Secret

Secret

Pairing: Andy Barber X Fem! Reader

Summary: Andy and you were nemesis in the courthouse

Word Count: 800+

Warning: smut, implicit smut, 18+ MINORS DNI

A/N: I don't have any ideas how lawyer, DA, and court works, I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense. I also experienced a block and this story kinda being forced. Sorry if it disappoints you. Using prompt from the bingo, "suit up".

Bingo Masterlist || Masterlist

18+! MINORS DNI!

“Ma’am, could you spare us a glimpse of your tactics for today?”

“Are you confident to win the case today?”

“Do you feel any guilt at all?”

The reporters from medias all over Boston gathered around the courthouse. The flashes of their cameras were everywhere as you made your way inside. The shouting from Boston community was still heard in the main lobby of the courthouse. You knew they would speak the filthiest curses at you just because you were doing your job. You could finally breathe after stepping in the empty elevator.

“Look who’s arrived,” Neil mocked right after you stepped out of the elevator, “the lucifer!”

“I’m surprised to see you still here, Mr. Loguidice. The office really needs an underpaid worker, doesn’t it?”

His face turned red as he fisted his hand. Andy cleared his throat and stepped in between you two and cut Neil’s intention to mouth another insult. He greeted you politely before guiding you inside the room. The meetings with the judge and Andy lasted quite long, discussing additional evidence and witnesses. Defending your client was a hard work and long process, considering the heavy crime she was in and how good Andy was as the assistant district attorney.

In Boston, Andy was known as the best crime fighter, less talking and the bad guys went straight to jail. However, you were a reputable lawyer as well. The media called you ‘the lucifer in heels’, dealing with high clients who had done severe crimes both blue collar and white collar. The courthouse knew that it would be a long trials when both of you were in the same room. Not that you were complaining about your rival. Andy was the most respectable man, professional, and smart. His blue eyes, neatly trimmed beard, and all of his godly physical attributes were also an eye candy in the courtroom.

Trials and trials had been through, yet the verdict has not been decided. It finally came to the jury trial for the next day. You finally had time to breathe for a while. Convincing others was always your specialties, the trial would not be a problem.

“Care for a talk? I heard there is a new diner around here.” Andy asked you after the meeting finished.

“I thought we all agree not to talk about business outside the courthouse, Mr. Barber.”

“No business, I promise.”

You nodded. “Just tell me where and I’ll see you there.”

It took both of you a ten minutes drive to reached the place. The diner was nice. It was homely place with simple food. You spent quite a long time talking about life with Andy. Just like his promise, no business talk. The fries had long forgotten.

You could not remember what started it but here you were, in front of the door hurriedly looking for the keys as his hands exploring every inch of your body. Both of you were kissing each other sloppily and did not even make it to the bedroom. Your clothes had been discarded the moment when the door was close.

The heat was undeniable between two of you. Your moan echoed as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you. His name sounded like a prayer rolled from your tongue. The low growl and your name came out from his mouth, feeling the release was close. At this point, you were beyond exhausted, and he was still pounding you hard. Another orgasm washed over you while you trembled and milked him. He came afterwards, painting your wall with his seeds.

Both of you laid on the floor for a while to catch your breath. The cold from the floor started to reach your spine.

“My back is starting to get cold.”

Andy stood up. You could feel his warm hands as he lifted you. “Don’t worry, I got you. Let’s go to bed.”

Frantic alarm sound woke you up. You were still tired and sore from last night, but you had to get ready for the trial today. You heard the bathroom door was open. Andy stepped out as his towel hung low, revealing his perfectly sculpted body with some tattoos. It was like a magnet. You got up from the bed and walked towards him. Voluntarily, your fingers tracing the outline of his body.

“It’s not the first time you see me, sweetheart.” You did not need to see his face to know that he was smirking.

“You don’t invite me to the shower.” You whined and pouted like a child.

“We don’t have time for that. You don’t want to be late for trial. Now, shower and suit up.” He put his hands on his waist. He literary looked like a dad scolded his child.

“Ugh! I know.” You stooped making your way to the bathroom.

“Hey! Once this over, I promise we don’t need to keep this a secret anymore, Mrs. Barber.”

Crucible - Ch 9

Pairing: Link x Reader

Prompt: For the Bittersweet Mini Bang!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, violence, mild body horror, lots of whump, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: Determined to uncover the Champion’s secret, you meddle in dangers you do not understand.

AO3

You didn’t sleep more than a few hours, and judging by the dark circles under his eyes, the Champion hadn’t slept well either. You gave him a thorough once-over but said nothing; the Zora prince had already launched into a speech about his great city, pointing out the landmarks as he went.

“There is our largest market, the Coral Reef. People come here from all over the region for our rare herbs and fish! And there’s the Seabed Inn, featuring our famous waterbeds. Oh, down there is one of our shrines, but I’m sure Link could tell you more of those than I could! Ah, and above our city is the great statue dedicated to Lord Jabu-Jabu, though there is no statue more beloved than that of Princess Mipha, my sister… who is still sorely missed.”

You tried to give the Zora a sympathetic smile, but you weren’t entirely sure you delivered. It was difficult to pay attention when you kept recalling the Champion slinking away in the night. Whenever you glanced in his direction he seemed just as inattentive of the prince’s words, his brows furrowed as his eyes had a faraway glaze to them. You wondered what could possibly be going through his mind. He’d been acting like that all morning, and after getting used to his focus being on you, it was strange to be suddenly ignored.

You were both forced to pay attention as the prince’s last stop was the throne room itself. King Dorephan was simply too large to be real, and you nearly hid behind the Champion again at the sight of the massive Zora king.

But you didn’t. And between the king’s boisterous voice and his warm words, it was quickly made clear that he was as generous and kind as his son. He welcomed you both to his kingdom and offered any aid you required. All you had to do was inform his son.

They were so trusting. So open and willing to share. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. Even the Zora children weren’t frightened of you. After the noon meal, you managed to lose both the Champion and your appointed guard and ended up in an open room with a series of little pools. Within them swam the children, and they eyed you curiously as you sat next to one of the waterfalls.

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𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚 ✧ 𝒄𝒉 𝑽𝑰𝑰

pairing: charles brandon x duchess!reader

warnings: angst, brief mentions of mental illness, abusive behavior

word count: 2,7k

taglist: @runawayolives​ @kmuir1​ @marytudorbrandon​ @lharrietg​ @shittingdicknipple​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​ @mis-lil-red​ @amberangel112 @ohmygoodie @itmejado​ @radaofrivia​ @scarlets-widow​ @ragamuffin285​ @thereisa8ella​ @titty-teetee @dropletsofkaisoo @kebabgirl67​

a/n: the pictures of reader’s dresses are from the film sissi, but that doesn’t mean that the reader is white-skinned!

redamancy masterlist | main masterlist

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Taken

Pairing: Andy Barber x Female!Reader x Ransom Drysdale x Steve Rogers Word Count: 22,871 (oh my god, I’m SO SORRY) Summary: Three of the most violent and notorious inmates at Steelridge Correctional Center escape, and they take you–the sweet, compassionate prison doctor–with them. Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit sexual content. Unprofessional doctor/patient feels. Violence. Death/murder. Reference to murder. Threats of non con and murder. Kidnapping. Gun, knife, and law enforcement baton/nightstick use. Non con. Dub con. Vaginal fingering. Gang bang. Unprotected sex. Rough/painful sex. Oral sex (f & m receiving). Cum eating. Hand job. Exhibitionism. Voyeurism. Degradation. Spitting (just once for lube). Anal sex. DP. Overstimulation. Pussy slapping. Squirting. Beating/whipping with a belt. Sooo much angst. Suicidal thoughts & themes. Physical, emotional/mental, & sexual abuse. Gaslighting. Prison AU. Doctor!Reader. General AU for most of the fictional babes. Mean!Steve Rogers (I mean it, he’s awful). 18+ only!

