#and he's still damned to hell for his sins despite trying to pass himself off as some kind of lovable rogue

[superectojazzmage]

#the two most surface-level readings of Christinity (at least in the anglosphere)#are noncommittal feelgood ''well Jesus' message was really just that He wanted us all to be good and care about each other''#and fire-and-brimstone ''everyone I don't like is going to Hell and they deserve it''#both of which kind of undercut the whole ''God Himself became a man and faced down painful death and damnation in your place#''accept Him into your life as your Lord and let your broken and dying heart and spirit be transformed'' bits

Suicide Squad: Hell to Pay is just such a deeply unserious movie. I get what they were going for but if you have the barest surface-level knowledge of theology the whole thing turns into a black comedy where you watch a bunch of idiots kill each other over a piece of cardboard.

[random-yandere-fandom]

Hey, can I request a Platonic Yandere!Melodias with a child he had with Elizabeth before she died? Sorry if you don't do platonics!

Of course you can! I hope you like it! I don`t have any experience with writing platonic yanderes and before I knew it I had written more than I had planned for the backstory, so... this is all that happens before the main story of Seven Deadly Sins. Btw. I`m gonna assume you meant the first time Elizabeth died.

Platonic yandere Meliodas with his child

So it`s very likely that the first few months you had both, your mother and your father. There was a war raging on but they still somehow managed to drown you in love and affection. Your parents were very protective of you back then, too. You were a hybrid and while many people of Stigma could ignore your demon genes, especially because your mother is Elizabeth, there were still a lot of glares sent your way. Nevertheless you were raised with much care and love.  

You were barely a few months old when Elizabeth was murdered and both your parents cursed. Meliodas woke up to your confused cries only to discover Elizabeth’s corpse holding your small body in her arms protectively. How you got there was a mystery, they had made sure that you were safe and secure while they would fight, not only for themselves or peace but for your right to exist. He was devastated, grief washing over him as he had to take you from her, what he assumed, last embrace. 

He wandered aimlessly for a while, making sure you were well-fed and in good health, playing with you and hoping that he`d make a good parent. You were his only source of joy and he almost burst into tears when you said your first words, took your first steps or did just about anything. Hide and seek or tag were ordinary pastimes, but your sparkling eyes and joy were contagious and Meliodas found himself enjoying such regularities. When he talked to others he was almost always asking for tips on parenting or where the next food source was. Meliodas never staid long with these people, fearing that they`d somehow harm you. However, he let you play with animals he deemed safe. Should they try anything funny he`ll simply send them a glare, frightening them into obedience.   

It was about that time that he met Elizabeth`s first reincarnation. He was carrying you and when you pointed up, babbling and laughing, he followed your gaze to meet hers. Happiness, relief, glee. Those feelings overwhelmed him and before he knew it he tried to hug her with one arm, balancing you on the other. The rejection was harsh, but he managed to stick by her side. Whenever he had doubts that this wasn`t really Elizabeth he would simply watch her play with you, the two of you having naturally bonded in no time and his doubts would disappear. Meliodas and Elizabeth fell in love again and all seemed well. 

You grew up well in the warrior tribe your mother belonged to. They treated you well, even though you couldn`t help feeling isolated from them with the way your father would sometimes usher you away from them. But it was fine, you were happy. Meliodas would train you on how to control your powers as well as how to defend yourself while Elizabeth showed you how to distinguish between plants and how to cook. You knew that you had lived off of meals made by your father before but you feared the day that would ever happen again. So you studied how to save any dish, no matter how horrible. 

You were a few years older now and you noticed something off about your father. There seemed a sadness to him, one you only understood later on. You were already entrusted with the secret of your mothers rebirth and you had no problem with that, you were simply grateful, happy that you had a close bond with her despite her not remembering your earliest months and I mean, you didn`t either. 

When Elizabeth showed signs of regaining her old power both you and Meliodas were elated. Only later did you two realise that it wasn`t a joyful occasion as you watched your mother die in front of you. Before you knew it your father had covered your vision, holding you close as tears streamed from both of your eyes. You were a happy family, so why had your mother died again? 

Going back to wandering, you and your father were alone again. He was spoiling you, anything you wanted you got, being showered with affection and praise was the norm. When there was something threatening you, Meliodas took care of it swiftly. Only sometimes would he search for an enemy for you to fight together, though he`d make sure you wouldn`t even be so much as grazed. You wouldn`t get attached to anyone else, leaving the new place before any ties could be made. Your dad made sure that no one would dare to get close to you. 

By the time you met your mother’s second reincarnation you were a teenager and it was quite the experience. People would assume you and your father to be siblings and you never stayed long enough to correct them. You couldn`t do that here. No, not if you wanted to have your mother-daughter relationship. So the two of you decided to tell her that the both of you weren`t human, you wouldn`t tell her what exactly you were but yes, Meliodas was in fact your father. And later on yes, you`d love to call her mom.

It didn`t take long for the curse to activate and by the third reincarnation you and your father became aware of its full extend. You had a mental breakdown, damned to watch your mother die over and over again. Meliodas wasn`t feeling any better but he comforted you nonetheless. He never wanted to see you in that state again but he couldn`t bring himself to forbid you and him to seek out Elizabeth. So he promised you that day that you two would never separate, that he`d be by your side forever. 

Like this, centuries passed. You would meet your mom, sometimes even as a child, spend some happy years together before she was taken from you again. Your father would always make sure to be there for you but he was hesitant to letting you make any acquaintances. there were only few exceptions to who you could interact with regularly. One would be Merlin who you soon viewed as part of your family, an older sister figure of sorts. 

Life was fine, the two of you living with Liz in a small kingdom, Meliodas was a well respected knight and you were his apprentice, going with the story of you two being siblings. Until Fraudrin appeared, at least. He took you by surprise, injuring you and murdering Liz. Your dad went ballistic and the next thing you knew you were in Liones, your mother`s next reincarnation being nothing more than a small child. 

From then on you were only allowed to walk around with at least one of the other sins. You weren`t an official member but you accompanied them and occasionally fought alongside them. One of their orders was to never let you get hurt and they followed that one almost religiously unless they wanted their cheerful Capatain to turn livid and everything close by wiped of the face of earth. 

When the country turned against you knights and Merlin sealed his powers you just barely managed to get him out of there and into a cave where you met a new companion, the talking and ever hungry Hawk. Planning to reunite with the momentarily disbanded group you opened a tavern, your father in charge of drinks and serving while you cooked, refusing to let anyone taste the hell your father called edible and he didn`t argue, preferring to keep you from those drunkards either way. . 

Work starting in the evening and ending late at night, gathering any kind of information before going to sleep and then spending some quality time with your father which included hunting ingredients for various dishes. It was peaceful for a few years but before you knew it you stood across from someone in quite the impressive armor, Meliodas shielding you protectively. Anyway, that`s how you met your mother again.   

[sinner-as-saint]

Yes to Heaven.

Ransom Drysdale x Housekeeper!Reader AU 

Run-through: You work for Ransom Drysdale. And the spoiled, notorious bad boy has had his eyes on you since day one. He wants you, bad. But you keep telling him no in the fear of losing your job should he be displeased by something you did. And it drives him insane because the one thing Ransom Drysdale isn’t used to hearing is ‘no’. You try resisting him, but not for long. He can be arrogant and bossy, but also charming and seductively persuasive. Ransom makes it his mission to make you give in. Then again, how long could you say no to such a man, one whose deep, ocean blue eyes held nothing but mischief and a little bit of heaven… 

Themes: smut, teasing, spanking, dom!ransom, fluff, edging using toys, dirty talk

a/n: this is long. 

“Good morning, Mr. Drysdale.” 

You greeted him the moment you saw him entering the kitchen, already dressed up for the day.  He showed up wearing a particular cream colored sweater - one you thought suited him a lot. Ransom always had the ability to make your heart race, mainly because you and him always had this strong, intimate tension in between you two, and also because he was a shameless flirt and he made it very clear that he wanted you. Bad. 

He sighed. “Ransom. Call me Ransom.” This would be probably the hundredth time he said so. He was dying to hear his name fall off your lips, but you never quite gave him the satisfaction. You just nodded and went back to doing whatever it is you were doing, he couldn’t tell what you were busy with because he himself was busy eyeing you up and down like it was no one’s business. 

He took a seat at the kitchen island, pouring himself some coffee from the fresh pot you had just made; like you did each morning. The more he looked at you, the more he had to shift around in his seat. You always looked so damn good. And the little apron you always wore was like a cherry on top; unknowingly teasing the hell out of him. 

As you kneaded the dough, you could tell he was too quiet today. Usually by now he would have complimented you endlessly, or asked you out shamelessly, or passed some sort of flirty commentary. So you waited for it. 

He got off the stool and walked over to where you stood. “You look gorgeous.” He spoke. And his voice sent shivers dancing down your spine. Not just because of the tone he used, but also because of the proximity. He was closer, you could tell. And something told you that if you took a small step backwards, your back would hit his strong chest. You froze in place. 

Ransom always made you nervous. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t have a crush on the handsome man as well. Whenever he was around, the butterflies in your stomach came alive again, out of nowhere. It didn’t help at all that he was in fact, drop dead gorgeous. He could have any woman he wanted, but for quite a while now he was persistent - making it very obvious that he wanted you. Just you. And you didn’t quite know how to act around him now that you had that information. 

But you had to keep saying no because, well, you worked for him. You couldn’t risk this job, nor could you afford to make things awkward between you and your boss. 

