seemed like no matter what you said to Steve, he didn’t hear a word of it, blue eyes locked in on his goal, and if you had any doubts about this being personal, they were gone the moment your gazes met. There was no give there, nothing in his stare even hinting that he could be talked out of this. In fact, you wouldn’t be shocked if the entire thing was his idea.
You screamed when he leaned down to take a hardened bud into his mouth, the cold air giving him exactly what he wanted.
“There’s no one around for miles, doll,” you heard Bucky say, making you cry harder. “...but by all means.”
He gestured to you as you turned to look at him through a tearful gaze.
“Scream as much as you’d like.”
You and Steve fought over your pants, the blond winning with hardly a fight, and you shook from both the cold and the turn the night had taken. To think it was only moments ago that you’d been so sure they were going to kill you. Another possibility hadn’t even been an option in your mind and why would it? What was tomorrow supposed to be like or hadn’t they thought that far ahead?
A silent conversation seemed to pass through Bucky and Steve as they briefly looked at each other, the brunette making his way over to you. Any fight you were able to give Steve was squashed the moment Bucky dropped to his knees and pinned your hands on either side of your head. You tearfully looked up at him, equal parts angry and defeated as Steve’s hand slid between your thighs.
“Uh uh,” Steve tsk’d, harshly slapping your cunt the moment you squeezed your eyes shut, making you shout. “Eyes on him, sweetheart.”
Bucky had no problem at all holding your gaze while Steve slid a finger into you, quickly followed by another. You couldn’t swallow down the gasp that climbed out of your throat, eyes widening as he curled his fingers into you. You twisted your wrists in Bucky’s grip, angrily staring at him as you fought to swallow down every sound that wanted to escape your lips.
Your toes curled as Steve fingered you, a third finger sliding into you with ease as his actions forced you to drip around his hand. Your chest was heaving with every snap of his wrist, and you attempted to turn your head away when Bucky leaned in, but he stole a kiss anyway. The dark-haired man tasted the inside of your mouth as Steve continued to stretch you out around his fingers.
The sensations from both were too much, and you desperately wanted to be anywhere but here. Bucky only let you catch your breath for a second before diving in again, and for a brief moment, you felt empty and the heat between your legs was gone. That reprieve, however, only lasted for a second, and your chest arched at the feeling of thicker fingers slowly pushing their way into you.
You let out a shaky breath, and you felt Bucky smirk into the kiss.
Thor was not as gentle as Steve, roughly fucking you with his fingers and making your hips lift off of the ground. You were dripping around him, you could feel it, and the sound of his thick fingers pushing into you reached your ears, so you could only imagine what they could hear. The humiliation of it all warmed your cold frame, and you blinked back tears when Bucky finally pulled away.
You stared at him, but his blue eyes were focused instead on what Thor was doing to you.
You refused to look, closing your eyes and turning your head away. Evidently, Steve found that funny, chuckling to himself, and the knowledge that they all found this amusing filled you with an indescribable rage. The sound of Thor fucking you with his fingers was loud, a wet squelch reaching your ears every time he pushed his fingers into your walls.
“I want to see her come,” Steve said, and you pulled at Bucky’s grip.
“No,” you cried, but both Thor and Bucky tightened their holds.
You could already feel your stomach tightening from Thor’s hand, his thumb brushing gentle circles over you, a stark contrast to the movements from his other fingers. You were gone completely however when Bucky leaned back down to nip at your chest before tasting the same pebbled bud Steve had, tongue brushing over the sensitive flesh and making you gasp.
It was all too much, and you could feel and hear your breathing getting heavier. Your stomach was tight and your toes were curled and your chest was arched upwards. Your lashes kept fluttering as you tried so hard to fight it, but against your will, you were pushed over the edge and you came around Thor’s fingers with an embarrassing sigh.
You heard Thor curse and then you felt his mouth on your mound barely a moment later. That only prolonged your orgasm, eyes falling close as he tasted you, his tongue lapping up any and everything you had to offer. He hummed against you, the feeling vibrating throughout your entire body, and you were so lost in the feeling that you didn’t even realize Bucky had let you go.
When Thor finally pulled away too, you were a trembling mess, and you could feel tears kissing your eyes. You barely felt the cold now, your skin so hot and your face so warm. You could hear the rustle of fabric, but you weren’t able to put two and two together until a metal hand was turning you over.
“Bucky–!”
His name had barely escaped your lips before a hand was underneath your stomach and forcing you to your knees. The head of his cock was pushing into you barely a moment later, and the noise that left you was one you couldn’t name. His metal hand was in your hair while the other was tight on your waist.
Your fingers dug into the leaves and dirt as he repeatedly thrust into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in the otherwise quiet woods. Your head weakly hung as he pulled you back to meet his every thrust, pulling out until only the tip of him remained before sliding his cock into you to the hilt.
Every time you leaned away, the brunette pulled you back, groaning behind you at the feeling of you wrapped around him. For a while, you forgot all about Steve and Thor, but then you heard the crunch of leaves, and when you forced yourself to look up, your eyes met familiar blue ones.
“It didn’t have to be like this, you know,” Steve told you, and you hated that haughty tone in his voice. “It really didn’t.”
His betrayal—all of theirs—made more tears spill over as you glared at him.
“Fuck you,” you spat at the blond, and Steve only gave you a crooked smile.
You cried out when Bucky’s hand curled around your throat, pulling back and forcing your back to his chest. His other arm snaked around your waist, and you dug your nails into the skin of his arm. He pressed his face into where your shoulder and your neck met, and Steve took another step towards you.
“Be patient, and you will.”
Your vision started to tilt and blur as the result of Bucky’s tight hold on your throat, the dark-haired super soldier whispering in your ear.
“You take my cock so well,” he softly told you just before he came inside of you.
Unfortunately, you came with him, wholly embarrassed and upset as he told you to milk his cock, tightly holding you against him until you stopped trembling. He whispered something else in your ear that sounded a lot like ‘good girl’ before pulling out of you, practically handing you to Thor as if you were a glass of water and not a human being.
You learned that Thor liked to look at your face.
He wasted no time in forcing your legs over his arms and pushing your knees next to your head before sliding into you with ease. The new and uncomfortable angle had you clawing at the dirt in desperation, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. His chest brushed against yours with every surge of his hips, and you couldn’t bite back the whimpers that crawled out of your throat even if you tried.
His skin slapped against yours, and your lips were parted the entire time he was inside of you. Occasionally he kissed you, a gentle gesture that was the complete opposite of how he fucked you. The leaves and twigs of the forest floor scratched at your back with every movement, but the pain from that was almost nonexistent in comparison to the way Thor stretched you out around his cock.
The god amongst the three naturally had the most stamina, and sweat coated your skin after being with Bucky and now Thor.
“I should hope you’re not getting tired, little one,” he said to you, and you squeezed your eyes shut at the perversion of the affectionate name he sometimes gave you. “I don’t know about them, but I want to make the best use of these twelve hours.”
When Thor was close, he dropped one of your legs, a large hand coming up to cover your breast and massage the skin. His teeth nipped at your throat, and your nails dug into his arm. His hips started to slow, Thor torturously dragging his cock in and out of you, driving you crazy and making you lift your hips.
“Atta girl,” you heard someone say, and it sounded like Steve.
Thor slowly pumped himself into you, not minding at all that you didn’t come with him as he spilled himself into you. He didn’t stop thrusting until he was spent, satisfied with himself before pulling out of your limp frame.
Your eyes felt so heavy, and more than anything, you wanted to disappear, but all too soon you felt a familiar hand on your leg.
“No,” you mumbled, pushing at Steve.
“Don’t be mean,” Steve whispered to you, kissing you. “Everybody else got their turn.”
The slap was loud and unexpected, even by you, but it was more than deserved. Somehow, you knew that this was Steve’s idea, and tears skipped down your cheeks as he continued to press kisses along your face as if you hadn’t just hit him.
His lips traveled to your jaw and then your neck, and your attempt to sit up and back away from him was halted. Steve pulled you back by your hips, forcing your legs around him before leaning back and taking you with him. You let out a grunt when you settled on top of him, attempting to get away, but he was already forcing you down onto his cock.
You both let out similar noises but for entirely different reasons.
The blond wasted no time, getting a tight grip on your hips and bending his knees as he thrust himself up into you. A choked moan escaped into the air, and Steve tightened his hold on your hips. The palms of your hands were pressed against his chest, and against your will, you picked up a rhythm as he forced you to ride him.
You heard footsteps behind you, and you shouldn’t have been surprised to feel lips on the back of your neck. Bucky kissed along your throat as he forced your head back, and it took everything in you to keep your eyes somewhat open. He nipped at the skin, his lips eventually traveling to your lips for a few moments before pulling away entirely. Steve did not stop you once, forcing you to roll your hips over his and push yourself down onto his cock.
You were dripping around him, and when you managed to look down, you could see him staring at where you two met, his tongue poking at his bottom lip as he watched himself disappear into you. It both disgusted you and made your heart skip a beat, doubly so when Thor grabbed your arms, holding them behind you as it was his turn to press kisses along your neck and shoulders.
You shuddered at the feeling and he chuckled.
“I think she might come again,” Thor said, and the blond god kissed the tears on your cheeks.
When he let you go, Steve forced you down against him, his arms wrapped around your back as he roughly pushed his cock up into you. You gasped into his ear, your moans growing louder with every thrust. Your hands pressed into the dirt to steady yourself, but it was no use as Steve practically kept your chest glued to his.
One of his hands curled around the back of your neck, and his lips pressed kisses along your jaw. You couldn’t catch your breath, and Steve could feel you clenching around him.
“You going to come for me, sweetheart? Hmm?”
You couldn’t find a snarky comment to throw at him, simultaneously wanting this to be over and to never end. Steve was repeatedly hitting something inside of you that had you mewling on top of him, and when his hand wrapped around the front of your throat, you clawed at it.
“The sooner you come, the sooner we take you back…”
You shook your head.
“...and get you all cleaned up…”
You pressed your nails into his hand, more tears spilling over.
“...and fed and well rested…”
He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“...and ready to do it all over again.”
When you came around Steve you saw stars, vision going dark and heart skipping a beat as he fucked you through your climax. Even when you had long stopped rolling your hips against his, Steve lazily pushed his cock into you, forcing you to flutter around him as he coated your walls.
You were completely spent and out of breath, barely able to protest as Bucky grabbed you and swung you up into his arms. You were covered in dirt and sweat and God knows what else as the dark-haired man chuckled at the sight of you.