A/N: Whew, okay omg I am SO EXCITED for this story aka my fic o’ ruin. It’s my super late final entry into my soft!dark challenge, and I’ve been chipping away at it for a while. It took me some time to figure out a scenario/AU that made sense for these characters to come together and cum together 😏but I think I pulled it off. Also, please take all of my medical, prison, criminal, and law stuff with a grain of salt, I’m not an expert lol. Enjoy! ❤️

🚨P.S. Please note this is a DARK FIC that contains lots of dark elements. Like. If you didn’t read all of the warnings above, please go back and do so right now. And do not proceed if you are not okay with any of these elements. Your media consumption is YOUR responsibility. Also please note that I do not in any way condone any of the dark actions or elements found in this story, this is a work of FICTION. Thank you! (Also please let me know if I missed any warnings.) 🚨

Prompts: This ask + There was only one bed + “Come on, just a little taste.” + Overstimulation/Squirting

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Crucible - Ch 11

Pairing: Link x Reader

Prompt: For the Bittersweet Mini Bang!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, violence, mild body horror, lots of whump, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: The Champion is persistent in all things, even when you don’t want to be found.

AO3

You huddled on top of the glowing circle, legs curled to your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around them. The light bathed you with its faint glow, and it was soothing, even as your limbs shook, and your body trembled.

It was cold, you were wet, but mostly, you were just terrified. The prince and the Champion’s words repeated themselves over in your mind, and the memory of what you’d experienced in the beast was also on an endless cycle.

You could admit that you’d panicked and hadn’t thought this through. If you’d been smart you would have returned to your room, grabbed your bag, and fled from the city. As it was, you were wearing little more than a dressing gown, your feet bare, only cognizant enough to grab your nearby cloak before running from the room.

You tugged the hood further over your face. You didn’t know what to do now. Hope you could make it back to the stable and steal the horse? No, you wouldn’t know how to ride her, and you didn’t want to be responsible for another living being.

Wait for the Champion to leave without you? Perhaps he would be relieved you were gone, and he would no longer have to carry this burden. Yes, that was the most likely scenario. You could sneak back into the city at night, steal what you could since your belongings were a lost cause, and then leave.

There had been a large, beautiful painting in your room of the map of Hyrule. The Champion had been correct that there was so much more to the world than Tarrey Town, and as you’d gazed at the painting, you’d felt a deep desire to see it all. To travel the Gerudo Desert, climb the peaks of the Hebra Mountains, explore the Eldin Canyon, and wander the Great Hyrule Forest.

Perhaps this was your chance. And if you traveled alone, you wouldn’t have to be concerned with who or what you were. You could see the world and avoid the places where the people lived. Getting involved only brought you trouble.

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devilish | t.holland

{koh!tom x fem!reader}

summary: costume parties are usually reserved for halloween, but when your friend throws one for his birthday party in july, you go all in. how the hell does that guy Tom get his wings to look so real, though?

word count: 11,715

warnings: 100% pure, filthy smut with some plot. that's about it. alcohol. language. one brief mention of death + crime at the end (non-character death). REPOSTING BECAUSE I'M AN IDIOT AND DELETED IT!!! some minor edits + a bit more at the end (originally 11.4k)

18+!!!! MINORS STAY AWAY.

warnings:mean!dom!tom, spanking, biting, choking, fingering, oral (m+f receiving), some light ass play (oral + fingering), one instance of spit play, degradation, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks)

You never really paid all that much attention to any of the guests who visited the diner. An old 1950s style restaurant, complete with cracked leather booths and a rickety old jukebox, the place was far from popular. Most who entered were of the older generations, those who'd been coming to that same diner since they were young and now visited to gain a sense of nostalgia for what once was.

In other words, most of your patrons were geriatric cheapskates who grumbled nonsensically about how in their day a soda-pop only cost a nickel. Sorry to inform, Reginald, but that soda-pop is not still only worth a nickel and, no, you cannot give it to him for that price. Unfortunately, Margaret, a milkshake costs more than a dime nowadays and, yes, you have to be paid the full amount.

It was safe to say that your job could be miserable at times. Your feet hurt from running around to fulfill the endless demands of the elderly, and all the unspoken words that filled your brain often kept you up late into the night. Oh, how you wished to give old Marjorie a piece of your mind--that old bat had been giving you grief since your very first shift two years prior.

But, at the end of the day, it paid your bills and that was all you needed. Just a bit of money to keep you afloat until you finally, finally, got that degree you'd been working on for four... five? Yes, five years. Then you would finally be able to escape the hellish diner and start paving your way in the world.

That wasn't to say that you didn't miss at least some aspects of your job. There were some great locals who frequented the spot, far fewer than the old bastards who accused you of spitting in their food, but you'd certainly miss them dearly. Usuals like Miss Lucille, a little old lady who always ordered a chocolate milkshake with two straws to split with her young granddaughter, Lucy. And, there was Mr. Gustafson, a veteran who claimed that once upon a time he'd been seven feet tall. Now he was shorter than you, and he had a plethora of stories from his youth that always put a smile on your face.

You'd never tell, but secretly you hoped he and Miss Lucille would finally cross paths; they were both widowed and lonely, and oh, how you knew they'd make the perfect pair. Your favorite customer of all, though, was not of the previous generations. He'd become a bit of a celebrity with all the elderly women of the diner since he'd started coming more and more often, and it always brought a smile to your face to see them fawn over his blond hair and blue eyes.

"Speak of the devil," you teased, eyes twinkling as the bell over the door chimed, "and he shall appear."

Harrison shot you a playful scowl, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he shook the rain from his umbrella and stomped the excess water from his shoes. Harrison Osterfield was your most cherished customer of all, and he'd become your closest friend over the past year--one of very few patrons who'd crossed over from your work life to your personal one. The friendship was a strange one, and to this day you weren't entirely sure what had lead the man into the little diner hidden away in an alley.

Swiping a few lingering drops of water from his sleeves, Harrison removed the pressed suit coat and tossed it onto the bar top carelessly. The action made you cringe internally, already imagining the snagged threads that would surely come about from the jagged metal edge of the counter. This was what made your world so different from Harrison's--only a man with wealth could be so blasé as to throw a designer suit jacket onto a greasy, cracked countertop as if it cost nothing.

You were fairly certain one sleeve of the jacket alone cost more than a month's worth of rent for your apartment. Plopping down onto a stool that creaked under his weight, Harrison spun around a few times childishly before catching himself on the counter and facing you with a cheeky grin, "The usual, barmaid, at once!"

"Right away, sir," you played along, rolling your eyes at his typical behavior. For being such a serious (and successful) businessman, the blond was the most boyish man you'd ever met, "I'll be sure to add extra spit."

So, maybe there was a bit of a reason why some of the old bastards accused you of spitting in their food. You never actually did spit in the food, of course, but you often joked about it with Harrison. He wasn't much help, considering he played along just as heartily.

He licked his lips theatrically and rubbed his hands together, loudly moaning, "I love it when you talk dirty to me, (Y/N)."

Scowling at the few heads that turned, their eyes wide with disbelief and disgust, you hissed at him to be quiet. Marjorie glared at you with such ferocity that your ears burned, and it took a great deal of restraint to keep from snapping at the catty old lady to mind her own business. Harrison, of course, only laughed as if he were the funniest man on Earth.

Truly, it was a miracle the rich man hadn't gotten you fired yet. You loved his ridiculous antics, though, as proven by the fact that you often urged him on despite the judgement from the other guests in the diner. It was just how your friendship worked--something that had been happening since the very first time he stepped foot in the building, looking severely out of place and flirting with you relentlessly.

Since that fateful day just over a year before, you'd grown to be somewhat of a sister in Harrison's eyes, just as he'd come to be like a protective older brother to you. Well, protective was a light term as far as your friendship was concerned; often times he got you into more trouble than you could even imagine getting up to on your own. Like the time he'd accidentally spilled his drink on Mr. Tulson following a brazen insult he'd hurled your way for forgetting the sacred tomato slice on his sandwich. You'd gotten an earful and a written warning from the owner for daring to laugh at the scene.

As you pierced Harrison's usual order onto the spike for the cook to grab, the bell over the door chimed once more and Harrison's voice boomed, "Tom! I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost."