You were knuckle-deep into the dough when you felt his strong arms wrap around you from behind. He inched closer and closer until his chest pressed against your back. He had done this before, so you tried to get over the sudden display of affection and kept on kneading the dough. You heard him groan under his breath. 

“Why do you always ignore me like this?” He asked softly, his lips so close to your ear that with each word you felt them brush faintly against the shell of your ear. 

You cracked a little smile, feeling just a little ticklish. “I don’t. I just have a lot of work to do.” You spoke as you shaped the dough into a ball and wrapped it to let it rest, for later use. You moved away from the counter and he let you go for a moment. But when you moved to the sink to wash your hands, he walked over and hugged you from behind again. 

“Your hair always smells so sweet.” He took the liberty of burying his face into your hair and inhaled the scent of your shampoo. 

You smiled and chose not to encourage him by keeping quiet. You reached for a towel to dry your hands while turning around to face him. “Will you be having breakfast, or are you leaving for work?” Most days, he left without breakfast but since he was still lingering around and being all touchy and feely this morning, you assumed that he had time to eat. 

He gave you a playful smile. “I’ll eat.” 

“Alright then, give me a few minutes.” The chef didn’t come to work today, so it was all up to you. You got to work immediately, avoiding his eyes and grabbing all the appliances and utensils you would need for his go-to breakfast - buttermilk pancakes topped with peanut butter, fresh fruit and whipped cream. Despite the broody man he was normally, Ransom Drysdale actually had a sweet tooth. 

He lingered around for a bit more, then left the kitchen. You assumed he must have gone upstairs to his study. You let out a sigh as you assembled the pancake batter into a bowl. He was definitely making it hard for you. Something about the way he touched you made you all crazy inside. This had been going on for months now. And each day you pretended like you weren’t affected by him at all. When in reality, you probably wanted him just as much as he wanted you. But it wasn’t so easy. You worked for him, this could never work the way he wanted it too. 

A little while later, you had his breakfast ready and brought it upstairs to him. Extra whipped cream too, just how he liked it. You knocked on the door before stepping in and you found him deep in concentration, dealing with paperwork. His brows furrowed as he focused on some paper in his hand. 

You cleared your throat. He turned his head to look over at you. “Hi.” He spoke softly. 

You gave him a smile and walked over to him, placing the tray down on his desk while carefully avoiding any important papers. “Would you like some more coffee?” You asked. 

He shook his head, “No. Thank you, Y/N.” He noticed the way he caught you off guard when he uttered your name. 

Somehow he made it sound magical. You tried your hardest to maintain your calm and composure, and not make it obvious while you checked him out because he sure did look irresistible in the cable-knit sweater he wore. 

You smiled and turned around to leave but then he called out after you. 

“Wait.” 

You turned and walked up to him again. “Yes?” you asked, politely as usual. 

So polite in fact that it only made him want to undress you and take you to his bed and make you scream his name for hours on end. “You’ve got a little something there,” he pointed at your mouth, or chin. You couldn’t really tell. You reached up to touch your face with the back of your hand and tried to wipe away whatever there was, but when you checked the back of your hand again, there was nothing on there. 

“I’m pretty sure there’s n-,” 

Ransom cut you off by dipping his forefinger into the whipped cream then shamelessly smearing it on your face, right by the side of your mouth and down till your chin. “Right there, see.” He pulled his hand away from your face and smirked. “Such a messy girl,” he circled an arm around your waist and pulled your closer. “Now I have to clean you up, don’t I?” He whispered quietly before leaning in with nothing but mischief in his baby blue eyes. 

Your hands instinctively rested upon his shoulder and the other slid into his hair as you felt his soft, warm lips against your face. Gently licking your skin clean. You gasped as he licked and sucked and nibbled on your skin, from the side of your lips down to your chin and back up again. You felt tingly all over, especially in between your legs. His hands wrapped around your body, pressing you further into him while his lips purposely didn’t touch you right where you wanted him to. 

You craved to know what he tasted like. You wanted his lips on yours, so much so that when he teasingly licked along the side of your mouth, you let out an involuntary moan. He smirked, moving his lips right on top of yours. Not close enough to kiss you, but enough to make your heart race in need. You could feel each puff of his breaths, mingling with your own. 

Ransom knew what he was doing. You keep resisting him, even though he knew that you wanted him just the same. So he was going to do what he does best; tease you in the most sensual ways for as long as it takes for you to give in to him, as well as your own desires. 

He planned on teasing you until you cannot take it anymore. Until you beg him to satiate your burning desire. To take care of your sinful needs. He wanted you to willingly ask him to fuck you and not stop until you can’t physically take it anymore. 

“There,” he mumbled in a satisfactory tone, “all cleaned up.” His lips brushed against your own very faintly as he spoke. And it only fueled the fire inside you, which you didn’t know had been burning since the moment you stepped into this room. 

He had barely touched you and here you were, all hot and bothered. You pulled away first, breathless and a little disappointed. Looking up into his blue eyes you found nothing but victory, mischief and a little bit of heaven in there. 

He knew the kind of effect he had on you for sure. He was teasing you, on purpose. Waiting for you to give in. But you didn’t plan on doing so that easily. 

Ransom smirked, waiting for you to break. But you didn’t. You stepped out of his embrace. “Well then, thank you Mr. Drysdale. Anything else?” you asked, pretending as if the past few minutes didn’t happen and ignoring the sweet ache in between your hips as best you could.  

Ransom knew you would still play it cool, and he did expect that you would pretend as if he hadn’t just set your whole body on fire just with the touch of his lips. “No, that would be all.” He answered with a smirk.  

You left the room at once, rushing to the kitchen and trying to calm your short breaths and your racing heart. You grabbed a paper towel and wet it under the tap before wiping the stickiness of the whipped cream from your face. Fuck… you could still feel his lips on your skin. So close, so close to your own lips. 

Ransom walked around with a smug look on his face for the entire day. And each time he saw you, all he had to do was stare at you for a bit and you would visibly shiver under his gaze. Each time you saw him, the scene in his study replayed in your head. He was so much harder to resist now. 

You thought of him on your way home that day. Despite the slightly colder winds of the evening hitting your face as you walked home, you could still feel his soft, warm lips on your face. You could tell he was going to make this very hard for you. 

Indeed he was. 

-

The next day, you walked into his home feeling all nervous and tingly. Mainly because you knew you’d see him in just a few minutes, but also, you were lowkey looking forward to seeing how he’d choose to mess with you today. 

Surprisingly, you didn’t see him all morning. The butler let you know that he was rather busy today, and had been all morning. Oh, you thought, perhaps if he was so engrossed in work he wouldn’t pay you much attention. So when time came to go up and bring him his lunch, you went without any worries or nervousness. 

If he was drowning in paperwork, he would barely notice your presence. As everyone knew, nothing else mattered to him when he was working. The world around him could be burning to ashes and he wouldn’t care as long as it allowed him to get work done. 

You walked upstairs and found Ransom, as expected, working in his study. You tried to make as little noise as possible as you walked into the room and placed his tray of food on the coffee table by the couches, not far from his desk. 

You picked up a glass and were filling it with water when you suddenly felt a warm puff of breath against the back of your neck. 

“You look cute with your hair up in a ponytail like this.” Ransom murmured into your ear, his voice low and deep; enough to make your hands shake and cause you to spill some of the water onto the wooden flooring of his study. He tsked at your unintentional mistake. “You made a little mess, sweetheart.” He pointed out. “Won’t you clean it up?” he cooed, urging you do so. 

You could pick up on the mischievous tone of his voice. You refused to talk, because you were sure that your voice would shake just like your hands if you did. So you just nodded. He was too close, barely touching you and yet, he was making you go all crazy. 

You leaned down to pick up a paper towel and then lowered to your knees to wipe the mess on the floor. You noticed he remained standing by you as you did so. 

“Look at me.” He spoke again. His voice was soft and gentle, yet demanding. And you remained on your knees as you tilted your head up to look at him. He tilted his head down, and to the side a little and admired you with a playful smirk on his face. 

He reached out and touched your face gently, his knuckles stroking your cheeks lazily. You shivered again. All he did was touch your face, yet he was able to make you feel things you had never before. 

“So pretty…” He looked into your eyes intensely as his thumb soon moved to touch your soft lips gently. He traced the shape of your mouth and slowly pushed his thumb past your lips, into your warm mouth. “You like this, don’t you?” He said as you instinctively took his thumb into your mouth, wrapping your lips around it and stroking it with your tongue immediately. “That’s a good girl…” he muttered quietly, breathlessly, as you sucked on his finger with nothing but a nervous, yet playful look in your eyes. “Something tells me you like being on your knees, sweetheart.” He cooed, and something grew hotter and hotter inside you. Ransom chuckled at how you almost whimpered. 

“You look so pretty,” those words from him made you almost squirm. “But,” he removed his thumb from your mouth and traced your lips again; a little harsher this time, “You’re being such a messy girl lately. You need to be reminded that that’s not acceptable behavior, hmm?” He spoke in that soft, yet stern voice. 

Messy? Both times you were ‘messy’ these past two days have been because of him. What does he mean, ‘messy’? 

“But you-,”

He cut you off quickly. “Ah,” he placed his forefinger against your parted lips, asking you to stay quiet. “Don’t talk back.” He moved his hand from your face and held it out for you to take. “Now come on, up.” 

You took his hand and stood up, ignoring the ache in between your hips again. 

“Bend over.” He said, pointing towards his desk, not far from where you stood. 

You were a little surprised, a little turned on, and just a little bit nervous. “I… what?” 

