t.w.: Soft Dark, Smut, Dub-con, breeding/pregnancy kink, Reader is pregnant, fingering, kidnapping, forced pregnancy, hints of Stockholm Syndrome, barely proofread (forgive me)
a/n: Please read all warnings before interacting with any of my works. 18+ Only!!!
Love at First Sight Masterlist
Heâs been conditioning you. He revels in the way your thighs clench together whenever his hands wander over your body.
At first, he let you isolate yourself, keeping yourself in the bunk as he piloted the ship, letting you take the cot every night. He didn't even try to interact with you, keeping himself busy with the child, his bounties and credit collection.
He would allow you outside of the ship, trusting you to be completely alone with Grogu. He was surprised by how you never once triggered the tracker embedded on your bracelet. He didn't know you knew that he had modified a cattle tracker into a shiny golden pendant.
You'd woken up with it your first morning in the Razor Crest. The soft hum of it was hard to locate at first. You lacked the tools to deactivate them. You were as sharp as a whip with technology.Â
A skill you wouldnât use in a long time since you were taken.Â
He had plans. He wanted to find a home planet. Preferably somewhere adequate to raise his children and continue his life with you. The holopad he conspicuously left out in the hull while he was out one evening was full of data files on hundreds of mid-rim planets.
Most of the planets he landed on were among those in the holos. They were safe, quiet, and isolated. Once you had found the pad, he checked which images you would stare at the longest, which descriptions you would read with rapt attention.
He shakes his head remembering the first thing you did with the holopad. Immediately locating the communications feature and finding it disabled, the transmitter chip at the back of the device thoughtfully missing.Â
He would watch as you would glance outside of the ship, your stare would wander often when the ramp was open. You clearly had a preference. Your eyes would glimmer in regions with cooler temperatures, lots of trees, deciduous and changing with the seasons.
You dozed off to the soft sounds of animal chirps and rainfall when he would leave for a bounty.Â
By the fifth month of your Razor Crest residency, he lost his patience. He thought finding a planet would come easier. Some were perfect but the people were too hostile. For some, the people were peaceful but the planet was too unpredictable.Â
He was tired of your lack of communication. The moment you were alone with him, the room grew deadly silent. The only sounds that would react to him were of Grogu, coincidentally the only person you willingly interacted with.Â
Despite this, you were still pliant. Your pregnancy had made you sick early on. Heâd make you food, soothe your back, bring you ginger tea and other higher quality rations heâd use extra credits on to make sure you were comfortable.Â
He started to condition you to get used to his presence; the way he could make you feel. If only you would give him easier leverage.
You would often hear him pleasuring himself, murmuring about how you looked so beautiful carrying his child. How you would look so pretty all cock-dumb and fucked out over his bed in a real home.
You would try to sleep after, but you couldnât help but think of the way wetness dampened your underwear and how a part of you thinks back on how he pleased you back in your home. Before you realized his plan to take you.
Youâd stare half awake at the panels above you. Shifting uncomfortably against the small bunk that only seemed to get smaller as your belly grew.
He broke the silence one day as he was making portions. He stated how he had enough credits to buy an isolated cottage near farmland, of which planet, he didnât say. Sleeping Grogu was taken out of your arms and tucked into his metal bassinet. With a press of a button it was closed shut, leaving you alone with 'Din'.
You'd spoken directly to him a couple of times since your kidnapping. He revealed his name to you the day you had woken up. Despite your anger, the fear, and the desperation to be free, you often caught yourself thinking of it.
Who would have known a bounty hunter to have such a simple name. You loathe the fact you would have chuckled in any other circumstance.Â
You blinked up at him in confusion as the baby's pram closed shut. He sighs wistfully. As he sat down on the blankets and pillows he set up on the floor as a makeshift common area in the Crest, he reached for your hand.
You let him pull you down against him. Heâs strong enough so that he could position you any way he wants without your assistance. He pulls his helmet off, the magnetic connection between it and his flightsuit hisses as it deactivates. He motions for you to pick up the plate of food he set on the small wooden tea table he had found in a market somewhere.
âWeâll be home soon,â he soothes as you eat slowly in his lap, pieces of his armor digging into your body. His cuirass was cold behind you, making you shiver.Â
You look back at him, eyes blank. He just smiles and caresses your cheek briefly with a swipe of his thumb, a slight chuckle escaping him at your âpoutâ. His hands skim over your tunic and stop on the swell of your belly, lightly tracing it up and down with the tips of his fingers.
He cups the underside of the bump, his nose pressing against the side of your neck.
Your defeat was present from the beginning. You never fought back, barely argued. Things couldn't have gotten much worse than life in your village, barely able to make it through a work shift without passing out from dehydration or starvation.
Chills run down your spine and goosebumps start to rise. He holds you against his chest for a couple of minutes, urging you to continue eating. Breathing in the scent of your hair and lightly caressing your belly.
Then his hands move further down to caress over your mound, you shiver. A shot of pleasure goes up your spine. He continues to âaccidentallyâ rub against you in between his praises of how well of a mother youâve been, especially to Grogu, whenever he was gone.
You were throbbing by the time you were done with the portions, mumbling that you were full to excuse yourself away from the table.Â
That prompted him to ask you to feed him spoonfuls in return. He didnât want to put anything to waste. It felt very intimate, especially with the way he loudly chewed next to your ear and groaned as if he were eating something gourmet, almost mimicking the sounds he made when he last had you in your bedroom back in your home planet, his mouth to your cunt.
The baby gave a sudden cry in his pram, you were grateful for the respite, especially as Din was starting to graze over your inner thighs to spread them. You excuse yourself to the restroom and curse yourself. It was the hormones, it had to be. You shouldnât be this affected by his gentle touches otherwise.
Heâs been doing the same technique for a little over a month afterwards. Grazing over your ass as he walked by, âaccidentally' cupping your breasts and lightly squeezing as he mewled over your bump. Having you sit over his erection whenever you ate 'together' and the baby was napping in his soundproofed pod.
You hate the way your body responds to a simple touch on the shoulder and jumps to imagining him thrusting into you against the side of the hull.
It gets worse when you are finally 'home'. He was able to get his hands on a small cottage. It was far from the other housing units in the town, not quite secluded but not as neighborly. Despite the isolation, he didnât allow you to even step outside the door. He said it was too dangerous.
You questioned him, considering you were a long way from other people. He never answered. Instead, he would hold you close to him and reassure you that it was safer for you and the baby.
Grogu was off to school, taken by his father almost every day. He wasnât fussing constantly over him.
The one positive from being stuck âhomeâ was that he was barely there. You rarely had moments where he would make you want to rip his armor off and feel his skin on yours like the months before.
You had more time for yourself. To acclimate to the sudden shift in your center of gravity as your seventh month of your unexpected pregnancy began.
He was often away to earn credits working odd jobs. He'd leave you with the promise that soon, if you complied instead of ignoring all of his advances at becoming a family, you too would accompany him out one day.
He didnât like the idea of keeping you as if you were a nanny to his children. Just a doll he could stare at and fondle. It was unbecoming of him and yourself.
But because you were currently pregnant and you didnât reciprocate his kisses and affection, he thought it was best to keep you where you were. You had enough time alone to think about ways to escape, but with your growing condition the thought was dissipating quickly. You felt tired, nauseous, heavy. Your feet were swollen and even thinking of the months to come made you dread even thinking of being alone. In some sick way the bastard has debilitated you in this form.
Though that didnât stop him from praising you. He likes to watch as you start to waddle around, chasing after his son, now yours, and play with him. Pride surges in his chest when he watches Grogu pat your stomach in question and you softly explain how there was a tiny person growing inside.
âThe villagers have been asking for you,â he says one night, his shoulder leaning against the doorway to the restroom as you apply cream to your face in front of the mirror above the sink.Â
You hum absentmindedly, looking anywhere but the reflection as he steps closer behind, wrapping his arms around you.Â
âIs that so?â you question sarcastically. He ignores your tone.
âMm.â He slumps over you, resting his head on top of yours. His eyes lower to your stomach and his brows furrow.
Skimming past your third trimester you outgrew all of your old clothes, including those of the man behind you. His stare made you fidget. You feel embarrassed as you try to tug the tunic as far down as it can go. A sliver of your skin still peaks through.
Tears well and blur your vision, you try to look away from his now worried gaze. Your hands move to cover your face as sudden emotion floods through your body, an unstoppable wobble from your lips gives you away. He stops your hands from hiding your face quickly, asking you what was wrong.
âMy clothes donât fit,â you whine. You think of how stupid you must sound. The way you could be thinking of many other worse things that heâs done to you, and you think to complain about this.
âIâm so big. I'm just so...,â you sigh weakly, hands fluttering over your body in an exasperated gesture. His grip tightens on your hands reassuringly and he presses a kiss to the side of your head.
Heâs always liked his women with meat on their bones. He liked the thought that your body was changing because of him. Seeing you now, insinuating that you're not the most beautiful creation the maker has ever made, made his eyes twitch in irritation. Not at you, of course, but of the way you view yourself, of how people may have led you to believe.
In his culture women are respected as if they were goddesses. They are the foundations of their kind. Seeing you now look at yourself in disdain made him feel like a failure. He failed to take care of you as a spouse should.
All because he never touched you properly, fully and with his full intentions, he thinks. He's teased you for months, never going farther than a few raunchy touches.
He kisses up your neck and you freeze. His hands wander downward, under your stretchy maternity pants and underwear. His hand was so large that you could see it straining the seams of your pajamas.
âYouâre beautiful,â he says as he flicks his wrist to palm over your mound, grinding it against you. You gasp as he continues, watching over you through the mirror as you twitch and lean your back further into his chest.
You sigh shakily as he inserts a thick finger inside of you. Then another as your eyes close shut tightly. The sound of your slick cunt resounds around the small room, your hand makes its way behind his head, pushing his mouth against your neck and shoulder.
He nips and sucks, groaning as he feels your walls squeeze around him. His palm grinds down harder, a quicker rhythm that makes his hand sticky with your arousal. He presses his pelvis forward, allowing you to feel the outline of his cock against the plushness of your ass.Â
He brings you to climax easily. Your legs threaten to collapse but he catches you.
The rest of the night he praised your body, your caring personality. Often mentioning how you would be such a caring mother to your next child and children.
You were barely awake and on the verge of passing out. You felt as if you exerted yourself trying to keep up with his burning touches. You donât think youâve ever been cared for as much as you have been with him.
âTomorrow weâre going into town to get tunics.â
He presses himself against your back maneuvering a pillow under your body which lays on its side.
He finally presses a kiss to your lips as he pushes a strand of hair from your face. He smiles as he sees you respond back weakly, your eyes closed and lips slack in a light pucker.
--------------------
I'll upload parts every Wednesday! Next one will have actual full-length smut. I'm a tease, I suppose.
Pairing:Â Thomas Shelby (Peaky Blinders) x Reader F
Warnings: Facing the music, family arguments, dub-con, explicit sex.
It's the day after. All hell is breaking loose. Why does Tommy Shelby mean to keep you hidden in his home? You're plagued by questions as you're subject to Polly's unflinching honesty, Arthur's hungover rage, and your enigmatic captor... Tommy Shelby
Disclaimer:Â The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site.
The bedroom you woke up in was a world away from anything you'd ever known. It had been so late when you arrived and you'd been so tired, emotionally and physically, that you hadn't really looked around. Polly Gray, the formidable matriarch of the Shelby family had been given charge of you. She'd had a bath drawn for you, which you'd been very grateful for, and provided you a nightgown that was finer than any garment you'd ever owned. You were still lacking underwear since he'd taken yours like some sort of trophy. But there was no way you were mentioning that. The woman hadn't said much and you could only imagine what she must think of you.
Now with the morning sun shining warm through the tall windows, you felt swallowed by the sheer elegance of your surroundings. It wasn't the kind of wealth that flaunted itself, but commanded respect. The air smelled of fine leather, tobacco, and a faint trace of expensive cologne, something deep and rich that lingered even though the man himself wasnât there. The walls were dark-paneled wood, the kind that swallowed the light from the golden glow of an ornate glass chandelier overhead. Everything here was deliberate, chosen with the kind of care that spoke of quiet power and control.
The massive four-poster bed you'd just risen from sat against the far wall. Last night it appeared untouched, as if Tommy rarely slept there, like sleepwas just another enemy he kept at bay. It had been dressed in deep navy sheets with a thick, tailored quilt folded at the foot. The bedposts were carved, intricate details of swirling vines and leaves, as if even the wood had a story to tell. Today the bedding was rumpled, the quilt had been covering you when you woke, but you didn't remember touching it. You'd slept on the side by the wall and you hadn't really moved. Had you? It was possible that you had moved in the night or even grabbed the quilt, you were really out of your depths here. But you didn't think so. There was an indent on the other pillow and when you bent down, you smelled his cologne.
He slept here last night? With me?
To the side, a leather armchair and matching ottoman sat near a grand fireplace, the embers still glowing faintly. Above the mantel, a painting of a horse mid-gallop dominated the space. It represented power and precision frozen in time, much like the man who owned the room. Against the opposite wall, a heavy mahogany desk stood in perfect order, neat stacks of paper, a gleaming brass lamp, a half-full crystal decanter of whiskey beside an empty glass. The desk itself looked like it had seen more deals, betrayals, and bloodshed than most battlefields.
But it was the silence that unnerved you most. Not the comfortable, homely quiet youâd known in the dim corners of your childhood home, but a silence thick with secrets. It was a room built for a king, or a man who thought himself one.Â
And you, standing in the middle of it, were no more than a trespasser in a world where you didn't belong.
As quickly as you could, you dressed, feeling all the tenderness and sore places in your body as you moved. That's when the memories of last night really crashed in, being claimed by Tommy Shelby, not Arthur. And when you'd simply asked if you could go home, Tommy brought you here. He didn't explain why. But the question lingered in your mind. You were a poor girl Arthur Shelby won a turn with in a coin toss. The novelty of you was gone. Why couldn't you go home?Â
And once you were? Well, you didn't want to even think about it right now. You hoped to have a little time to recover from what happened last night before you had to deal with shame, wagging tongues, and the harassment that was sure to follow from those in Small Heath. Tears came because more than anything, you wanted to see your mother, to have her comfort. Your brother? He had his own place now and somehow, he didn't hear about your stepfather offering you up until the day the arrangement was to be kept, yesterday. He'd been so angry and that scared you too. You disliked your stepfather, had since you first met him. Your brother hated him. That scared you because Rory could easily be ruled by his temper. He'd confront your stepfather if he hadn't already. What if he hurt Rory?
Carrying your shawl, you quietly made your way out of the room, down the stairs to the main floor. You hated the idea of just sneaking out unnoticed, but you wanted to. But you didn't want to disrespect the Shelby family, and you did want to say thank you to Polly Gray.Â
Well, you didn't have to look for her. She waited at the bottom of the ornate staircase, her sharp eyes on you as you descended. When you reached the bottom, you were about to speak and she knew it.
"This way,"Â she sternly ordered.
You followed her into a sitting room, a place of quiet grandeur. It was the kind of room that spoke of power without the need for extravagance. It was dimly lit, the heavy velvet curtains only half-drawn, allowing streaks of late morning light to slant through the tall windows. A fire crackled low in the hearth, the scent of burning wood mixing with the lingering traces of cigars and aged whiskey.
There were tall bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes that looked more for show than use. Above the fireplace, an oil painting of a hunting scene loomed, the brushstrokes capturing a pack of hounds mid-chase, their teeth bared, their bodies caught in fluid motion. It was the kind of art that felt like a warning rather than decoration.
A plush Persian rug stretched beneath your feet, its deep reds and blues dulled with time but no less luxurious. The furniture was grand but worn, high-backed chairs of dark-stained wood and rich upholstery. A long sofa in deep green velvet faced the fire, its arms curved like something regal, but the fabric bore the subtle marks of use, as if even in a house like this, exhaustion found its place.