You scrunched your nose in distaste as you fiddled with your notepad and turned to a new page, already dreading what was to come. A few times Harrison had brought his work buddies with him to the diner, and each time had left a sour taste in your mouth. They were always snobbish and looked down on you, each friend disappearing from the blond's life following their brief introduction to you.

At least Harrison was loyal and true to his values, even if he had a habit of making shitty friends. He never let anyone get away with treating you as less than; you just wished he'd stop trying to force you into his fancy, uppity life so hard. Clearly, it wasn't working well.

"Just had to make a phone call."

The voice that spoke was like velvet, soft and alluring in all the right ways that had your body stiffening slightly. It held a certain note that hinted to wisdom and knowledge beyond your short life's experience, like a finely aged cognac. Yet, there was a tone of mirth that beguiled you.

Turning around, you were definitely not disappointed by the sight that your eyes fell upon. He was shorter than Harrison, but somehow his presence commanded respect like that of royalty. Soft, brown curls were hanging into his face, frazzled from the rain and dripping slightly; a glance at his suit showed watermarks telling you he'd foregone an umbrella entirely. The thought of it actually hurt your soul as you appraised the label of his jacket, which read Brioni.

Rich people were a different breed. Trying your best not to stare, a difficult feat with a specimen like the man before you, you asked, "Who's this?"

He spoke before Harrison had the chance to introduce him, holding a hand across the counter for you to shake with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "Tom Holland, darling."

You really hoped he didn't notice how you shivered when he abruptly flipped your hand and held it delicately in his palm, bringing your knuckles to his lips in the softest kiss. Your hand felt like it was on fire from the contact, your entire body igniting as your blood boiled with the heat of his gaze. His smirk, however, widened and told you that he knew exactly the effect he had on you--and most likely all women who were attracted to men.

"Lovely to meet you, Tom, I'm (Y/N)." you replied, swallowing thickly as you averted your stare to Harrison. It was impossible how beautiful Tom was; practically painful to face head on, as if staring directly into the sun. How did his teeth glitter, literally, as if life were suddenly a cartoon with diamond twinkles on those pearly whites? Someone needed to get the memo that this was real life, not Home Alone, and teeth weren't meant to dazzle like that.

Tom settled onto the stool beside Harrison, unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt and rolling them to his elbows. He didn't spin like your friend, instead locking his feet under the metal bar at the base of his seat and spreading his legs wide at the knee as if to further commandeer the space around him. "The pleasure's all mine, (Y/N)." he mused, winking, "What's a place like this have to offer?"

Harrison, who'd been watching the strangely electric interaction between you and Tom as if following an intense tennis match, seemed to finally snap out of his reverie as he launched into recommending his usual orders to Tom. He had one for each day, and went through the list as if reciting a script. "My personal favorite," he grinned, chuckling when you grimaced, "is the Wednesday special. A cheese sandwich with tomato bisque, from a can because this place is classy like that, and dear (Y/N) always adds her secret ingredient."

You guffawed, slapping the blond's shoulder and earning a curious quirk of Tom's brow. It was then that you noticed the peculiar way it laid all out of sorts, contrasting with the opposite that grew flat--somehow even the imperfection struck you as perfect. Harrison, of course, was cackling at his own joke and holding his belly.

"That secret ingredient is reserved only for you, idiot," you chided, "Tom's done nothing to deserve such treatment, yet."

Harrison opened his mouth with a throaty chuckle, "What about last week, when you gave it to poor Mar--"

Tom leaned back from the counter smoothly as you jumped onto it, slapping a hand over Harrison's mouth. "We don't speak her name, Haz. Unless you want to get me fired." you seethed.

Your eyes drifted down the bar top to the far end where Marjorie sat, stirring her coffee and glaring fervently at the three of you. Her white hair was tufted around her head in sparse curls, and Harrison groaned a laugh into your palm when she dipped her face to take a sip and revealed a lone curler still stuck in her thinning hair. Oh, old Marjorie was truly quite the character, and you even had to bite your tongue to keep from laughing as she sent another huffy scowl your way.

"Are either one of you going to explain what exactly you two are talking about?"

Snipping once more at Harrison in warning, you retracted your hand and rested back onto your feet behind the counter. He licked his lips and pouted, though you could see the way his lips quirked up at the corners and he chewed on his cheek to keep from grinning. It was then that you felt the moisture on your palm, retching as you wiped your hand on your skirt and subtly flicked him off.

His smirk was childish as he whispered, quite loudly, "(Y/N) spits in the soup."

Tom's face pinched, but you had no time to inform him it was a joke before Marjorie interrupted, "Excuse me?"

Her spoon clattered against the ceramic edge of her mostly empty soup bowl with a loud clang, and you pinched your nose with a sigh, "What, Marjorie?"

"Did he just say that you--"

Flashing a dazzling smile that had the woman stammering, her wrinkled cheeks flushing a deep red, Tom soothed, "I apologize, Miss, for my friend's distasteful joke. (Y/N)'s done nothing of the sort, I promise you."

His smile was powerful enough that even you felt a little off balance. The way he spoke left no room for doubt, his voice never wavering in strength for even a moment to let onto the fact that he damn well had no idea what he was talking about. He'd never even met you before--how could he truly know such a thing? Yet, you felt as if he could have told you the sky was red and you'd have believed it.

It was disorienting. Harrison was the wealthiest man you'd ever met, and only for a moment had he ever intimidated you. And yet, now there was Tom who spoke with such conviction and intensity that you couldn't help but to shrink back. He was powerful, and something told you it had nothing to do with his financial status.

Never before had you seen anyone so able to placate Marjorie. Before Tom, you'd have sworn that God himself could have walked up to her and she'd have spit in his face with disgust. How did he do it? How was he so easily able to turn her from the wicked witch of the west to a giggling little girl?

You and Harrison watched on with wide eyes and gaping mouths as the elderly woman smiled, gummy and mostly toothless, before patting Tom's cheek affectionately. The noise had turned to static as you watched the scene unfold in utter befuddlement. Before long, Tom was pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek and muttering something that had her giggling like a teenager.

She retreated to her seat with a lingering smile and fleeting glances toward the man who'd charmed her so effortlessly. Turning to Harrison, still blinking in bewilderment, you hissed, "Where the hell did you meet this guy?"

The blond man stammered, swiping a hand through his hair as he squeaked, "At work! He's only visiting."

Tom's chuckle brought your attention back to him, his arms folded over his chest as he watched the two of you whisper with amusement. You clenched your jaw to keep from gaping at the ripple of muscle that rolled along his arms, biceps bulging slightly as he teasingly flexed at you. This man was otherworldly.

"I'm in town for the week on business." he stated, smiling lazily, "I think I'll have what he's having, darling. Any other secret ingredients I should know about?"

"No," your eye twitched in annoyance with the way your voice cracked, spiking a few octaves too high, "I'll get that going right away." You turned away with hitched breathe as he winked again, clearly far too aware of all the things he did to you without even trying.

The two men slowly settled back into easy conversation as you returned to your duties. Steve, the cook, rolled his eyes as you called out to him to double Harrison's order--your hands were trembling just a little too hard for you to write legibly. It made you feel pathetic, almost, to be so affected by a man who'd not even truly flirted with you.

Had it been that long? You grimaced as you made your way toward Marjorie who was smiling into her soup, still clearly in a daze you realized with the way she brought an empty spoon to her lips after missing the bowl entirely. It had definitely been awhile; you hadn't had a boyfriend since you'd started university.

As Marjorie, normally so aggressive with you, patted your hand tenderly and dropped an actual tip onto the counter, you knew that the affect Tom had on you had absolutely nothing to do with your loneliness. He'd put Marjorie, the witchiest old woman you'd ever met, under his spell with a simple smile and kiss on the cheek! There was something off about him, something superhuman.

You had to chuckle to yourself over your ridiculous thoughts. What was up with you? He charmed the knickers off an old woman and suddenly he's the devil? A super flirt? You pinched your leg and cursed yourself mentally, it was definitely the dry spell in your love life giving you so much grief.

Listening in on Harrison and Tom's conversation, you busied yourself with wrapping napkins around silverware. There were still two other tables aside from them who remained, and you were anxious to get them out. The sooner they left, the sooner you could go home and try your best to treat the serious case of damp panties you were experiencing.