Ransom smirked. “You heard me. I said, bend over.” He pointed to the desk again. Without another word said, with every fibre of your body on fire and every part of you wanting him, you walked over to his desk and bent over the side of the large, sturdy wooden desk of his. You placed your elbows down on the surface of the desk and supported yourself up, sticking your butt out. 

Your heartbeats rang in your ears, and you let out a whimper when you felt his hands on either side of your butt; caressing it gently. 

He heard your whimper and leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Do you want me to stop, sweetheart?” 

Fuck no. 

“No.” You answered a little too quickly. And he chuckled. 

“Good girl.” He stood up straight again. He noticed you were wearing a cute, little white sundress today. Perfect, he thought. He slowly lifted the skirt of your dress up and you shivered again when the slightly colder air hit your legs. 

But then you felt his warm hands massaging your butt cheeks through your flimsy, white underwear. You knew instantly what was coming. And your heart raced just waiting for it. 

“Count to five for me, sweetheart.” He spoke softly. You nodded. 

You waited. He lifted his hand up in the air and brought it back down to spank your ass. You yelped in surprise, and almost giggled right after. It didn’t hurt at all, in fact it left behind pleasant tingles. Oh, you forgot you had to count. “One.” 

Pleased with the response he got, Ransom did it again, allowing his hand to linger on your skin a little longer this time, caressing where his hand landed. “Two.”

“This will teach you not to be such a messy girl, hmm?” 

“Three.” You said, almost moaning at how good it felt, and heard him chuckle. You knew that he could very well see just how drenched your underwear had gotten, since you stepped into this room a while ago. 

“You’re dripping already.” He pointed out. 

You could hear him smirking. He lifted his hand and spanked you again. “Four.” You whined, in pleasure. Again. “Five.” You whimpered again, in pleasure and at the tingly sensation which took over your whole body. Oh how you wanted more… 

He allowed his hands to linger on your butt for a while longer, just massaging your now hot skin. “Such a good girl,” he whispered as he pulled your dress back down and pulled you up against him, pushing his face into the crook of your neck, kissing your skin incessantly. “I know you want more, sweetheart. Just say it.” he kissed along your throat, up till your ear. “Just ask for it, and I will take really, really good care of you.” His voice gave away his fervent need. 

His words made you whimper again, in need. You could just say yes right now and let him give you all that you wanted. But then, your job… 

“Ransom…” you gasped as he nibbled on your skin. “We can’t…” you forced yourself to resist him yet again. 

He was reluctant, but he let you go. He allowed you to step out of his embrace. And eventually let you walk out of the room. He let out a loud, defeated and frustrated sigh once you left. There was so much he could give you, so much he could show you. Why do you keep pushing him away when you want him just as much as he wants you? 

-

For the rest of the day, each time you saw him you either turned the other way and pretended to be busy or you lowered your eyes; unable to face him and groaned internally as you walked past him as fast as you could. 

He could tell you were conflicted regarding your own feelings. But each time he tried to start a conversation regarding it, you would just make up some excuses and leave the room. Almost like you were punishing him for something he hadn’t done. 

And that only made him want you even more. So much so that his mind concocted more devilish ways to mess with you. 

- 

The following morning, Ransom was up early and excited. He came downstairs and found you dusting in the extravagant dining room which he never used. 

“Good morning.” He greeted you first, given you hadn’t yet acknowledged his presence. 

You turned around sheepishly and whispered, “Good morning, Mr. Drysdale.” You sounded more shy than you intended, then again that was probably just the effect of him being in the same room as you. 

Also, his voice brought back the memories of yesterday. Of the time spent in his study. You thought about it all night long, and it made you all hot and bothered again. 

Ransom walked up to you, with something in his hand. But you were under the spell of his deep blue eyes and you didn’t dare look down. He approached you and leaned in to kiss your cheek, dangerously close to your mouth. You almost groaned out loud. 

“I’m gonna be gone all morning,” he trailed his nose along your cheek, “and I want you to miss me.” He sounded so cocky it almost made you crack a smile. 

“I assure you, you will be missed.” You tried your hardest not to let your voice shake as you spoke - because he was making you nervous as hell, but also him being so close to you made your body tingle. 

He smirked. “I know, I know.” He waved a small, bright pink, oblong shaped device in front of your face. “I just have to make sure of it.” You tried to get a look at what that was as he slowly pushed your against the wall behind you. “Come on, spread your legs for me.” 

Oh dear God. He brought a toy. 

“Ransom…” you sounded frustrated. 

“Babygirl…” He mimicked the tone you used and smirked when you let out a frustrated sigh - much like he did yesterday after you turned him down. 

“Anyone could walk in right now.” You looked right in his eyes and you could tell that he did not give a flying fuck. He had other people handling his household; butlers, and chefs and lawn maintenance people. And they were all at work today. 

“Well, I don’t care.” He spoke in that cocky, bossy voice of his. “Besides, the quicker you do as you’re told, the lesser chance we have of somebody catching us.” He stepped closer to you, breathing right into your ear, “Now come on, spread those legs for me.” 

You did as you were told, your heart racing as he reached down to shamelessly touch you in between your legs. You closed your eyes and let out a quiet moan as you felt him push your underwear aside and press the toy against your wet folds. He slowly moved it around your clit, making your buck your hips forward discreetly. 

You pushed your face into the crook of his neck as he slid the toy up and down your slit until he found your entrance. “Breathe,” he cooed as he slowly pushed the toy into you. You gasped and whimpered as he pushed it all the way in. He slowly pulled his hand from in between your legs and took a step back. “You did so good. Now for the fun part,” he pulled his phone out and tapped on it a few times and soon you felt the toy vibrating inside you, pressing right on your G-spot. 

You let out an involuntary squeal. “Oh!” You breathed through your parted lips as the gentle and steady buzzing of the toy made you feel like your whole body was on fire. You gasped and held back another moan as he turned it up just a little, barely noticeable but your body reacted to the new setting immediately. You whined, quietly; very much aware that there were people everywhere around the house. 

Ransom chuckled at your reaction. Perfect. He leaned in to kiss your cheek again, “Have a good day, sweetheart.” 

He left. And yet, he didn’t leave you in peace. 

His little toy tormented you all morning. For some minutes, the vibration would be practically non-existent, but then he’d turn it up whenever he pleased and you would let out gasps, and squeals and moans randomly all throughout. 

You couldn’t focus on anything, other than the pressure in between your legs, and the sweet pain which came along with it. One of the butlers tried having a small talk with you and you could barely process any word he said. It was difficult to go about your day in peace when all you could think about was being absolutely railed by the man you worked for. 

Ransom got home in the early afternoon. And he was particularly excited to see you, knowing damn well that you must be utterly spent by now. You would be surely dripping, your arousal flowing out of you incessantly. Fuck… he couldn’t wait. 

He walked inside and searched the house until he found you in the sun room. You were watering the plants in there. Your messy bun was messier than it was this morning. 

“Hello.” He knew that his voice would get some reaction out of you. And he was right. He heard you let out a weary sigh when you heard him. 

You turned around; flushed and frustrated. You were burning just at the sight of him. “You’re back.” You sounded almost defeated. Ransom walked further in, right up to you. 

“How was your day?” he placed both his hands on either side of your waist, and pulled you closer. “Had fun? I hope you remembered to miss me.” He leaned in to kiss your cheek. Once he pulled away, you leaned forward and placed your forehead against his shoulder as though your body went limp. 

You let out a whine. “Please… it’s too much,” you pouted but he couldn’t see it. 

“Oh?” He mocked you, using the same tone you did previously. “What, you can’t take it for a few hours?” he grabbed you by the chin and made you look up at him. “What about all those times I spent pining for you, longed for you to give me even a tiny bit of attention? This is nothing compared to that.” 

You gasped loudly, realizing that he had turned it up again. You looked down and found his phone in his hand. Of course. 

“Ransom, please…” you whined. 

He fake pouted, looking down at you. “Aww angel, is it hard?” he cooed. “I bet you want me to just,” he leaned closer to your ear, “reach down there and touch you, hmm? And make you cum? Because you can’t bear the idea of having to walk around whining in need for another hour or two, can you?” 

You whimpered at his words, your walls clenching around the toy as you looked up at him, pleading. “Please…” 

“No. Not so easily. You can wait some more.” 

With that, he walked out of the sunroom and left you there, whimpering and throbbing. With the toy buzzing steadily down there. 

Fuck… 

-

You were a little on the edge as you went to bring him his cup of coffee later in the afternoon. Would he tease you again, or just toy with the settings of the vibrator and make you make a mess again? With Ransom, one could never tell. 

You found Ransom in the room he called his workshop; which was where he spent his free time painting. 

Your plan was to give him his cup and then walk out of there as soon as you can. You found him standing in front of a canvas which was on an easel stand. His forearms were covered in shades of blue, some matching the sweater he had on. 

You placed his cup on the nearby table and were about to walk out when you heard him speak up again. “Wait. Come here.” 

You walked over to where he stood. This was the first time you noticed just how orderly this room was. Normally one would expect a workshop to be a mess, but no, not when it came to Ransom. 

He reached out and touched your cheek. “You look flushed. It’s driving you crazy, isn’t it sweetheart? Your body can’t take it anymore, can it?” he murmured softly. 

You looked up at him and shook your head. He melted at the look of desperation in your eyes. You were desperate, all for him. At last. 

“Want me to make it better? Hmm?” 

You nodded quickly. 

“Good. Kneel.”

You did so immediately. Ransom ran his knuckles across your cheek lovingly. “Now come on, show me how bad you want it.” 