A glass-fronted cabinet near a chaise lounge housed an assortment of crystal decanters, some full, some near empty, their golden and amber contents catching the firelight. A silver tray atop a side table held an ashtray with a half-burned cigarette, a smear of red lipstick on the filter, evidence that Polly had been here before, thinking, waiting. This was a room built for conversation. The kind that came laced with threats or confessions, where business was settled in low voices over half-full glasses.
But for you, it was just another reminder that you didnât belong here. Even the silence had a presence, settling heavy between you and the formidable woman across from you.
And Polly, with her knowing gaze and cigarette poised between her fingers, was as much a part of the room as the fire in the hearth.
Forcing yourself to hold your chin up, you met her gaze. "I won't take up much of your time, ma'am. I just wanted to say... thank you, for your kindness last night. And if it please you, I'll be going now."
"It's Polly. And no, you aren't,"Â she said in a tone that would brook no refusal.
"I'm sorry?"Â Wrapping your arms around yourself as you waited for her answer.
"What's your name?" she asked. You'd barely finished giving her your name when she said, "Sit down.â Her tone was kind, but firm.
Taking a seat in one of the high-backed chairs across from her, you carefully perched on its edge. Sitting was a different experience this morning and something shifted in the older woman's expression as she watched you.
"Well, this keeps getting better," she said, huffing a humorless laugh. "You were a bloody virgin then?"
The question had you dropping your gaze, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Â
Polly exhaled, lighting a cigarette as she perched on the arm of the settee across from you. âYou had quite a night, didn't you?â She blew out a thin stream of smoke. âI know you want to go home. But you and I both know you really donât have one anymore.â
You flinched at her words but only because it was the truth. Your brother left the first chance he got and your mother? You loved your mother but she couldn't save you from her second husband, Sean O'Grady. Perhaps, because of the situation you were in, you could maybe stay with Rory. You just didn't want to make your younger brother's life any harder than it already was.Â
Polly leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. âYou go back to Small Heath now, the minute you step outside, the whole bloody neighborhood will know exactly where youâve been. And every man whoâs ever wanted a turn will think youâre fair game.â
It was exactly what you'd been afraid of. You swallowed hard. Polly pressed on.
âYour stepfather threw you to the wolves. The people you grew up with? They already decided what you are before youâve had a chance to say otherwise. And Tommyââ Polly scoffed, shaking her head. âWell, Tommyâs gone and staked his claim, whether you like it or not.â
You couldn't deny any of it.Â
âYou might think that means you should run. But if you leave, youâve got nothing. No protection. No say in what happens next. You stay, at least youâve got a fighting chance.â Polly let that settle before she took another drag from her cigarette. âAnd if youâre smart, youâll use it.â
Damn right you wanted to run -- from Tommy. From the Shelby mansion. From Small Heath if you were being completely honest. What was left for you now? You held the older woman's gaze and you thought you saw a flash of approval there when you did.
âTommyâs an idiot,â Polly admitted. âAnd Iâve given him hell for it. But he doesnât easily throw away what is his. That much I can promise you.â
Wait. What did that mean? You weren't his. "But... I'm no one to him. I'm just..."
"If that were true, you'd have waken up in Small Heath this morning," Polly said. "Think about where you are. He brought you here and as long as there is something he wants from you, no one else will lay a hand on you." Polly sighed and stood, flicking ash into the tray. âYou can either walk out that door with your head high and get dragged through the muck before the week is out, or you can stay and play this smart. Your choice.â
Why didn't you understand any of this? What did she mean "stay here?"Â
Polly turned to leave, pausing at the door. âYou fight from here? You might just win.â
What exactly would you be winning?
You didn't sit there long. Honestly, you didn't know what was worse, facing your neighborhood and your stepfather, after what you'd been through. Or facing Tommy Shelby again. And it didn't matter to either side that you were just a pawn in the game. You were soiled goods now and most everyone knew it. That couldn't be undone.Â
Deciding the devil you knew was better than the literal devil you shared a bed with, you rose from the chair. You'd barely made it to the entrance of the sitting room, when the sound of pounding hooves and raised voices made you pause. A ruckus barreling straight toward you. Before you could react, the heavy front doors burst open, swinging hard enough to rattle the stained-glass panels. Arthur Shelby filled the doorway, wild-eyed with his coat unbuttoned and his shirt half-untucked. There was a nasty scowl on his face. He reeked of whiskey and sweat, his movements twitchy and unpredictable.
âThere she is!â Arthurâs voice was a roar, raw from alcohol and anger. His bloodshot eyes locked on you like you were the source of every misfortune that had ever befallen him as he chased you back into the sitting room. You took instinctive steps back, heart pounding, hands clenching into fists at your sides which was ridiculous. You couldn't fight the man to defend yourself if you tried.Â
"You little bitch," Arthur spat, pointing a shaking finger at you. âYou did it, didnât you? You drugged me!â
You froze. Drugged him? No, no, no. Where did that come from? Your stomach knotted in anxiety.
Arthur stomped forward, boots heavy on the marble floor, and you saw the barely restrained violence in every tense muscle of his frame. He looked ready to tear the whole bloody house apart. âYou think you can pull one over on me? On the Peaky fuckinâ Blinders?â He sneered, hands flexing like he wanted to wrap them around your throat.
âIââ you started, but Pollyâs voice cut through the air like a whipcrack.
âThatâs enough, Arthur!â The older woman was suddenly beside you, cigarette dangling from her fingers. If she was at all surprised by his entrance, she didnât show it.
Arthurâs gaze snapped to Polly, but his chest still heaved like a bull ready to charge. âSheâs the only one who was there,â Arthur growled, jabbing a finger toward you again. âHad to be her. No one else.â
âI didnât drug you,â you said meekly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. âI may be nobody, but I'm no liar.â
Arthur let out a harsh, humorless laugh, rubbing his face as he glared at you. âOh yeah? Then why the fuck did I wake up half-dead, huh? Face-down, no fuckinâ memory? If it wasnât you, then who?â
You swallowed hard. What could you even say here? You wanted to point out he'd been so drunk when you'd been delivered to him, that you really weren't surprised he ended up in such a state. But saying that to him in the state he was currently in would be unwise.
Polly exhaled a long drag of smoke and muttered, âWhy donât you ask your brother?â
Arthurâs entire posture shifted, like a punch had just landed square in his gut.
Polly flicked her cigarette into a nearby ashtray, cool as ever. âThatâs right. You got played, Arthur.â
What did she mean Arthur got played?
For a moment, there was only the crackle of the fire and the distant sound of a horse snorting outside. You watched as Arthurâs rage faltered, twisting into something else entirely. Realization blended with betrayal and embarrassment. His lips parted slightly, breath uneven. âTommy?â
Polly didnât even blink. âTommy.â
Arthur staggered back a step, blinking hard, then let out a hoarse bark of laughter, but there was no humor in it. âThat sneaky fucker.â
You stayed silent, watching, heart hammering in your chest, unsure if Arthur was about to punch a wall, ride off in another drunken fury, orâGod forbidâcome at you again.
But Polly, ever in control, crossed her arms and said flatly, âIf youâre done making a fool of yourself, sit down. And for fuckâs sake, have some water before you drop dead on my carpet.â
Arthur muttered something under his breath, rubbing at his face again before staggering deeper into the sitting room, shoulders still stiff with rage.Â
You let out a slow breath. Your knees felt weak. Polly motioned for you to follow her and you did into a huge kitchen. But you didn't take any of it in. Your heart thumped unevenly as a realization crept up your spine. Arthur had shown up, mad as hell, and claiming he'd been drugged. It would explain why he'd passed out on you in the first apartment you'd been taken.Â
Arthur hadnât been drugged by you. Apparently, he hadnât been drugged by some enemy lurking in the dark. Polly believed Tommy did it. Tommy. A fresh wave of confusion crashed over you, knocking loose everything you thought you knew about the web you'd been ensnared in.Â
Pieces came together in your mind. Arthur passed out right after you were delivered to him. You made up your mind to try and run. Tommy was right there waiting for you the moment you did. The man claimed you, led you away, and put you in his house like a kept thing.
Polly poured a glass of water to take to her nephew, casting you a knowing look. âStill think you want to walk out that door, love?â
***
The low hum of the engine filled the silence as Tommy guided the car down the long road leading back to Arrow House. The business in the next town had gone as expected. Money changed hands, threats were delivered in calm, clipped tones, and agreements were reached. But the moment Finn came tearing after him, breathless and spitting out what had happened at home, Tommy felt the slow churn of something he rarely allowed, unease.
Tommyâs fingers stayed steady on the steering wheel as he let the situation unfold in his mind. Arthur woke up furious. There was no avoiding that. But he hadnât expected his brother to come after her. He'd counted on Arthur somewhat piecing it together, confronting him when he returned.
Of course, Arthur would assume the worst. He always does.
Finn, fidgeting in the passenger seat, cleared his throat. âHe was fucking raging, Tommy. I mean really--pacing the house, fists clenched, swearing up and down that she set him up. Polly had to cut him off.â
Tommy didnât glance over. âAnd where is he now?â
Finn hesitated. âLast I saw, Polly sat him down, gave him the look. You know the one.â
Tommy exhaled through his nose. Polly had handled it then. Good.
His grip on the wheel tightened slightly. The point was control. About teaching Small Heath a lesson. Arthur winning her in the coin toss wasn't the first time such a wager had been struck lately. He wanted to send a message to the men in Small Heath who thought they could gamble away their women like chips on a table and walk away without consequence. He wanted them to see what happened when you played games with the Peaky Blinders.Â
But that wasnât all, was it? Because this time, Tommy had played the game too. He hadnât just sent a message, heâd taken what he wanted.Â
Tommy didnât believe in fate or destiny. But he knew exactly when heâd decided she was his. It had been a throwaway suggestion, something Arthur mumbled over a drink, waving a careless hand over a tear in Tommy's coat. "Take your coat to the girl on Gray Street. Her lot does repairs. No one else can fix that stitching proper."
Tommy had barely listened, too focused on the ledger in front of him, the figures that dictated how many men heâd have to strong-arm into paying up that week. But something about Arthurâs tone made him glance up. And a week later, heâd gone. Not because he particularly cared about the coat, but because curiosity was a dangerous thing.
It was a bitter, rain-slick evening, and the moment he stepped through the threshold of the cramped, overstuffed shop, he saw her. She wasnât like the others in Small Heath. The women he knew were either hardened by life or clawing for a way out. She was neither. She was quiet but not weak. Sharp but not reckless. She had looked at him once, just once, and heâd known.
She wasnât afraid of him. There had been wariness, yes. But sheâd taken his coat, running her fingers over the torn seam with care, barely acknowledging the weight of his presence. Just a quiet nod. "Give me two days."
He should have walked away then. But he hadnât. Instead, heâd lingered. Asked a question just to hear her voice again. Watched the way she stood like she was used to being overlooked, used to carrying the weight of things bigger than herself. And by the time heâd left, the idea had already settled in his mind.
It wasnât like he could have done it the proper way. Someone like him couldnât have courted her. She wasnât the type of girl who sought out men like him, and that was part of the reason he wanted her. She hadnât batted her lashes at him, hadnât tried to charm her way into his world. If anything, she would have avoided him altogether if given the chance.
That left him with only one acceptable way to have her. So heâd taken it. That she was one of the most beautiful young women he'd ever seen was one thing. The way she felt, the way she tasted, well, that only made him want her more.
Her options were limited. Heâd been the architect of her ruin, made sure of it with his own hands. He hadnât expected her to be untouched, hadnât thought for a second that Arthurâs drunken wager would leave him with something pure. But he wasnât unpleased by it. Not at all.
And now? There was no going back. If he let her return home, her life would be hell. Everyone knew about the wager, whispers spreading like wildfire through Small Heath. Sheâd be mocked, harassed, claimed by every desperate man who thought he had a chance now that sheâd been in the hands of a Shelby. Or worse, her stepfather would see an opportunity. An excuse to marry her off to some drunken sod, just to wash his hands of her. A quick deal, a few pounds exchanged, and sheâd be thrown into a life that would swallow her whole.
For now, heâd keep her in his cage, her disappearance a lesson to Small Heath. And while she was here, while she adjusted to this life, heâd make sure she was taken care of. When the time was right, heâd do the right thing. He'd marry her and give her a name that meant something, a position no man in Birmingham would dare question.
Maybe she wouldnât see it that way at first. Maybe sheâd fight him, glare at him with those sharp eyes that had first caught his attention when she hadnât cowered in front of him. But one day, sheâd realize. One day, sheâd understand that heâd done her a favor.
But deep down, Tommy knew the truth. He hadnât done this for her. Heâd done it for himself.
Now, he had a mess to clean up.
It would take some time to earn her trust, that much he could tell just from the way she had clung to silence, trying to make sense of a world sheâd been thrown into. He knew that kind of survival instinct. It was the same one heâd had as a boy, learning quickly that to speak too soon or trust too easily could cost you everything.Â
Now, as he drove back to Arrow House, Finnâs words still rattling in his ears about Arthurâs outburst, Tommy exhaled sharply and ran a hand down his face. Heâd made a mess of things. He parked the car and sat for a moment. He could already feel it in the air, the weight of Arthurâs anger, simmering just inside those doors. Good. Better to have it out now.
With a slow, steady breath, he stepped out of the car, his boots crunching against the gravel. The front door loomed ahead, the glow of warm light spilling from within, but it did nothing to soften the tension curling tight in his gut. Arthur was waiting for him. Of course he was. The moment Tommy stepped into the front hall, he barely had time to take off his cap before his brother's voice, loud and raw, rang through the space.
âYou fuckinâ drugged me, didnât you?â Arthur's shoulders were squared, fists clenched, looking as though he was about two seconds away from swinging.
Tommy barely blinked. He took his time, shrugging off his coat, tossing it onto the chair by the door. âDidnât think youâd be up so quick,â he murmured, calm, unbothered.
Arthurâs face twisted, his jaw tightening. âYou bastard. She was mine. I saw her first."
Tommy scoffed. âYou saw her first?â His lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. âArthur, you bet her in a coin toss.â
"Wasn't it your idea?" Arthurâs nostrils flared. âAnd you fuckinâ set me up.â Arthur stormed forward, getting right in his face, his breath reeking of whiskey and rage. "And the arrangement? What happened to that, huh?"â
"It was settled." He denied nothing.Â
Arthurâs eyes burned with something deeper than just rage or drink. It was betrayal. A rare thing between them, something neither of them spoke about but both understood.
âSettled?â Arthur spat the word out like it tasted foul. His jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides like he didnât know whether to throw a punch or grab a bottle to steady himself. "Prove it."
Walking back to the coat he left on the chair, Tommy pulled out her undergarment. He'd carried it with him because he knew this moment would come, that Arthur would require proof, and he held them up.
Arthurâs breath hitched. The second his bloodshot eyes landed on the fabric, white stained with a small amount of blood, the room shifted.
Tommy saw the anger drain from Arthurâs face. Arthur's shoulders locked, his fists stopped twitching because now he knew. Now he understood.
âYou fuckinâ drugged me, Tommy.â His voice was raw, thick with the weight of what that meant.
Tommy barely blinked. âI did.â
Arthurâs breath hitched, nostrils flaring as his hands finally snapped into fists. âAnd you thought I'd think IÂ won?â
Tommy exhaled, slow and sharp. âYou didnât.â
Arthur let out a short, bitter laugh, running a shaking hand through his hair. âYou always do this.â His voice was quieter now, but no less dangerous. âYou take. You take and you take, and the rest of usââ He cut himself off, shaking his head.
Tommyâs expression didnât shift, but something in his gut twisted. Arthur wasnât just talking about the girl anymore. And they both knew it.
Arthur scoffed, turning slightly as if he couldnât stand the sight of him. âAnd what, huh? Sheâs yours now?â
Tommy didnât hesitate. âYes.â
Arthur turned back too fast, the room crackling with the sheer weight of his fury.