You really needed to get laid.

"How the hell do you do it, mate?" Harrison pried, and you giggled as you glanced at his awestruck face. The napkins grew far more interesting when Tom grinned at the noise, though, and you avoided his wandering eyes as best as you could.

It didn't help much, because no matter how much you tried to steady your hands you could still feel his hot, watchful gaze on your body. "A man never reveals his secrets," Tom mused, eyes locked on you as you risked another peek. He dropped to a soft whisper then, "Besides, if I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Harrison groaned childishly, but you shivered as you remained completely entranced by Tom's burning brown eyes. It was as if you were trapped there, unable to look away for even a moment, completely enraptured with the devilish way he undressed you with his stare. You knew, then, that it wouldn't have been hard at all; he wouldn't have had to say a thing to have you begging for him.

Grumbling, the blond huffed, "Whatever. Are you going to be in town for the weekend?"

Your thoughts echoed his question, and Tom only looked away from you for a moment as he replied, "Yes, my flight out is on Tuesday."

"I'm having a party for my birthday on Saturday, if you'd like to come." Harrison invited, and you stifled a laugh. Tom? At a costume party?

He smirked, questioning with a far too suggestive tone, "Will you be there, darling?"

"Of course she will be!"

You glared at Harrison for speaking for you, but he only shrugged as if to say it was the truth. Of course, it was the truth--the pair of you were as thick as thieves and you wouldn't have even dreamt of not attending his birthday party. A little part of you was still flustered, though, your mind reeling with the knowledge that Tom cared about whether you'd be there or not. He wanted to see you.

Clicking your tongue, despite how much you wanted to grin and giggle just like Marjorie had, you chimed, “You’ve forgotten the best part, Harrison. It’s a costume party.”

Deep in your brain, some part of you had been expecting Tom to laugh at the prospect of a costume party and find it childish. Adults playing dress up? Please. You were left breathless, though, when his smirk only widened as Harrison added, “This year’s theme is angels and demons.”

“Even better.” Tom mused, and there was that devilish smirk again. The way he chuckled to himself made you feel as though there was some deep, twisted inside joke that you were sorely missing. “Text me the details.”

✞ ✞ ✞

Friday evening you stood deep inside the local craft store, trying your absolute hardest to ignore the way the shop attendant glared at you. It was late—definitely later than any normal person was out perusing the best deals on crafting supplies. You’d just gotten off of work, though, and you needed a few things to finish your costume.

Maybe you’d procrastinated a bit, but what could you say? Between working in the dreadful diner and slumming your way through all of your classes, you were a busy woman. Tonight had been no exception.

Marjorie had been back to her usual self, and a part of you had wondered if maybe she’d been a bit more hostile than normal. You’d seen the way her eyes lingered on the door after Harrison had entered, and also the way her body seemed to deflate when nobody trailed in after him. Strangely enough, you’d found yourself doing much the same.

Even now, as you stood before an alarmingly large section of faux feathers, you could still see Harrison’s haughty smirk in your mind. He’d certainly noticed the fleeting glances you’d shot at the door before finally he’d informed you that Tom wasn’t coming. You’d punched his shoulder and told him to shut up, but he’d just laughed.

You set the boxed hot glue gun on the shelf beside you and picked up a bag of assorted feathers in black, white, and grey. It had taken you quite a while to decide on what you’d wanted to be; originally you’d been pretty set on being an angle. But, maybe a small part of you wanted to be a little different now that you knew he was going to be there.

Set yourself apart from the crowd and all that jazz. So, you’d settled on being a fallen angel. Straining your eyes to stare down the aisle, you bit your lip when you realized that the coast was clear. The attendant had finally stopped watching you, and you sneakily ripped open the package of feathers. If you were going to be wearing the damn things for an entire night, you were going to make sure they didn’t feel itchy and gross.

“Naughty girl, (Y/N).”

Yelping, you jumped in fright and sent a small shower of feathers through the air. “Tom!” you gasped, whirling around to face him and hitting his shoulder, “You scared the fuck out of me.”

He was laughing at you. It was a husky, mirthful sound that had your heart racing as his eyes crinkled at the corners and a beautiful smile split his cheeks apart. Your breath hitched when he extended a hand toward your face, fingertips just barely caressing your cheek before he pulled away with a feather in hand.

Still chuckling, Tom hummed, “You’re losing your feathers, Angel.”

Stumbling awkwardly over your feet, you stuffed the now half empty bag of feathers to the bottom of the bin. Your heart was still racing and you shot fleeting glances down the aisle in fear that the worker would return to find the mess you had made, but to your surprise they were nowhere in sight. Funny, how they’d made a spectacle of watching you so closely, only to disappear the moment you had done something worthy of being kicked out.

You snatched up a few of the unopened bags and clutched them to your chest, grabbing the hot glue gun as well with trembling fingers. The shivers that wracked your body weren’t from the fright Tom had given you—no, they were simply due to his… proximity. It was a strange thing you’d noticed from the first moment he’d entered the diner.

When he was near, it was as if the air was electrified between the two of you. Your body was constantly buzzing, your blood boiling, and your hair standing on end. It made no sense at all, the strange affect he had on you, but it was ever present. Even now, standing in a deserted craft store, you were vibrating as if you were about to run a marathon.

It was as if he dialed all of your senses up to the hundredth percentile. Your vision was sharper, your hearing clearer, and, fuck, if his cologne didn’t overwhelm you. Was it cologne? It wasn’t any scent you’d ever smelled before. A strange mixture of earthy scents, musk, and what you could only describe as the smell of fire.

Not wood, not gasoline, or the scent of charred remnants—but fire itself. Sometimes the peculiar smell would fade and make way for a heady gust of petrichor, only when he drew close enough that you’d barely need move at all to touch him. You liked that scent the most.

Like now, as he leaned close to reach behind you, you subconsciously breathed in and felt your stomach flip flop at the smell of oncoming rain. It didn’t strike you as cologne, but what did you know? He was filthy rich, for all you knew it was some luxury spritz that cost more than your tuition.

As he pulled back to reveal his hands filled with packages of sleek, black feathers, you giggled. Of course he would be going as a demon. He quirked a brow at you curiously, “Something funny, darling?”

“No, no,” you hummed, biting your cheek to keep from laughing even harder, “Just not surprised, is all.”

“About what?”

You motioned to the feathers with the hand that held your new hot glue gun, teasing, “You dressing up as a demon.”

Tom’s haughty smirk appeared, his pink lips puffing up as his eyes glistened. You could see the flicker of challenge that ignited in his brown irises, clearly enjoying your banter, and he tempted, “And why’s that, hm?”

He stepped closer, nearly bumping chest to chest with you as the smell of ozone consumed you. It wasn’t threatening, that much you could tell from the mischievous twitch of his lips, but it was intimidating. That power that seemed to radiate off of him wrapped around you like a cloak, burning your skin as you grew flustered.

Trying your best to remain steady under his gaze, you quipped, “You just don’t strike me as the angelic type, Tom.”

“Nothing gets past you, eh?”

He stepped back again, your senses slowly dulling from the heights he’d driven them to without so much as a single touch. Perhaps you should peruse the shower heads next, you thought, shuddering. Tom turned the focus onto you, then, as he asked, “So, what’ll you be then, lovely?”

His eyes trailed slowly down your face before falling onto the supplies in your arms. Was it just you, or did they linger for a long moment on your lips? Thoughtlessly, you licked them, and he narrowed his eyes. So, he was staring at your lips—did that mean he wanted to kiss you?

Emboldened by his stares, you teased, “Wouldn’t you like to know? I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out like everyone else.”

“Well, if you’re planning on being an angel, I just might have to convince you to fall from heaven.” Fuck, he was good. Tom only grew cockier with your sudden confidence, and his stance broadened arrogantly as he watched you falter slightly at his remark.

You hoped he didn’t hear the tremor in your voice as you sassed, “I’d expect nothing less from a devil like you, Tom.”

That smirk, oh how it did things to you. Once again you felt as if you were missing something with the way his lips stretched wider, an alluring chuckle escaping his mouth at your words. It was as if you’d said just the right thing, speaking some sort of truth that you were completely ignorant to.