“...and to think…” he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You thought we wanted to kill you.”
Warnings: This will include dark elements (dub/noncon). Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Tommy Shelby, maid!reader
Summary: you’ve adapted to your employer’s moods, but you don’t realise how attached he’s become to you .
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah 💋
Mr. Shelby parts, gripping you tight as his breath puffs around your lips. His eyes are dark and cloudy as he lets out a low growl. His thumb rubs your temple as his other hand cradles the back of your skull.
“We’ve got to go,” he whispers.
You stare at him, shaky and stunned. His saliva cools on your lips as his fingertips curl into you. His lashes flutter as you feel the deliberate effort to let go. As he does, you barely keep from falling back against the bench.
“Now.” He says louder as he stands.
He tugs at the top of his trousers and buttons his jacket. He signals impatiently and turns to you. He grabs your elbow and brings you up to your feet. He drags you out from between the table and cushion. He clears his throat and waves his hand again.
“Come on,” he snarls but not at you.
He ushers you down off the platform. Your ankle nearly bends in your heel. You are at his whim as he rushes you forward. A man in a tidy suit approaches. He hands Shelby his overcoat.
Shelby pulls on the coat then snatches yours from the man. He shooes him with a flick of his fingers. You shift away unthinkingly as he opens it. You face him.
“Mr. Shelby, is everything–”
“Put it on. Let’s go.” He commands.
You spin your back to him and slip your arms into the sleeves. He lets it go and you pull the fabric around your front. You turn to him again. He has a hold of your arm swiftly as he marches toward the door.
You scurry to keep up with him, tripping out onto the cobbles at his side. He squeezes so tight you feel your bones strain. A set of headlights appear as the valet drives up with his automobile.
He opens the passenger door and shoves you inside. You hit the seat then climb onto it. You look back at Mr. Shelby as he shuts the door. You bat your lashes in confusion.
He goes around and as good as yanks the valet out. He gets in and snaps the door shut, nearly hitting the man in the process. He veers away from the cobbles as the valet just barely evades the tires.
You clasp your hands together and stare out the windshield. You didn’t mean to anger him so much. You hadn’t realised your lapse until he woke you. It wasn’t intentional, it’s only that crushing fatigue you can’t seem to shake. The same that had you nodding despite your surprise at your parents’ arrival.
He drives down the dark streets as you wilt in the tense silence. You bring your hands up to clutch the front of the coat as the evening air nips. You sniff and peek over at his silhouette.
Only the headlights glow as he steers onto the country roads. Not nearly enough to let you see him. Just his dark shadow as he braces the wheel. You jostle with the car and brace the door with one hand as he speeds up.
“Mr. Shelby, I must apologise for my miscue. I didn’t mean to–”
You lurch forward as he stomps the break and cranks the gear shift to a harsh stop. He sighs and pushes open his door. You swallow your apology as he slides off the seat and shuts the door behind him.
You sit, shoulder high, shivering, as he marches out in front of the headlights. The engine putters on. You hug yourself as he takes out a cigarette and lights it, cupping his hands around the flame. He puts his lighter away and puffs out a cloud of smoke.
He paces back and forth, the wisps of the cigarette trailing him. He retraces his steps once more then tosses the smoke. He shakes his head and stomps around your side of the care.
You steel yourself. You expect him to rip you out and leave you in the dirt. He’s had enough. You told him so many time you aren’t what he expects. You aren’t what he wants. So if he does, you can hardly blame him. You’re a maid, not a wife.
He swings the door open. You turn in the seat and put your legs over the side. You go to slide out and he shoves your shoulders.
He grabs your hips and pulls you sharply. You yelp and fall onto your back. He snarls as the stones and dirt crunch under him. He pushes apart your coat and snatches at your skirt. You squeal and bat at him as he searches through the layers.
“Stop,” he growls and throws the satin over his head.
You squirm and whine as his breath warms your thigh. You push yourself up on your elbows as he hooks his hands around your thighs and drags you further down the seat. He pushes his shoulders under your knees.
“Mr. Shelby?” You squeak.
He hushes you as he presses his nose to your underwear. You twitch. He rolls his head, nuzzling you through the satin. You quiver and plant your elbows, wriggling helplessly.
He clings to one leg as his other hand crawls around your thigh. He tickles the edge of the satin as it rides up and traces the curve of your bottom. He groans and guides the fabric away from your cunt. You tense as he presses his nose past the satin.
He inhales the scent of your curly hair and sighs. You cry out as a coolness splits your folds. You twitch again and stare at the faint outline of his head beneath your dress.
“Mister…” you begin and he swipes his tongue again.
He has his mouth. Down there? You reach to press on your head. He rescinds his hand from under your skirt and pushes yours away. He clings to your wrist, gripping tight as he laps at you with deep hums. His voice rolls through you.
You spasm as your body reacts to the unexpected sensations stirred by his mouth. Your arm shakes and gives out as you fall to your back. Mr. Shelby curls his arm around your thigh as his fingers knead into the tender flesh.
He swirls his tongue around that part of you that sparks a thousand nerves. Your hips buck instinctively as he spreads his tongue wide and growls as he tastes you. He centres on your bud and flicks again, fast, firmer, sucking on you as he hums louder.
You slap your hand against the back of the seat as the storm crashes over you. The cold air bites through your stockings as his hot mouth bleeds into your cunt. He pushes his head down, his nose pressing into you as he drinks you.
He lets go of your wrist and searches your torso blindly. He delves beneath your coat and gropes your chest. His whole body rocks as he seals his lips around your bud and teases with his tongue.
Your insides contract, tying up your muscles and nerves. Your thighs shake and your blood boils. You heave and push your chest up as you struggle to control yourself.
Your voice breaks through your locked throat. You choke out a long moan that grows louder as the tides ripple over you. Your insides quiver and squeeze, needing for something more than just his mouth. You dig your nails into the seat and let out a squall.
Your foot cramps as your back arches deeper and Mr. Shelby burrows his face into you. His breath fogs around you as his tongue slows. He licks up the slickness dripping from you, smearing it around his face and nose as he bobbles his head.
He sighs and stops, leaning his head on your pelvis as he pants shallowly. You lay, stunned, tingling, confused. Your hand slides down the seat and rests weakly on your hip. The night prickles at your naked thighs.
“Sir,” you eke out. “It’s getting rather cold out.”
He groans and lingers a moment longer before lifting his head. He fixes your underwear, the satin sticking to your wet cunt, and he tugs your skirt down your legs. He clears his throat and stands.
He reaches to take your hand and draws you up. He guides your legs back around the front of the seat. He kisses your cheek so you smell the sweetness woven into the tobacco on his breath. His lips are slick.
“Yes, hen. Let’s get you home and warm.” He pets your neck before he draws away.
He shuts the door, gentler than before. You watch him walk in front of the headlights, his hand gripping the front of his trousers. You fold your hands together in your lap and quiver.
Your core thrums, sending chills through you as he gets in next to you. He shifts and rolls forward. He keeps one hand on the wheel and reaches for yours. He toys with it as he drives. You stare ahead, the road blurring in the glare of the headlights.
Warnings: This will include dark elements. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Tommy Shelby, maid!reader
Summary: you’ve adapted to your employer’s moods, but you don’t realise how attached he’s become to you .
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah 💋
“Ma’am,” Mitchell takes his hat off as he enters. You look up from the book in your lap, courtesy of your employer. Former, you suppose.
You sit by the window on the first floor, the residue of rain sticks to the panes, and the smell wafts in with your visitor. You smile at the young man as he nervously hovers in the doorway. Mr. Shelby appears behind him. You notice how the younger glances over uneasily.
“Come in,” you beckon. “I’m afraid I’m not in a condition to get up and greet you.”
“Erm, sorry, ma’am. I really am. I never meant…” He enters hesitantly.
“I forgive you. Please, no more apologies. Come closer then.” You wave him nearer.
“It’s only, ma’am, I feel awful.”
“Well, it so happens I do too. You’ll be perfect company then.” You point to the chair you had Mr. Shelby place next to you.
“How long did you intend to entertain?” Shelby asks. You sense he isn’t keen on your idea.
“So long as I need to,” you answer. “Colette’s seen to me, Mitchell has come, so you will be free to go about your business.”
“My business is seen to. I told you, I am available.”
“Then you can stay. I won’t tell you what to do in your house,” you open the book again. “How old are you, Mitchell?”
“Eighteen, ma’am,” the boy gets closer and lightly sits in the chair.
“Ah, you’ve time then.”
“Time, ma’am?”
“To turn yourself around.”
“Right,” he drops his shoulders meekly.
“Do you read?” You ask as you cradle the book. Mr. Shelby looms closer.
He drags his thumb beneath his bottom lip. “A little. Never took much to it, ma’am. The nuns… well…Eh, no, not very good.”
“Oh, well, it’s never too late,” you chime. “You bring your chair closer.” You hold out the book to him. “I need you to read to me, the tablets make me tired.”
“But, er…”
“It’s alright. You let me know if you have trouble, I’m here to help.”
Mr. Shelby scoffs. You look over at him tersely. His brows flick up. Your lips straighten.
“Go on,” you lean on the arm of the wheelchair. “Start from page one. It’s a rather good story so far and you’ll need to enjoy it from the start.”
Mitchell squints at the pages and brings the book up. You watch him. You’ll ask later, for now, you’ll let him read.
He clears his throat and shifts in his chair. He reads carefully, stuttering, then stops completely. You glance over at him. His lips slant and he shakes his head.
You lean further over the armrest and hold your middle. “Show me.”
He points to the word. Mr. Shelby steps up behind him as if trying to see himself. You resist the urge to scowl up at him.
“Cacophony,” you trace your finger under the word, a syllable at a time.
“Ca-co-phon-y,” Mitchell sounds out. “Hm.”
“It means a lot of sounds at once,” you explain.”
“Right,” he nods. “Cacophony,” he says more confidently.
You smile. “Keep going. You have a good rhythm.”
🚬
As nice as it was to get out of bed, you can't shake the sense of stagnation. Mr. Shelby carries you up the stairs and to the bedroom after supper. You made certain Mitchell had a plate before he left. You know the homeowner was not so fond of that.
Shelby puts you on the bed. You sit on the edge and touch your middle lightly. Your side is tender. The pain never truly leaves, even when you get your tablets.
"Is all well?" Mr. Shelby pauses before he reaches the wardrobe.
"All's well," you assure him.
He opens the wooden wardrobe and shifts around behind the door. He closes it with a click and returns to you. He holds a satin nightgown. Ivory and sleek.