âYou donât even fuckinâ want her.â He jabbed a finger at him, his voice shaking, not just with anger but something deeper. âSheâs just another play, another way to keep your boots on the throat of every poor bastard in Small Heath who crosses you.â
Tommyâs hands clasped behind his back to keep from giving Arthur what he wanted. Another fight, another excuse for them to break something in each other.
Arthur took a half step closer, breathing hard. âYou couldâve let me have this one thing.â
And there it was. Not about the girl. About something older, rawer.
Tommy forced a slow breath through his nose. âI couldnât.â Tommy didnât give him a chance to respond. âAnd you donât touch her again.â His voice was low, firm, final.
Arthur let out a bitter, broken laugh and turned away, gripping the edge of the sideboard like he needed it to hold himself up. âThen I hope she was bloody worth it.â
Tommy didnât answer. She would be.
And with that, Arthur stalked out of the room.
The house settled into a tense, uneasy quiet after Arthurâs departure. But Tommy knew better than to think the storm had passed. He poured himself a measure of whiskey, swirling the amber liquid in the glass as he listened to the crackle of the fire. His mind was already moving forward, piecing things together.
Then came the sound of footsteps. Polly. He didnât turn as she entered, but he felt her presence. âYou handled that well,â she said, her voice smooth, unreadable.
Tommy took a slow sip of his drink. âArthur will get over it.â
Polly scoffed softly. âThatâs not what I meant.â
Tommy finally turned, studying her.
Polly leaned against the sideboard, her sharp eyes locked onto him, a cigarette balanced between her fingers. She took a long drag before exhaling slowly, watching him the way she always did.
Tommy stood still, the undergarment still clutched in his fingers, as if it had any power left now that it had served its purpose.
Pollyâs sharp gaze flicked to it, then back to him. âChrist, Tommy.â
He didnât respond. Just walked to the fire, and tossed the fabric in like it was nothing.
Pollyâs voice was quieter now, but no less cutting. âShe was innocent. I figured that out before you waved her blood-stained drawers in your brother's face.â
She stepped further into the room, her voice laced with something almost like disappointment.
âHe was right about one thing. You always take, Tommy.â She shook her head. âBut this time? You took something you canât give back.â
Still, he said nothing. Because what was there to say? It was done. She was his now, her fate in his hands.
Tommy held her gaze. âWhere is she?â
Polly took another breath of smoke before answering. âUpstairs. In Adaâs old room.â
Tommy stood there for a long moment, staring into the fire. Adaâs room. He shouldâve known Polly would do it. Try to keep things neutral, give the girl space. But Tommy had no intention of letting her get comfortable in the idea of being separate from him. She needed to get used to being in his space.
He exhaled slowly, raking a hand through his hair. He knew why Polly had done it. She wasnât just protecting the girl. She was testing him. Trying to see what he would do next. He appreciated it, in a way. Polly always knew where the lines were, even when she planned to cross them. She was making sure he thought this through and understood what he was doing before he took the next step.
And he did.
Polly tapped ash into the tray by her elbow. âShe tried to leave,â she continued. âGot as far as the front doors before Arthur came crashing in.â
Of course, she tried. She wasnât after power, or a Shelby name. No, this one wanted out. It shouldnât have bothered him or even mattered. But the idea of her running from him, trying to undo what had already been decided? That didnât sit right.
"She wonât try again."Â
"Sheâs still shaken,â Polly added, watching him closely. âAnd not just because of Arthur.â
Tommy set his glass down with a soft clink.
âSo,â she said, âare you gonna tell me what your plan is?â
Tommy crossing his arms. âYou already know, Pol.â
A slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, but it wasnât one of amusement. It was full of warning. âYou love control, Thomas.â Her voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet like a blade.
Tommy took a sip of whiskey before finally meeting her gaze.
Polly shook her head. âAnd yet, look at this mess. Your brotherâs angry with you. That girlâs family will be looking for her. And the girl herself?â She let out a short, humorless laugh. âYou just plan to lock her away here. Rapunzel in her tower."
Polly had always known where to strike. Where to press just hard enough to make him feel it.
âSheâll settle,â he muttered, turning away.
Polly scoffed. âWill she?â She let the question hang between them, daring him to answer.
Tommy said nothing. Because for the first time in a long time, he wasnât entirely sure.
Polly took a step forward. âYou can keep her here. You can tell Arthur to back off. But what you canât doââ she leveled him with a look that could cut a lesser man in half ââis make her stay if she doesnât want to.â
Polly sighed, flicking the last of her cigarette into the tray. And with that, she left him standing alone with his thoughts.
***
The room was different from the rest of Arrow House. It wasnât steeped in darkness like Tommyâs room, nor filled with the heavy scent of whiskey and cigars like the sitting room. It felt lighter lighter. Softer. A place that, according to Polly, belonged to Ada Shelby before she married Freddie Thorne.
The walls were a warm cream, the color faded in places where pictures had once hung. The tall windows were framed with delicate lace curtains, ones that softened the late afternoon light filtering in, casting gentle patterns along the rug. A dresser stood against one wall, its surface bare except for a single porcelain dish where Ada Shelby must have once tossed her jewelry. The mirror above it was clouded in places, edges slightly worn, as if time had passed more quickly here than in the rest of the house.
The bed was neat but welcoming, covered in a quilt of soft blues and whites, a stark contrast to the deep, masculine colors found in the rest of the mansion. It smelled faintly of lavender and old perfume, a scent that didnât quite belong to the girl who sat there now. A bookshelf stood in the corner, lined with well-read novels and a few abandoned knick-knacks. You could tell Ada had once loved this space.Â
You'd been trying to read one of the novels you found, Â just re-reading the same page over and over and unable to retain any of it, when the door swung open. No knock or warning.
Just Tommy Shelby. He stepped inside like he expected everything inside it, including you, to adjust to his presence.Â
You straightened where you sat in a plush chair by the bed, your hands clenched around the book in your lap, the tension curling in your stomach making you sit up straighter. As steady as you could manage, you said, âYou didnât knock.â
Tommy closed the door behind him. âItâs my house.â His words were calm, absolute.
You dropped your gaze, swallowing against the tightness in your throat.
Everything here belonged to him. The house, the people in it, the space you took up in this room. Even you, whether you wanted to admit it or not, were here because he had decided it. You knew better than to argue with him. You were many things, but you didn't consider yourself to be a fool.
Tommy Shelby wasnât the kind of man you challenged unless you were prepared to lose. So you didnât say anything else. Just watched him as he studied the room. At first, when you figured out staying here for the moment was probably your safest bet, you thought the neutral space might be a blessing.Â
But now, as Tommy stood in the doorway, eyes sweeping over the room before settling on you, you realized something else. He didnât like it. This wasnât where he wanted you. And he stepped further inside, taking up all the space that had once been safe.Â
"Come on," he said. You hadnât expected him to make you move. But you saw the decision settle in his eyes before he even spoke. âNow,â he said, his voice even, giving you no room to argue.
Your stomach twisted. âWhere?â
He didnât answer.
Maybe it was exhaustion, or the understanding that this was always going to happen eventually, but you didnât resist as he led you down the hall. You passed the grand staircase, and the spaces where Pollyâs sharp words still echoed in your head. Your chest tightened when you realized where you were going.
His room. Of course.
It was where he wanted you from the start, wasnât it? But why?Â
The door shut behind you with a quiet finality. You stood stiffly, unsure where to put yourself. The air felt heavier here, thick with his presence. Did he intended to keep you here to bed you whenever he wanted? Would he just toss you aside when he was done? Somehow that didn't feel right. Men of wealth and power kept mistresses, yes, or so you'd heard. But usually not in their home with their family.Â
But it was the Shelby family so who knew?
Tommy stepped toward the mahogany desk, hands in his pockets as he glanced over at you. âYou eaten?â
The question threw you off. You blinked, shifting slightly. âNo.â
He exhaled sharply, as if that answer irked him somehow. You braced for him to snap at you. But instead, something shifted in his face. It wasnât just that you had had a meal. It was Arthur and Polly. It was all of this. Tommy ran a hand over his face, as if putting something together for the first time.
âArthur scared you,â he murmured, more to himself than to you.
You nodded. âHe was furious. Thought I drugged him.â
Tommy gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. âAnd Polly?â
You hesitated. Polly had been blunt, almost cruel in her truth. And maybe you needed to hear it, but⊠it hadnât made this any easier. âShe told me what I already knew.â
Tommy studied you for a long moment. Then, to your surprise, he said, âShe does that.â
The silence stretched between you. He watched you for a moment longer. âIâll have something sent up.â
Something like relief passed through you, but before you could think about it, he was already moving toward the door. He paused just before leaving, hand resting lightly on the frame. âGet some rest.â
Then, without another word, he was gone.
Only a few minutes passed before a housemaid brought up a tray with your supper. You thanked her, hoping she didn't see you drool before she left the room and closed the door behind her. You'd barely eaten yesterday and today not at all. You were starving and the simple mutton dish with cabbage and potatoes was seasoned perfectly. With it there was a glass of water and a cup of wine. You left the wine, not wanting to dull your senses considering the situation you were currently in.Â
But the sun went down and you knew it had to be getting late. When the maid came back for your tray, she let you know she had your bath ready in the bathroom across the hall. You thanked her, grabbing the cup of wine before she took the tray, thinking if nothing else, it might help you sleep. The warm bath in the huge clawfoot tub in Tommy's bathroom was calming, relaxing you a little which was no small fete considering your anxiety level for the last two days. Your mother was probably worried sick. Your brother may have just killed your stepfather by now. That wouldn't be a loss but you didn't want to see Rory in the noose. And you were here but you had no idea why.Â
You pulled on the nightgown Polly gave you and got ready for bed. The small clock on the bedside table told you it was nearly eleven at night. Where was Tommy? Was he coming back? Was he just leaving you alone for the night?
You drank the wine, probably faster than you should have, and got into bed. As you did the night before, you curled up in the corner of the bed and went to sleep.
***
Sometime later, you woke up to the sound of the door closing, the shift of footsteps on the floor. The air in the room felt different now. You kept your breathing even, your body still.
âI know youâre awake.â His voice was low, certain.
You hesitated, your pulse pounding in your ears. Slowly, you opened your eyes, blinking against the dim light. When you rolled onto your other side, he was there, standing near the foot of the bed, watching you. You swallowed hard, sitting up slightly as the weight of his words settled over you.
"I know you tried to leave," Tommy said, his voice quiet but firm. "You won't be doing that again."
Your fingers clenched around the bedding, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. You should have expected this. Of course, he knew. Tommy Shelby knew everything. Still, the finality in his voice sent a chill through you. You wet your lips, forcing yourself to ask the question even though you weren't sure you wanted the answer.
âWhy?â
For a moment, he just looked at you. His blue eyes dark with something you couldnât quite place. Â He stepped closer, his shadow stretching long across the room. Â
"Because youâre part of something bigger now.â His tone was calm, like he was explaining a simple business transaction. âYouâre staying here because I need Small Heath to understand something.â
Your heart lurched in your chest. âUnderstand what?â
His gaze didnât waver. âThat when you gamble with the Peaky Blinders, you donât walk away unscathed.â
Of course. First you were a prize in a bet that didn't have anything to do with you. The situation that resulted wasn't about you either. This was about control. Tommy had decided to make an example of your stepfather, and by keeping you here, keeping you out of sight, he was making sure that lesson cut deeper.
âThatâs why you want me here?â you asked, hating the way your voice betrayed the weight of what he was saying.
âThatâs why you wonât be seen,â he corrected. âThey need to know what happens when they bet whatâs not theirs to give.â
"But you took me anyway," you said, hating the sadness that crept into your tone.
"I did." A slow, knowing look crossed his face. âYou stay put. You keep your head down. And when I decide this is over, weâll see where you stand.â
He made it sound so simple. Like you were just another piece on his board, waiting to be moved.
You forced yourself to breathe. Forced yourself to ignore the cold certainty in his words.Â
His voice lowered, a quiet warning that sent a shiver down your spine. âAnd if you try to run againâŠâ
He didnât need to finish the sentence. You already knew. Tommy Shelby didnât make empty threats. He would know, and he would find you.
You nodded. You understood now that your situation had impossibly grown worse. You would end up facing the scorn of Small Heath after all once Tommy was done using you to teach his lesson. It wasn't a reprieve at all. It was worse because now you got to agonize about when you'd be sent on your way, when you'd face hell. Wouldn't everyone think worse of you because you'd been in Shelby hands for however long you would be?
You didnât say anything after that. You just laid back down, just watching and listening. And for some reason, that seemed to bother him.Â
The fight hadnât left you, but it had dimmed. And he saw it. You could tell by the way he hesitated. He shrugged off his vest, unbuttoning his cuffs, and rolling up his sleeves like he was thinking something over.
âBreakfast will be sent up in the morning.â A pause. An offering? The shift in his tone threw you off. âI had it arranged,â he added, as if you needed him to clarify. âAnything you want, youâll have.â
You just stared at his back. Was this supposed to be kindness? He didn't look at you as he approached the bed, his bed, and sat on the edge to pull off his boots.
âYou need anything else, you ask.â His voice was quieter now, but still firm. âNot Polly. Me.â
You swallowed as a strange kind of peace settled between you. You had an understanding. He wasnât letting you go. But maybe, just maybe, he wasnât trying to break you either.
You didnât know what to say to that, to any of it. So you said nothing. You lay there, watching as Tommy shed his shirt, running a hand through his hair like he was shaking off the weight of the night. The firelight traced the lines of him, casting shadows over the ridges of muscle and the unmistakable marks etched into his skin.Â
Some were faint, long since faded into pale streaks. Others were sharper, deeper, carved in ways that told stories you would never hear. A jagged line stretched over his left shoulder blade, disappearing beneath the curve of his collarbone. Another ran along his ribs, thin but deliberate. A bladeâs kiss, maybe. Then there were the ones that werenât from knives or fights in dark alleys or barroom brawls. The ones from war. Thin, splintered scars, the kind that came from shrapnel or bullets, from battles burned themselves into the men who fought them.
Just as you started to think heâd let the silence settle, he glanced at you over his shoulder.
âYou always this quiet?â
You hesitated, uncertain whether to answer. That must have amused him because a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
âNo wonder Arthur liked you,â he mused, shaking his head. âYou donât talk enough to argue.â
Arthur thought he liked you?
You scoffed before you could stop yourself. âThatâs because he barely knew me.â
Tommy made a soft sound, something between a chuckle and a knowing hum, before stretching out on his back on the bed next to you.
âWell,â he said, eyes sharp but lighter now. âI'm getting to know you. And I'll bet youâve got plenty to say when you want to.â
He winked. A slow, deliberate, maddening wink. Like this was all some game he was letting you in on. Like he wasnât the man who had stolen you from your home, wasn't allowing you to go back, and made himself the only option left.
The worst part? For a moment, you forgot to be afraid.Â
You exhaled sharply, and rolled onto your other side to face the wall, giving him your back. You knew you risked making him angry, but it was late and you were so tired from all the anxiety of the last two days. First, being delivered to the Shelbys in the first place. Then from dealing with Polly, Arthur's rage, and concern for your own family. Now, again, you were dealing with him.
It was still. Maybe he just meant to sleep. You took a deep breath to do that very thing when he shifted, moving closer and spooning up behind you. The warmth of him seeped into your back and his hand smoothed over your hip.
"Don't be like that," his voice was a deep purr at your ear, made you shiver. He pressed a kiss into your hair, into the side of your neck. Nudging his lower body against yours, you felt that heated ridge pressing into your ass. He left no doubt where this was headed. "I'll take good care of you."
You gasped when his hand slid from your hip to your tummy, his touch light as it slid lower.
The question had been sitting on your tongue for too long, clawing at the edges of your thoughts. And now, with the weight of his presence filling the room, with his lips dancing across your skin. It just⊠slipped out.
"Why me?"Â you asked as his lips teased your earlobe, sending sparks of excitement racing through your blood.Â
âYouâre the prettiest girl in Small Heath.â Tommy didnât hesitate or try to pretend it was about anything else.