His voice was dark and heady as he dared, eyes dancing with fiery temptation, “You have no idea, Angel, the devil I am.”

✞ ✞ ✞

Harrison shouted, cheeks flushed a deep red and words slightly slurred as he bounded toward you energetically, “You made it! Wow, you look amazing!”

You laughed at your friend as he swayed slightly on his feet, his fingers clumsily reaching out to grasp one of your feathered sleeves. “Thanks, Haz.” You grinned, and he hiccupped, “How drunk are you?”

Squinting his eyes and pinching his fingers together as close as he could, without actually touching the pads together, he cheered, “Just a little bit.” Somehow, you doubted that.

He was unsteady on his feet and his eyes were glassy, alerting you to just how far gone he truly was. He was still clutching the thin scrap of tulle you’d sewn onto a black, silk negligee, crushing a few of the greyscale feathers in his fist. You pretended not to notice when one fell off—you hadn’t been expecting perfection from a late night of hot glue, burnt fingerprints, and needle pricks.

You’d felt as if you were a little too risqué with your costume before you’d left your apartment that day. For nearly an hour you had fawned over it in your mirror, wondering if the dress was too short or if the lacy, black, thigh-high stockings were too trashy. Had the red pumps been bold, or tacky?

But now, as you stood inside Harrison’s massive home, you almost felt prudish. Women all around you were ambling about in heels and lingerie, and you swore you even saw one with nipple tassels. Now, your long, flowing sleeves of tulle and feathers felt like a blanket that wrapped around you. You were glad that you’d cut them short enough to not touch the floor, because if they had, they’d definitely have been torn from being stepped on.

Already you’d been smacked in the face by more fake wings than you could count, and one guy even nearly took your eye out with his devil horns when you’d been getting a drink. People were absolutely smashed, sloppy drunk, and you watched on with wide eyes. There was a crash in the distance, followed by cheering, and Harrison yelped, “Who broke that?”

He disappeared into the crowd again, stumbling over his feet, and you sipped your drink with a grimace. You didn’t know anybody aside from him, and you hadn’t seen Tom yet—for all you knew, maybe he had changed his mind. The thought of it had you pouting like a petulant little girl.

“Who is that?”

“Damn, I’d climb him like a tree.”

“Fuck, where did he get those wings?”

The party seemed to dull slightly as a slow murmur spread throughout the crowd, and your eyes flickered to the door only to do a double take. It was him. Tom was here, and holy shit did you suddenly feel faint.

He stepped through the threshold with a stone cold face, expression blank as he ignored each and every person who tried to talk to him. The evening sun washed him in golden light that sent rays around his head like a halo—except, he was no angel. From his back extended two large, sleek, black wings that were furled inward toward his body.

Eyes circling the room, you swore your heart stopped beating when they landed on you and a breathtaking smile finally brought some life to his face. It was like a trance that you couldn’t break out of, your eyes glued to him as he approached you steadily despite every obstacle that interrupted his stride. Women and men alike stepped in his path only to be brushed aside, and a few stray objects were kicked away like they were nothing.

He looked like sex appeal personified. A model in a magazine, only so much better; he was out of this world. His brown curls were fluffy and pushed back from his face as if he’d been dragging his hands through them repeatedly, and your fingers twitched with the desire to do much the same. Gone was the suit jacket, and he wore a silk dress shirt that was barely even buttoned half way—the fabric spilling open to reveal a godly chest of bronzed, rippling muscle.

You were fucking jealous of the delicate, silver chain that rested on his collarbones. His sleeves were unbuttoned once again and haphazardly pushed up to his elbows, showing off his strong, veiny arms that lead to sinful hands stacked with rings. His pants were tight, impeccably tailored, and they rose high onto his waist with the shirt tucked in messily. Even his shoes were oozing wealth, polished so blindingly that they could have been their own light source.

But those wings! How did he do that with those same cheap feathers? The very same ones that you had bought for yourself? He turned to dodge a vase that soared past his head, shattering on the wall beside him, and you gaped at the massive shreds in the back of his shirt through which the wings extended. You had to give it to him, he’d expertly crafted his outfit to hide the straps that held them onto his body.

Harrison paused briefly to greet him before racing off after the guest who’d thrown the vase, shouting with a red face and heaving chest. One last woman stepped before Tom, the one with the nipple tassels, and he brushed her aside gently. You pretended not to notice the hostile glare she sent your way as he finally came to stop before you.

“You look absolutely ravishing, Angel,” he purred, but you were frozen to the spot as you stared into his face in amazement. His eyes—they were black! Those brown eyes you’d come to recognize were gone, and how his irises were so dark you could no longer discern the difference between them and their pupils. “(Y/N)?”

Blinking, you released the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, “Sorry, sorry, uh—thank you, Tom. You look good, yourself.”

Tom simpered, eyes shining like polished onyx, “Just good? My, what does it take to impress you, darling?”

You squeaked, body igniting with a million emotions as you flustered. Impress you? He wanted to impress you? Your heart was racing and you desperately tried to focus on anything other than the way his eyes glittered at you, sucking you into their void.

His wings shone under the light like an oil slick. The full rainbow reflected off of them, a dance of holographic light that had you captivated. They were so convincing you’d have almost thought they were real, perhaps the feathers of a raven, had you not witnessed him buying the same craft store feathers that you had yourself. But, why didn’t yours look like that?

Tom brushed the tips of his fingers across your cheek and plucked a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear skillfully. The trail his touch had taken felt like the licks of white hot flames on your skin, and you were once again all encompassed by that smell of petrichor. He was so close—you couldn’t resist. You placed your hand on his chest to steady yourself, palm flat on his bare skin, and he hummed in appreciation.

He flicked the halo over your head, a cheap costume store headband you’d bought and spray painted black, and mused, “I like this. Not like all the other angels, are you?”

“Maybe I decided to fall from heaven for you all by myself.”

For a fleeting moment he looked visibly shaken by your words, blindsided by your sudden flirtation and confidence. It made your belly flutter with warmth as your body heated up, but his smirk replaced itself easily to keep you on your toes. Shivers wracked your body as he ran his fingers through your hair more deftly, before placing his hand over yours that remained planted over top of his heart.

It was warm, and his hand was somewhere in between rough and soft that had you longing to feel his touch on all of your skin. His fingers were calloused, but his grip was so delicate as he brought your knuckles to his lips for the second time, eyes never moving away from your own. “Dance with me, Angel?” he asked, and you nodded before he’d even finished asking the question.

He led you into the thick of the crowd, bodies writhing around the two of you drunkenly to the pounding music. You weren’t entirely sure how Harrison managed to keep the police away, surely causing quite the disturbance in his gated community, but money often solved most problems. All you cared about was Tom’s eyes on you, hands never leaving your own as he pulled you along behind him and dodged everyone who tried to sweep him away.

The song was practically impossible to hear with the heavy pumping of the bass, or maybe that was just your racing heart thundering behind your ears. He pulled your body flush to his, your back to his chest and his hands gripping your hips firmly. You stood frozen, but soon enough he used those hands to guide you, swirling your hips slowly as he pressed into you from behind.

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back onto his shoulder as you took over. You leaned into the steady blaze he ignited in you, rather than shying away from it, and your hands came down on top of his as he let you take the lead. Bodies pressed tightly together, the crowd fell away as all that remained in the world was you and Tom.

Tingles spread through your nervous system like a wildfire when you felt his soft, skillful lips ghost along your neck, and you were all too eager to tilt your head perfectly to expose the column of your throat to him. He growled quietly under his breath, the warm air invading your ear and your senses went haywire, but it was nothing compared to the internal frenzy he started when he kissed your skin more fervently.

He latched onto the delicate skin of your neck, sucking hard until you couldn’t help but to moan. His tongue followed, soothing the deep bruise he’d certainly created, and you sighed. “You make such beautiful sounds, darling.” he cooed, his voice raspy as he whispered in your ear.

“Keep going.” you whimpered, and he dug his fingers into your hips, “Please.”