"I'll get you changed then fetch the tea I put to steep," he explains.
You nod and stare at your lap. He lays the night gown beside you. You play with a pleat on the dress you wear. The fabric is lighter, more expensive than your cotton and wool.
"There's something..." He begins.
"I'll dress myself." You sniff.
"The doctor said not to tax yourself," he argues.
"I understand that. I can handle a change of clothes," you insist.
"But if you hurt yourself --"
"With due respect, I tire of feeling helpless. To be rather honest, it is humiliating. So please, allow me this one task to myself." You keep your head down.
He's quiet for a moment. His sole scuffs under him.
"Of course, love. I only mean to help."
"You shouldn't have to. Not this much," you say. "The tea sounds lovely."
"Right back, love." He bends to kiss your hair then backs up. He lingers at the door before finally leaving you.
You unbutton the dress and slip free of the sleeves. You roll it down to your waist and let it rest there. You remove your brassiere and shiver.
Next, you take the night gown and pull it over your head. The last part is the hardest. You'll need to stand.
You move down the bed and grab the post. You pull yourself up. Your legs ache. Only a few days without walking on your own and you're so weak.
You wiggle and groan at the pang in your side. The dress finally slips and the night gown stubbornly shifts to your hips. Annoyed, you take one hand off the post to tug it down fully.
You teeter and lose your balance. Your legs fold and despite your grasp on the post, you fall. You cushion it just enough to keep from crashing completely.
You let go of the bedframe and put your palms to the floor. You try to get up on your knees but collapse back down. You reach for the mattress and whine as you shakily pull yourself up.
You shove yourself up, just enough to get your stomach over the edge. The mattress presses into your torso and you cry out.
A click behind you causes you to slip back onto your knees. Mr. Shelby catches you under your arms and hauls you up. He angles you around to sit you on the bed.
"Hen, are you--"
"Fine, fine." You interrupt. "Sorry, I... I only slid off the bed. It..." Your shoulders slump. "I could do it. I was doing it."
"You must be patient, hen. As I am. I know it will take time." He takes your hands in his and kisses your knuckles.
"I think you make a terrible mistake. I don't think it will be soon enough. Not for you." You utter.
"Hen," he intones. He pauses and lowers himself to his knees. "I've waited. I will continue to wait. For you." He takes your hands and guides them to the side of his head. "Do you see I am your fool."
"Fool indeed if you don't see that I am not what you think. I am far from what you need--" you argue.
"Need?" He exclaims. "Darling, what do you know about what I need?" He growls. "I need you. I need your hands," he presses them to the sides of his head and drags your fingers up into the longer strands. "I need your lips. I need your eyes, your throat, your bosom..." He purrs and leans in, peering up at you with sparkling blue eyes. "I need your thighs and your soft stomach. I need all of you."
He nuzzles into the front of the night gown so it catches on his nose. You wince as he buries his face in your chest. He purrs and tilts his head back. He looks up at you as he brings his hands to your waist, gently. Your hands fall to his shoulders.
"I need you so bad, it hurts and yet I will wait. I am waiting. I am yearning." He rasps. "I will lay next to you and ache to my core. As I have done. As I always will when I cannot have you."
Dinner ended quietly, the way everything in that house seemed to.
No one ever left the table so much as drifted away from it — like the moment itself had dissolved, leaving only soft voices and the faint clinking of dishes.
I stayed behind to help Esme clear up, even though she protested that I didn’t have to.
By the time the last plate was stacked, Edward was gone.
Of course he was.
The others dispersed — Alice humming somewhere upstairs, Jasper’s low voice following, Emmett and Rosalie murmuring behind closed doors. The kind of domestic quiet that should have been comforting.
But that night, it wasn’t.
I went to my room and stared out at the dark treeline. The rain had stopped, but mist still clung low to the ground, glowing faintly under the moonlight.
That same strip of forest.
The same place I’d seen him that first morning.
He’d said, you shouldn’t go near that part of the woods alone.
And when I’d asked why, he’d changed the subject.
That curiosity — the one that had gotten me into trouble my whole life — started burning again.
⸻
I told myself I just needed air.
That it wasn’t about him.
That I wasn’t stupid enough to wander far.
So I pulled on a jacket, grabbed my torch, and slipped quietly down the stairs.
The Cullens’ house was silent. I could hear the soft hum of the refrigerator, the faint creak of old timber under my feet.
Outside, the air was sharp and damp, smelling of pine and rain and earth. I crossed the lawn, the grass cold through my shoes, and stepped into the trees.
The light from the house faded almost immediately.
The forest swallowed sound — every footstep muffled by moss and fallen needles. My breath clouded in the air. Somewhere far off, water dripped steadily from branch to branch.
It wasn’t scary, not at first. Just vast; a cathedral of trees and shadows and mist.
But then, as I went deeper, I started to feel it.
That strange electric hum, the same one I’d felt when Edward looked at me.
Like something watching.
And then I heard it — not a growl this time, but a sound.
Wet. Slow. Rhythmic.
Something tearing, then a soft, awful chew that echoed through the trees.
My stomach turned. I swept the flashlight toward the noise, the beam shaking in my hand — and froze.
The light caught movement first: a huge, dark shape hunched over something pale on the forest floor.
A deer, I realised too late — its neck at an impossible angle, steam rising from the torn grass around it.
The creature lifted its head.
For a heartbeat, the light caught its eyes — golden and wide and terribly aware.
Then it stepped forward, and I saw just how big it was — massive, black-furred, taller than my shoulders even crouched.
The air went cold. Every nerve in my body screamed run. I didn’t even have the time to scream before my legs took off without my permission.
I spun — and crashed straight into a chest. Solid, warm, massive. I looked up panicked at the easily six-foot-five boy. His brow was prominent, as were his black eyes, with tan skin and dark, spiky hair: a Native American boy, I would guess. He stood in nothing but ragged shorts and a black vest. It was freezing, and the dew had started to frost: it clearly did not bother him.
A tight grip snaked around my left wrist, caught in the spin to run away — a little painfully: enough to make me flinch. I realised he’d stopped me from getting any further by grabbing my arm before I could protest.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said, voice flat, unreadable. The easy warmth of his face was overridden by his obvious seriousness, anger, even.
“I—there’s—” My breath came fast in plumes of fog. “There’s something out there. A wolf or— I don’t even know, it was huge. We have to run—”
He didn’t move. His eyes flicked past me, back toward the trees, like he was measuring distance to the house. “You shouldn’t have crossed this far,” he muttered. “This isn’t your side.”
“What- what are you taking about? Jesus, we need to run!”
“Just—go home.” His tone was sharper now, like an order, his jaw set. “You don’t belong here. Do you understand? Didn’t they tell you?”
The forest was silent again, except for the faint rustle of wind through the branches and wet noise of a ravaged animal. I could smell earth, sweat, and metallic.
I tried to pull free. “You’re not listening—there’s a giant animal back there. We should—”
He looked past me again, the tension in his shoulders changing, turning wary. “Yeah,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Ugh, here he comes.”
I turned just as the air shifted — that strange, sudden drop in pressure I’d started to recognise.
Edward was next to me, in my peripheral vision, and then he was shoving at the boy’s chest and I found my wrist free of his grasp as I was propelled backwards into a thick tree stump. I was unsurprised I hadn’t noticed Edward’s footsteps in the midst of my panic. My back smacked hard into the tree and a small branch pierced my shoulder - I yelped in pain as Edward continued his aggression on the boy.
Edward’s face was strangely furious, the lines of his face carved hard in the half-light. I had never seen so much emotion on his marble face, before. I was disappointed it had to be rage.
“You put your hands on her?” Edward snarled. The words were calm, but they hit like a low note of thunder.
The boy stumbled back a few steps before returning the shove to Edward, who barely adjusted his footing. The boy’s expression flickered between rage and amusement.
“She wandered across the line, Cullen,” he retorted, angrily.
Edward took a step forward. The distance between them vanished — too close, the air almost humming with it. They snarled in one another’s faces, nostrils flaring “You don’t enforce the rules,” Edward said, voice low, dangerous.
The boy’s mouth twitched — not a smile, something darker. “Somebody had to… if you would just keep your pets on your side of the forest we won’t have a problem.”
Before I could even process the words, Edward’s hand was on my shoulder, steering me back the way I’d come. His touch was firm, not gentle.
“Let’s go,” he said quietly. I was still reeling from the winding being slammed against the tree gave me.
“Now, Y/N.” I didn’t argue.
I glanced back once — the boy was still there, half-hidden in the fog, watching us leave. The look on his face wasn’t anger anymore. It was something more muted.
⸻
We didn’t speak until the forest thinned and the Cullens’ house came into view through the mist. My heart still hadn’t slowed; my wrist throbbed faintly.
Edward stopped at the edge of the woods and pointed at the floor: “this line; here: don’t go past it again, Y/N”. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on the ground. Rain beaded on his hair and caught the light like fine glass.
“You shouldn’t have gone out there,” he sighed finally, pinching at the bridge of his nose.
“I’m sorry—”
“You could have been killed, Y/N. They wouldn’t have hesitated.”
“I didn’t realise—” I stopped short, confused. “You mean, by the wolf?”
He didn’t reply. “You never should have been put in this situation- here.” He exhaled, long and sharp, and when he finally looked at me, anger had drained away, giving way only worry. His eyes were soft and gold, like the rest of his families. I could’ve sworn they were darker earlier, but it was hard to see in the belly of the forest.
“Next time,” he said, softer now, “if I tell you something isn’t safe, believe me. Those people- that family…” he trailed off.
He opened the door and waited until I stepped inside.
Looking over my shoulder behind us as the door closed, the forest loomed black and silent, the mist curling at its edge like smoke held in too long.
⸻
An hour had passed and I was sure the house felt livelier than it usually was when it was empty, but the silence suggested otherwise. Perhaps everyone had taken themselves to bed to avoid the drama. I was glad nobody else reprimanded me.
Sat upstairs in my room, reading, a gentle knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” I called.
Carlisle tentatively opened the door, peering round and smiling bashfully. “Y/N, May I?” I nodded as he slid into the room and quietly closed the door.
I frowned, confused as to why Carlisle would want to speak privately.
“Edward mentioned you met Jacob earlier, in the woods…” he frowned calmly, obviously understating what he meant. He sat down gently on the edge of the bed as I sat up, knees to my chest.
“Jacob? The enormous asshole that thinks he owns the forest? I mean, you guys should get neighbours counselling or something,” I scoff, gently tutting and placing my book face down on the plush, white covers beside me.