His hand cupped you through the nightgown, his long fingers using just enough pressure to draw more heat from your body despite the soreness from last night. His lips blazed a trail down the column of your neck, whispering against your skin. As if that settled it, he added, âAnd everyone knows, I take what I want.â
Heat crawled up your neck, a mix of frustration and disbelief tangling inside you. How could he say something like that so easily? How could he upend your world, pull you into his, take everything from you--and then talk about it like you were just a prize heâd picked off a shelf? You wanted to argue, to tell him he didnât get to decide that. But when you looked at him out of the corner of your eye, really looked at him, you saw something else beneath the smirk.
He meant it.
"I like this," he whispered, nipping at the lobe of your ear with his teeth. Your breath sucked in as he pulled up the hem of your nightgown, his fingers delving into your folds. It stung a little as he touched you. Still, it was embarrassing that you had no underwear just now. Even more embarrassing how his touch had caused your body to weep for him, his fingers sliding easily on the wetness. His fingers traced your opening, slid fleetingly over your pearl. Echoes of all those sensations from the night before rose, like a craving, just from the simple slide of his finger.Â
"I don't..." His touch, his finger sliding around your clit, made you pause. "I don't have... more to put on."
His tongue teased the delicate shell of your ear, his warm breath pelting you. "I'll buy you more. But you won't be wearing them to bed."
When a finger slid inside you, the sting had your inner walls clenching around it. Your body tightened, expecting pain, but he didn't stop what he was doing.
"Relax," he whispered. "I'll be careful."
âHe pulled his hand away as he shifted behind you and you were mortified that your body immediately missed his attention. One of his arms slid beneath your pillow as his body pressed against yours. His other hand worked his belt, the front of his trousers. Roughly, he pulled up the back of your gown. The heated slide of his cock between your closed thighs made you shiver in his hold. He moved the swollen head back and forth through your folds, coating himself in your slick, before he zeroed in on your entrance and began sinking into you.
Again you tensed, remembering last night. Tommy stopped moving. "Shhh. Only hurts the first time. That's all."
"I'm sore," you whispered.
"I know." His lips teased the hollow just behind your ear. His breath, the swipe of his tongue against your skin, gave you gooseflesh. "I'll make it better."
He pushed his cock deeper into you but he moved slowly, and you felt his gaze on you, like he was watching you for signs of distress. When he reached the end of you, he held still. It didn't hurt as badly as the night before. His lips continued their campaign, blazing trails over your neck, nibbling at your ear. It gave you chills, sending sparks of heat rushing through your body. Your breath came faster, and you didn't immediately realize that your body was moving against his. Your walls clenching around his intrusion, asking for more without your mind's permission.
When he started moving in you, the soreness did fade after a few seconds, replaced with the spikes of pleasure you'd experienced near the end last night. Your nipples were hard aching points and you didn't know what to do with your hands, so you clutched the bedding, hanging on as his thrusts gained in speed. His hand smoothed over your bare hip, again sliding down to the apex of your thighs. While he plunged into you from behind, his fingers found your clit, teased it delicately. It was an obscene counterpoint to the increasing power of his thrusts. More chills like fever plagued you. His mouth was a devlish torment as he tasted the skin of your throat, your shoulder.Â
All of it blended together rapidly, a dizzying experience that had your heart racing in your chest. When release claimed you, you pressed your face into the pillow beneath you, trying to use it to muffle the sounds he pulled from you. The world spun away from you as he drowned you in euphoria and his possession of your body. You struggled to breathe but his torment never stopped.
And once he realized you were coming down, he slapped your ass hard, a sharp sting.
"It's not a secret you're in here," his voice was darker now, the gentless gone. "It's not a secret what I'm doing to you." Grabbing your pillow, he pulled it roughly from beneath your head and slung it across the room. Rolling you onto your stomach, him still inside you, he spoke close to your ear. "I want to hear you."
Tommy started fucking you harder then, his hands capturing yours and holding them to the mattress as you lay prone beneath him. You braced for pain as his thrusts gained in strength and speed but it had the opposite effect. Your hips moved with his, wanting more, feeling that bliss creeping back in around the edges. Your walls clenched around him with each movement, slick and heated. The rush of his breath at your ear, the iron grip he had on your wrists blended with the carnal way he rutted into you, burying you in the mattress.Â
The pressure built again and it nearly took your breath away. Tommy must have sensed it too, going faster. You reached that crest one heartbeat before he did, your cries filling the room. He sent you spinning off as he pumped himself into you, a low sob pulling from him as he finished.Â
You were on the verge of dozing off when he pulled himself from you, bringing the bedding back up to cover you. You normally didn't sleep on your stomach, but you didn't want to move right then either. You felt so tired, your body relaxed with the last vestiges of bliss running through your blood. You were aware that he left the bed but he returned quickly, the sound of a striking match letting you know he was smoking. Your face was to him, but your eyelids were so heavy and sleep was about to catch you.
The warm press of his lips on your cheek was the last thing you remembered.
This is not on the prompt list(s), but Iâve been inspired by the phrase âThis is for your own good.â and could we have a debut Red Hood Jason saying this to Vigilante!Reader, who was also his pre-death lover, as heâs keeping her prisoner in one of his bases so that she wonât be caught in the crossfire?
OOH. interesting prompt. I haven't really written a darker jason đ thanks anon! hope you like.
jason todd x gn!reader. DARK THEMES. drugging, toxic relationship, codependency, chain restraints, knife threats (not from jason). what would happen if jason's best traits (protecting the people he loves, prioritizing safety) manifested in the worst way?
****
"This is for your own good, baby."
You pull at your chains, making them clink against the floor. You snarl as he steps back.
"This is crazy, Jason! Let me go!"
Jason looks at you in sympathy. It pains him to see you like this; Jason never wants to do anything that'll frighten or upset you. Your comfort and happiness always precede his. He'd put a gun into his mouth without hesitation if it would save you.
But he means it: this really is for your own good.
"I thought you were better than this," you say savagely. "I thought you of all people would understand how wrong this is."
"I know it's wrong," Jason says quietly. "I know I'm a bastard and fucked in the head. I know I don't deserve ya. But this is the only way. You won't stop going out there. You're too sweet for this city. It'll tear you apart, and I won't let that happen."
"That isn't your decision to make, Jason!" you say, squirming in your restraints.
You take a deep breath. The Bats only respond to logic when they're this deep in paranoia. You have to appeal to that.
"Jason, listen to me. I know you're scared of me getting hurt, but I know what I'm doing. I've done this for a long time, just like youâ"
"And that's exactly where the danger lies. Things go wrong all the time, no matter how long you've been out there. I'm expendable. You're not."
Jason tugs once, twice, three times on your ankles and wrists. Satisfied, he moves on to the chain around your waist that's connected to the wall. It gives you a walking range of about five feet before you're yanked back. Jason had fussed about bedsores, and what keeping you in a bed would do to your range of motion. This was his compromise.
I'm not a monster, he'd insisted. I don't want to hurt you.
"Jason, please," you say. He starts to walk away and you chase him. The wall chain pulls and you land on your knees. Jason stops, looking down at you. You start to cry.
"Jason, please, please! Please don't leave me like this," you say, reaching with bound hands to grab his pant leg. "Please. This isn't right. I'm not a doll for your keeping!"
"I don't think of you as a doll," Jason says, kneeling in front of you. He holds your cheek and wipes a tear with a gloved thumb. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. Please don't cry. Hate to see it. I won't keep you like this forever. 'S just until I finish up in Gotham. Then we can go away from all this. Live normal lives."
"This is the life I want to live!" you shout, pawing at his clothes. "Let me go, Jason, let me go!"
"Baby. Hey, hey. You're gonna work yourself into a frenzy. Y'want something to calm you down? Make y'feel nice and sleepy."
Your blood turns to ice. No. No drugs. If Jason drugs you now, there's no telling when or if he'll stop. This is a man who was trained by Batman. You're sure he knows about every drug there's to know about.
You shake your head, your crying becoming quiet blubbering. "No. N-no drugs. Please."
He pets your forehead. "'Kay. No drugs, baby. 'S okay, see? I'll be back in a few hours and then we can eat and I'll draw you a bubble bath. Those are your favorite, remember?"
Jason kisses your salty cheek and stands, putting on his helmet. Like this, looming over you, in full Hood gear, Jason is terrifying. The reminder strikes you again, how capable and deadly your lover is.
Jason leans in and pets your cheek. "So pretty. Love you so much. Won't let anything happen to you, baby."
You watch, defeated, as Jason leaves, locking the door behind him. You listen for the sound of the lock clicking.
Then you get to work on finding an escape.
****
You keep your breathing silent as you wait. Your limbs ache from how long you've been crouched in hiding, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except escaping.
The door opens and shuts. Jason quietly removes his boots and helmet, surveying the apartment like always. He sets a plastic bag on the coffee table. The smell of Thai food fills the apartment.
"Baby? Hey, I'm home. Brought your favorite takeout."
You wait until he walks by your spot behind the TV. Then you strike.
You take Jason down to the floor with a move that only works due to your element of surprise. Then you hold a dagger to his neck, the cold metal pressed flat.
Jason regards you calmly, hands at his sides. You pant furiously, pressing the blade warningly.
"Let me go," you order. "I won't be chained up like that."
"I see," he says, and the way he says it is scarily reminiscent of Batman. You keep that to yourself.
"I mean it, Jason. You can't do that. I'llâI'll call someone on you. Bruce, Clark, Dick. Somebody."
"Alright." Jason holds up his hands slowly. You watch the movement, nerves raw. "Alright. 'S okay. Just breathe. You're upset, I get that."
"I don'tâI don't wanna hurt you," you say, squeezing the dagger harder. Your hand cramps in protest. "But if you make me..."
Jason nods. "Yeah, baby. I know. 'S okay. We can fix it. 'M not mad."
"Don't talk to me like that," you snap. "I'm not stupid, Jay. Not stupid."
"I know, sweetheart. I know you're not stupid. I don't think you are. Y'wanna cut me? Feel like hurtin'?" He leans into the blade, breathing steady as a river. "Go on, honey. I heal quick. You need to do it, take it out on me."
The thought of hurting Jason makes you sick. For all of his misguided protection, he hasn't hurt you. Hasn't laid a hand on you or shouted at you. Every form of restraint is as gentle as possible.
"No," you say, voice wobbly. "I-I don't wanna hurt you. Please don't make me."
Jason strokes your arm with his thumb. "No, I won't. You'll never have to hurt anybody. And I'll never let you get hurt either. 'S okay. You're safe with me. 'S me, just Jay."
Jason's hand wraps around the wrist with the knife. You stiffen, and the blade slips. A thin line of blood beads on his neck. He loosens his grip.
"Okay," he says. "Alright. You're safe."
"I don't wanna be chained," you say, tears in your eyes. "I can't be chained. I'll go fucking crazy, Jason."
"I know. I'm sorry. We don't have to do chains."
Your heart hammers in your chest. But Jason is nothing but calm. Blood sluggishly drips down his neck. Your eyes widen.
"I'm sorry," you say, reaching for his neck. "I'm sorry, Jaybird, I didn't meanâ"
"I know." He catches your hand. "Shh, shh. That's okay. 'S just a scratch. It was an accident, baby, that's all."
Tears fall down your cheeks. "I don't wanna hurt you."
"I know." Jason slips the knife out of your hand. He slides it away. You collapse into his embrace.
"I can do it," you say, sobbing. "I can go out there, Jay. Please just believe me. Please trust me. You trusted me before."
Jason cradles the back of your head. He slots you between his legs and rocks back and forth. You put your arms around him. His heart is an even thump against your ear.
Finally, you've gotten through to him. Jason isn't completely gone after all.
"Don't worry," he says. "Don't worry, 's okay. It'll all be fine. I know my mistake. I'll be better. It'll be better for us."
Something pricks your neck.
Hope sinks like a rock in your stomach. You squirm, but Jason holds fast, legs trapping yours. You whale on his shoulders with your fists. He holds your biceps, expression sorrowful.
"Babyâ"
"No, you promised. You promised!" you scream. "You promised me!"
"It's just to soothe your nerves, honey. Please don'tâ"
You lunge for the knife, ready to do some serious damage. Jason tackles you before you can. He traps you on the floor, holding you down in a full lock. He holds your arms to your sides, and your legs are pinned to the floor. It's perhaps the gentlest restraint you've ever experienced. You scream and thrash, but it's no use.
"You monster! You're no better than any of them!"
"Sorry, 'm sorry," Jason says. No matter how much you fight, his grip won't budge. You've never been a match for Jason's strength or ability.
"I hate you! You don't love me!"
"I do, I do love you." Jason rests his forehead against your spine. "Christ, your life means more than mine. I won't lose you. You're the only one who matters."
His words are muffled. Your world is going fuzzy. The drug is kicking in.
"You promised," you say weakly, wiggling in one last attempt.
Jason tucks his face into your neck as you fall unconscious.
"I'll keep you safe," he says, lips on your neck. "No matter what."
Summary: Bucky is Tired of all of the judgement and being the bad guy all the time he wanted to have someone to come home to that all seemed like a dream until he met you
You sighed as you walked down the sidewalk, walking briskly you were running late, you were a nurse you had no car so you had to walk you didnât mind the walk except on days when your electric gets shut off for a late bill,Â
you donât get paid much you have been on your own since you were sixteen, your family were abusive, they would beat the shit out of you, sometimes you would have to go to the hospital for broken bones, one time you had a damaged vocal cord, you couldnât talk for over two months,Â
finally you had enough and ran away never looking back, and when you finally turned eighteen you knew you were in the clear.Â
You got your GED went to collage took self defense classes, you were doing pretty well for yourself except for the pay, barely scraping by, but you were used to that, you barely had enough food somedays, but you were used to that as well,Â
you turn the corner only to bump into someone, you would have hit the cement but someone wrapped their hand around your wrist,Â
âAre you okay?â you hear someone saysÂ
You look up and see a man with icy blue eyes and dark hair he had a mechanical arm, He had a suit on and a tattoo on his hand that disappeared under his suit,Â
âUmm yeah, sorry Iâm clearly not awake yet.â You say with a sheepish smileÂ
He chuckledÂ
He let go of your wrist,Â
âItâs early I get it.â He saysÂ
You smileÂ
âThank you for saving me from a nasty fall, but I should get going.â you sayÂ
He nodsÂ
Bucky watches as you walk away, if was the first time someone didnât look at him in fear, you smiled at him, and it sent his heart fluttering, He smirked looking down at the ID card,Â
âI will see you soon, Y/Nâ He saysÂ
He picks up the phone,Â
âNat I need you to look up a person for me.â Bucky saysÂ
You arrive at work and just wanted to walk right back out, the floor was chaos people shouting, loud alarms, you worked in the emergency room,Â
By the time your shift was over there was blood on your scrubs. You were tired it was after midnight you had to stay late again,Â
you had your bag over your shoulder you just wanted to go home on your way home you hear a few laughs you just keep going, you can hear a couple of footsteps you start to pick up speed in your walking,Â
âHey pretty thing where are you off to?â A man stops you in your tracksÂ
you were surroundedÂ
âYeah we would like to stay with us,â Another saysÂ
âGet away from me.â You say in a annoyed tone
They all laugh, one puts his hands on your hips, that fast you kneed him in the nuts causing him to fall to his knees, You knee him in the head where he falls to the ground passed out,Â
another tries to grab you, You grab his wrist hitting a pressure point making him yell in pain and you elbow him in the face making him fall to the ground the last one grabs you by the throat pinning you to the brick wall,Â
âYou bitch!â He yelledÂ
You gaspedÂ
suddenly there was a loud crack and the man lets go and falls to the ground you find it to be the man you ran into this morning,Â
âThat was a close one doll.â He says smirking at you placing the gun back in the holster near his rib cage.