You rapidly unzipped his pants; lowering the waistband of his underwear to free his erected cock. You whimpered again at the sight of his cock, thick and girthy. It made you wet, even more than before. You reached out and wrapped your hands around his base, stroking along his length; your tongue slowly circling his tip. He groaned and spread his legs further apart, inching his hips slightly forward as you took more of him into your mouth. 

“That’s it… good girl,” He threw his head back for a moment. The sound of his voice made you clench around the toy. 

You gave him your all; bobbing your head around him and licking around his tip. You took him inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat; hollowing your cheeks and letting his raw taste fill your senses. His cock twitched against your tongue and you tasted some of his pre cum. He bucked his hips forward very gently into your mouth, and loved the sight of your spit coating his cock. 

“Come on angel, make me cum.” He said and you sped up your actions until he came undone all over your tongue; moaning and making your clit throb even more than before just by hearing his moans and growls as he came into your mouth. You swallowed all that he gave you before zipping his pants back up. 

Ransom gently stroked your cheeks again. “Such a good girl.” He held his hand out for you to take, then he helped you stand up. He leaned in again, kissing you at the side of your mouth. “I think you deserve a little reward, don’t you angel?” 

You looked up at him in hope, almost whining again at the sound of him providing you with some sort of release. It sounded too good. 

“Yeah you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

You spoke up finally. “Yes please.” 

Ransom smiled down at you and pushed you back until your back hit something solid. You figured it must have been the table where he kept all his brushes and everything. He pushed you back onto the desk, most of his stuff falling over but he didn’t mind. 

He sat you down on it and spread your legs apart while holding your stare. His eyes remained focused on your face as he settled in between your legs. His hand reached out and he ran his knuckles along your wet folds through your underwear, making you shudder at his mere touch.

“You’re so wet, sweetheart.” He commented, slowly sliding your underwear down your legs. He grabbed the toy by the end and pulled it out with ease, your arousal leaking out of you and the sight of it all made him almost moan again. 

Ransom leaned down and placed a kiss on your inner thigh and you gasped. He reached out with two of his fingers and gently circled your clit, gathering your wetness from your folds and smearing it around. He got down on his knees; his face dangerously close to your core. You bit your lip, waiting and anticipating his next moves. He couldn’t possibly leave you on the edge again, could he? 

Ransom spread your legs further apart and attached his lips to your core; the lower half of his face completely submerged into your dripping core. You let out a loud moan as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core. 

His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally flicking your clit mercilessly. Your hands gripped his hair and tugged gently at his roots. His tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit, parting your wet folds with ease. 

“Such a sweet girl…” he whispered and got back to assault your sensitive spot with his warm and wet tongue, relishing your taste. Your taste drove him wild, so did your soft whimpers. You whimpered under his touch, you enjoyed each and every second of it and craved for more.

His deep blue eyes watched you in awe and how you lost control under his touch; legs shaking as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. Your arousal drenched the lower half of his face as he ate you out relentlessly until you were nothing but a moaning, hot mess, squirming above him. 

“Ransom…” you moaned out loud; your eyes shut and your head tilted back as you felt a wave of toe-curling pleasure wash over you. You were so close… But he didn’t let you enjoy it. The moment you moaned and bucked your hips against his mouth, he lifted his lips off you, smirking. 

“What…” You looked down at him in absolute surprise and desperation; wide eyes and parted lips, breathing heavily with a pleading look in your eyes. You watched how he stood up again. 

Ransom leaned in and his lips brushed against your lips faintly. “You taste heavenly,” he mumbled, “but you don’t get to cum just yet. You had me going crazy after you, I can’t let you have what you want so easily, sweetheart.”

And with those words, yet again, he left you wanting more and you grew even more desperate. 

-

 The next morning, Ransom was a little surprised when he hadn’t seen you around. He knew you were at work, given he heard you come in and also heard you talking with one of the butlers. But when he came downstairs, he couldn’t find you anywhere. He also had a lot of work to be done that day so as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t spend all his time searching for you around the house. 

He got back to his study eventually, wondering when you would show up. But you didn’t. It got to a point where he could no longer focus on what he was doing because he was busy overthinking everything. 

Could it be that you were avoiding him? Was it something he did, or said yesterday? Did he overstep a line? 

By the early hours of the afternoon, he was restless. He tried to go downstairs to find you, and he did but you were in the kitchen helping his chef out at the time so he couldn’t talk to you. He didn’t even make his presence known, he just slowly backed out of the room, disheartened. 

He felt miserable. He hadn’t seen you properly all day, hadn’t heard your voice, hadn’t teased you like he loved to. He almost didn’t feel like himself. 

The rest of the day went by agonizingly for him. He had made up his mind to confront you before you leave though, he couldn’t tolerate this suspense any longer. 

In the evening, around the time you usually left his home, Ransom searched the house until he found you again. You were in the sun room, finishing up some remaining work. The floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the sun room also allowed him to look at the terrible, almost stormy weather outside. It looked like it would rain violently all through the night. 

“The weather’s gonna get worse, let me drop you home.” 

You froze at the sound of his voice. You had done your best to keep a distance from him all day long, but you knew that wouldn’t work for much longer. It wasn’t because of something he did, it was you. 

You couldn’t help but overthink everything. Was he just toying with you because he’s bored? What would happen once you slept with him? Would he just cast you aside and pretend it never happened? And if he does, wouldn’t that make everything awkward at work for you? After he did have a history of being quite the playboy. 

“No that’s alright. Don’t bother, I’ll manage.” 

Your answer didn’t sit well with him. He stood there at the doorway while you moved around the room, wrapping up your last bits of work. 

“What do you mean ‘don’t bother’? It’s pouring outside I-,”

You cut him off, calmly. 

“I mean it Ransom, truly. I’ll manage.” 

He sighed. “Alright, is it something I did? Something I said? Why are you avoiding me? Tell me so I can fix it!” He did sound a little hyper but that was only because he couldn’t figure you out. 

Your reply frustrated him even more. “No, nothing.” 

Alright, that’s it. He walked over to you and grabbed you gently by the elbow, turning you around so you faced him. Even despite the gloomy weather, the sight of your face made him the happiest he had been all day.  “I haven’t seen you all day. Then you avoid me like it’s nothing. And now you’re acting like… this. What’s going on? If it’s me, I’m sorry. I never meant to-,”

You were quick to cut him off at that. “No, it’s not you. It’s… I don’t know. I just… I work for you. I don’t think it’s wise for us to be this close and intimate. It’s wrong. Isn’t it?” You hadn’t thought about how hard it would be to say that to his face, when in reality you wanted him more than anything. 

His dreamy blue eyes, the thoughts of which kept you up till late at night lately, stared down at you with an unexplainable emotion in them. He was surely taken aback by what you had just said, because to him this was never a problem. And he didn’t want it to be a problem for you either. 

“Does it feel wrong, babygirl?” He asked. If you said yes right now, he would let you go and never touch you again. But the look in your eyes gave him the answer he wanted to hear. “Say it, Y/N. Does it feel wrong when you’re with me?” He leaned down to gently press a kiss at the side of your mouth. You were dying to kiss him. “Does it feel wrong when I touch you, when I tease you…” he kissed along your jaw. “When you get on your knees like my good girl to please me, does it feel wrong then?” he whispered against your skin. 

You shivered. He waited. “Answer me, Y/N.” 

You whimpered at the sound of his voice. How could you not, he had been teasing you for days now. 

“No. It doesn’t.” You murmured, and gasped as he gently nibbled on the skin along your throat. You heard him chuckle quietly. 

“That’s all I needed to hear.” 

Next thing you knew, his mouth was on yours. Kissing you properly for the first time. His kiss started out all gentle and loving, and got progressively more and more heated. Your lips moved perfectly against each other’s. You sighed in delight. He deepened the kiss by stroking the top of your mouth with his tongue, and you were on the edge just by that. 

Ransom kissed you deeply as he walked to two of you back until your back hit the glass window. You let out a gasp and before you could process anything else, Ransom was on his knees in front of you. 

“I’m sorry for teasing you for the past days. I’ll make up for it, I promise.” He whispered as he kissed along your thigh, your skirt gave him easier access. He loved it. Next, he dragged your underwear down and quickly urged you to spread your legs further apart. You did. 

Ransom made you cum all over his tongue, more than once. He only stopped when your legs visibly started shaking. You were a moaning and whimpering mess when he finally stood back up again. 

His mouth found yours again. He kissed your open mouth with ardor, like he owned it. His hand slipped under your thin sweater and he caressed your warm skin with his large hands; tracing the skin right under your breasts, leaving goosebumps where his fingers touched you so hungrily. 

Without breaking the kiss, he picked you up and slammed your back against the glass window behind you. You couldn’t even form a proper thought as his tongue slipped into your mouth, making you moan wantonly into the kiss. Your hands slid into his hair. Your core pressed against his firm body as his mouth alone drove you crazy.

He moaned into the kiss as your hand gently tugged on his hair. He smiled and spread your legs apart just a little more so he could be closer to you, as if you weren’t already. His hands held you up, securely against him; he had a very firm grip on your thigh, his other hand placed right under your ass. 

“I want you. So bad…” he mumbled breathlessly against your lips. He sounded so… hot that it made you moan and whimper again. 

Fuck… “I want you too.” You managed to whisper in between kisses. 

You felt him smirk, then he bit your lower lip; tugging on it gently. Ransom pulled away to look into your eyes again. He waited for a moment, just savouring the hunger in your eyes before he leaned in for a kiss again. You could no longer take it. So you reached down and undid his pants, while he slipped his hand in between your legs again. 

He ran his knuckles along your wet folds, smearing your arousal around in the process. He groaned in pleasure as you gently pulled his cock out and stroked it gently. “Eager now, are we?” 