Tom spun you around so fast that your eyes rolled, your head nearly colliding with his before he steadied you on your feet. His eyes were darker than ever now, and you bit back a lusty moan just from the sight as you buried your face into his shoulder and stuck your neck out for him again. He didn’t have to be told twice, leaving a trail of marks along the tender skin greedily.

It wasn’t until you finally broke, losing all of your inhibitions and sloppily kissing his chest, that he stopped. His entire body tensed under your grip, and he inhaled sharply with a bruising squeeze of your waist. Voice tight and restrained, he choked, “Let’s get a drink, Angel.”

Confused, you nodded. You didn’t understand his sudden retreat until he turned you around again, walking you forward with your back pressed to his front tightly. Something hard dug into your bum, and your eyes widened—oh. He’d stopped because he was excited.

You had to admit, you were smug. Smirking to yourself, you giggled under your breath and ignored the subtle way he pinched your hip in spite, unable to resist the pride. You’d turned him on, and man, did it feel good.

He kept you there, pressed into his steadily growing erection for a long while. Traipsing you around the party to speak with whoever was still capable of forming words, hands never leaving your hips. He even pulled you into his lap at one point when you found Harrison on the sofa, and the look he’d given you when you playfully wiggled your butt had made your blood run cold.

Harrison had wandered away again after a while, but Tom kept you in his lap regardless. His arms were steady around your waist and his thumbs stroked circles onto your body through your silk dress. It was a little concerning, really, how easily he could pretend that he wasn’t practically bursting out of his slacks beneath you.

Adjusting in his lap again, he hissed, “Stop it.”

“Or what?”

He squeezed your hips so tightly you whined, and tugged you around until you were straddling him. Your dress rode up to your hips, exposing far more of you than was publicly decent, but you didn’t have the time to care as you blanched under his withering gaze. “Do you have any idea the things you do to me?” he questioned, deeply.

Tom’s hands were creeping up your thighs, thumbs still tracing circles of fire into your skin that had you sweating. “How did you get these to look so real?” you changed the subject, lips twitching slightly in a smirk as he glared at you.

You reached out toward one of his wings, brushing your fingertips along the feathers only to shiver. They were incredibly soft, yet strong and slightly oily like those of a bird. As you touched them, Tom stiffened, and your eyes flickered to him in surprise. His eyelids fluttered as you continued to caress the feathers, his nostrils flaring as he sucked in a deep breath.

“Can you…” you trailed off, mouth running dry as you more deftly pushed your fingers into the plush blanket of feathers. The massive wing twitched under your touch, and a growl rumbled through Tom’s chest. Frozen, you dragged your eyes to his face to find his eyes had gone completely black—the dark hue of the iris consuming the sclera. “They’re real.”

He blinked, and the black receded into his iris once again. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears ominously as you gaped at him, body buzzing with a strange concoction of feelings. You had to admit that you were terrified, but as you moved your hand once more and saw the way he writhed under your touch, the heat in your body flooded straight into your core.

Tom didn’t take his eyes off of you for a single moment, sitting stone still beneath you as he awaited your reaction. Blinking and taking a deep breath, you curled your fist into the feathers and surged forward to capture his lips with yours. He kissed you just as desperately, arms caging around your waist as he stood up easily with you wrapped around him.

He carried you through the house without pulling away for even a single moment, walking with confidence and intent as if he owned the place. A few people squealed and dove out of the way, but neither one of you cared one bit; all you could focus on was the addicting way his lips tasted. You needed more.

Opening a door and rapidly closing it behind him, Tom spun and slammed your back into the wood hard enough to receive a pained groan from you. The motion stung your back and you could feel some of the fake feathers on your sleeves stabbing your skin, your spine aching deeply. “Did you think you’d get away with teasing me, Angel? Did you think I wouldn’t punish you?” he seethed, and your eyes widened.

Tom’s hand closed around your throat, only one arm and the press of his body keeping you from falling to the floor. He squeezed expertly; your breathing only slightly restricted as you could feel the steady throb of blood flow being held up beneath his fingers. His smirk widened at the hushed wheezes that escaped your lips, the flesh parting slightly as you worked harder to get air.

“Answer me.” he taunted, squeezing a little tighter.

You gave a choked squeak, “I’m sorry, Tom! Please, I—I’m sorry!”

He tutted, but released his grip on your throat to let you gasp for air. Your head was spinning from the rush of blood, and your limbs were tingling slightly. “Sorry won’t cut it, Angel. Bad girls need to be punished.” he clicked his tongue at you, shaking his head reproachfully.

Tom dropped you carelessly and laughed as you stumbled, falling to your knees helplessly. Your palms and your kneecaps stung as you scuffed them on the floor, and you looked up at him timidly. What had you gotten yourself into?

The way he looked at you, though, eyes dark and glinting with lusty menace, made your mouth water. You knew that if he dipped his fingers into your panties now that you’d be soaking, and you clenched your thighs together subconsciously at the thought. Nothing got by him, though. He noticed, and licked his lips appreciatively.

He curled his fingers around your upper arm and heaved you from the floor in one deft motion, easily dragging you toward the bed. You grunted as he pushed you forcefully onto the mattress, your face slamming into the sheets hard enough to rattle your skull. “What are you—Tom!” you squealed, shooting up onto your hands and knees when his hand came down in a withering blow onto your behind.

Tom caught you before you could crawl away, shoving you back down as he crawled up the bed to straddle the backs of your thighs. You craned your neck to look behind you, only to gasp when you caught sight of the wings on his back. No longer were they furled inward toward his body; they stretched wide and tall behind his back, the tips nearly brushing the walls on either side of the room they were so massive.

“Holy fuck!” your startled exclamation toward his wings was interrupted when he spanked your cheeks again, palm squeezing the flesh aggressively following the stinging impact.

Three more blows came in quick succession, your eyes burning nearly as much as your sensitive skin with each hit. Your mouth was watering, though, and your body buzzing with anticipation as you rutted into his palm desperately. He chuckled teasingly as he brought both of his hands up to play with your bum, spreading your cheeks and tutting to himself.

He was toying with you, this thumbs dipping oh-so-close to your aching center with each squeeze of your flesh, but never quite touching you where you wanted him the most. “Look at you, Angel, so desperate for me. Dripping all over yourself like a slut.” he cooed, “These need to go.”

You yelped when he ripped at the waistband of your panties, tearing the garment on either side of you before yanking it off of your body. He shifted on the bed and crammed one knee between your legs, kicking them apart roughly until your slick center was exposed to the cool air. “Hey, those were—shit!” you shrieked as he slapped your ass harder than ever, the wind actually leaving your lungs from the force of the blow.

Tears bloomed in your eyes, but you blinked them away with a whimper. “Aw, is my angel gonna cry? Cry, darling, show me just how pathetic you are.” he taunted, and you bit your tongue to keep the tears from falling.

He was mean. His words stung and made your heart clench, but they made your belly tighten up even more. You liked it; hell, loved it, even.

Tom’s fingers slipped through your folds, finally, collecting your wetness and dragging it between your cheeks as he teased your forbidden hole. Your entire body tensed as you tried to scoot away again, but it was no use—he pinned your arms and leaned over you until his nose was brushing the shell of your ear. He murmured, “Tell me that you don’t want this, and I’ll go.”

Your lips parted in a hushed whine, shivering as he nipped at your earlobe, “I—Tom, please, I want you.”

“What do you want, Angel?”

His clothed erection ground into your bare behind, and you gasped, “I want you to fuck me!”

In an instant, he backed away from you and clambered off of the bed entirely. You struggled to catch your breath, wanting to weep as you’d thought he was leaving, but then you heard it. The faint sound of a zipper broke the silence in the room, and you flipped over to see him undressing.

His shirt was already gone, his full torso on display as he dragged his trousers from his legs. Language seemed to fail you in that moment as you appraised him, eyes wide and lips parted in amazement. His body was like an ancient Greek statue, hard yet soft in that peculiar way that only chiseled marble could achieve. His muscles rippled with every movement, and his wings dragged over the ceiling as he stood tall before you.

They were positively massive. It was impossible how they didn’t dwarf him with their size, somehow seeming perfectly in proportion with his body. His black eyes watched you closely as you admired him, fully bare before you. You shakily moved to peel your dress off.