âNice elbow by the way.â He says smirking at you
You looked at him a bit surprisedÂ
âIâm Bucky by the way Bucky Barnes.â He says holding out his hand
âY/N.â You say taking his hand he brings your knuckles to his lips kissing themÂ
This was meant to be a campy joke of a fic continuing all the minotaur shenanigans we've had this year. But, I let the feral writer part of my brain out of its box where it promptly grabbed me by the throat and said "I am the Captain now" and made me watch as a whole world complete with a map, bios, and lore unfurled. And now I'm in love with a stupid cow man. I hope you're happy @stargazingfangirl18 Oh, and happy birthday! đđ
Author's Note: I deserve all the applause for getting this down to exactly 5000 words. I'm quite proud. I also deserve all the censure for writing and formatting it entirely on mobile. Gods help you desktop viewers.
With a heavy sigh, you tore yourself back to reality, having just devoured the sequel of your new obsession. Honestlyâwhy were fictional alien men so much better than the real thing? Who wouldnât want a seven-foot blue Adonis fated mate✠And why did the MCs always fight it? Oh nooooo. A devoted mate and guaranteed orgasms? Run awaaaaaay! Idiots. Ugh. As much as you wanted to dive straight into the third one, you needed sleep before work. A solidâ4 a.m.✠Well, crap. That was maybe two hours of sleep if you were lucky. You really shouldnât have stayed upâŠbut you did. Should you risk a nap? Or just embrace your fate and power through?
Andy woke early and got ready for the day. He wasnât looking forward to the coming month. He hated visiting the mortal realm and dealing with humans.
And yet, he didnât trust anyone else to do it. Who could he send? Jake had volunteered a couple of times, but that birdbrain would get distracted and forget half the list. Natasha could handle it, but making her deal with human men would be needlessly cruelâwhether more to her or to them, Andy wasnât entirely sure. The Spartoi twins might manage, but theyâd never shown interest in humans and would likely get swindled. Maybe heâd bring them along anyway, a trial run in case they ever had to take over. But then Steve had mentioned renovations while Andy was away. Bah. Heâd figure it out later.
Andy met the others at the agora just as the sun hit the dial. Pleasantries exchanged, they got right to it. The Lamia Brothers had a couple of add-on requestsâmostly from Lloydâbut nothing Andy couldnât handle. Once the final version of the list was approved, Maria and Ransom helped Andy glamor to appear human. Ransom scoffed at the apparel. âThis is what men of means wear now? How boring.â Andy stretched, testing the fit. âItâs not the worst contrivance theyâve come up with.â Maria and Ransom nodded and turned to rejoin the others. Maria lingered. âI know you hate these trips more than you let on. Thank you for shouldering the burden.â They shared a nod. Natasha and Ari opened the gateway and Andy stepped forward. âThis tripâs list is larger than usual. Please clear the portal apotheke as soon as supplies arrive. Iâll be done in a month or so.â With that, he entered the portal and stepped into the human world.
You didnât remember falling asleep, but you shouldnât have. An energy drink, maybe a workoutâyou couldâve powered through. But no. Now you were an hour late, felt like hot garbage, and your manager was glaring like you were the most irritating creature alive. To be fair, you were feeling low enough that you believed it. âIâm so sorry, London. Iâve just had a rough morning. Iâll shake it off and get those orders processed.â âYouâd better. Mr. Pronge is bringing a VIP this afternoon, and I donât need him seeing whatever this shitshow is.â With that she stormed off leaving you wanting to cry at your desk. Shitshow indeed.
Andyâs contact, Robert Pronge, was utterly repulsive, yet he knew his business. The sooner Andy finished, the better. With Prongeâs help he'd have eighty percent of the list done in three weeks. Human logistics had improved enough that Andy might finish entirely in said three weeks instead of a month, especially if he collected the forge equipment directly from China. That detail, unfortunately, drew Prongeâs attention. The insufferable man pressed further about Andyâs operations, fishing for future ventures. âYeah, sure,â Andy mused. Next time Natasha could deal with Pronge. Hard to be presumptive when youâre statuary. He chuckled at the thoughtâthen a commotion from the offices had both men jumping.
This had to be the worst day of your life. Toner cartridges donât just explode. And if they somehow did, not all over the user. You were covered in toner powder, holding ruined documents over a smoking printer, when everyone converged at once. London was livid. âWhat is the matter with you? What did you doâœâ She wouldâve torn into you further, but Mr. Prongeâand arguably the most handsome man youâd ever seenâstepped in. âYou always go around breaking my equipment?â Pronge asked. You wanted to vanish on the spot. The handsome man studied you, head tilted, gaze lingering. Somehow, it felt worse than all the other eyes on you. How it made you forget Prongeâs sneering presence was mystifying in itself. âWell! Nothing to say? Fineâweâre docking the replacement from your pay, and youâll spend the rest of your shift cleaning this shit up!â You did everything physically possible not to burst into tears.
Andy stayed back, though every aspect disgusted him. The human, smeared with unpleasant ichor had probably done it to herself, but the reaction around her was needlessly cruel. The malice of humans still managed to surprise him. Didnât they care for their women anymore? As Pronge continued his tirade, Andy studied you. At first, he dismissed you as just another human. But then his eyes lingered longer than they should have. And when he realized heâd tilted his head, he recoiled. What? No. Absolutely not.
Andy told himself it was nothing. A flicker of pity, that was all. He was a good maleâresponsible, dutiful. That human, though⊠covered in soot, trembling under the weight of sharp words, and left to clean the mess alone. It was intolerable. He wasnât interestedâof course notâhe only cared because it reflected poorly on Pronge to leave a worker broken down like that. And because⊠well, because he was raised better. A good male looked after the vulnerable. That was all.
She moved through the motions quickly, sliding the scone into a bag and pouring the drink, stealing little glances at him. When she handed them over, her smile had shiftedâless playful, more gentle. âWhoever she is,â she murmured, âsheâs lucky.â Andy didnât even react, just gave a curt nod and turned away, repeating his mantra in silence as he left:
Food. A gesture. A transaction of decency. Then she will be out of mind.
The barista watched him go, sighing as she wiped the counter wistfully lamenting that all the good men were taken.
You were still wiping up toner when something landed on your desk with a soft thud. You startled, turning, and saw a neat little paper bag and a bright, summery drink. The man from before stood there, posture loose but eyes unreadable. âExtras,â he said shortly, as if that explained anything.
You blinked. âFor me?â
He inclined his head once.
You opened the bag and found your favorite blueberry scone, the familiar scent a comforting contrast to the toner tang clinging to you. Your throat tightened. âThank you,â you said softly. âReally. I⊠needed this more than I'd realized.â
He shifted, gaze flicking away as though the words unsettled him. âItâs nothing.â
With a small lift of your chin, you offered your name.
His gaze returned to you, steady, unreadable. âAndy Barber.â
âAndy,â you echoed, the name soft on your tongue.
For a moment, it felt like the world had gone still. Then you broke the scone in half, laughter bubbling upâlight, a little breathlessâbecause the powdered sugar dusted your already-ruined shirt like some cruel cosmic joke. You laughed anyway, shoulders shaking.
 Andy froze. His head tilted, just slightly, as he listenedâdrawn in by the sound before he even realized he was doing it. Something in him leaned toward you, unthinking, instinctive. By the time he straightened, his jaw was tight, as though the gesture had betrayed him.
The moment fractured when London swept in, her heels clicking like punctuation. She eyed the scone, then the drink, then you, her smile softening into something so sweet it had to be fake. âWell, arenât you spoiled,â she said smoothly. âSome of us go months without such little indulgences.â Her gaze slid toward Andy, lingering there with a practiced ease. âNot that I mind. Itâs nice to be treatedâover dinner, perhaps, MrâŠ?â
She let the question hang like an open door.
Andy didnât even seem to notice. He gave his name politely, but his focus was already back on you. âEnjoy.â
Your heart skipped. London wasnât the one he answered. He hadnât taken her bait, hadnât given her even a scrap of acknowledgment beyond basic manners. Instead, his gaze settled on you againâsteady, undiscernable, and yet⊠there was something in it. Something that made heat creep up your neck.
Londonâs smile twitched, just a little, the edges sharp where she meant them soft. She had expected him to notice her. To want her. But his attention had already gone back to you. And unless you were imagining it, his head tilted the faintest degree as he studied you.
You took a small bite of the scone just to cover your nerves as you studied him in return. You were reminded of the seven-foot blue aliens you'd been pining over just that morning. Andy was, simply put, hugeâbroad shouldered, towering, striking in a way that made your stomach flutter in spite of yourself.
When Andy inclined his head once more and left, you were left in stunned silence. You almost felt bad seeing Londonâs brittle smile. Almost.
Andy told himself the distraction was over. The scone, the laugh, the foolish tilt of his headâit was done. He had errands to finish, a realm to return to, and a human who would vanish from his thoughts the moment he stepped back through the portal.
The gate shimmered, and he emerged outside Nagasaki with a list of purchases to collect. Camellia cuttings, specialty teas, lacquered toolsâitems Maria had carefully noted. He moved with efficiency, trading silver for slips of green wrapped in damp cloth, his mind narrowed to the work.
Then a vendor pressed something into his handâa pale, powder-dusted sphere. âMochi,â she explained. The powder clung to his fingertips and in a flash he saw sugar dusting your shirt, your laugh bubbling up as though it surprised even you. He swallowed it downâboth the sweet and the memory.
By the time he returned through the portal to your country, he had doubled his efforts to forget. He was happy his next matter of business was his favoriteâthe farm. He confirmed his orderâapple grafts in new varieties; white strawberries; purple tomatoes.
Then he spotted youâcrouched near a crate of early lettuces, chatting easily with a young farmhand. A basket dangled from your arm, half-filled with a variety of produce.
Andy went still, the slips of grafted apple wood forgotten in his grip.
You laughed at something the farmhand said, and the sound threaded through the air, snaring him tighter.
One of the farmers nearby called to him. âMr. Barberâyour purple tomato plants are ready to go. Want to have a look before we pack them up?â
Your head snapped up. âPurple tomatoes?â
The farmhand grinned. âYeah, a specialty hybrid variety. Gorgeous to grow, real rich flavor. Weâve only got the plants right now, but you can come see if you like.â
You rose with your basket, curiosity bright in your eyes. âOh, I have to see those.â Then you noticed Andy standing there, watching, silent as stone. Recognition flickered. âYou,â you said.
Andy inclined his head once. âMe,â he agreed.
The farmer glanced between you both, oblivious. He motioned down the row. âCome on, Iâll show you both the tomatoes.â
You moved toward the greenhouse without hesitation. Andy followed, telling himself it was only because the farmer had invited him. The greenhouse was warm, earthy, alive. Sunlight filtered through the glass, gilding the rows of plants. You bent close to inspect them, fingertips brushing a leaf like it was something delicate and rare. When you leaned in to study the dusky wine-colored fruits hanging from their stems, his head tilted again, unbidden. âTheyâre beautiful,â you murmured. Andy said nothing as a thought bloomed, dangerous and sweet: she belongs here.
Andyâs head tilted again before he caught himself, but the damage was done. His mind had already run ahead, weaving the image of you not in some fluorescent office, not under the scorn of petty mortalsâbut here. Among plants. Among his orchards. With him.
The sound of your voice struck him like the memory of your laughter. âTheyâre stunning! Youâre here for these? You have excellent taste,â you said, eyes bright, lips curved. Perfect, Andy thought. The word rang through him like a hammer strike.
Perfect little heifer.
He shut his jaw, as though he could grind the thought to powder, but it only rooted deeper. His gaze swept over you, cataloguing: the curve of your shoulders, the steadiness in your hands, the way you touched growing things with reverence. You were strong. Resilient. Breedable.
The word coiled in his mind, primal and heavy. You were meant for green things. For orchards. For him. His thoughts seethed. I'll bring her to Themorea. Iâll see her in the gardens where no mortal cruelty can reach her. Mine to guard. Mine to keep. My perfect mate.
The goods Andy had procured were steadily portalling in from his rented storage lockers to the apotheke. He wasnât expected back for another couple of weeks, so heâd hoped to find the place empty.
âAndy! Thereâs no way we have everything yet. What happened?â
Heâd been so caught up in planning how to get you here that he nearly missed Lloyd, processing the last batch of goods heâd sent through.
Andy studied him for a moment. Lloyd wasnât the most loyal, nor the most trustworthyâbut he was capable and meticulous. He and his brother Fowler were willing to get their hands dirty in ways the others avoided. That made them dangerous. And dependable.
âI need a secure apartment at my estate,â Andy said evenly. âDiscreet. Comfortable.â
Â
Lloydâs cerulean eyes slid up from the crates, glinting with sly amusement. His lips curved into a serpentâs smile. âAh. So thatâs it. Fowler and I never thought youâd break first. Always so noble, and here you areâsetting up a love nest.â
Andyâs jaw tightened, but he didnât answer.
Lloyd smirked, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. âDonât coil up so tight, grumpcake. Fowler and I have talked about it ourselvesâfinding companions. Mortals arenât without their charms, and Themorea could use a little⊠diversification. A little investment in the future?â
The words slithered between jest and intent, a half-joke that carried too much weight to dismiss. âMaybe. Will you help?â
Lloyd chuckled, turning back to the crates. âOh, Iâll see to it. And when you see how well it works out⊠donât be surprised if Fowler and I go shopping, too.â
Andy gave a noncommittal nod and turned to leave when Lloyd added, âBut you get to explain it to Natasha.â
Andy froze just shy of the portal. He hadnât considered how this would look to the Gorgon. He blanched, and Lloydâs chuckle curled through the air.
âI take it you found some sweet thing that rewrote your brain, because this is very unlike you. I canât wait to meet her. Donât get me wrongâI support this more than you know. My brother and I arenât the only ones whoâve felt⊠emptiness. Many of the others will back you if it plays out well.â Lloydâs grin widened, sharp as fangs. âHell, I think even Natasha⊠well, shouldnât get ahead of ourselves, eh?â He shook off his visible excitement and got back to business. âFowler and Iâll have the apartment ready in a week.â
Andy drew a slow breath and studied Lloyd. For once, there was no game in his words. He was being almost⊠sincere. How had Andy not noticed the loneliness, the stagnation of his peers? It seemed cuttings for the orchards werenât the only grafts Themorea needed. Then he thought of you, and his resolve hardened. The details of how others might follow could wait. You were not up for debate. You were his.
Something of that ironclad resolution must have shone in his eyes, because Lloyd practically vibrated. âOh, I canât wait to meet your little sunshine if she gives you that look.â
With that parting jab, Lloyd slithered off to find his brother, and Andy stepped through the portal.
Pronge was ahead of schedule on the list and practically crowing. Andy endured it in silence. Then you walked past the glass partition. Pronge caught the flicker in Andyâs expression and his smirk sharpened.
âYou know,â Pronge drawled, leaning back in his chair, âmy office manager said something funny the other day. Not much for brainsâgood thing I didnât hire her for thatâbut sheâs got a mouth on her. Ranted about that little disaster over there.â His chin flicked toward you. âCalled her Miss Dumpster Fire. Said you were hanging around her desk, even brought her a scone. Sounded jealous, if you ask me.â
Andyâs face didnât change, but his body angled forward, slow and deliberate. Prongeâs grin slipped. He lifted both hands.
âHey, hey. No disrespect. Iâve been looking into you, Barber. And you know what I found?â He tapped the desk with a thick finger. âNothing. Not a goddamn thing. The way you move across borders, the way your shipments vanish?â He gave a low whistle.
Andyâs voice came low. âGet to your point.â
Pronge swallowed, but his eyes gleamed with oily confidence. âMe? I like keeping things tidy. Gossip like that can turn messy. But for the right consideration, I can make sure your little miss stays out of everyoneâs mouth. That jealous office manager? Quiet. The whole trail? Gone. Neat and clean.â He snapped his fingers. âLike she never existed.â
Andy didnât know what Pronge thought he saw in his expression, but the man raised his hands again in mock surrender. âRelax, Barber. Iâm not saying itâs personal. Strictly business. You want her gone, I can make it happen. You want her safe?â His grin returned, razor-thin. âDifferent kind of arrangement. Either way, sheâs yours.â
Andy hated the means, but couldnât deny the usefulness. They struck a deal.