He slipped his two fingers past your entrance with ease and grunted in your ear as he felt your walls instantly welcoming him in. He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting all the spots you wanted him too. You almost came again, but you didn’t want his fingers anymore. 

“Please… I need you to fuck me, Ransom. Please…” you begged. 

He was pleasantly surprised. “Anything for you, angel.” 

He set you down and pulled down your skirt, letting it all fall and pool around your ankles. You stepped out of it before he picked you up again and kissed you deeply; your legs wrapped around his waist. His cock briefly brushed against your wet folds in the process and you moaned wantonly through the kiss.

He kissed down your neck as he aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance. He pushed himself into you, stretching you out as he went. His nails dug into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours clawed at his shoulders as he filled you up nicely. You were both panting by the time he filled you up entirely. 

“Fuck… you feel so good, sweetheart,” He moaned, breathlessly into you ear. And that earned him a loud moan out of you. There was just something about him whispering in your ear which drove you completely insane. 

He grunted as he rocked in and out of you. You felt all of him, and he was perfect. He stroked your walls with his throbbing cock and you were a moaning mess in no time. He enjoyed every second of it, each sound he earned from you felt satisfying. 

“You feel better than I imagined, angel…” he moaned.

He held you securely against him, as he sped up into you like he had dreamt of doing so many times before. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and let out a loud moan and he fucked you. Hearing him moan was the hottest thing you had ever heard. You whimpered again as he slammed into you relentlessly.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For me to fuck you like I own you, hmm?” he whispered against your skin. 

His mouth soon found yours and he nibbled on your bottom lip and you let out shaky breaths. He was taking over all your senses and you were more than happy to surrender to him. A thin layer of sweat formed on his face, as he fucked you relentlessly; earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls.

“Ransom…” you gasped. 

You felt a sweet pressure forming in between your hips; fiery, burning and pressing inside you. Ransom nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how his body brought you immense pleasure. You had craved this for so long. You craved him. 

“Please…” you whined. 

Your sensitive clit rubbed against his pelvic bone each time he buried himself completely in you. He growled in your ear as he pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the large glass window with each thrust. Your body moved along with his like a rag doll. And you never complained once. You could hear the wet sounds that he caused each time he pushed himself into you and the sounds of your skin slapping against each other was downright sinful. 

“Cum for me, baby. Come on…” he growled in your ear. 

He moaned against your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake around him as he quickened his pace; pounding into you mercilessly. You felt like you were losing your mind. The pleasure was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you came undone around his cock; screaming his name in the process.

Once you recovered from your high, he fucked you again. And again, on the couch. Then upstairs in his bed. Which was probably where you passed out as well; worn out and satisfied. 

 ---

 You woke up in his soft, warm bed the next morning. You peeled your eyes open and realized that the weather was just as gloomy as the previous night. Only this morning, you felt much better than you had these past days. You felt tingly still, and the butterflies in your stomach came alive again as you thought of Ransom… 

Speaking of, where was he? 

You sat up in the middle of the bed, clutching the sheets around you. You could tell your hair was a mess even without looking at it. And just as you were trying to tame it, you felt the bed dip right next to you. And the next moment you felt a pair of lips kissing on you; along your neck and across your cheek making you giggle. 

“Good morning.” You whispered, pulling away to take a look at him. 

He smiled at you. “Good morning, angel.” He sounded excited. “I made something for you.” Only then did you notice that he had something in his hand. 

He placed it in front of you and you let out a little gasp. “Ransom… this is beautiful.” You picked up the canvas and admired the painting on it. It was a bunch of Forget-Me-Nots, beautifully painted in several shades of blue. “What’s the occasion?” 

He placed a gentle kiss upon your exposed shoulder. “It’s a farewell gift. I don’t want you to work for me anymore.” 

You scoffed at how extra he was. “Then what?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t know yet, we’ll figure it out, together.” 

You shook your head at him, turning a little more towards him while still clutching the sheet around you. “So what, you want me to be your little stay-at-home plaything?” your words made him smirk, “So you can spend your time plotting new ways to torment me, and tease me for however long you’d like?” 

“Baby… you have no idea how good that sounds.” He said so just to mess with you. He was kidding of course. 

You leaned in and kissed him, smiling. “You’re sick, Ransom Drysdale. I love it.” 

He smirked through the kiss, pushing you back until your back hit the bed again. He was on top of you once again, “Hmm, I love you too.” He mumbled in between kisses. 

And in that moment, you were glad you finally said yes to him.

[yandere-mc-yt]

y’ALL TRYNNA MAKE ME SIN 😩😩😩 I just wanna ask you to write out that prompt with psychic darling, techno and chat soooooo bad because it looks so rndmdjskdjdj 🤌🏾 ✨perfect✨ kdndkdkdkdjdjdjd not me having a brainrot 💀☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

It's okay! Lets have brainrot together! Also I hope Techno isn't too ooc, I just think he'd be really repressed and awkward in these kind of situations lmao.

Thermae

Technoblade & Mind Reader GN!Reader

Warnings: Yandere Themes, obsessiveness, delusions mentioned, disassociation(?), kidnapping mentioned, Stockholm syndrome implied, animalistic behavior, NSFW, dubcon, size difference, unsafe sex, rough sex, mild painful sex, body worship implied, praise kink, retracted consent, ruined orgasm(?), humiliation kink(?), sex with an audience(?), ooc(?), idk canon inaccuracies probably, gn!deader

♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡

pretty!!

EEE E E

shut the hell up some of us want to hear techno think

lovenoblade? technolover? FUCK what are we calling him when he stares at them like that??

shut uuuup

You don't look up from pile of clean clothes you're sifting through, trying to pick out what to wear after your bath. Technoblade staring at you from where he is by the door, not having made a move since he allowed you to enter the room. At least he isn't speaking-

You dropped some rolled up socks. It rolled under the bed and you get on your hands and knees to reach under the bed for it. Suddenly Technoblade is behind you and you yelp cutely-

Suddenly you're moaning softly and bent over on the bed. Your captor's lover's hand is on your hips and he's grinding against you. Your underwear is somehow soaked through and you're whining for Techno to take you. He swiftly tugs off your underwear and-

You look up at Technoblade, who looks back at you, acknowledging your attention. You looked cross. "Just because you're not thinking in words, doesn't mean I can't see what you think, Techno."

OOOOOO

oh noooo lmao

LOL imagine getting caught like that couldn't be us

rip

damn I wanted to see how bad this fantasy would have been

"Sorry-"

"Sorry," Techno says out loud as he takes his eyes off of you. You sigh as you toss the clothes yoy want onto the bed and stuff the rest back into the drawers. You'll fix that later if he doesn't get to it first. At least he had the gall to feel some bit of shame.

You turn your body to him and shrug. "It's whatever.... let's just go take a bath before bed."

You ignore how another brief flash of lewd thoughts and fantastical scenarios pass through his mind as you move past him towards the bathroom he had built for you. You also ignore the teasing from the Chat about how the piglin hybrid's home definently didn't have a place to bathe before and that he is a "stinky pig boy" and "stinknoblade". You didn't want to thank him but you felt like you had no choice because honestly.... he made you a custom bathroom that looked like it belonged in a palace. It had felt rude not to thank him, despite these circumstances.

You inhale the steam of the luxious looking bathroom and put your clothes down on a small side table near the massive walk in tub of hot water. You had moved over to the edge and was going to take off your shirt when the anxious boot clacking of your keeper reminded you that you were unfortunately not alone. You click your tongue back at him as you glance back at him. He looks away like he always does and you practically rip your clothes off before getting in.

He looks again when he doesn't hear the water sloshing around anymore. His expression is unreadable but you can hear what he's thinking.

"So pretty lovely looks soft smells good fuck- cute.... I wonder if you'll like the soap I got this time. Its peonies."

You hum as you sink a bit lower in the water, trying to hide your coloring cheeks.

"Yeah, I think peonies smell good." Technoblade makes a face and you have to swallow your smile. "Thanks- now get in here. I want this to be over with."

He nods mutely as he starts to undress and this time its your turn to look away. You sigh as you feel the water move and flinch when you feel his heat on your backside. He isn't even touching you yet.

ugh why is he waiting for permission again

lol whats with the gentleman act

dude they're literally already used you doing this get it over with

y'all better shut up this is like character development or something

i wanna touch they look all soft agaiiin

oooo yea!! touch them

Omgeee body worship kink??

touch them

TOUCH THEM

You let out a shaky sigh and turn around and make eye contact. He has the soap in one hand and the sponge you like in the other. You stand up in the water and exposed yourself to him. Its incredible difficult to ignore the way his pupils dialate when you're still making eye contact.

HOLY COW

isn't it too warm in here for (Y/N)'s nipples to get hard??

NAKED POG

oh my god You know they're practically begging for it now....

Techno swallows audibly and practically slams the bar of soap into the sponge, making an audible wet noise and aggressively lathers them together, looking away again. It makes you jump a bit but you don't say anything. Neither of you do and you almost prefer it that way. Once the sponge has been violently soaped up enough he starts washing you. You don't move and he doesn't stop on any part pf your upper half. It made you think of those old erotic stories of royalty being bathed by a personal servant. You didn't like it.

.....Right now you really wish you two were capable of being normal. Or that any part of your relationship was.

After your front and back have been scrubbed down, you quickly dip back into the water amd rinse yourself off. You look down at your body in the water and hum as you see another fleeting fantasy go past Technoblade's mind.