“Curiosity is a good thing, most of the time. But here in Forks, the forest isn’t… simple.”
That made me look up. “What do you mean?”
Carlisle hesitated, choosing his words the way someone handles fragile glass. “There’s an old understanding between our family and some people who live near La Push. The Quileute tribe. It’s been in place for many years.”
“An understanding?” I pushed.
He nodded. “A truce, of sorts. An agreement that keeps both families at peace — as long as we respect the boundaries set for us.”
I shook my head. “You mean… like property lines?”
“Something like that,” he laughed, gently smoothing the sheets next to him, though his tone made it sound much heavier. “It’s not written down, but everyone knows where the line runs. About halfway through the forest.”
My stomach tightened. “The line I crossed.”
“Yes.” His voice stayed steady, but his eyes — that strange, old gold — softened. “The Quileute take those boundaries very seriously. It’s better for everyone if we honour that…they’re not violent people, but it’s best not to push their buttons.”
“So they’re pissed off I went onto private land?”
“Not, exactly. They’re... protective: it’s an historical land. Sacred, if you will.”
I looked down at my hands fiddling. “I didn’t mean to make trouble.”
“I know you didn’t.” He smiled then — small, kind, enough to take the edge off the tension. “You’re not in trouble, Y/N. I just wanted you to understand. Forks may look quiet, but there are old ties here, old histories that most people don’t see. Sometimes it’s easier to let sleeping traditions lie.”
The air felt heavier after that — not frightening, but thick with unspoken things.
I nodded.
“Stay clear of that part of the woods. For your safety, and for peace’s sake. All right?”
I managed a weak smile. “All right.”
“Good.” He glanced once toward the window — the forest beyond it — then back at me. “Rest now. You’ve had enough adventure for one evening.”
He began to get up and head toward the door, but he turned around and to face me again with sharpened eyes. “You hurt yourself, in the woods?”
I frowned, confused. Then I remembered: “Oh- my back. It’s nothing. I..tripped backward into a tree and got scratched by a branch- only lightly impaled,” I laughed.
“May I?” Carlisle gestured to my back.
“Oh- sure..” I leaned forward and pulled my jumper over my head, leaving me in my tank top.
The light from my lamp caught on the white of his shirt sleeves, rolled to his elbows.
“It’s nothing,” I said quickly. “Just a scratch.”
He smiled a little. “Let’s make sure it stays that way.”
He gestured gently for me to sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight when he sat back beside me.
“Lift your shirt just enough so I can see, if you’re comfortable,” he said softly.
I did, and the cool air made the sting sharper.
Carlisle leaned in, eyes intent but calm. “You were lucky,” he murmured. “Another inch and you’d have had a deeper cut.” He quickly stood up, left the room, and - not a minute later - returned with a small first-aid kit.
The antiseptic he dabbed on was cold. I flinched, and he paused immediately.
“Sorry,” he said, and the word sounded genuine. “I know it stings.”
“It’s ok,” I muttered, though my shoulders tightened instinctively.
He worked in silence after that, precise and gentle. The faint scent of clean linen and anti bacterial hand gel seemed to follow him. When he finished, he pressed a small gauze pad against the scrape and secured it neatly with medical tape.
“There,” he said finally. “All set.”
I looked back over my shoulder. “You do this a lot for your kids?”
His smile turned wry. “Not so much anymore…Old habits. I’m afraid it’s difficult for me not to help when one of my children is hurt.” I blushed at the idea he felt fatherly for me.
“Edward seemed… angry.”
Carlisle’s expression softened, his eyes briefly distant. “He worries more than he admits. Sometimes that comes out as anger.”
“I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
He shook his head. “You didn’t. We just… live by certain rules. It’s hard for him to watch someone he cares about walk so close to danger.”
I blinked, unsure if I’d heard that right. “Someone he cares about?”
Carlisle’s smile was faint, secretive. “Rest, Y/N. The woods will still be there tomorrow — best admired from a distance.”
And then he stood, gathering the kit, and left me - finally, without any soft patter of rain, tonight - and the quiet ache between my shoulder blades, wondering which rules I’d just stepped into without realising it.
summary: you’re a world-famous model, used to admiration everywhere you go but your boyfriend, a struggling actor, can’t see her worth. enter tyriq: confident, cocky, and dangerously tempting. he’s been watching, waiting, and now he’s ready to sweep you off your feet and into something messy, possessive, and entirely unforgettable. when desire meets frustration, who will you choose and who will leave you begging for more?
paring: tyriq withers x black!model!reader
warnings: explicit sexual content, domination, possessive behavior, messy/rough sex, cheating/betrayal, anger/jealousy-fueled sex, verbal teasing/dirty talk, power dynamics, emotional manipulation, minor humiliation, alcohol/party setting, oral (f), dirty talk, doggy style, degradation.
the gala was a sea of glittering gowns and tailored suits, but she glided through it like it belonged to her. every flash of the camera, every whisper of admiration, followed her like she was royalty. silver hugged every curve, slit teasing just enough to make jaws drop. everyone wanted her. everyone except devin.
who so devin you may ask? devin is a bachelor, a playboy, and your bf.
devin leaned against the bar, drink in hand, scrolling through his phone like she was background noise. struggling actor, big ego, little vision. you was tired of trying to make him see your worth. tonight, it hit harder than usual.
then you felt it. eyes burning into you from across the room. tyriq.
tyriq walked liked he owned the place but most importantly he walked liked he owned you. like he had you right on his fingertips, with a smirk that promised trouble and eyes that could undress a woman within seconds. you felt the pull instantly.
“you mind if I cut in?” his voice was smooth, low, teasing with that florida twang.
you glanced at devin, who was oblivious, and let him lead you to the balcony. away from the noise, the chaos, the stress, and the annoyance of you boyfriend.
“you been watchin’ me?” you bit your lip in a teasing way, cocking your head to side which earned you a grin from the tall lightskin man.
“hell yeah.” he says, smirking heavy asf.
your next words were bold. “so now that you got me out here, what’s your goal?”
he paused a little bit before answering. “to make your last longer than your nigga.” he replied confidently with a straight face that sent your pussy straight into a coma. you had no smart comebacks to save you and believe me you were thinking of some.
you were too much in your own head to realize how close tyriq got close to you. you look down at his pink lips and can’t help how they would feel on yours on your clit. you bit your bit out of habit which set tyriq off.
“you keep biting that lip and see what happens.” he says sternly, lifting his thumb to caress your bottom lips before giving in and claiming your lips onto his. the first kiss was fire slow, teasing, possessive. his lips claimed hers, teeth grazing, tongue teasing just enough to make her gasp. his hand trailed down her back, fingers gripping her waist, brushing against the bare skin beneath her dress.
“tyriq.” you breathed. part breath, part begging and yearning.
“yeah? you nervous or you ready?” he murmured, tilting your chin.
for a moment you think about devin. “i..I shouldn’t-” you whispered but your body was betraying you.
“I don’t want you to think, i want you to feel.” he murmured.
he slid a hand beneath her panties, brushing your wet folds, pressing against your clit. you shivered violently, hips jerking against him, moaning softly.
“fuck, ty.” you gasped.
not too long after that he had you lean against the railing, with your arms across it as he kneeled on his knees. he wasted no time tugging on the black lace until it was pooled around your ankle. he tapped your leg indicating you to put it on his shoulder.
“this pussy will made any nigga go crazy, yo man mus not like pussy.” he says lowly, admiring the wetness saturating your cunt.
you chuckled at his analogy but your smile was replaced with a serious face once you felt his tongue flick on your clit , sucking and nibbling as his fingers makes their way to your opening. he forced his fingers inside you as he makes curling motions. you arched in him, eyes closed and mouth wide.
“mhm fuck.” you moaned. you hold onto the railing tightly as he keep pushing you closer and closer towards the edge.
“you think devin eats this pussy better than me?” he grunted as you tighten around his fingers at his question.
you fought to respond but managed. “mm no, he never acknowledges it.” you replied. your eyes were glossy with pleasure as your brows drew together tighter.
tyriq kissed his teeth in disbelief. “see you need a real nigga in this pussy.” he grunts as he adds more force to his fingers. “say it. say you need a real nigga in this pussy.” you didn’t answer fast enough and instantly felt a sharp pain on your thigh following with a SMACK.
your leg jumped as you instantly began aware. “I need a real nigga in this puss- shit!” Tyriq reconnected his lips around your clit, sucking, teasing, pressing you to the edge instantly. your moans were loud, desperate, body trembling, nails digging into his shoulders. he groaned, fingers pressing in rhythm with his mouth, tongue flicking expertly. you came hard, shaking against him, tasting herself on his lips, and the sound of his low groan made her want more.
neither of you wasted time getting clothes off. tyriq had you turned over the balcony rail, looking at the skyscrapers and busy roads. she feels a familiar sensation on her clit again along with a hands on her ass. tyriq spreads your cheeks apart to see the state you’re in.
“this pussy finally got a real nigga and don’t know how to act.” he says, massaging your wetness around your clit.
you were in agony. “fuck ty, stop teasing me.” you wailed, hands tightening on the balcony.
he didn’t say not another word and took his dick in his hands and stroked it a couple of time before lining up at your entrance and sliding in. you gasped, fingers clutching the rail, nails digging into the metal, body on fire with every thrust. he groaned, lips brushing your shoulder, moving with a rhythm that was equal parts domination and obsession.
“ouu tyriq baby, fuck me.” you panted.
he instantly obeyed and slammed his hips into you. his thrusts went from steady to animalistic very quickly. he had your chest pressed into the rail as his hands kept your wrist behind your back. the wet claps of his thrusts is all that is being heard amongst the busy street and the bass from the gala. every thrust tyriq made which made his face scrunch up pleasure as he gets more and more ruthless.
“say you’re mine, right now.” he grunted as his hands tightened around your wrists.
“yours only yours, tyriq” you mumbled as your brain slowly deteriorates.
he smiled. “n you gon tell that lame ass nigga devin, that you don’t fuck with him any more, right?” you says become biting his lip.
you nod vigorously, partially because you heard what he said and partially because you were getting close.
he pounded her, messy, sloppy, unrelenting, still teasing her clit and whispering filthy things. every thrust, every groan, every possessive hand left her shaking, moaning, begging. “this pussy gonna cum for me?”
you could only give him a squeak which was okay because that was all he needed in order to start pounding into you harder. you began to tighten around him and whine louder and louder. one last “fuck” and you were done. you came again, body trembling, wet and messy, crying out his name like a prayer. he came behind you shortly after, emptying inside you was a jerk of his hips holding you close as both of you rode out waves of pleasure, chest heaving, breaths mingling, skin slick.