Mr. Pronge had been strangely kind to you the rest of the week and even sent you home early on Friday. âGet a jump on the weekend,â he said, as if generosity came naturally.
You took him up on it.
At home, you made a cup of tea and curled up with book six, ready to lose yourself for a few hours. You did, until you realized you werenât picturing blue alien hunks on the page. You were imagining Andyâand had been for several books now. You regretted not asking him out. He wouldâve made a move if he wanted to see me again. Stop daydreaming. That bitter little truth lodged in your chest, and eventually the daydreams slipped into sleep.
It wasnât restful. Your neck ached, dull and throbbing, and your limbs felt too heavy to shift. Waking never quite came. You floated instead, thoughts drifting, until Andyâs voiceâlow, steady, familiarâcut through the haze.
âYouâre okay. Relax your brow, beloved, and rest.â Dream Andy whispered, and this time⊠you obeyed.
You didnât stir again. Your breathing stayed even, though a faint twitch now and then betrayed the drug working its way through your system. Andy sat in the chair beside the bed, elbows braced on his knees, watching you in the soft light. It was just a jab. Sheâll sleep the night and have a slight headache in the morning. No muss, no fuss. Vile assurances from a vile man. The brothers had done a good job on the apartment at least. You lay half-curled in the blankets, hair spilling across the pillow, lips parted in unconscious repose. You werenât meant for that world. Not for Pronge. Not for anyone but him.
A crease flickered across your brow, subtle but sharp enough to draw Andy forward. He brushed a strand of hair back from your face, his hand lingering for a heartbeat. âRest, beloved,â he murmured, his voice low and rough. âRest.â The tension eased from your expression. Convinced you'd sleep well now, Andy stepped out to prepare for the morning when everything would change.
You stirred, head heavy, limbs sluggish. Your hand curled in the blanket, trying to anchor yourself. This wasnât your chair. The cushion beneath you was a bedâbroad, indulgent, too perfect. You let out a weak laugh. Dream Andy, youâre getting ridiculous. First you show up in my head, now youâve whisked me away to a dreamy bed.
As if summoned, Andy appeared.
You blinked at the figure framed in the doorway, early light bending around him. Broad shoulders, sharp jaw, eyes that burned steady even in half-shadow. âAndy,â you whispered, relief rushing in. Of course. Dream Andy, come to soothe you again.
Â
When he crossed to the bed, you rose without hesitation. The ache in your neck, the fog in your headânone of it mattered once his arms closed around you. Solid. Steady. The cedar-dark heat of him seeped into you until something inside cracked open. You nuzzled against him, tugging him down onto the bed. His surprised huff turned into a low, pleased sound as he gathered you closer.
You kissed his throat, then his jaw, chasing the warmth of him, desperate for more. He groaned your name and you silenced him with your mouth.
The kiss stole your breath. Not blurred or flimsy like dreams. This was sharp, consuming, devastatingly real.
Panic bolted through you. You tore yourself back, colliding with the headboard, heart pounding.
âThis isnât a dreamâœâ
Andy didnât flinch. He stayed exactly where youâd left him gaze locked on yours. âNo,â he said softly. âItâs not. Youâre safe. With me.â
The words wrapped around you like iron, like a vow. He didnât reach for you right awayâhe waited, letting the weight of his presence settle, letting you see the truth in his eyes.
Your fingers trembled in your lap. âThen⊠how?â
His lips quirked, just barely. âLater.â He leaned closer, bracing a hand against the headboard beside your head, his body heat searing through the air between you. âRight now, all that matters is this.â
Â
His presence overwhelmed your senses as his mouth brushed yours again, this time slower, deeper, deliberate. A real kiss. A real Andy. And instead of panic, fire licked through your veins.
You whimpered against his lips, and that was all the invitation he needed. His hand slid to cradle your jaw, angling you to take more of him, his thumb tracing the line of your cheek as if heâd been starved for the shape of you. You melted into it, hands gripping the fabric at his shoulders, desperate to pull him closer.
âAndyâŠâ you breathed between kisses, your voice ragged, caught somewhere between wonder and hunger.
âMine,â he growled against your mouth, his voice rough. The word went through you like lightning, and then his weight pressed you into the mattress, solid and commanding.
Your legs parted instinctively, welcoming him in. He ground against you, hard length sliding against your core through too many layers, and you gasped into his mouth. He swallowed the sound greedily, tongue tangling with yours.
Your hands fumbled at his shirt, desperate to feel skin. He caught the urgency, yanking it over his head in one smooth motion before you were on his chest, the ridges of muscle tight beneath your palms. He was beautiful, real.
âYouâre shaking,â he murmured, catching your wrist and pressing a reverent kiss to your pulse. âTell me to stop, and I will.â
âDonât you dare,â you whispered, voice breaking with need.
The look he gave you thenâhungry, triumphant, undoneâset your body aflame. He tore your shirt over your head, tossed it aside, and lowered himself to taste your bare skin. His mouth claimed your throat, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. You arched up, moaning when his teeth grazed your nipple, his tongue soothing after.
âAndyââ
âSay it again,â he demanded, voice dark as his hand slid down your stomach, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts.
âAndy!â you cried, hips bucking as his touch found you, clever fingers sliding through slick heat. You clutched at his shoulders as pleasure jolted through you.
âGood girl,â he growled, circling just right, pressing until you were gasping, writhing, desperate for more. He pushed a finger then two inside, stretching you open while his thumb teased your clit, each movement coaxing you closer to the edge. âThatâs it,â Andy whispered against your ear, biting your lobe, his pace relentless. âCome for me. Let me feel it.â
Your body obeyed, climax tearing through you like wildfire. You clung to him, crying his name as waves of pleasure crashed, your thighs trembling around his hand. He held you through it, groaning as if your pleasure fed his own hunger.
When you finally sagged back against the pillows, boneless and gasping, Andy drew his fingers from youâthen brought them to his mouth, licking them clean with a guttural sound that made your core throb all over again.
âMine,â he repeated, voice raw.
And then he was tugging his belt loose, freeing his cock, thick and straining, flushed at the tip. Your breath caught at the sight.
âPlease,â you whispered.
Andy smirked before sliding the head against your slick entrance. âDream or not,â he murmured as he pushed inside, stretching you inch by glorious inch, âyouâll never wake from me.â
Some part of your brain realized that should worry you. Youâve essentially been kidnapped by a man you barely know. And then you heard your own mocking voice from a few weeks ago. Why did the MCs always fight it? Oh nooooo. A devoted mate and guaranteed orgasms? Run awaaaaaay! Idiots. And you were no idiot.
Your walls clenched as Andy eased in, slow but unrelenting, filling you until you couldnât breathe. He was thick, stretching you almost painfully, the kind of stretch that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back.
Your hands clawed at his back, dragging across muscle as you gasped, âAndyâoh my godââ
His forehead dropped to yours, sweat already misting his brow. His voice rasped, guttural. âThatâs it, sweetheart. Take me. All of me.â
When his hips finally pressed flush against yours, the weight of him buried deep inside, you cried out. Youâd never felt so full, so utterly claimed.
Andy groaned like a man breaking. âYou feel like you were made for me.â
He gave you no time to reply before withdrawing, slow enough to make you whimper, then slamming back in hard enough to rattle the bedframe. You yelped, the shock of pleasure-pain stealing your breath. He did it again. And again. Each thrust deeper, harder, more desperate.
Your moans turned frantic, the air thick with the sound of skin on skin, the creak of the mattress, his ragged growls.
âAndyââ you sobbed, nails digging crescents into his shoulders.
âSay it louder,â he snarled against your neck, biting down just enough to leave a mark. âScream for me.â
And you did. Every thrust knocked another cry from your throat. He drove into you with a brutal rhythm, hips slamming, cock hitting that perfect spot inside that made stars burst behind your eyes.
Your body arched under him, begging, chasing the edge. âIâI canâtââ
âYes, you can,â he growled, thumb finding your clit again, circling hard and fast. âYouâre mine, and youâre going to fall apart on my cock.â
Your orgasm tore through you, violent and consuming, your whole body seizing around him as you screamed his name. The world went white, every nerve lit with fire as your climax milked him inside you.
Â
Andyâs controlâand glamorâshattered. With a roar, he pounded into you harder, faster, chasing his own release. His thrusts turned erratic, savage, until he buried himself to the hilt and spilled inside you with a shuddering groan, heat flooding your core.
He collapsed against you, both of you gasping, bodies slick with sweat, tangled in sheets that smelled of cedar and sex.
For a long moment, silence. Only the sound of his heartbeat hammering against your chest, your own pulse answering in frantic rhythm.
Then Andy lifted his head, kissed you slow and sweet, utterly at odds with the feral way heâd just taken you. His voice came rough but steady:
âNot a dream.â
âAre you sure? Because I think I'm dreaming that you're a minotaur.â
Andy huffed a laugh. âYou think human men could ever?â
You laughed surprising even yourself. âNo. And this is so much better than blue aliens.â Laughing even harder at Andy's confused look, you barely wheezed out. âLater. Add it to all the later topics.â
pairing: choose your own soft!dark male character x female reader
summary: you're the daughter of a powerful mob boss, and someone's been hired to take you away. but after one look at your face, the man starts getting ideas about keeping you for himself.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), dark themes, abduction, drugging, dirty thoughts and fantasies (including nonconsensual somnophilia), sadism, dacryphilia, a dangerously delusional man
word count: 1.7k
a/n: i wrote this prologue-y thing back in early spring for a specific character, but while i liked this part, i didn't like anything about how the story progressed after it and i ended up abandoning the fic. but i still really liked this part and i thought it'd be a fun entry in @bucks-and-noble's Choose Your Babe challenge!! so, after you read, please tell me who you think is the villain to our princess đ
For you, it was a night like any other.Â
Youâd gone through your normal evening routine, padding softly around your penthouse apartment before slipping between the satin sheets of your queen-sized bed.Â
Youâd drifted off into a peaceful slumber, feeling safe in the knowledge that your security system was set, there was an armed doorman in the lobby of your building, and your fatherâs men were only a phone call away.
For him, it was the night everything changed.
Of course, everything would change for you, too. You just didnât know it yet.
You were blissfully unaware of everything that had been put in motion that led to the events of that night. You slept soundly as a man youâd never met beforeâone wearing a dark suit, dark gloves and a dark look in his eyeâstalked silently into your bedroom. He adjusted the black leather gloves he wore, a silver gun gripped in one steady hand as he came to stand over you.Â
You looked like a princess.
It was the first thing that struck the man, how much you looked like a sleeping princess from the fairytales heâd read as a boy. So peaceful and pretty and perfect.Â
But the man wasnât a knight or a prince. Sure, heâd had noble aspirations when heâd been young, wanting to slay dragons and rescue princesses like you. But thatâs not how his life turned out.
Instead, heâd become the villain. He was the assassin who had killed your fatherâs men assigned to protect you, then slit the throat of the doorman in your lobby before disarming your security system and letting himself into your defenseless apartment.Â
He was the mercenary hired by your mafia boss fatherâs rival to abduct you and hold you hostage while the old men squabbled over power and money.
As the man stared down at your face, his eyes tracing the curve of your cheek and the dip of your mouth, the thought occurred to him that he would pay anything to get you back if youâd been taken from him. Heâd burn the whole world down to find you if someone managed to take you from him. Not that heâd ever let you out of his sight if you were hisâŠ
But then he reminded himself that you werenât his, you were a job, and his thoughts soured. It was more difficult than he wouldâve liked to admit to get back to work, his movements lacking their normal meticulousness as he shoved his gun into its holster beneath his arm.Â
He pulled a cloth and a small bottle of chloroform from a pocket inside his suit jacket. He didnât normally need to watch what he was doing, but he did then, making extra certain he didnât pour too much of the sedative onto the cloth before stowing the bottle away again.
Normally, the man was a professional. He could press the cloth so gently over someoneâs mouth and nose while they slept that theyâd never even know they were being drugged. Theyâd just slip peacefully from sleeping into unconsciousness, without any of the fear or struggle that came with waking up to realize they were being drugged by a stranger.
But the manâs mask of calm had slipped the moment heâd laid eyes on your beauty, and he could feel the darkness in the very depths of his soul stirring within him. It was seething and starving, testing the limits of his self-control, making him feel on edge. He wanted. He wanted you.
The man could picture his hand roughly covering your mouth and nose with the chloroform cloth, your eyes flying open and staring up at him. He could imagine the way theyâd widen with horror, then fill with tears that slipped down your temples and into your hair. He could almost hear your soft cry of distress and your whimper of terror as you comprehended your fate.
As he fantasized about your fear, the manâs cock hardened in his pants, thickening at the thought of your pretty eyes staring up at him like the villain he was. A menacing grin slowly curled the corners of his mouth and the dark look in his eye turned positively wicked.
Then he was moving, forgoing his normal precision and letting the darkness within him take hold as he slammed the chloroform cloth over your pretty mouth and pert nose, the tips of his leather-clad fingers digging into your soft cheeks hard enough to make you scream in surprise.
When your eyes flew open, the man couldnât help but marvel at their beauty, leaning forward to loom over your body to get a better look. The moonlight shone across your face, limning your features in ethereal silver light, making you look like an angel. You were even more beautiful when you were looking at him like he was the most important thing in the world.Â
The mercenary had thought your immediate reaction would be fear, but he was wrong. He hadnât anticipated the way your brows would furrow in confusion, sweet little lines forming between them as you stared up at him, more bewildered than terrified by his presence.
But thenâthen it happened. Confusion gave way to horror, your chest heaving as you breathed in panicked gasps, only succeeding in inhaling more of the drug and dooming yourself. You whimpered so sweetly it sounded like music to the manâs ears, and your eyes filled with tears. The man watched, his mouth curving into a greedy, predatory smile.Â
He held your terrified gaze, using one hand to brace the back of your head so you couldnât escape the cloth that covered your mouth and nose and you continued to breathe in the sedative. His cock ached in his pants, the full length of him pressing against the tight confines as he throbbed with arousal, his balls filling with come that he furiously wanted to spill across your face. Or bury deep in one of your warm holesâŠÂ
His attention was forced back to the present when your body jerked with dawning realization of what was happening to you. You reached for the dangerous stranger looming over you, your fingertips falling just shy of brushing against his bulge. The manâs cock twitched, as if reaching for you in return, and he had to stop himself from thrusting to meet your touch.Â
Thankfully for him, the chloroform was doing its job, and your hands dropped futilely as your eyes began to close. Your arms fell listlessly to the bed and the man watched you succumb to the sedative heâd used to drug you.
When he was certain you were unconscious, he pulled the cloth away and stowed it back in his jacket pocket, ensuring he didnât leave any trace of his presence in your apartment. That was the job, he tried to remind himself, but the darkness within him was louder, and his movements were all too eager as he pulled the blankets of your bed back, baring your body to his hungry gaze.
He felt his cock throb in excitement as he stared down at you, your body clad in nothing but a skimpy little nightgown, the fabric so thin he could see the shape of your nipples poking through. His eyes roved greedily over your curves, lingering for a long moment on the way the bottom hem of your nightdress was rucked up around your hips, almost giving him a glimpse of your precious cunt nestled between your thighs.
The man wanted desperately to know if youâd gone to bed without panties, but he knew he had to ignore the creeping darkness that had slithered into his mind. Not because it would be a gross invasion of privacy to take a peek at your panties while you were unconscious, but because he knew that if he pushed your nightdress up any further, he wouldnât be able to stop himself from sinking his cock into your tight cunt while you were still out cold.