“Don’t.” Tom warned, and you froze, fingers curled around the hemline of your negligee, “Leave it on.”

He stepped toward the bed like a hunter stalking their prey, eyes locked on you as he smirked devilishly and loomed over you. There was a threatening aura about him that screamed of power and danger, but it wrapped around the two of you like a warm cocoon. You weren’t scared of being hurt; though, you had an idea that you wouldn’t be walking away from him without pain.

Tom pushed you back to lay flat, crawling on his knees until he was perched between your thighs again. He sat back on his heels, his length resting against his thigh and weeping. You wanted to touch, but one look from him told you that tonight wasn’t about your desires.

It was about his. His hands yanked your dress up until it was bundled beneath your breasts, and you shivered when he playfully circled his thumbs over your covered, stiffened nipples. “You look good enough to eat, Angel.” he breathed, clenching his jaw as he stared at the dripping mess you’d created between your legs.

In a split second that left you dazed and confused, Tom was lying flat between your legs with his lips wrapped roughly around your clit. You gasped, arching off of the bed, and he nipped your bud with his teeth. “Move away again and you’ll regret it, Angel.” he hissed a warning, glaring at you, and you froze timidly.

His arms crossed over your hips to hold you down, your thighs draped over his shoulders, effectively trapping you in place. He dove back in, licking fat stripes through your folds and moaning at the taste. The vibrations mad you shiver, your thighs instinctively tightening around his head. Already your stomach was all wound up, just aching to explode as he ate you like his last meal.

Tom pulled away with a final tug of his lips around your swollen nub, smirking when you whined pitifully. Your whining morphed into a cry, though, when he bit down onto your thigh so hard you feared he might actually break the skin. Releasing your flesh from his teeth, he soothed the aching skin with sloppy, open mouthed kisses that surely deepened the bruises that would follow. He repeated his actions on both of your legs, over and over, tightening his grip when you weakly wiggled your hips and tried to pull your thighs from his mouth.

“What the fuck!”

Tom slapped his open palm onto your clit harshly, the smack echoing through the room until it was swallowed up by your shout. “Stop moving, Angel.” he shrugged, winking playfully when you huffed, “I’m not done.”

He forced his tongue through your entrance, chuckling when you moaned loudly, and his hands pushed your thighs up until your legs were tucked into your chest. Fully exposed and submitted to him from your new position, Tom’s nose nudged your clit before he wandered further south. You gasped when you felt his wet muscle circle your pursed hole, your wetness dripping from your core to follow his movements.

He teased the entrance with his tongue, dipping into it for a fleeting second before licking a long, broad stripe all the way back to your clit. Never before had anyone tried such a thing with you, but now that Tom had crossed that line—you wanted more. It sent shivers through your body and made you chase after his mouth with your hips.

You watched as he switched his focus rapidly, cycling through your clit and both your holes on repeat, black eyes never drifting away from your own for even a second. Your chest was heaving as you breathed heavily, feeling that coil in your stomach tighten for the third time in a row, only for him to pull away again just before it could snap. He was teasing you; bringing you to the edge of relief, over and over, only to pull the rug from under your feet and leave you hanging.

His thumb rolled rough circles over your clit as he focused his tongue on your dripping entrance, stretching you out with the muscle and making you beg for release, “Please, Tom, I need to cum!”

Hands squeezing your thighs, he pulled away with a grin. His face was soaked with your juices; lips, nose, and chin all glistening with your arousal as he sat up once more and let your legs fall pitifully to the bed. “You need to cum, Angel? Does my little slut want to cum on my tongue?” he pouted, tauntingly.

You nodded desperately, clawing at the bed sheets, “Please!”

“You’ll cum when I say so,” he jeered, slapping the back of your thigh that was already riddled with bite marks, “I’m in charge here, Angel. Got it?”

You clenched your jaw in frustration, earning a menacing scowl, but you nodded nonetheless. His eyes were alight with mischievous enjoyment, his lips spreading into his signature smirk as he jabbed, “Look at you, so pathetic for me, Angel. You’ll do anything I say just to feel my cock, won’t you?” When you nodded, bitterly, he squeezed your thigh, “Such a dumb little slut for my cock. Didn’t even have to work to get you to fall for me.”

Tom yanked you up by your hair, your mouth opening in a cry as he forced you to lift your head. He crammed a pillow beneath your skull before dropping you, and you blinked away the tears that filled your eyes once more. Already, your cheeks were streaked with tears from how many times he’d edged you, and you knew that was exactly what he wanted.

He crawled over you until he was hovering over your chest, knees on either side of your head and his feet digging roughly into your shoulders. You were pinned, unable to move as he gripped his length in his fist and pumped it slowly. “Open up, Angel.”

Opening your mouth, your eyes watered as he dove in to the hilt. You were gagging around him, choking, but he didn’t care; his eyes fluttered shut and he groaned throatily as your mouth wrapped around him completely. He looked truly threatening then; a bad omen sent straight from hell.

He towered over you, still buried deep into your throat, and his black wings stretched so wide that you couldn’t make out the ends of them in your peripheral vision anymore. They glistened in the lamplight, reflecting broken rainbows in their feathers. Tom’s skin was slick and shining with sweat, and he looked like a work of art; some ancient painting of the devil personified.

Pulling out slowly, you barely had time to suck in a breath before he thrust back into your mouth abruptly. He set a fast pace, fucking into your mouth fast enough that you felt like your head was spinning; your eyes were rattling around your skull as you tried your hardest to catch a breath whenever you could. Tom’s hands came down to grip your head, holding you so tightly you wondered if he’d be able to crush your skull like that.

“Fucking perfect mouth on you, Angel,” Tom moaned, rutting his hips into your chin and fisting your hair roughly, “such a good girl for me. You like it when I fuck that perfect mouth?”

All you could do was whine around his throbbing length, still pushing through your lips roughly. Your mouth had long since gone numb, lips tingling and tongue limp in your mouth; he loved it, though. Tom gripped your chin in his fingers, swiping his thumb through the spit that leaked out and smearing it across your cheeks.

With one final thrust, Tom pulled out and smacked your cheek lightly as you panted. You wondered how much of a mess you looked like right then, your mouth undoubtedly puffy and swollen from the intense friction he’d caused against your lips. You didn’t care, though; it was worth it to see the look of ecstasy on his face as he stroked himself and worked to catch his own breath.

Tom, still panting slightly, squeezed your cheeks in his hand as he stared down his nose at you. Wings stretching high above him, you shivered at the sight and pitifully squeaked as he forced your puckered lips apart and spit into your mouth. “On your hands and knees, Angel.” He murmured, leaning down briefly to suck your lower lip into his mouth.

You struggled on shaky limbs to roll over, your elbows on the verge of giving out as you worked hard to hold yourself up. Tom kneeled behind you, and you gave a shuddering sigh as you felt his hands softly caress your behind; the gentle touch didn’t last long. One swift, hard slap to your ass had you squealing.

Your elbows gave out on you, and your upper body crumpled back into the mattress weakly. Tom only hummed to himself, a dark and husky noise that made you arch your back in a silent plea for his touch. His hands were roaming your body, kneading your soft flesh and inflicting pain wherever he saw fit. A slap on your bum, a pinch on your hip, a rough twist of your nipple—all of it earned guttural moans from you.

Desperation was coursing through your blood. Your core was throbbing so hard it was growing painful, and all you wanted was to feel him. You wanted, no, needed him to fuck you. “Please, Tom,” you begged, your voice cracking, “I need you.”

He crooned, hands gripping your ass and spreading you apart once again, “Is that so? My angel needs me?”

“Yes!” you cried, “Please!”

His thumb dipped into your dripping entrance, and the noise you made was pornographic. Loud and theatrical, but it was full of need and desire. Tom chuckled ruthlessly as he retracted his thumb, amused by your pleas, and suddenly the digit forced its way into your neglected hole.

You cried out in a mixture of pain and surprise, but it was enough to have your knees quaking. Finally, he was giving you something. He pumped his thumb into you a few times, the palm of his hand lying flat atop your ass as his fingers dug into your pelvis to hold you in place.