“damn.” he muttered. he pressed a kiss on your lower back before pulling out with a hiss.
“I’ll tell him tomorrow.” you announced.
tyriq shook his head. “tell him tonight, you’re coming home with me.”
Summary: You were so desperate to make Rafe Cameron yours that you never thought a day would come where you didn't want him to be.
Warnings: NON-CON, mentions of blood, loss of virginity, witchcraft, yandere behavior, morally ambiguous reader, pogue!reader
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies
☾
You didn’t actually think it would work and that was your first mistake.
Rafe Cameron was the first and only son of Ward Cameron. He was handsome and rich and way out of your league, and you knew that he would never look at you in a million years. That didn’t stop your gaze from landing on him though anytime he was in the vicinity, and there was a point when you felt ashamed of your little crush, but now it hardly mattered to you. It’s not like he would ever actually be interested in you, so you saw no harm in indulging in silly fantasies.
…but then you started to wonder what it would actually be like.
What it would be like to be looked at by him like he looked at so many other girls—skinnier girls, richer girls, prettier girls. What it would be like to hold his hand and even kiss him. It was harmless, yes, but it was happening often enough to distract you, and you felt yourself being pulled from your thoughts.
“We’re about to head back to John B.’s for the night,” JJ told you after tapping you on the shoulder.
You gave him a nod, reluctantly following after him, but not without a last glance over your shoulder. You looked back just in time to watch as Rafe followed some girl up the stairs, one hand holding hers and the other holding a drink. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched them disappear, and you only forced yourself to move when JJ called your name.
You knew that your friends would think there was something wrong with you if you voiced these thoughts. The only one that might try to understand would be Kie. She was a girl like you who wasn’t related to him, and so she might be able to sympathize with why you couldn't just see him as some asshole.
And he was certainly an asshole.
There was never any wool over your eyes about that. You’d witnessed enough of his interactions with your friends to come to that conclusion yourself, and you were sure you too would've been on the receiving end of his ire if he ever took the time to actually notice you. As it were, you were practically invisible to the blond, and you still couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or a curse, but that indecisiveness didn’t last much longer as you later came to the conclusion that it was indeed a curse.
A curse you could no longer live with.
“This is so stupid,” Sarah laughed one night, flipping through the book Kie had thrifted. “Look, look, this is one for how to get rich.”
“It’s not like you need that one,” the dark-haired girl teased, snatching it back.
“Neither do you,” you told her, reaching for it.
Kie laughed at you as you stood shoulder to shoulder, flipping through it. Her mocking gasp made you pause at the page y’all flipped to, and you didn’t join in right away as she laughed again.
“Look at this one,” she grinned, facing the pages towards Sarah. “A love spell!”
Sarah found it just as funny, taking the book and smiling at the page.
“Are you and John B. having any problems?” Kie joked.
“Are you and JJ having any problems?” she threw back, tone just as light. “...because now we know how to fix any.”
You were quiet as you took the book from the blonde, looking over it as Kie stood over your shoulder.
“Huh,” she commented. “It’s surprisingly simple. A little blood, their name on some paper, and a red candle and boom!”
“Sounds too easy to be true,” Sarah replied, taking the book back with a sigh. “You think they have one in here for a fat ass?”
You all laughed at that, but your mind was still stuck on that silly love spell. While Sarah found one for longer hair that she was willing to try, you kept thinking about Kie’s comment. You’d read it yourself, and it was surprisingly simple—easy to do—and it wasn’t like you’d be going completely out of your way to try it. It would take what? All of five minutes? Sarah was certainly having fun with it, currently brushing cinnamon through her hair, so why couldn’t you try some silly little love spell?
Worst case scenario, nothing came of it.
It’s not like that would be some devastating loss for you. Rafe already didn’t notice you, and it wouldn’t hurt you if he continued to not notice you. You’d learned to live with it for years, now, and it’s not as if you were expecting some miracle from some book Kie bought for laughs. You just wanted to try it, wanted to see what would happen.
“If my hair is down to my butt in two weeks, I owe you twenty dollars, Kie.”
Kie responded with something you couldn’t quite make out, your attention on your phone as you flipped through the book she’d left on the couch. They were none the wiser as you took a picture, telling yourself there was a chance you wouldn’t even do it, but wanting the option in case you changed your mind. Deep down though, you knew that you were lying to yourself.
Over the years, your harmless crush had morphed into something just a tad more desperate, and you couldn’t ignore the small voice in the back of your mind whispering to you what if it did work. What if you could make Rafe see you? Talk to you? Pursue you like you often dreamt about? The possibility filled you with butterflies, and you ignored the silly spell in your phone for all of a week.
You told Sarah that you weren’t feeling too well when she invited you to stay over. She hoped you felt better and asked you if you needed anything, but beyond that, she didn’t find your sudden ailment suspicious. Only you knew that you would never pass up an opportunity to see Rafe, even in passing, health be damned.
You felt somewhat foolish as you sat on your bedroom floor, a red candle lit next to a bowl of water. Truthfully, you didn’t know why. It’s not like anyone was around to witness this, but you would be lying if you said your desperation didn’t make you feel just a tad pathetic. Either way, it’s not like it stopped you from writing his first and last name on that paper, hand shaking as you did.
You thought that the blood would be the hardest hurdle to jump through, but it turns out that little thing in your brain that made it hard to hurt yourself decided to take a break for the night. Or maybe your desperation was just stronger. It took nothing at all to press a safety pin into your finger, and moments later Rafe’s name was covered in both your blood and the red candle wax.
You only started to feel unsure when you picked up the slip of paper.
What if it did actually work? While you weren’t sure what you believed in exactly, you did believe in something. You believed that some higher power did indeed exist and played a part in everything that happened in this world…and what if that higher power made this work? What if you woke up tomorrow and Rafe was knocking on your door to take you out on a date? What would you do? Your desires were so beyond out of reach that it had never occurred to you what you would actually do should you get what you wanted.
Your train of thought made you chuckle, rolling your eyes in the quiet room. You believed in something, sure, but magic didn’t exist. You believed in energy and faith backed actions, but you didn’t think you believed in magic. Either way, telling yourself it was pure curiosity, you held the piece of paper over the flame.
“We’re looking for John B.,” Sarah told you with a sigh. “Pope drank too much, so we gotta call it a night.”
“I think he was in the kitchen,” you let her know.
“Can you check the backyard just in case he had to pee or something? I’ll text you if I find him so we can go.”
You both went in opposite directions, and you squeezed your way through bodies as you made your way outside. Mostly everybody seemed to be inside though with the exception of a few people, so it wasn’t hard to see pretty quickly that he wasn’t in the backyard anywhere. Not wanting to push your way past bodies again, you made the decision to just make your way to the van.
Your trek was interrupted by a very familiar blond.
“Woah,” he drunkenly said, having almost run into you. “Someone’s on a mission.”
You were stumped.
Not once had Rafe Cameron ever spoken to you—not even a word—and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at him in a mixture of shock and awe. You felt your lips part, and you knew that you were staring at him like some kind of idiot, but you were finding it really hard to fathom that Rafe Cameron was talking to you.
The guy in question frowned at you, eyes narrowing a bit as he snapped his fingers in your face.
“You good?”
Acknowledging that you needed to speak and that you probably looked all kinds of unwell, you blinked.
“I..I’m sorry, I… What?”
He thought you were funny, apparently, chuckling at you with this haughty drunken smile on his lips. He tilted his head at you, dirty blond strands falling onto his forehead.
“I said are you good,” he slowly repeated.
“Yeah,” you hurried to reply, not wanting to look any more foolish in front of him. “Sorry. My friend…he’s kind of not feeling good, and I’m just trying to round everybody up.”
You felt like you were standing on air, having a somewhat out of body experience. Were you actually holding a conversation with Rafe Cameron? Someone who had never acknowledged you a day in your life? It felt like a dream, and you could only stare at him as he softly laughed to himself. You only noticed the blunt in his hand when he brought it up to his lips.
“Sarah drink too much?”
You frowned at him, and you felt confused. You and Sarah were friends, but you didn’t know that he knew that. You didn’t even know that he knew you knew her. Your silence must have stretched on for too long because he was speaking again.
“You are one of her little friends, right?”
For the second time that night, you were stumped.
“Yeah…I am,” you slowly told him, hurrying to defend Sarah after you processed what he said. “...and no. We’re looking for someone else.”
Feeling completely out of your element, you started to walk past him, wondering if you were hallucinating. Rafe Cameron never talked to you, never even so much as looked at you, and in one night you’d had a whole conversation with him.
“You don’t seem like the partying type.”
Make that two.
“What?” you wondered, facing him again.
You watched smoke swirl between his lips for a while before he exhaled.
“You don’t seem like the partying type,” he repeated. “You seem like you’d rather have your head in a book somewhere.”
You didn’t know how to respond to that so you simply said:
“I can’t like both?”
Rafe’s only response was a slow smile, and something about it made your stomach twist—in both a good and bad way. Before he could say anything else thoguh—and before you could further embarrass yourself—you heard your name being called. It sounded like Sarah, and giving Rafe one last look, you ran off to find her.
It turns out she’d texted you that she found John B., and you’d been so distracted by Rafe that you hadn’t felt the vibration. You were distracted by him for the rest of the night in fact, even as you rubbed Pope’s back as he threw up in the toilet. Rafe Cameron had talked to you, and it still didn’t feel real. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that you dreamt the whole thing up, but the goosebumps still on your skin said otherwise.
A brief thought of a red candle and some blood passed through your mind, and you shook your head. You actually scoffed out loud to yourself, telling yourself that Rafe was drunk and high out of his mind, and he just happened to run into you outside. Even if magic was real, it wouldn’t be in the form of some spell done by some silly nineteen year old girl. That’s what you told yourself anyway, but you were having second thoughts about that when Rafe Cameron stood at your door only a few days later.
“I just wanted to do the old fashioned and respectful thing…”
You stood in the living room with your lips parted, looking over your father’s shoulder as he faced the blond—the blond who had shown up at your doorstep with flowers and candy and a charming smile on his face asking your father for permission to take you out on a date. It was so outdated and so unlike him, and you could only avoid your mother’s gaze as she looked at you in confusion.
“Well, that’s…that’s very admirable of you, Rafe.”