You're touching him, hands simply on his chest and pressed close to him. You're looking up at him frightened anxiously for a moment before moving away and wading towards the little shelving around an edge in the bathing pool. You flush as you climb onto it and sit. You spread your legs-

You look up at him for a split moment before looking away. You feel shakey and sick, kind of like you're about to throw up. Your gut twists and you press your thighs together on instinct. Shit.

No.

"No-" You swallow as you completely turn your back to Techno. You hear the water move a bit as you assume he's straightening up, you know he's looking directly at you. He's thinking too fast for you to properly hear his thoughts and you refuse to tune into what the Chat is saying right now.

You need to think-

You're on top of him in one of his blouses. Its so big on you but you like it and you liked the way Techno looked at you when you wore it. Technoblade's hands were on your hip and you scoff becuase you didn't want it there. You flushed a bit and took one of them with your fingers and moved it underneath the blouse to your bare stomach. You could feel the way your lips stretched into a goofy smile when he somehow flushed darker than you and his pupils blew up. It actually made you laugh a little. It felt like a little victory. The hand still on your hip twitched.

"I uh..." You bite your lip between your grin. "I like it when your hands are here. They're so warm and they make me feel good sometimes."

He stares and you can hear his thoughts.

"... Makes me feel safe...... so please..."

You blink back the tears but can't stop the shudder and whimper that comes from that memory. Technoblade stands behind you as you realize where you are now. You're stand before the pool shelving and its like your stomach folds in on itself as you whine and stumble back in the water, bumping into him. You both flinch from the sudden skin to skin contact and you feel the overwhelming urge to start wailing.

Technoblade makes a noise as if he's taking a deep breath and you know its over. You pull away from him as soon as his has touches your shoulder, bumping roughly into the shelving. With a grimace, you climb up onto the shelving and spread your shakey legs.

You can't even catch his thoughts whwn he freezes up and the Chat roars.

Holyshitholyshit holySHIT

BRO???

ANOTHER WIN FOR THE HORNY THOUGHTS LETS GOOOOO

Fuck this is so hot what the fuck fuck babe

The cooler water that resides at the edges splash out of the tub and against your backside from the force of him moving so suddenly. Technoblade makes a noise as he hovers over you. His clawed hands grip the edges of the pool so hard you can hear the wood creak. He doesn't say anything as you try to meet his eyes. Visions of all the ways he wants to fuck you right here flash through his mind and it makes you want to close your legs. You end up pressing your thighs against his and you both gasp.

You bite your lip. "Soap." He blinks dumbly and you almost change your mind about all of this. "The scentless soap," you try to clarify. "I need to prep myself."

The Chat chatters loudly as Techno moved away. You close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath as he returns to the water and reslots himself between your legs. You take the bottle from him and try to get comfortable as he uncomfortably stares directly at your groin. Already used to this scenario, you tune him out as you pop the bottle open and pour the slick substance onto yourself. You then put the bottle to the side and slide your hand down.

This isn't the first time you've had to stretch yourself (especially since your sexual partner couldn't- not with those sharp fingertips) and far from the first time you've taken the Blade so your fingers slip in with little resistance. You shudder and remind yourself to hate how he ruined you as you skip adding a second finger and go straight for three.

You hear the creak of the wood on the edge of the pool again but ignore looking up or at Technoblade as you keep fingering yourself until you're sure you're done. As soon as your fingers were out, his cock was slapped against your inner thigh. You yelp and look up at him.

He looks down at you as he finally puts his hands on you. You hiss when he drags your ass against the shelving to pull you closer.

"Sorry-" he thinks before opening his mouth to say it out loud, but you interrupt him. You grab him by the forearm as he has your thighs and lean foward a bit, biting your lip. You suck in a breath before letting out a whine.

"Shut the fuck up- stop fucking thinking and fuck me baby."

Being so used to hearing other's people thoughts without tuning them out (even now in these current times with everything Technoblade this accursed SMP has put you through), you aren't prepared to be sp overwhelmed by whatever the hell happens in your captor's head that makes you blackout for a moment. Its like you blink and whatever sexually charged energy you had before is replaced with fear.

Somewhere in the milliseconds after you said those words, Technoblade pushed you back roughly against the shelving and the edge of the pool and was now almost balls deep inside of you. You feel the pain blossoming against the back of your head apart of your back and yelp when you feel him fill you up oh so fucking good.

Its too much.

"Tech-" You make an ugly noise as he thrusts deeper somhow. Fuck- too much.

Whatever you were trying to get out is lost on your tongue as he starts fucking into you with total abandon. Its so good and bad and great and uncomfortable and painful-

The force of his movements rocks you into the edges of the pool and makes the cooled off water splash around and hit you in the face. You've let go of his arms, instead trying to brace yourself against the shelving the best you can with no way to get a proper grip. All you can do is whine and gasp.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry fuck"

"(Y/N)," comes out in a growl and you whimper. You don't know when he leaned closer. Technoblade's tusk scratch the junction between your jaw and neck. You take this opportunity to grab onto him again and moan high.

He rocks hard into you and its so much better now- fuck you can feel every inch of him. It makes you pull yourself closer to him and sob.

"Techno- Techno Techno Techno," he groans low and licks a hot strip against your neck. You breifly wonder if he's licking sweat off or left over water that was dripping down from the bath you were having a few minutes ago. You don't wonder much longer as you feel the twist in your gut from earlier tighten. You sob again.

"No no no no no," you gasp as you hold on tighter and he gets rougher. "Fuck, Techno baby please please please..."

Miraculously, the beast hears your prayers but he doesn't slow down. He pulls back and pushes you away completely. You almost don't catch yourself against the pool's edge. He's still in you for amoment more before pulling out with a wince and you cry out.

You feel dissatisfaction start to replace the lust in your head but its quickly snuffed out when Technoblade grabs you and flips you over on the shelving. He shoves you hard onto your knees with your elbows over the edge as he reenters you from behind and you shout. The change in position, depth and temperature catch you completely off guard and interupts the flow. You don't feel as aroused as you were before. You're sore.

"T-Techno?" You try to turn around to look back at him but he hits something deep inside of you hard. You put a knuckle between your teeth. "Techno? Techno please it hurts now please Techno!"

He gets even rougher and you yelp when your knees hit the wall of the pool. A shadow is cast over you and water from Technoblade's body drips down onto you as he goes full throttle and rails you like this. Fuck.

"Techno Techno Techno please love-" you manage to get out before his thrusts take your voice away. You're belly feels warm again and you sob a bit defeated. You're heads clear again and you cry as your mind races. You can't hear his thoughts properly even now- too jumbled up in the midst of him borderline mindlessly fucking you. You however can hear the Chat clearly once again. It makes your gut twist disgustingly deliciously.

Fuck baby you're doing so good

while crying is sexy can you plz go back to making those cute noises k thanx

they're not enjoying it anymore don't be fucking rude :/

Roughnoblade /neg

(Y/N) oh poor baby they're crying!!

Techno you're being too rough damn bitch

hey you're okay love you're okay plz don't cry....

Gods we're so sorry but you DO look so fucking hot like this

fuck I bet you're going to bruise so nice

Yeah techno is going to be staring at them until they heal up lmao

You bite your lip and just take it until that twisted feeling snaps and you cum like this. Techno rides out your orgasm before you feel him get bigger (or you tightned in discomfort) and he spills into you. You whimper when he pulls out and you feel the hot cum start to slide out of you. Unfortunately for you, your lover doesn't leave you bent over the cold bathing pool's edge like that for howver long you wished to and readjusts your limp form before he finishes cleaning you. You sniffle as he takes ypu out of the water and bundles you up in the softest towel he has.

"It hurt." You said simply and Technoblade glances up at where he was now kneeling by your legs, helping you put on your underwear. He looked almost guilty.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

"G̸̨͍͍̮͙̝͍̲̾͆̌̅̓̾̕Ȏ̵̡̡̳̣̟͕͍͍̘̱͗͝͝Ô̸̪̯̰̅͗͠D̷̟̘̦͕̼͈̻̏͗̋̂̿̔̕͘," he thinks.

You wonder if he still hopes you don't hear him.

[forever-rogue]

Congrats on the milestone Patricia!!!!! You deserve it, I’m so so happy for you!🥺🥺

May I request “I thought you were dead…” and “I waited and waited, but you never came back” for Oberyn, perhaps? Give me angst 😈😈😈

Hello, my love! You want angst? You get angst!

Oberyn x Fem!Reader ; warnings: mentions of death

Pedro Character Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

A heavy sigh left his lips as sweat trickled down his brow, and his chest, quickly absorbed by the thick fabric of his golden tunic. He raised the almost empty water bottle to his lips and downed the rest of it. He cursed himself for not coming more well prepared for making this trek in his damned heat. 

But then he heard it, softly, and gently and from a slight distance, but he knew exactly what it was. Your laughter - it was forever ingrained in his mind, one of the sweetest sounds he had ever heard. He would never forget it. But why in the heavens you wanted to move to this forsaken place he would never know. It was one of the hottest stretches of Dorne, and almost completely secluded, save for the nearby small villages. 

He shuffled closer and closer, his feet slipping into the hot sand and slowing down his trek. But Oberyn was many things, including a stubborn man, and he kept pushing. Pushing and pushing through as his sole goal was you. Surely you’d be happy to see him after all this time, right? He was your lover and you were his - you’d had him heart and soul, easily wrapped around your finger.

But just before your modest home came into view, he heard a new sound, a different one. One that made him stop dead in his tracks. 

“Mama!” it was a small voice, a soft one. Oberyn swallowed the lump in his throat as he stepped forward, looking to the yard of your home. Despite being in the middle of the desert, your yard was filled with trees and plants and bushes, all clearly loved and taken care of. His heart caught in his throat as he spotted the small boy, eagerly running back to the wide open door, “Mama! Can I go to the river with my friends?”