Trembling, you could feel the tears coming. Just as a choked sob wracked its way up your throat, Tom teased his tip through your folds. Just the slightest tap on your clit sent you spiraling, the coil in your belly already threatening to explode the moment he gave you any sort of stimulation. Hooking his thumb and leaning his weight into the hand on your back, Tom slowly pushed into you.

He groaned and you shrieked, rocking your hips back toward him as you chased after him. “Fucking hell, Angel, you feel so good.” he growled, thrusting back into you deeply. His pelvis pushed into your bum, tip nudging your g-spot, and you wailed.

The slow pace didn’t last long. After a few seconds, Tom pulled back and plunged into your heat fast enough to shove you forward on the bed. He crawled after you, thumb abandoning your now aching hole to wrap his arm around your hips and hold you in place. You’d never felt anything like this before—never in your life had any man ever fucked you as well as he did.

It was like he was made for you, his cock filling you so perfectly as if every ridge fit just right into all the little crevices of your walls. Like two puzzle pieces finding home in each other, he drove you to heights you’d never experienced before. “Harder, Tom, please!” you begged, and he obliged.

His thrusts were relentless, his hips slamming into your ass so hard that you were fairly certain his arm was the only thing holding you up. “Are you mine, Angel? Is this cunt all for me? No man could ever fuck you like this, Angel.” Tom was spitting fiery, possessive words with every push of his hips.

“Yours, I’m yours!” you gasped, clawing frantically at the sheets as he rutted into you and rolled your hips into him, “Nobody could ever fuck me like you—oh!”

He brought his free hand around to your clit, fingers pinching and rolling your swollen bud rapidly. Black spots were clouding your vision as you forgot how to breathe, the combination of his deep thrusts and desperate fingers making your entire body seize up. “Cum for me, Angel, wanna feel you cum all over me.” he groaned.

With one final pinch on your clit, you shrieked and the world vanished around you. The coil in your belly snapped and you shook all over, legs trembling and face scrunching up in a silent cry. The fire consumed you as he fucked you through your orgasm, thrusting harder than ever as he hissed under his breath.

Abandoning your clit, Tom’s hand wrapped around your throat again as he pulled you up until your back was flush to his chest, squeezing until you gasped for air. “This cunt’s all mine, Angel, and don’t you ever forget it. No man’s ever gonna make you feel like I do.” he gritted into your ear, biting the soft skin of your earlobe.

You had no doubts that no man would ever compare. His thrusts were growing sloppier, his hips rutting into you more frantically as the hand on your throat clenched erratically. “Cum in me, Tom,” you croaked, the sound of your voice hoarse and airy as you fought to keep his grip on your neck, “I wanna feel you fill me up. Please, please, please—Tom!”

He dropped you and gripped your hips tightly as he slammed into you one last time, rocking into you slowly as you felt his length pulse against your aching walls. The warmth followed, and you realized for the first time that you were truly crying. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, hushed sobs escaping your lips as you gasped for air.

“Angel?”

Tom’s voice was softer, full of tender love and compassion, and you cried harder when he pulled out of you. “Angel, what’s wrong?” he asked, pulling you into his arms and swiping your sweat and tear soaked hair from your face. His eyebrows were furrowed, lips pouted, and those eyes twinkled at you with concern.

“Nothing,” you whimpered, lips trembling, “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

You really didn’t know why you were crying. He hadn’t hurt you—at least not in any way you hadn’t really enjoyed—and you weren’t scared. It was the best you’d ever had, but perhaps you were crying for that exact reason. Knowing what Tom was, you knew that this wouldn’t lead to anything. Never again would this happen, and nobody would ever make you feel the way that he had.

He was overwhelmingly sweet as he kissed your forehead, whispering, “I’ll clean you up, darling.”

Disappearing into the bathroom, he returned with a damp cloth that he first used to wipe your face. He swept away all of your tears and streaked makeup, smiling when your face was clear and clean once again. Then he cleaned up the mess he’d left between your legs, tenderly wiping the remnants that had leaked down your thighs. He was careful not to aggravate the bite marks he’d left on you.

When he returned once more, he pulled back the covers and tucked you into his chest, laying down as he wrapped himself around you. His wings curled around the two of you like a cocoon, and you could barely keep your eyes open as you laid your cheek onto his chest to listen to his heartbeat. It felt a little weird to hear it, knowing he wasn’t human, but was he alive? The thoughts were too confusing for you to get into.

“You did so good for me, Angel.” he praised, playing with your hair and kissing the top of your head, “My sweet angel.”

Smiling, you giggled. Tom squeezed you a little tighter at the sound, cheering, “There’s that beautiful laugh. Are you feeling better?”

You nodded, whispering, “I never felt bad, just… overwhelmed.”

He laughed, the noise making your heart skip a beat, “I told you that you had no idea the devil I am.”

“Are you?”

“Hm?” he hummed, and you propped yourself up to face him curiously.

You were genuinely curious as to what he was, and you asked, “Are you the devil?”

Tom just smirk, the black of his irises consuming the sclera once more before returning to normal. He was teasing you, that much you gathered from the playful glint in his eye, and you pouted. He didn’t leave you much time to think on it, though, because he darted forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss. “Think you can handle one more, Angel?” he murmured, and you hushed him with a kiss of your own.

✞ ✞ ✞

Come Monday at work, you felt as if you’d been hit by a bus. You and Tom had definitely gone for way more than just one more round, and you were suffering the consequences—both physically and emotionally.

Physically, your entire body just ached. Chairs were a no go, and your legs were riddled with marks that certainly would have raised some alarm if you hadn’t found those thick tights you’d hidden away in your dresser. But, emotionally, you were suffering, too.

Your heart hurt as you thought of the fact that never again would you see Tom. He was the devil, or something like that, and just like you’d thought on that first night—he was out of this world. Never had you expected to form a relationship with him, nor had you caught feelings for him, but it was really going to suck yearning for his touch.

The bell over the door chimed, and you raised an eyebrow at Harrison who staggered inside slowly. His face was as white as a sheet of paper, eyes wide and lips parted as though he’d just seen a ghost. “Haz?” you questioned, and he just stumbled into a stool without taking off his jacket.

Even old Marjorie shot him furtive looks of concern, penciled eyebrows creasing down the middle as she watched Harrison drag his palms over his face and groan. The two of you shared one fleeting moment of mutual respect before she turned away again, stirring her coffee and staring into her soup bowl once more. She’d been pretty strange ever since her encounter with Tom.

“Harrison, what’s wrong?” you tried again, resting your elbows on the counter as you leaned down to look into his eyes.

He blinked, his blue eyes slowly focusing on you as he breathed, “My boss is dead.”

Gasping, you stammered, “What?”

“My boss, the CEO, he—uh, he killed himself last night.” Harrison croaked, eyes welling up with unshed tears, “He left a note and… oh, fuck. It’s horrible.”

It took him a long moment to compose himself enough to continue, his body shuddering as he gritted his teeth to keep from crying. You cooed at him and squeezed his hand tenderly in yours, whispering to him that he could take as long as he needed. Never before had you seen the man so shaken up.

You certainly hadn’t expected, though, for him to tell you, “He, um, he confessed to a whole bunch of awful things. I guess he’d been running a human trafficking ring? The whole company is a sham. It was some insane money laundering scheme.”

Your jaw dropped as you gaped at him, and suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. The puzzle in your mind was finally completed. As if compelled by some unknown force, your eyes were drawn to the window, and you gasped.

Tom stood outside the diner, dressed in yet another fine suit with no wings in sight, and he smirked devilishly as you made eye contact with him. You could vaguely hear Harrison rambling about the note and how he’d never have guessed this to be true, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the man staring at you from outside.

It all made sense, suddenly. Tom was the devil, and he’d come to collect a damned soul. Frozen, you watched with bated breath as he lifted his hand to wave at you cheekily, winking at you for the final time. In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

When you returned home that night, there was a lone black feather waiting for you on your pillow. Sleek, long, and shining all the colors of the rainbow—you held it between your fingers in amazement. It smelled of petrichor.