When your father turned to you, you didn’t need to be a genius to see that Rafe’s chivalry had gotten to him. Normally so over protective, your father instead stepped out of the way for you, and you remembered that it was you Rafe was asking out. It was your response he needed, and you cleared your throat.
“We’ll be on the porch,” you softly said to the older man as you moved past him, quietly shutting the door behind you.
You took the flowers and the box of chocolates, but frowned when you did. The box felt weirdly light, but before you could comment on that, Rafe was speaking.
“It’s old school, I know, but…” he shrugged at you. “My ego can’t take not being liked by your parents.”
“Rafe, what are you doing?”
You jumped right to it, voicing your confusion and uncertainty and questioning his actions.
“Asking you out,” he said like it was obvious.
It was.
“Why?” you wondered, a deep frown between your brows.
“...because I want to take you out.”
Again, he said it like it was obvious.
“Why? We’ve had two conversations, including this one,” you reminded him.
“...and I can’t want to change that?” he wondered, voice dropping, and you hated the way your heart skipped a beat.
You looked down at the flowers in your hand, completely in shock.
This wasn’t like Rafe, at all, and you’d watched him enough to know. The entire thing was strange and unsettling, and you almost wanted to reject him but… Wasn’t this what you wanted? Hadn’t you watched Rafe for years just wishing that he would see you? Talk to you? Hadn’t you fantasized to have him look at you as he was currently looking at you?
Hadn’t you bled for that wish?
The thought that that silly little spell actually worked made your head spin, and even still, you didn’t want to believe it. There just had to be some other explanation, but nothing else made any sense. Didn’t this bring his consent in the matter into question? Wasn’t this beyond ethically bankrupt? Did you care?
It was wrong, so wrong, because deep down you knew where all of this was coming from. You’d wanted this for years, and here it was literally at your doorstep. Rafe Cameron was asking you out and wanting to pursue you and you were questioning it because of the ethics of witchcraft? Who were you to say no? It was so beyond selfish, but if Rafe could be selfish his whole life, why couldn’t you for five minutes?
You bit your lip and tightened your grip on the flowers.
“Okay,” you whispered, lifting your gaze. “I’ll go out with you.”
The look on Rafe’s face was one you’d wanted to see for ages, and any guilt that you felt was forgotten as he leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek.
Rafe’s lips were harsh against yours as he kissed you on the bed of his truck. The cool night air was barely felt as he ran his hands over you, unable to keep them in one place and you were glad for it. The blond moaned into your mouth as he pressed himself against you, fitting comfortably between your legs. You felt like you were living in your wildest of dreams, and you couldn’t believe it.
Sarah had said something similar only days earlier.
“I don’t believe this,” she’d scoffed. “You and Rafe are going on a date?”
“He asked and I said yes. It happened so fast that I didn’t even consider how it might make you feel until after,” you’d honestly told her.
If all of this was really the result of some stupid book, you didn’t want to sell any more of your soul by being a bad friend too. You’d watched as the blonde ran her hands through her hair, seemingly in shock. She seemed like she had a lot she wanted to say, but she probably kept it to herself for your benefit.
“If this is what you want, what can I even say, you know? I didn’t even know you liked him like that,” she murmured to herself. “Although I suppose I can see why you never said anything.”
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it.”
“I don’t know if okay is the right word, but…” she shrugged. “I can’t tell you or him what to do.”
Your talk with the other blonde definitely made you feel better about answering the door when Rafe arrived at your house. The date went well enough, Rafe taking you to some restaurant you’d never be able to afford, and giving you his undivided attention the entire time. His heavy gaze kept your face warm the entire night, and you reminded yourself that this is what you wanted and you got it.
“I don’t want to take you home just yet,” he’d murmured outside of the restaurant, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.
You hadn’t wanted to go home just yet either, not wanting this night to end.
“Okay.”
…and that was how you found yourselves parked in some abandoned field with Rafe on top of you in the back of his truck. A thick blanket was underneath you, and it was hard to remember how long you’d been kissing him. His tongue tasted the inside of your mouth and his hand was on your jaw. Every so often you’d lift your hips and he’d groan against your lips. Two weeks ago you had never said one word to him, and now here you were.
Rafe’s lips traveled to your neck, giving you a moment of reprieve, and you gasped for air. Your heart was racing in your chest, and you ran your fingers through his dirty blond strands, head thrown back. Every open mouthed kiss he left on your throat made your heart flutter, and you once again couldn’t believe that this was your life.
When his hand reached for the top of your dress, however, you reminded yourself that not only was this the first date, but that your mother was no doubt waiting up to make sure you made it home safe. As much as you wanted all of Rafe, the speed at which this had all progressed was definitely making your head spin.
“It’s getting late…”
Your words didn’t affect Rafe none, and you gasped when he nipped at the top of your chest.
“Rafe,” you said, reaching for him.
Only then did he pause, looking up at you from his position, and it took everything in you to keep your head on straight. The blond looked like he wanted to eat you alive, and that made your stomach twist in ways you weren’t used to.
“I think I should head home, now.”
He stared at you for too long to be comfortable, but he eventually moved.
“You want to go home?” he asked you, running his hand through his hair.
At your nod, it was like something in him shifted, and he became a lot more relaxed. His shoulders dropped, and he looked between your eyes, and Rafe appeared a lot more docile in the span of a second. It was crazy to witness the sudden shift, and in that moment you accepted that you had done this. There was nothing natural at all about any of this, and you swallowed, hating that you didn’t care.
Rafe was the perfect gentleman as he righted your dress and helped you down. The ride home was silent yet comfortable, his hand on your thigh the entire way, and every so often you felt his eyes on you. On the occasion you met his gaze, he always returned it with a smile. Rafe seemed happy to be here, so how awful could this really be?
You glanced down at the diamond bracelet on your wrist, recalling the shock you’d felt to find it inside the box of chocolates instead of candy. Rafe had said something about wanting to impress you when you brought it to the date, unable to find it in yourself to stop him when he took the box back before putting the jewelry on you himself.
You’d looked at him in a mixture of awe and worry. You should’ve accepted then that nothing about this was natural, but you were still in denial. After all, if what you did was actually real and all of this was the result of that, what did that make you? How far were you willing to take this?
Those questions were still on your mind when he walked you to your door, and again, Rafe was the perfect gentleman as he placed a kiss at the corner of your mouth. You stared after him as he walked back to his truck, tugging his jacket closer. You liked to think that you weren’t some horrible person, and you told yourself that you’d enjoy this for a little while longer before finding a way to undo what you’d done.
Rafe Cameron was your boyfriend, and you liked it.
You didn’t just like that he was your boyfriend, but you liked what that meant for you. You liked the privilege that came with the relationship. You liked walking into doors you would’ve never been able to walk through otherwise. You liked when he spent money on you and bought you the kinds of things you could only dream about owning.
…and the girls.
You liked the way they looked at you.
It didn’t take long for Rafe’s exclusiveness to become noticeable, for it to become apparent that the once ladies’ man and heavy partier had done a 180. Girls he used to spend every weekend with no longer got so much as a glance from him. Phone calls and texts went ignored before those numbers were eventually blocked altogether, and when you were out and about, it was clear that you were to blame.
Rafe was absolutely obsessed with you, and you relished in the way some of his former lovers looked at you.
You, who had never so much as had a single boyfriend, was now on the receiving end of the most envious looks you’d ever seen in your life. You knew that if any of those girls had access to the kind of magic you had, you would’ve been dead a long time ago. You were always overlooked by boys and barely even seen as a woman in their eyes, and now you were with Rafe Cameron and he looked at you like you hung the moon.
“I won’t lie…I definitely expected this to crash and burn,” Sarah admitted. “Through no fault of yours, of course.”
Kie snorted at that, and you took a sip of your drink.
“I’m serious,” she said, “He’s like a completely different person. Part of me wants to ask what you did, but another part of me is scared of the answer.”
Her and Kie thought that was funny, and you could only hold back your smile.
“He literally worships the ground you walk on,” Kie commented, slightly disgusted. “...and that’s the only reason the guys are even respectful about any of this.”
It was true.
Rafe gave into your every whim and he answered your every beck and call. Sometimes he felt more like a servant than a boyfriend, asking you what you needed and running you hot baths and kneading his fingers into your shoulders after you had a long day. With that kind of behavior, how could you deny him for much longer?
You hadn’t planned on sleeping with him, telling yourself it was a line you just couldn’t cross considering the circumstances, but it happened so seamlessly. One moment he was kissing your face and telling you how beautiful you were, and the next his fingers were inside of you and massaging your walls so good that it had you clinging to him.
Rafe was a man starved.
“I’ve never…” you had trailed off, somewhat embarrassed to admit to him your lack of experience.
Rafe had only grinned at you before kissing you.
“I feel honored,” he’d whispered against your lips. “To be your first and your last.”
His words had given you pause, but then he was pushing his cock into you, and your nails were digging into his skin, and they were forgotten.
You’d anticipated the pain, and that surely didn’t disappoint, but you hadn’t anticipated just how good it could feel. That honestly could've just been Rafe though. It’s not like he didn’t have a reputation, and you quickly realized that it was not without reason. His lips stayed on you the entire time you had sex, and it was just enough to not be overstimulating.
Every curve of his hips into yours had you gasping, and you were so happy that your parents wouldn’t be home for hours. Having him inside of you felt nothing like your fingers or his. It was a different experience entirely, and Rafe was ravenous as he fucked you and tasted you. One of his hands was behind your neck as he repeatedly pressed his lips to yours while the other was tight on your waist.
“Do you like that?” he whispered, and you could barely get a word out.
You could only nod, and that seemed to satisfy his curiosity, and you swore that you heard a low growl escape his throat as he stretched you around his cock. He looked down between you where you connected, his hair hanging onto his forehead, and you couldn’t hold in your moans. You’d been dating for months, but it was finally setting in.
Rafe Cameron was yours.
You’d daydreamt about it for years—harmless and silly fantasies—but now it was your reality. Rafe held your hand and kissed you and paraded you around town for all to see, making you the envy of just about every girl who’d ever so much as looked at him. He doted on you and called you beautiful and said all of the things and looked at you in a way you wanted him to for years.
…and now he was in your bed and making love to you and giving you your first experience.
You were on cloud 9, and you allowed yourself to bask in it. You threw your head back as he bit at your neck, and your chest arched up into his as he thrust into you. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him closer, and Rafe moaned at the action. It seemed like he wanted to be as close to you as possible too, and he slid his knees underneath your thighs.
“Rafe,” you sighed, breath hitching as he filled you to the hilt.