“Of course, my sweet one,” you stepped into view, wiping your hands on a rag as the boy wrapped his arms around your waist, “be careful, okay? I don’t want anything going wrong.”

“I’m always careful,” he beamed before running off, his black curls bouncing with each stride. You waved after him, the smile on your features was as blinding and lovely as the day he had met you. You hadn’t seemed to age a day, despite the years that had passed. 

Oberyn watched as the small figure disappeared into the distance, his mind spinning wildly with a hundred million thoughts at once. Was he...surely he couldn’t be...but….that little boy had been the spitting image of him. 

He never knew...he hadn’t known you’d been with child. He didn’t...know. 

Almost as if you sensed some kind of disturbance, you looked up, shielding your eyes from the golden sun as you looked around. After a few moments, you spotted his figure in the distance, a concerned look on your face at the weary man in front of you. 

“Hello!” you called out to him, walking to the edge of the gate that surrounded your home. He sucked in a nervous breath as you came closer, waiting for the second you discovered who he was. But as he took a few steps closer, you seemed just as confused, “are you alright? Do you need water - a rest?”

Oberyn’s body was humming with energy as he made his way over to you, barely able to comprehend that you were there - living proof and in the flesh. Surely you would recognize him any second...you had to. Right? Right?

Step by precious step he came closer until he was a few feet in front of you. You studied the man silently, your curiosity piqued as you realized that somehow he looked oddly familiar. His chest tightened and felt constricted as he eagerly anticipated your reaction. But you just titled your head to the side and regarded him curiously.

"Are you okay?" you asked softly as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, "do you want to come inside and cool down?"

You motioned for him to follow, wondering momentarily if he was mute or if he was in some sort of shock. Oberyn was rooted in his spot, unable to move. Before you could turn around to see if he was following, you heard him speak. You heard your name - whispered softly, reverently. 

"Sunshine…" no. No, no, no. It couldn't be, surely you were mistaken. There was only one person in the entire world that had ever called you that. 

And he was dead. Long dead - you watched him die.

Slowly turning around, you breathed in deeply, your chest rising and falling anxiously as you met the man's eyes. There was a nervous expression on his face as you walked back over to him.

"What did you say?" your voice was already shaking, trembling and cracking with every word, "what did you call me?"

"Sunshine," he whispered it softly as you shook your head, eyes already burning and stinging with tears.

"No," you insisted, "you...you aren't...why would you call me that? You don't know me…"

"I do," he whispered as the tears spilled over and ran down your cheeks. He extended his hand, moving to wipe away your tears, but you flinched out of his touch, bringing an ache to his chest, "sweet girl, you know me."

"Please," you whispered softly, "I don't know you… I-I-I don't know you."

"But you do. You know my name - you know me…"

"I don't."

"Sunshine-"

"No!" you snapped harshly as you glared at him, "there was only one man that ever called me that - the only one that was ever allowed to. Do not think yourself worthy of doing such a thing!"

"What was his name?" he asked, his brown eyes softening as you refused to speak.

"Don't you dare!"

"Say it," he insisted, "what was his name?"

"Please don't do this…"

"Say my name, Sunshine," he whispered, ready to throw himself at your feet and to beg you to say it, for you absolve his sins - anything, "please…"

"Don't…"

"You know me...gods, I wish I could hear you say it one more time…"

"I-I-I thought you were dead, Oberyn," you broke and said it. It was soft, a familiar sound that felt like heaven and hell at the same time. It was a sound you hadn't heard in years, and it brought forth every emotion you'd worked to suppress and forget and keep at bay, "I waited and waited and you never came back. I waited so long - they said you were gone…"

“They thought I was,” he admitted as his face fell at the sight of yours; nothing but grief and sorrow was etched in your features. He wished he could take you and wrap you up in his arms, but how you had pulled away from him, he didn’t want to upset you further - even if it broke his heart, “after everything...they left me at first, left me to rot, but something happened and I woke up again. It was like a miracle; I don’t know what happened or why….but I survived.”

“It’s been six years, Oberyn,” you sniffled as you studied the man in front of you. He was so different from the man you had last seen; he was older, more weary looking, with stray grey hairs infusing into his beard and the curls he had left grow out. Instead of the pristine visage you had known, there were scars on the side of his face, but they didn’t deter from his beauty. If anything else, they all told a story - a story of his death and rebirth.

And yet, he was still the same as he always had been. Soft eyes, honeyed and golden only for you, with the sweetest smile. Oberyn Martell - your Oberyn. 

"I know," he agreed gently, "and it took me a long time to get better. I was bedridden and barely able to function for over a year."

"And then…?" you studied him as you tried not to completely have a breakdown at the thought of him helpless and broken. 

"I looked for you," he promised answering your unspoken question, "as soon as I got better and was able to. I looked everyday, far and wide, I had people look for you, but none could find you. It was like you had disappeared. Vanished."

"I had to leave," you whispered softly as the tears you had been holding back rolled down your cheeks. There was no point in trying to hold them back  - after all this time, the man you had once loved was back. It was like seeing a ghost after all this time. He swallowed thickly before nodding slightly, “I couldn’t stay  - not in King’s Landing, not in Sunspear, not around everyone. I couldn’t go back and face everyone, in a place where everything would remind me of you. It was too much, Oberyn. My world ended that day, with you in a pile of blood and ruin. I couldn’t...I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he whispered as he reached up again, slowly and more hesitant, testing to see how far you would let him go. This time, you shy away from his touch, letting him gently touch your cheek and wipe away the tears that didn’t seem to stop, “you did what you had to. Many people would have done the same - I’m not sure I would have done anything differently.”

“There’s...I...I didn’t just leave to protect myself,” you confessed, the words so soft and gentle they were barely audible, but Oberyn heard you loud and clear. You clasped your hands nervously, thinking back to the day you had found out. It was after Oberyn had died  - or so you thought. He never knew, and suddenly it felt like a dirty secret. You inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling, “Oberyn...I...we...I was with child.”

The Prince found himself unable to speak, the tears and emotion getting stuck in his throat as he nodded; his own eyes grew bleary with tears that threatened to spill over as he brushed a finger along your cheek. A heavy weight felt like it was on your shoulders, but if you knew - if you had any clue he was still alive - you would have found him...you would have told him. He looked at you with soft eyes before pulling you into a hug, unable to stop himself. You hugged him right back, unable to stop yourself, clutching at him as though he was the only thing in the world. Even after all this time, it felt the same as ever, like you had never strayed from his touch. He squeezed his eyes shut as he pressed a few kisses to the side of your head, “a son?”

“A son,” you reassured him softly, solidifying that the little one he had seen running around earlier had to be his son. Slowly, almost reluctantly, you pulled back and studied his face, cradling it gently in your hands before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, “you finally had a son, Oberyn. I...I named him Elio. Elio Nymeros Oberyn.”

It felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs as he listened to you; this was everything he could have ever dreamed of, and yet...he hadn’t gotten to experience a single moment of it. Life was cruel that way; it gave and then it took and took and took. Oberyn’s eyes searched yours as he whispered, “for Elia? For me?”

“Of course,” you smiled softly. But before you could say anything yes, some excited shouts and laughter from the distance. It was then that reality set in and you took a step back from Oberyn, as if you suddenly remembered that this, the moment the two of you had just shared, wasn’t real life. No - it felt more like a fever dream.

“Mama!” the little boy was a blur as he excitedly sprinted towards you. Oberyn’s heart was beating wildly as he tried to get a good look at the young boy, your son - his son. He was too preoccupied with the new arrival to notice the other approaching figure, “I was going to go to the river but then I got distracted…”

You ran a hand affectionately through his dark curls, almost speechless at how much he took after Oberyn. Especially now, seeing them side by side, there was no doubt that he was Oberyn’s son. The young boy shied into your skirts as he tugged your arm around him and regarded the Prince in confusion. 

“It’s okay, my little love,” you promised him as he made a small sound, “this is...umm..Nymeros.”

Oberyn had to physically stop from sweeping the young boy in a bone crushing hug. He slowly bent down so he was on Elio’s level and held his hand to him, “hi Elio. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” he said shyly, offering up a small smile, and taking Oberyn’s hand, “do you know my Mama and Papa?”

“I…” Oberyn passed for a moment before looking back at you. Surely...surely he hadn’t heard correctly…

“Oberyn, I-”

“Hello, my loves,” the arrival of another newcomer snapped you both of your daze as you turned to find your husband making his way over to the three of you. Elio’s eyes lit up as he darted away from you and towards the man. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him picking up the young boy and setting him atop his shoulders. He came over to you and gently pressed a kiss to your cheek, as you beamed at him; even Oberyn couldn’t deny the glow on your features. He paused for a moment before kissing your lips gently, “hello, my sweetest.”

“Hello to you, dearest husband,” you gave him a soft smile before turning your attention back to Oberyn. The expression on his face was devastating; it was heartbreak personified. Your face pulled into a frown as you sighed lightly, “Jeron, this is...this is…”

“Nymeros,” Oberyn caught your eye, a sad little expression on his face as he held out his hand to your husband, “we...used to know each other, a long time ago, it was almost like another lifetime ago. I was...passing through and thought I recognized her and just wanted to say hello.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeron’s smile was easy as he shook Oberyn’s hand. It was easy to see why you had ended up with a man like him; he had a warm, gentle aura about him, and even Oberyn couldn’t deny his charm. He was a handsome man, tall and thin, with a shock of dark hair and almost black eyes and the most golden skin, with a smile equally as dazzling, “it’s been hot out, you must come in and cool down.”