Heâd never fucked a princess, and fucking youâeven if it was while you were unconsciousâmight be the closest he ever got. You were a sleeping beauty and he was no prince charming, no honorable knight. He was the villain, and he wanted to ravage you, whether you were awake or not.Â
In that moment, he couldnât decide which would be better. Fucking you while you were soft and pliant with sleep, your body taking his cock into your tight warm hole while you mumbled incoherently against his shoulder. Or fucking you when you were awake, so he could see your pretty eyes fill with tears again, hear the desperate sounds you made while he filled you with his cockâŠ
The leather of the manâs gloves creaked in the silence of your bedroom as he curled his hands into fists and beat back the darkness that had slipped into his head. He was a professional. Heâd been hired to do a job, and you were that job.Â
You werenât his princess to steal away from the kingâs tower. He needed to remember that.
The mercenary adjusted his cock in his pants, working hard to reclaim the control that had fled the moment heâd laid eyes on you. He forced his limbs to move precisely as he gathered you up into his arms, ignoring his bodyâs responses when he smelled the sweet scent of you settle around him, and when he felt your soft breath exhale against his neck.Â
A car was waiting in the parking garage beneath the building, ready for the man to take you far away from your home and the city where your father held enough power to be considered a king. He encountered no obstacles as he carried you down to the garage and buckled you into the passenger seat of the car.
As the man drove away, he couldnât help but feel like the villain stealing the princess from the kingâs tower, and it gave him a perverse sense of satisfaction. He may not have been a prince or a knight, but he had taken the princess. And he began to think that maybe he should keep you for himself.Â
Perhaps the man could write his own kind of twisted fairytale, one where the villain got to keep the princess.Â
Looking over at you, your features soft in sleep and no less beautiful than when heâd first laid eyes on you, the man made his decision. Heâd have his happily ever after at any costâwhich meant heâd have to convince you that he was your fairytale come to life, just as you were his.
so who's the babe!? tell me in the comments, reblogs or in my askbox!
Summary: A deal that should have been black-and-white has suddenly become grey. Swapping souls means swapping places. You just didn't think that meant to spend eternity with him.
Disclaimer: This is my submission for @yenzys-lucky-charm & @sweater-daddiesdumbdork Horny Hootenanny writing challenge~ sincere thanks to lovely Yenzy and Amber for being the gems that they are <3 I'm also going to submit this into my own writing challenge (lol) Stevie BB 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge . Anyone is welcome to join~
Dividers and banner by me :)
***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't cute~~~~
Warnings/Triggers: 18+ Minors DNI; dubcon, non-con, softdark!Lloyd (but mainly dark tbh), mentions of death, very slight slight mentions of infidelity, drugs, alcohol, Reader has low self-esteem/self-worth, demonic manipulation(?), Latin dialogue (cannot claim accuracy!).
Tropes/situational prompts: fantasy/supernatural AU, the villain/monster has feelings (or thots) for you
Seasonal prompts: meeting a demon/ghost/witch on All Hallows Eve
Smut dialogue:Â "You gonna be good for me?" + "I'm gonna make you mine" + "you love it like this, don't you?" + "If you only knew the things I want to do to you" + "Tell me you're mine" + "You wanted my attention, now you have it" + "Please! I can be good. So good for you. I promise" + âYou belong to me nowâ + âLook at that, I think I broke your pretty brain, made you all dumb for meâ + "Just a little more" + "Look at how good you're taking me"Â
Other kinks: mild choking, spanking, overstimulation, dumbification; degradation, thigh fucking, dacryphilia, aphrodisiac/demon trance (if I missed any TW, feel free to lmk)~
A/N: this is the first time that I'm writing Lloyd too so I hope I did him some justice. Also, mild references to the tv show Supernatural (I do not own the lore of TGM nor Supernatural)!
The wood was splotchyâ and itched against your skin uncomfortably as you sat on your knees. The âdevilâs trapâ was intact as you leaned over to complete the chalk-circle. Quickly gazing over the symbol to ensure the correct sigils, you leaned back once more to close your eyes and take a deep breath. You tried your best to calm your body and connect with that part of you justifying the reasons behind calling upon a demon.
âPromise me that you wonât do anything stupid.âÂ
You cringed as you heard your exâs solemn request echo in your thoughts. Yet again, you made a promise that you couldnât keep. But this time, it was for his life. His soul. Your relationship was never perfect, and thatâs certainly what nipped your romantic relationship in the bud, but youâve known each other for so longâŠyou couldnât let him go through with it.
Broken promises was the cycle of your romantic relationship together â whether it was infidelity, drugs, alcohol, all the way to the end of the spectrum where it would also be just him going on extensive hunting trips without proper communication.Â
You both knew that the relationship was doomed when it started. He wasnât capable of showing up for you the way that you were ready to do for him. You knew that, thatâs why you ultimately ended the relationship.Â
And yet, here you sit in a mildew-infested, smelly, abandoned church on All Hallowâs Eve - ready to trade places with him.Â
He was meant to do a lot of good in the world. He was a good hunter, a good brother, and a good friend. He was the main character in a story that you werenât meant to be a part of, and thatâs fine. You didnât belong in his arc. You were a side character that had a stunted narrative for a while, but didnât belong nor play any significance into moving the story forward.
When you heard the news about how he made a deal with the crossroads demon, it suddenly clicked on how you could actually do something worthwhile. You knew that he experienced a loss, a real hit from what youâve heard. They fell in together not long after you both ended your relationship. While that fact spared no pain on your end, you did your best to stuff it down as he obviously loved her enough to have made that deal for her life. So you did what you did best, extended light and support through your pain. Feeling so selfish to have even felt a mark of bitterness.
A hunterâs life is a grim one. Everyone knows that any relationships that you do end up having either end in misery or in blood. But the value of something light and wonderful like love was tempting for people in the life. But, it always seemed to have a cost.
You were a shit hunter, maybe a mediocre person, but maybe, just maybe, your life could have purpose by doing this one thing.Â
Something that just makes the pain that you have endured worth it.Â
It was that purpose that hardened your resolve. Any lingering doubts solidified into genuine acceptance as you relaxed your body and invited a deep breath, âI summon you, anima daemonium. Anima obscura, i vocare te.â
You repeated the command two more times until you finally felt it. A warmth that seemed to grow steadily hotter which had you hiss in pain as you felt the sordid temperature through your jeans. The chalk circle in front of you started to beam this blinding, white light that illuminated the dark vast space for a few seconds. Your eyes couldnât hold open for too long as you scrunched them closed in alert from the sudden, bright visual.Â
The air in the room became thin and you could feel your lungs expanding to fill them up with as much air as you could with your breath falling heavier with each silent minute that passed. The silence was consciously loud as you looked around the still empty dark space.Â
âHmmmâŠnow whatâs this?âÂ
You heard a low rumbled, amused voice come from behind you. Your heart was beating so fast and you could feel your stomach just plummet to the floor. He was supposed to manifest within the circleâŠif he bypassed it like that completely, that meant that he was no ordinary crossroads demon.
A deep and intense fear rose up in your throat as you attempted to ground yourself out of your frozen state. You could feel your body tremble as you slowly turned your head to look over your shoulder only to find a looming, darkened figure standing directly behind you. Your gaze drifted upwards to find the identifying face to the haunting voice and you couldnât hold back the gasp that left your dry lips.Â
He wasâŠhuman. A tall silhouette that exuded an air of danger and allure. His skin seemed to absorb the light around him, contrasting sharply with the piercing, smoldering gaze that flickered an ice blue in the dark. A chiseled jawline gave him an almost otherworldly handsomeness, while his full lips, donned with a daring mustache, curved into a knowing smile that hinted at secrets best left unspoken.
Your confusion to his form, and his looks, felt like an aside as you took in this almost invisible yet loudly formidable being standing over you.Â
âWho are you?â Your lips moved faster than your brain could register any coherent thoughts. Your curiosity peaked the moment that you saw him appear in the space.
The handsome demon merely chuckled at your confusion before indicating towards his own body. âThis meat suit? Mmmm, not too sure. A poor, unfortunate soul shrouded in his own darkness enough for me to climb into him and take over.â A resounding smirk followed his explanation as he narrowed his gaze at you with an interest that you couldnât place.
You could only stammer out, âB-but, youâre h-human?â You looked over his figure again as he donned an unorthodox causal fit that you would never have pegged a demon, or honestly anyone, to wear. But with the way that he carried himself, the demonâs confidence was palpable. He was comfortable in this physical form, thatâs for sure. The power that was exuding from him was staggering.
The demon cooed at your naivety, âOh, sunshine. You have no idea who youâve called and what youâve just done, do you?â
He moved with a grace that was both mesmerizing and predatory as he knelt down to meet your petrified stare. There was an intoxicating aura about him, a magnetic pull that made it impossible to look away, even as a primal instinct warned of the peril he represented. His presence was electric, a heady mix of danger and desire, making it clear that this was a being not to be trifled withâa seducer cloaked in darkness, where charm and menace intertwined seamlessly.
Youâre frozen in place in dual fear and pure fascination as he leaned forward into your personal space to clutch your chin with two fingers, prodding up your face for his invasive inspection. You weirdly felt awkward as you knelt before him under his scrutinous gaze. Piercing blue eyes were washing over the features, nooks-and-cranny, details of your face. Every so often, he would tilt your head to the side to inspect your profile, all the way down towards your kneeling body, and just smirk.
After 5 minutes of his torturous appraisal, he let go of your chin suddenly only to lean closer to your face. His pointed nose brushed yours so lightly, you couldnât help the urge to look down at his mouth, feeling the hairs of his mustache graze your skin. But you could also see and almost feel the softness of his pink lips. His smirk grew on his face as if he figured something out as he turned to brush said lips against yours very faintly, almost teasingly.Â
You gasped at the unexpected contact and a haze washed over you that you didnât question and felt compelled to close your eyes. Almost as if you didnât, you would pass out from the intensity of the contact of the potential of his kiss. You leaned in slowly as your mouth was almost waiting for the pressure of his teasing brushâŠbut it never came.Â
Coming back to yourself, almost like out of a trance, you gasped harshly at noticing the proximity between the two of your bodies and pushed against his chest to sit inside of the chalk circle to gain distance.Â
Breathing heavy at how close you just were to this supernatural inane being, you cursed yourself for letting yourself get entranced into his allure as it hit you.
âYouâre an incubus.â A sneer was released unconsciously at the realization. The demonâs smirk only softened at your disdained use of the term and his only response was to deeply hum in confirmation.
âI suppose that is one name that people know me byâŠbut I sense that you may not be so comfortable with that. How about we go withâŠâLloydâ?â He proposed as he stood up with his hands in his slack-pockets.Â
You ignored his comfortable jeering to stand from your coveted position within the circle. âI didnât call for you, incubus. Iâm here for a crossroads demon.â You clarified sneeringly.
âAnd yet again, another name that people may know me by.â Lloyd said simply with another smirk on his face. He couldnât help but let his gaze wander over your shifting body once more. You certainly looked like a hunter, but your ignorance and naivety gave you away at how utterly unskilled/trained you were in the craft.Â
The realization made Lloydâs dark soul tremble in excitement at the potential of catching a brazen, beautifully innocent, yet idiotic soul like yours. And to feast on one that looks like you, with an energy so devoting and submissiveâŠhe was suddenly ravenous.
The haze that you felt earlier felt almost like a white, hot energy that was wading towards you when you noticed âLloydâsâ gaze shifting over your figure once again but with this newfound hunger in his eyes. You shifted uncomfortably as your body responded to the shift in the air. You couldnât help but close your eyes briefly in shame as you felt itâŠthe wetness that was accumulating in your underwear.Â
It didnât matter that he was a literal sex demon who preyed on womenâ it was like all boundaries didnât matter as you felt a similar urge to throw all inhibitions out the window, stalk over to him to have him throw you down on the dusty, creaking floor to just take you over and over again as you begged him for more.Â
You shook your head to clear your sinful thoughts, knowing that demons can sense wicked thoughtsâ but to your detriment, Lloyd seemed to clock something about your tense and conflicted frame and suddenly inhaled deeply.Â
You knew that you were caught when you saw that his cocked head straightened in discovery at smelling your arousal in the musty space. He released a deep grunt as his eyes rolled to the back of his head in pleasure. The atmospheric drop in the air was palpable and the room became so distinctly warm, you could feel sweat dropping on your temple at the change.Â
Panting at the sudden rise in heat and thinning air, tears started to build in your eyes at looking over the demonâs now darkened gaze. He looked like he was going to attack you, and it didnât scare you that you may lose your life nor was it that he would take you without consent.Â
What was scary was that you wanted him to take you. You wanted to feel him in his own heat on your bare, naked skin as he thrusted his hard cock into your eager pussy and feel the supernatural strength of his grip holding your hands above your head. So much so that you wouldnât be able to escape him. You didnât want to leave him, you wanted him to devour you.
You tried to shake your head out of these fantasies and get back to the present but the heat wouldnât let you. The haze felt so strong. You could hear yourself mumbling something about the heat and subconsciously took off the denim jacket youâre wearing in desperation to feel cool.
In your present view, you could see Lloyd walk determinedly towards you and you found a consciousness present enough to take a few steps back to the tops of the chalk circle. You knew that he wouldnât be able to enter it, thatâs why he bypassed it in the first place. A demonâs trap is meant to do exactly that, he wouldnât risk losing his prey and enter the circle where you could easily escape.Â
Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, Lloydâs eyes narrowed in mirth as he released a dark chuckle and stopped before entering the circle. âOooh, sunshine, youâre so cute to think that you could escape me now. You wanted my attention, now you have it.â
He took one dramatic step inside.Â
Your eyes widened in shock, not being able to process what he was doing and you turned to run out but you couldnât.Â
You physically could not leave the circle as you felt an invisible barrier brush against your hands that were banging against them to desperately leave. âNO! Whatâs happening, noâ,â you gasped out, tears started to roll down your flushed cheeks as you felt him close. What was worse was that even though you wanted to get away, you wanted him to get even closer. To keep you inside of the circle with him. Delightfully trapped.
A large, warm hand touched your shoulder and spun you around as you shrieked. Tears of panic and confusion were still streaming down your face. Using the sudden invisible barrier as a wall, you shrunk yourself against it as much as you could, trying to resist the confusing and tempting pull, but it didnât work. Lloyd gripped your waist and pulled you tight against him, your body non-resisting to his touch even though your mind protested.
Your hands reacted to instinctively catch yourself against his suddenly bare chest. You released another squeak at the feeling of his skin. The heat of his naked torso felt so relieving against yours.Â
âJust like you thought he would feel likeâŠâ You thought to yourself, eyes narrowed in its seeming haze. The part of you that was still conscious and afraid frowned at the feeling of his skin on yours. Looking down, the both of you were bare naked.Â
âWhat- !â You shrieked, not even remembering when or how your clothes disappeared. A wave of insecurity rushed through you at the vulnerability that you were left with in front of Lloyd, who although is a demon, was shaped like a Greek god. You felt as if dignity was taken away from you as Lloydâs hands wandered over the skin of your naked back and up towards the back of your neck. His touch was not forcing though, it was as light as a teasing feather.
You tried, you really did, to get away from his wandering, sinful hands but he felt so smooth, warm, and so comforting. The reality was that you didnât want to get away as he kept you pressed against him where you could feel everything. His hardened cock that you werenât able to really look at earlier was firmly pressed against the pudge of your stomach. You couldnât tell where the intense rush of heat was coming from, whether it was this haze or him, but you felt it flushed in your cheeks at feeling Lloydâs erection. The knowledge that he was turned on by you.
âOf course I am, little one. Look at you. So beautiful before me. Calling for me. I'm gonna make you mine.â Lloyd murmured seductively as he responded to your hazed thoughts. His other hand moved to grip the front of your neck carefully.
He wasnât choking you, his grip was deceivingly light, but the promise of it was what had you whimpering in response. You just barely registered how he was able to give you a response to something that was being noticed in your head.
âWhatâs happening to me? How are you doing this?â The only curiosities that your clouded mind was able to circle around were asked as his grip turned your face upwards to sultry and lustfully graze your lips against his.