Every time he pulled his hips back, only the tip of him remained, and when he surged forward he filled you up again. It was driving you crazy in the best way, and your nails scraped down his back and arms. The blond hissed at the action, and his teeth grew rougher on your skin. You came around him once, but that wasn’t enough for him, and you swore that when you came around him for the third and final time, he told you he loved you.
Rafe was obsessed with you.
It was like once he had you, it was never enough. The first night you slept together blended into one long night. You came around him too many times to count, small naps in between, and he only left a few minutes before your parents came home, but you were sneaking him back in a few hours later as soon as they were asleep. He wouldn’t stop kissing you the moment he climbed through your window.
“Are you going to chew it for her too?” Sarah wondered one day when Rafe cut up your omelet for you.
Her tone was teasing, and you threw her an equally teasing glare, but Rafe hadn’t responded outside of a scathing look towards his sister. His behavior was glaringly obvious for all to see, and you couldn’t say you hated it. Your life had become a fairytale overnight, and you’d happily ate your food while he sat next to you, his seat so close to yours that his arm rested over your shoulder as he watched you eat.
“Honey, I’m just worried,” your mother had said another day. “It just seems like you spend all of your time with him these days and you hardly see your friends.”
Her concern was understandable, but you assured her that you were fine.
“I do see them,” you’d told her. “Rafe has just never gotten along with them too well, and it’s not like that’s changed now that we’re together.”
It wasn’t a complete lie.
Your friends were cordial with Rafe, now, and you appreciated that, but Rafe loved having you to himself. Any time you convinced him to be around your friends, it never lasted long before he was convincing you to sneak off with him somewhere, and the blond could be very persuasive.
“Five more minutes,” he said to you in the middle of the night.
His head was between your legs and your thighs were aching from being bent so long and a thin layer of sweat covered your skin. Rafe’s fingers were pressed into you as he held you in place, and you shuddered when his breath blew along your folds. You’d never been this wet in your life, and you were scared to look at the time and see just how long he’d had his mouth and tongue against your cunt.
You were exhausted and out of breath and Rafe refused to let you go.
You told yourself that it was fine, that it was just what came with that honeymoon phase of every new relationship. Granted, it’s not like you would know, but you figured that things would calm down between you the longer you were together. A time would come where you were more normal about each other and he didn’t want to spend every waking moment on you or in you.
You thought that, at least, but you were woken up in the middle of the night a month later. The knocking on the door was incessant, and you’d thought that something was wrong, that some kind of emergency was happening. Your parents beat you to the door, and no one was more shocked or horrified than you to see that it was Rafe on the other side.
Your father glanced at you with the kind of anger you’d never been on the receiving end of, and your mother looked between you with a disturbed frown.
“Rafe?” you wondered in shock. “What…?”
“I had to see you,” was his only excuse, and you shrank under your father’s withering gaze.
“Dad, I… I don’t know what’s…”
Your words died in the air, unable to understand what was happening. However, despite how much he’d grown to like Rafe, you could see your father’s patience thinning. You hurried to deescalate something before it began, profusely apologizing to your parents as you told them you’d handle this.
“Something could be wrong,” you hurried to say to him. “Five minutes and then I’m inside.”
Your father didn’t say a word, but the way his mustache twitched told you enough. Your mother was the only one to linger a bit before eventually leaving too.
“Five minutes,” were her soft parting words.
Rafe’s hand was tight on yours as you forced him off of the porch, wide eyes on him.
“I wanted to see you,” he said, and you blinked.
“Is something wrong? Is it Sarah?” you worriedly asked him.
His scoff made your frown deepen.
“No, Sarah’s…fine,” he waved that off. “I was thinking about you and…I just had to see you.”
You stared at him for a long time, mouth falling open when you processed his words.
“You were thinking about me and you just had to see me? Rafe, it’s three in the morning. You woke up my parents—they have jobs they have to go to tomorrow,” you told him, voice rising in pitch.
“I wanted to see you,” he repeated.
“I get that, but…this isn’t okay. You have to go home, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Technically you’d see him later on today, but that didn’t need to be pointed out.
“...but I don’t want to go home,” Rafe said with a frown, and you blinked at him.
“Rafe…”
“I’m not going home.”
His tone was strong with conviction, and you swallowed. You looked over your shoulder before glancing behind him. You didn’t see his truck, so you guessed that he’d parked it somewhere before sneaking over here. His hand was still tight on yours, and when you looked at him again, he hadn’t looked away from you once.
“I’ll meet you at my window…okay…?”
That was the right thing to say, and Rafe gave you a crooked smile before kissing you. You pulled away before it could become heated, and you hurried inside, sure that your five minutes was up. Your mother was in the hall as you locked the door, and you apologized to her several times before wishing her a good night.
Like you agreed on, Rafe was at your window when you shut your room door, and he didn’t hesitate to climb inside the moment you opened it.
“Rafe, my parents are home, okay? Do you understand what that means?”
The way you were talking to him felt strange.
“Of course,” he said with a nod and a small smirk. “I just wanted to see you.”
He kissed you again, arms wrapped around you, and you kissed him back after a while. His hold on you was tight, and when he broke the kiss, he briefly kissed your cheek.
“Just want to sleep next to you, tonight…”
His words made you less tense, and you felt your face soften as you separated. You helped him get undressed, only his boxers remaining, and you watched him slide into your bed after you. He didn’t give you any time before reaching for you and pulling you closer, and Rafe only seemed to relax when your head was comfortably on his chest.
You traced patterns into his skin, and you bit your lip as you told yourself this was nothing.
“Rafe,” you warned, but he didn’t hear you.
Or chose not to, it was hard to tell these days.
One of his hands was curved around your throat while the other held your wrists against the small of your back. The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud in the kitchen, and you squeezed your eyes shut from both the pleasure he was giving you and the nervousness that filled you. Rafe was getting harder and harder to say no to, and he didn’t seem keen on listening to your concerns when he started kissing you in his kitchen.
“No one’s home,” he’d said.
“...but they could walk through that door,” was your response.
“...but I need to be inside of you,” he replied.
The blond loudly groaned behind you as he filled you up, slowly pushing his cock into you as he held you down against the counter top. Every dip of his cock past your folds had you gasping, but despite how good it felt, you couldn’t stop worrying about someone walking through that door. Everyone was out, now, but it wouldn’t be the first time Rafe was inside of you in a not so private place when someone came home.
You’d never been caught yet, but you never liked to chance it.
He pulled you back until his chest was against you, and the strain in your arms made you wince. Rafe hummed, leaning over and pressing his lips to yours. You were dripping around him and the sound it made every time he pushed his cock into you was loud in the otherwise quiet room. You whimpered when he tightened his hold on your throat, and you both knew that he was the only thing keeping you upright.
This was the fifth time you’d had sex today.
You were worn out—and even a little sore—and it seemed that it was never enough for Rafe. He liked to get his hands on you at every opportunity, and what you thought was a honeymoon phase turned out to be something beyond that. Every day several times a day was the new normal for you, and when Rafe couldn’t be in you, he had to be with you and touching you in some way.
…and he was the only one allowed to.
You still thought about the boy whose arm he broke only last month for pulling out your chair. It was a terrifying and embarrassing debacle, one that was solved with a little bit of money from Rafe. You’d stared at him in horror, and he’d acted as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Or when he’d rammed his truck into Topper’s jeep, citing it as a drunken accident, but you knew better. You’d seen the look on his face when Topper gave you a hug goodbye.
Rafe was equally possessive as he was obsessive, and the more it escalated, the closer you were pushed to facing the truth.
Nothing about his behavior was normal or explainable, but you didn’t want to accept that this was your fault. When he snuck into your room in the early hours of the morning or when he picked out your clothes and put them on you or when he cut the brakes on some guy’s car who’d looked at you for too long for his liking.
You didn’t want to accept responsibility for any of this.
…but when you woke up in the middle of the night to find him staring at you in the darkness for the umpteenth time…you knew. You knew that this was all your fault, and you stared back at him with a sinking feeling in your heart. You’d played God, and you’d had your fun, but now you had to find a way to undo this.
“Kie…what happened to that book you bought a while back?” you asked her the next day when you finally had some time to yourself.
The other girl frowned at you, and you elaborated.
“You know, the one with the love spells and stuff.”
Her face evened out as she remembered.
“Oh, that thing? I tossed it,” she waved off.
You stared at her, stomach dropping.
“You what?”
Your tone must have given her pause because she looked at you.
“It was bullshit,” she shrugged. “Something somebody made when they were bored, because it’s not like it worked. Sarah’s hair is shorter now than it was then. I keep telling her she needs to just cut those split ends…”
The rest of Kie’s words were lost to you as you looked away, mind going a mile a minute as you thought about what you were going to do. You had long accepted that you did this to Rafe, and you’d told yourself you were only going to take it so far, but you’d loved being Rafe’s girlfriend and loved having him all to yourself as you’d always wanted. Now, you had him all to yourself, and you were terrified out of your mind.
“I was only at Kie’s for an hour,” you told the man in question later in the day.
His arms were wrapped around you from behind and his face was pressed into the crook of your neck.
“I know…but I missed you. I always miss you,” he murmured, kissing your skin.
“Do you ever think about why you miss me so much?”
“Because I love you,” he said to you as if you were silly for asking.
With difficulty, you pulled away from him, facing him. You looked into Rafe’s eyes with worry, and you noted that they were completely dilated. You pulled your lip between your teeth, at war with yourself.
“...but why do you love me? Do you ever think about that, Rafe—why you love me so much? Don't you think it came out of nowhere?”
The blond seemed to think on it for a minute.
“No,” he answered, and you frowned. “I woke up one day…and you were just there.”
You swallowed as he touched your cheek.
“...and I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I had to have you and I did.”
You blinked at him.
“I always get what I want.”
He didn’t take his eyes off of you as he said that, and he grabbed your arm before you could take a step back. He threaded his fingers through yours, and he brought the back of your hand up to his lips. Rafe’s eyes held yours the entire time, the blue of them hardly visible, and the gravity of what you did finally settled on your shoulders.
“...and I’ll never not want you.”
You stared after your friends through the crowd, Rafe’s arm feeling like a weighted belt around you. There was hardly a difference between his arms and chains these days, and you forced yourself to look away from their fun. You hadn’t hung out with them in what felt like ages, and while Kie and Sarah assured you there was no hard feelings—seeing firsthand how needy Rafe could be—you still felt like shit in more ways than one.
“You okay? Are you cold?”
Rafe didn’t give you a chance to say no, already slipping out of his jacket. You accepted it with a small smile, and he returned it before giving you a heated kiss. His friends were used to his public displays of affection by now, but considering your relationship at the moment, you were beyond uncomfortable.
You needed to break up with Rafe…and you were terrified to do so.
Kie had thrown out that book, and everything you looked into that didn’t seem like some cheesy gimmick all basically said the same thing—you had to let it run its course. What did that even mean? Did it mean he’d eventually get tired of you? How long would that be? Did it mean you had to tell him the truth? Get him to break up with you? Break up with him?
In the beginning of all of this, you felt so…powerful. You’d snagged the Rafe Cameron, and you’d had him eating out of the palm of your hand and hanging onto your every word. You’d had other girls green with envy, and you'd been basking in all that came with being his girlfriend. Now, though?
Now, you were frazzled and drained. Rafe was fucking you and kissing you more often than he was not. You spent more nights at his house than your own despite what you wanted because he was going to get what he wanted regardless if your parents were home or not, and the Camerons were much more relaxed about certain things than your parents. He stuck to you like a shadow, even leaning against the door and talking to you when you had to go to the bathroom.
You never thought you’d long for the day when you could cut up your own food and dress yourself and speak for yourself. He was doting and sweet yes, but Rafe was also insatiable and violent and suffocating. It was driving you to your breaking point, and you were silent the entire ride home.
When you asked him to take you to your house, he obliged, but you should’ve known that he expected to come inside with you.
“Rafe, I…I think I want to be alone tonight.”
It was like he didn’t process your words, at all, staring at you with a blank look, and you sighed.
“My parents are going to be home in like an hour…”
Again…nothing.
You glanced away, feeling completely unnerved, before taking his hand. The corner of his lips curved upwards into a small smirk, and he walked you inside. Your thoughts seemed so loud in the quiet house as you considered what you had to do. There was no hesitation in Rafe as he walked towards your room, and you eventually followed him.
You pulled your lip between your teeth as you took off his jacket.
“Rafe…I don’t think that we should see each other anymore.”
It was the nicest way you could say it, and Rafe still looked at you like you’d told him the craziest thing. The snort that left him made your jaw clench, and you took a deep breath.
“I’m serious,” you said, voice shaking. “You’re not in love with me.”
“Of course, I am,” he fired back.
“No, you’re not. Rafe…”
You felt like you were going to be sick, and you were acutely aware of his heavy stare.
“I did something to make you love me.”
“I know you did,” he said with a smile, reaching for you.
“No!” you moved away from him. “I did something wrong, okay? I made you love me. I had a candle and I had some blood, and I made you feel how you feel about me…”
Rafe was frowning at you, now, and you hoped that he was getting it.
“Before this, you never even looked at me, Rafe. Remember? I was invisible to you—I was nothing! Nothing, and then you suddenly can’t stop thinking about me? I’m the only girl you want to be with? Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”
The room was silent as you just stared at him, gaze pleading as you hoped and prayed you got through to him. Rafe slowly blinked at you, and in a matter of seconds, you watched his expression shift. It was hard to place, but you knew that it made you uncomfortable, and a shiver crawled up your spine.
“What’s odd is you coming up with this nonsense—this bullshit—to try and leave me.”
You let out a sigh of defeat, pressing your hand to your forehead.
“Rafe, please hear what I’m saying–.”
“I hear you.”
“No, Rafe, no. This isn’t natural. I…I messed up,” you tearfully said. “I was wrong, and I shouldn’t have done it, but part of me didn’t think it would work and another part of me hoped it would, but now… I don’t know how to undo it.”
He was moving towards you, and you stumbled back.
“You’re not leaving me,” he quietly told you.
“Rafe, please hear what I’m saying. Please, fight it because I don’t…I don’t know how to make it stop,” you cried. “...but you’re so you, and you have to still be in there. You have to be!”
You felt like you were talking to a wall, and you pushed at his hands as he reached for you.
“Rafe, please,” you begged.
When his hand pulled at your shirt, tearing it, it was sinking in.
There was no leaving him, no getting away, and you brought your knee up. You didn’t stay to see if he was okay, stumbling into the hall and running for the door. Your name was loud in the air as he shouted it, and it made you flinch. You were running past his truck when you heard the door bounce off of the wall, and tears blurred your vision as you ran across the yard.
You’d never run so fast in your life, but Rafe’s legs were longer—or he was simply more determined, fueled by something other to catch you—and he caught up with you sooner than you would have liked. You both fell to the ground, a grunt leaving you as he tightly held onto you. Your hands pulled at the grass to get away, ripping out a few blades as Rafe pulled you back.
You kicked at him, crying and screaming, and Rafe yanked you back so hard that it hurt your hands. One of his hands was tight in your hair, pulling your head back before slamming it back down. The action made you see stars, damn near knocking you out, and you groaned in pain. The sound of that seemed to trigger something in Rafe, and he let you go.
“I’m sorry, baby,” you heard him whisper, turning you over.
Your vision was spinning, and you could just barely make him out as he leaned over you.
“I’m sorry,” he quietly said to you, leaning in to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. “...but you can’t leave me.”
His hands were all over you, now, and you felt him press kisses to your chest, your shirt tearing some more to make room for them.
“I love you,” he breathed, kissing you. “...and you love me.”
You weakly pushed at his chest.
“Why would I let you leave me? Why would you want to?”
“Rafe…I’m sorry,” you mumbled, trying to sit up.
The blond shoved you back down, and your struggle continued.
“I forgive you,” he hummed, nipping at your skin and settling in between your legs.
“No, no….”
He thought you were apologizing for something else, and you couldn’t stop crying. You shoved at his face and tried to back away, but he gripped your wrists, moving his mouth against yours. The breeze from the water cooled your skin, and the clouds hid what little light there would’ve been from the moon. The sound of tearing fabric made your heart race, and you cried harder, unable to get him off of you.
Rafe moaned like a man starved when he finally managed to sheath himself inside of you, holding himself there with parted lips before pulling his hips back. One of his hands held your wrist to your stomach, and the other slid behind your head as he pulled you in for another kiss. The kiss was salty from your tears, but Rafe didn’t mind it.
He fucked you against the grass, unconcerned about where you were. If you didn’t know any better, he was more hungry for you now than he was the first night you slept together. His grunts and moans were loud in your ear, and you squeezed your eyes shut.
“What were you thinking, baby? Hmm?”
He slammed his hips against yours, letting your wrists go to reach underneath your thigh.
“Rafe,” you gasped, trying one last time to undo what you did. “This isn’t you.”
He only pushed your leg back, hungrily kissing at your jaw and neck and chest.
“Please, listen to me,” you sobbed.
Your words went ignored, and more tears fell as he thrust into you, losing himself in the feeling. His hand behind your head slid to your neck, and it tightened around your throat as he lifted his head to look at you. His blue eyes did not look away from yours once.
“If you try to leave me again,” Rafe quietly started, blond strands kissing your forehead. “I might have to lock you away until you come to your senses.”
He said it with a laugh, but you knew he was entirely serious, and you blinked back tears as he kissed you again.
Warnings: dub/noncon, blood/death, I am a dark blog and I write dark things.
Summary: You are bargained to be wife to the witcher if he can slew the beast in the village.
Character: Geralt of Rivia
**note, I am not a Witcher genius or aficionado and so I may get some things wrong.
As usual, I appreciate any and all feedback and enthusiasm. Please reblog and leave a comment. Love! 😍
You nibble on a morsel of rabbit meat. Your eyes flick up above the fire as the air cools with the descent of evening. Your husband wipes his fingers on his dark trousers as his pale gold eyes shine in your direction. They burn hotter than the pit between you.
He stands and you watch. You don't wince or flinch. He walks over to you calmly. You try to appear the same even as your heart pounds in your chest.
He hasn't said a word since what happened. The scent of blood still stains the air as it darkens on the leaves. He grabs your arm and hauls you up to your feet.
Is he angry? He marches you away from the fire. The horse lazily chews oats from the pile scattered before him. You don't understand.
He stops you just behind the wide tree. He spins you so your back hits the bark and tugs up your skirts. You clap your hands against his chest.
As before, he doesn't relent. He bends and slips his hands behind your thighs. He hooks his fingers around your knees and lifts you off your feet. He guides your legs around his thick torso and you cling to him.
He feels beneath you, fingers gliding between your folds. He buries his face in your neck as he teases you, nipping and growling as he feels you respond to his touch. You bring your hands over his shoulder and arch your back.
He dips a finger into you. You gasp. He pulls it in and out as the rough heel of his hand presses to your clit. You roll your hips without a thought. The sensation ripples through you.
You tilt your head back and moan. He adds another finger. You tug at a shank of his thick hair. He bites into the soft flesh that joins neck and shoulder. You whine as he rocks his hand harder and faster.
You buck wildly as you cum. He growls as the wet noise of your pleasure melds into those of the forest. He drags his fingers free and smears them along your dripping cunt.
He shifts you as he reaches into his trousers. He lines up with your entrance and lowers you onto him. He steps closer and crushes you to the tree. He snarls, grunting each time he thrusts, ramming deeper and deeper.
You squeeze his thick shoulders and whimper. The thrum of all the times before adds to the ache of his latest intrusion. Your hand slips up the back of his neck and tangles in his hair. He trails his nose up your neck and chin and smothers your lips with his.
He puffs into your mouth as his tongue delves inside. He breathes into you as he ruts furiously. You reach up to brace the tree as your bones throb from his force.
He impales you again, several times, over and over, dragging himself out slower and slower as he empties inside you. You shudder and turn your hand as a whimper escapes your lips. He snarls and stills completely, sheathed to your guts.
He wraps his arms around you and pulls you away from the tree. He carries you with him, on him, back to the fire. You hang from his grasp, twitching as you feel him leaking out little by little.
He drops to his knees and puts you on your back. He covers your body with his and once more, falls into rhythm. He leans his forehead on yours and your lashes flutter. His bright eyes turn to dark pits and you gasp as you're swallowed up in their depths.
He reaches back with one arm and lifts your knee high. He plants his hand on the ground, keeping your leg bent around his forearm, then does the same to your other. He keeps you splayed and bent beneath him as he lifts his hips higher and drops back down sharply.
Your voice unfurls, wild wails of pain and pleasure, mindless mewls begging for more and less. Your eyes roll back and your arms fall limp around you. You push your chest up as you heave, inhaling the damp air of the forest into your burning lungs.
"Mine," he growls as he plunges into you. "I do not take kindly to those... Who would take what is mine..." He pants as your flesh claps together. "You know it now, wife."