Lloyd wickedly grinned and hummed again before he murmured his response against your pillowy lips, âYouâre sleeping, sunshine.âÂ
You could only look up into his mirth-filled eyes as you mildly registered the shock settling in your system. âNo, that canât beâŠI drove here and drew the circle, I calledâŠâ you drifted in your disbelief as Lloyd turned your bodies so that he was behind you. Your view no longer obscured by his taut body, you looked down to see your limp bodyâŠjust laying there, seemingly unmoving.
Your eyes only widened more as Lloyd petted your hair soothingly, sensing your distress. âOh my god, Iâm dead. Iâm. dead.â Flooded with panic, your body was frozen as your thoughts ruminated in a vicious cycle.
Almost condescendingly, he noted carelessly, âYouâre not dead, little one. Your body is in what we call, the in-between. Or purgatory, as some may say.âÂ
A high-pitched ring sang in your ears as you tried to take in Llloydâs words. âBut, I didnât let you in. I didnât give you permission.â You remarked disbelievingly as you tried to recall the regulations and rules surrounding demon possession. Itâs only if you invite them into your soul, do they insert themselves, almost brutally, into your physical body and spirit. But you didnât say the wordsâŠ
âDidnât you though?â Lloyd deviously smiled again in response to your disbelief. He hummed against your skin as he proceeded to inhale your hair and down towards your inner neck.Â
Unknowingly, your eyes closed deliriously as you felt his breath brush against your skin. Lloyd nosed your shoulder affectionately while he revealed mockingly, âSealed with a kiss â a brush against the lips is all it takes to bind a human soul with a demon. And you, sunshine, are the sweetest soul that Iâve taken in a long, long time.âÂ
His cerulean blue eyes met your shocked filled irises as he witnessed the reflective realization wash over you. Noticing the tears in your eyes, Lloyd thought that youâve never looked more beautiful than you did right then and there.
He cooed at you again and turned your frozen frame to face him once more. âAw, little one. I promise to take good care of you. If you only knew the things I want to do to you.âÂ
Lloydâs large hands grasped the back of your head to pull you hard onto his weathered lips. You were stunned at the sudden move but also couldnât hold back the pleasured moan that left your throat at the feeling of his wet tongue caressing yours. Youâve never been kissed like this in your lifeâ feeling cherished or owned by somebodyâŠsomething else. And it felt so fucking good.
An insidious and sudden gratification came over your body as your hands clutched onto Lloyd's muscular frame to clutch yourself to his body. The heat felt overwhelmingly dangerous as you kissed the incubus demon with as much eagerness as he was extending upon your aching lips.Â
You couldnât remember the reason as to why you even came here in the first place, nor do you even recall where you were at that moment. All you could feel was Lloyd as he kissed you languidly and passionately. He was all that you wanted to feel.Â
Breaking the kiss, Lloyd drew back but kept his hands in your hair to ensure his control. "You gonna be good for me, sunshine?"Â
The only thing you could do is cry desperately as the warmth overtook your body once again. Feeling flushed and needy for his skin on yours, you wantonly cried out, âYes! I promise Iâll be such a good girl for you, Lloyd. Please! I can be good. So good for you. I promise. Please.âÂ
You didnât sound like yourself at all, but at that moment, you couldnât find anything in you to care. You were desperate for him. You only wanted to be touched, wanted, and seen by him. Almost as if you needed him to know how devoted you were to giving him all of you, your soul.
Lloydâs eyes rolled back in his head in derived pleasure as he smelled the desperation and need come off of you in waves. He nuzzled your nose against his with a gratified hum and said, âTell me you're mine. You need to say it, sunshine, and then Iâll give you whatever you want.â
In one breath, you didnât even hesitate, âIâm yours. Please, I let you in.âÂ
Hearing the words explicitly spoken from your pouty lips, Lloyd growled out possessively while granting you another deep and wet kiss. As he pulled back, his teeth bit your bottom lip slowly and seductively as he finished the deal against your pursed lips, âYou belong to me now.â
A binding force tingled from your feet and up all over your body once his words were spoken. It felt ethereal and other worldly, but it felt right. You didnât even recognize what youâve just done as you have suddenly found yourself on your back, Lloyd kissing you so softly, it felt so contrasting to his demonic nature.
âIâve treated all of my soul thralls as I see fit in the past. Though you, little one, are by far the brightest soul that Iâve come across in a millenia. Right when I saw you kneeling right by my feet, those eyes looked up at me so delicately. There was longing in your gaze that I needed for myself. Seems like you knew that you needed me too, hm?âÂ
You only could nod preciously against his soft lips as you pursued another kiss from him. Your tongue sought his as you battled for his attentive mouth, and before you knew it, just as you predicted and wanted, he was laying you on top of the chalk-drawn circle.Â
Not even registering the cold harsh wood against your back, you felt so enveloped by his aura. Something internally shifted as you felt that warmth that radiated from your physical body internalize and bloom into something so wholesome, almost as if you felt that hole in your heart repair into a strong, full organ that wanted for nothing.Â
You felt complete.Â
A gasp escaped you as you broke away from the impassioned kiss. The warmth in your chest seemed to materialize all over your body, inside of you and out. A keening moan left your mouth as you felt the heat start to rush down to your core between your legs. Another gush of wet just seeped out of you and Lloyd growled as if he could feel it escaping too.Â
You questioned him breathlessly against his impatient lips, âWhatâs happening?â
Another whimper left your throat as you felt this deep desire from before just amplify into something that felt not of this earth. It felt transcendent, ancient, and light. It felt like a high that tuned up the feeling of pleasure and ecstasy so that any brush of Lloydâs skin on yours, the smell of him, the ridges of his muscular body, turned you on so delightfully.
Lloyd teasingly brushed his lips against the exposed length of your neck and you could feel his smirk almost seep into your skin with the following words.
âOur souls just became one, sunshine.âÂ
A brief moment of panic escaped that cloud of bliss that overcame your conscious body and mind. Sensing your panic, Lloyd cooed at you once more to provide a comfort that you didnât know that you needed in that moment. A reassurance of sorts against the thought that this feeling between you in this moment was fleeting and temporary.Â
âDonât worry, little one. Iâm yours just as much as you are mine. Forever.â His lips whispered against yours intimately before he licked into your yearning mouth, capturing your tongue in another heated dance.Â
His words lit a fire deep inside of you and you felt your pussy clench on nothing but his promise. You gasped and tilted your head back in pleasure as Lloyd proceeded to press heated kisses down your throat and towards your breasts.Â
âForever?â You gasped out as your lungs tried desperately to breathe in more air. The conscious part of you incredulously realized that all of this made no sense to you. How was he able to read your body so well? Your thoughts? How is he able to impact you like this? Give you the greatest pleasure and burning desire that youâve ever felt in your entire life?Â
Taking a pert nipple into his mouth, his tongue brushed over the tip teasingly while you pressed his head closer to your chest at the sensation.Â
âA soul contract is an everlasting bond between your soul and mine. You have something valuable that I need, and so did you. I just needed you to submit to me, give yourself completely to me in order to make the trade.â He spoke in between placing wet kisses on your sternum to switch his attention to your other breast. Blowing cold air on your nipple, Lloyd smirked and darkly chucked as he witnessed you tremble in delight. You sobbed at feeling the cold air brush against your warm skin, a temporary aid in relief for more.
âBut, you didnât even know what I wanted.â You attempted to recall the reasons as to why and when you summoned him. Although, you were unsuccessful as that part of you was dimming as time went by, especially the more that you felt Lloyd descend closer towards your heated core.Â
Lloyd chuckled against the smooth flesh of your soft tummy and to your detriment, kissed his way back up towards your lips. After taking you apart with his fervent mouth once more, he gathered your clenched fists to hold them against the sodden wood in one strong grip.Â
Your wrists were now caught in his powerful hold and he leaned in close to capture your yearning gaze. His eye contact was so intense as he stared back, even though he already had your soul, it was almost like he was trying to peer inside.
âYou didnât really want to save that piece of trash hunter, did you?â He kissed your cheek innocently as you felt a shock wave up towards your newly-filled heart.Â
âHow did youâŠ? But I didnât say anything about himâŠâ Your shock was on full display as he continued to press small kisses over the frozen expression of your face.
âHe abandoned you. Mistreated you. He left you for another woman, and you still wanted to go and save him?â He whispered darkly against the swell of your ear before pressing delicate kisses to your earlobe. Nipping lightly, he continued to murmur ominously, âHe isnât worthy of your loyalty, little one. So, I decided to take it instead.âÂ
A tear fell down your cheek at the feelings of loss and sadness, memories of your old life flashing behind your bewitched eyes. Lloyd quickly licked up the fallen tear with a growl, âHe didnât deserve you, sunshine. You and I both know that even though you came here for him, you really came here for yourself. You wanted to give yourself to something that could actually hold you. Tame you.â
Your deepest thoughts of yourself being verbalized by Lloyd in such an unconcerned manner brought more flashes to recent memories, it played like a movie in your mindâs eye. Moments where you felt that abandonment by your ex, hearing his resolute voice on the phone as he mentioned the deal with a demon for the âlove of his lifeâ, a woman who wasnât you.Â
Pressing kisses to the corner of your eye that was now freely leaking fresh tears, Lloyd made sure to nuzzle you in comfort, âBut you werenât meant for that life. A life that only involved the killing of creatures, demonsâ living a hunterâs life wasnât what you were destined for, little one.âÂ
Your teary gaze met his confident blue eyes as he leaned over you once more, âDonât you see, sunshine? You were made and meant for me. And for me alone.â
With that, Lloyd pressed his curled lips against you harshly and any traces of sadness or loneliness left your soul. A feeling of wanting to be possessed completely by him replaced the aloneness that came over you from before. It was like he was the only cure.Â
Eagerly and recklessly losing yourself in the enriching feeling, you were almost inhaling his kiss as you pressed your naked body up into his. Feeling his erection against your inner thigh, you writhed against him to finally make him take you.
"You love it like this, don't you? The fact that I own you and now, Iâm going to ruin you, little one." Lloyd groaned against your warm and willing skin. Shifting just so, you gasped as his hard cock brushed against your weeping pussy.Â
âAnswer me, my little thrall.â Lloyd allowed you to grind against his cock but just barely against your slit. Fucking into your wet and slippery thighs, you whimpered and tried to rock your hips closer to him to push him inside you.
âYes! I love it! I need you to take me, please! I donât want to be alone anymore, please.â You begged the demon as the tears returned, feeling this want and power surge through you as your soul and body fully submitted to him. It was so overwhelming. All you knew was that his possession helped smother the darkest depths of yourself from coming out. He welcomed you into himself and you gladly gave it to him.
Lloyd groaned quietly and deeply inhaled the darkest of truths that were emoting from your pheromones within the crook of your neck while he whispered seductively, âAh, there it is. Thank you, sunshine. Shush now, my good girl.âÂ
He raised his head to look into your weepy eyes once more, âYouâre never going to be alone again.â A soft smile graced the strong features of his face and a warmth full of genuine love blossomed inside of you at the sight. Around your repaired heart sat Lloydâs genuine smile, such a stark contrast to darkness that you wouldâve ever expected to receive from the incubus.Â
The warmth only expanded as Lloyd pushed his cock inside of you with one smooth thrust, your wetness facilitating the most pleasurable union. Instantly, your eyes rolled back in complete bliss as you were so worked up, it was the feeling of his girthy cock just sliding inside of you that made you come undone. You cried out in pure ecstasy and a ringing sound numbed around your ears where you could barely hear Lloydâs wicked chuckle as he praised you for surrendering yourself to him.Â
He didnât stop thrusting inside of you, not even when you clenched around him so tightly that he gritted his teeth at the sensation. His cock was stretching you out and hitting spots deep inside of you that no lover ever couldâ the gratification of finally being joined together was just too much. His hands werenât idle as they caressed your breasts and roughly groped your waist, down towards your plush ass where he slapped the reddening flesh.Â
He slapped your ass again and tilted his hips so that you could feel him go even deeper. You released a squeak at the novel feeling and Lloyd took that as his opportunity to slow his pace, but not lessening the controlling grip that he had around your waist. You marveled and whimpered at the thought of seeing his marks on your body later as you tore you apart.Â
Going deep and slow, his thrusts became harder and your body jolted with every thrust he gave you as you were inundated with how good his cock felt, finally reaching the spot inside of you that made your mind go blank. It activated that switch where your body just went limp and you felt even more vulnerable to the demonâs ravaging. You didnât even care to feel embarrassed by your loud moans and whimpers, nor the drool that was escaping you. Your eyes simply rolled shut as you lost yourself in the consistent press against your g-spot.Â
âAw, look at that, sunshine. I think I broke your pretty brain, made you all dumb for me.â Lloyd had a smug smirk on his face, accentuating his intimidating presence even more.Â
You could only release quiet ânghâs as if in a trance as he continued to fuck you hard and deep. The knot in your stomach started building again as tears of heartfelt satisfaction and adoration filled you once more. You couldnât describe it, but it was like Lloyd was fucking you with purpose and intent to show you that you were truly made for him. Almost as if he already knew all of your kinks and was exploiting them for proofâ evidence that he will always be what you need.Â
âThaaatâs it, just a little more," he groaned out and readjusted his grip so that he could tilt your hips just right until your eyes opened in startled ecstasy, a cry leaving your lips as his cock went even deeper. âThere you go, my little thrall. Look at how good you're taking me." He gestured to the slight bulge protruding from your lower stomach. The sight of his cock being that deep inside of you was what had you shatter around him for the second time.
You released a guttural moan as you let go, barely coming down from your orgasm when Lloyd decided to rub your swollen, drenched clit with the rough of his thumb. Your back arched and your legs thrashed until Lloyd held down your body and fucked you faster with his thumb still placing frantic pulses on your bundle of nerves.Â
At your limit, your face contorted into an expression that can only depict unrestrained and unexpected bliss as you screamed out your orgasm, squirting all over Lloydâs wide cock.
The feeling of your sopping cunt gripping his cock made Lloyd release a dark, guttural and infernal roar as he came inside of your still pulsing channel. He gave you three more half-hearted thrusts as his spend leaked around his cock, inadvertently pushing his cum deeper inside of you.Â
Lloyd caressed your trembling thighs soothingly as he also attempted to catch his breath. He couldnât help the last resounding smack against your supple flesh as he noticed your fucked out expression. Eyes wilted with pleasured exhaustion, your body shaking as exhilaration died down.
âYou're so beautiful like this, sunshine." He moaned adoringly as he pulled his half-hard cock out of your still quivering pussy. You moaned at the loss of him and could feel your shared cum dripping out of you.
âMmmm, a sight that will never tire me, Iâm sure.â Lloyd groaned out deeply with his smirk still upon his pink lips. He leaned over you for a moment to continue taking in your post-coital glow. He pressed a hand to your chest covering your heart and shuddered at the warming feeling it brought him under his palm.Â
What you would find out later is that every sensation that you felt, he felt. Your thoughts were now his thoughts too. Your desires were his. While you were exhausted from your soul celebrations, the enmeshment gave Lloyd an invigorated rush of power. He only took pieces of you with every orgasm he gave you. Your heightened arousal would become his, and so on, everytime that he would take you.
The way that his own empty hearted chest filled with a lightness and charge that heâd never felt before since his existence. He knew that he would, indeed, keep you forever.
Lloyd genuinely smiled in satisfaction as he felt power rushing through his veins. Nuzzling your flushed cheek with affection, he murmured, âNow, little one, letâs go home, shall we?âÂ
Final A/N: Welp! that happened. I originally was writing this SoftDark!Demon!Lloyd as a stand-alone from this poll but when the Hootenanny challenge was announced, I thought it would be a perfect fit đ Hope you enjoyed reading this ficlet, and reblogs/comments are very welcome~
Tag List: @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @mercurial-chuckles @caplanbuckybarnes @autumnrose40