“Oh no,” Oberyn shook his head, feeling like his heart was breaking a little more with each word, “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Please, we insist,” Jeron said as you looked torn, “join us for dinner! Any friend is family and welcome in our home.”

“Perhaps some other time,” Oberyn’s voice almost cracked as he looked between the two of you, finding the young boy already starting to doze off, no doubt ready for a nap, “I actually must get going. I think I’ve already stayed too long.”

“Well, you’re always welcome in our home,” Jeron promised him. He turned to you, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, “I’m going to put the little one down for a nap.”

“Of course,” you said softly as he disappeared inside. Oberyn watched you closely for a few moments before a few tears rolled down his cheeks. It felt like a knife was twisting in your heart, but...you didn’t know. You never knew that he was alive or you would have been by his side the entire time. 

“Oberyn-”

“Do you love him?” he asked softly as you felt your own tears well up again. You swallowed thickly before nodding slowly - and it was true. Jeron was a good man that you loved more than life itself, just as you once had Oberyn, “and our son. Is he good to our son?”

“He’s an amazing father,” you promised, “he loves Elio so much...he knows he is not his, but it has never stopped him loving him as his own, and Elio doesn’t know any different. He’s raised him since he was a babe.”

“Are you happy?” 

“Yes,” you dabbed at your eyes, “I am very happy. It took a long time to get there, but I am happy with this life. It is quiet and humble, but I love every day of it.”

“Okay,” Oberyn gave you a teary eyed, tight lipped smile, “that’s all I needed to know. That’s all I ever wanted, Sunshine.”

“Oberyn,” he took a step back and offered you one last nod. You knew what this meant - you knew what he was thinking. You shook your head as your eyes widened, “no, please, Oberyn-”

“Goodbye, Sunshine,” he whispered gently, “I love you always.”

“Please don’t...don’t just go...don’t just leave.”

“My place isn’t here,” he insisted, “but you’re happy, and...our son is happy and healthy. That’s all that matters.”

“No, no, no, please,” you knew it was useless; his mind was made up.

“I must,” he insisted softly, “you will always have my heart. May we meet again in another life, my sweet girl.”

“Oberyn…” it was a soft broken whisper as he slowly turned to walk away. He wanted to look back, but he couldn’t. Instead, he let his tears flow freely as he left, each step breaking his heart bit by bit. It felt like you were losing him all over again, “Oberyn.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[amor-immortalem]

I Could Care Less (About You)

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

A/N: I wanted to write something around the time when Arella first got to the devildom. We all know Mammon didn't like the MC very much. It's my own thoughts that he was especially mean in those first few weeks up until they made the pact and I kind of wanted to explore that in terms of his and Arella's relationship.

It all started with small acts of kindness. Taking the fall for him when items would go missing so he wouldn’t get strung up from the ceiling, saving a plate for him when he was late for dinner, letting him copy her homework when he didn’t finish his in time. Mammon can’t understand it. He and this human hardly know anything about each other but here she is, doing little things that would make his life just a little bit easier. Hell, he’d even stolen multiple objects of value from Arella and yet she never ratted him out to his brother despite knowing damn well who did it. She just let it slide.

If he’s being honest, it scares him. Did she like him that much or could she possibly want from something from him? Mammon was sure she was gearing up to ask for a favor from him. He decided whatever it was he wouldn’t do it. He may have had the task of looking after this human forced upon him by Lucifer but he wasn’t about to sit back and comply with it.

The demon made sure to let the human know what an inconvenience she was to him almost every day- most typically whenever he had to cancel his own plans to escort her around town. She took it like a champ though, never seeming to let it bother her. She was so kind it was almost annoying. Maybe it really didn’t bother her. That must be the only reason she’s pestering him now. He did have to give her credit for her persistence though.

“Come on, Mammon! Lucifer left me in charge of the grocery shopping and I can’t go out alone or I’ll get eaten.” Arella said as she trailed after the Avatar of Greed. Having only been here in the Devildom for only a handful of weeks, she was still actually afraid that a lower demon might make a snack out of her.

“Ask one of my brothers ta take ya. I got plans and you’re not ruinin’ ‘em this time.”

Had any of the other brothers been home, Arella gladly would have asked one of them, but they weren’t- not even Mr. Shut-In himself! It was just her and her insensitive guardian demon.

“They’re not home, you know that.”

“I don’t give a shit, human! You got a phone. Just text ‘em. Now scram! I got a poker game ta get to and you’re holdin’ me up.”

“B-but-”

“Diavolo almighty,” Mammon groans as he turns to her, “I guess ya didn’t hear me clear enough the first time so I’ll say it again nice’ an’ slow for ya so try to keep up, ‘kay? I do not care about you. I hate the fact that I have to babysit ya. You could get eaten and I couldn’t care less. Infact, my life would be considerably easier if ya weren’t around. Got it?”

“O-Okay,” Arella squeaked under the intensity of the white-haired demon’s gaze. “Understandable, have a good night then.... hope you win a lot.”

“Whatever,” Mammon huffs with a roll of the eyes. “I don’t need your well wishes.” With that, Mammon turns and heads out the door.

As she watched him go, Arella bit her lip to hold back the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Once she was sure the demon was gone, the human sank down to floor, quiet sobs shaking her small frame. All she wanted was just an hour or two out of his time and he wouldn’t even give her that. She had never felt so resented before in all her 21 years of life- not even when her mother was alive had it ever been this bad. Now, as she wiped at her eyes, it really set in that she was left with no other option but to do this alone- gods forbid she ask one of the others for help and then it somehow get back to Lucifer that Mammon wasn’t doing his job. She would never hear the end of it from the greedy demon.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The trip to and from the store had gone smooth enough. No demons had really bothered to pay her any mind, not even when she slipped off one of the higher shelves and smacked her head on the shopping cart resulting in the ugly bruise that had formed on the outer edge of her right eye. Bruises were something Arella was used to covering up, so it would be a simple enough task. She only had a little way left to go before she made it back to the House of Lamentation, but nothing can ever be easy for Arella.

Standing at the gates, blocking her path, was a small pack of demons. She had seen them eyeing her up in the halls at RAD during the passing periods. As they turned to her, Arella panicked- her heart rate skyrocketing as her body screamed at her to run. She wanted to but her feet wouldn’t move. It wasn’t until her brain processed that they were moving did her body actually turn to run. By then it was too late, they were upon her in seconds, knocking her to the ground with a tackle as she struggled and let out a scream.”

“Lookit you,” the one she presumed to be the leader smiled as he brushed some of the hair away from her face. “You sure do look tasty. I wonder where we should start first with you... dark or light meat?” He took a hold of her wrist, pulling it toward his mouth. He was about to bite down when...

“Hey! The fuck do the five of ya think you’re doing?!” The Avatar of Greed snarls as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. He had been in a good night after having won nearly all the games he’d played tonight before decided to call it quits- now it was soured. “Ya know what? I’m feelin’ generous tonight, so I’ll give y’all five seconds to get off that stupid human before I gut ya and string ya up by your entrails.”

He only needed until the count of one and a change into his demon form before the pack of demons made the right choice and booked it. The Avatar of Greed let out an irritated sigh as he walked over to Arella and hoisted her up by the arm.

“You’re fucking lucky, ya know that, girly? If I didn’t come home when I did, you’d be dead right now. How are you that damn stupid, huh?”

“’m sorry, I-,” Her voice was small and a little bit slurred as she tried to get her footing.

“I don’t wanna hear any excuses, right now. Just get inside the house go lay down or somethin’- whatever it is that you humans do ta calm down.” He gave her a bit of a rough shove and she scrambled for the doors while he gathered up the bags she had dropped and brought them inside the house.

Arella made a beeline for her room and curled up under the covers. Her headache from the fall earlier was even worse and now her arm was hurting from the strength of Mammon’s grip when he pulled her up from the ground.

“I want to go home....” she sniffled quietly into her pillow. “I should have never done this.”

The human thought she’d find a place for herself on this exchange programme but now she thinks this was all a big mistake. She had no idea what exactly she was signing up for only that something in the back of her mind yelling at her to do so. These last few weeks had done nothing but to serve her late mother’s words as true: that she was trash and so deserved to be treated as such.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Out in the kitchen, Mammon is unloading and putting away the groceries that weren’t crushed or broken after the incident outside when he came across a bag filled exclusively with cup noodles. There had to have been at least twenty of them that she had managed to cram into the bag- all in his favorite flavor no less. A look of surprise crossed his face. He had only mentioned this in passing to her once before and he wondered how she managed to get her hands on them as this specific flavor was kept on the top shelf of that section. Not something that would be a problem for someone as tall as himself but for her? She was 4’11”! She would have had to scale the shelfs just to have even the smallest chance of reaching them.

Setting the package of cup noodles he was holding down, Mammon looked to Arella’s door before looking back to the noodles. Again, those questions rang in his head. Just what was her deal? He thinks, she’s always doin’ all these favors for me and never asks for anything in return from me. Well, no I can’t say that... She did ask one thing of me and that was ta go grocery shoppin’ with her because she was afraid ta go alone- for me ta do the one job Lucifer assigned me and I essentially told her ta fuck off. The demon thinks back to their earlier exchange- how he could see the fear in her eyes and the tears that were starting to form right before he left. Great.... Now I feel guilty... I should probably go apologize and see if I can get her to stay quiet ‘bout this whole thing...

Knocking on the door- something the demon hardly ever did- Mammon waited for a response. When he didn’t get one, he just let himself in. “Arella I-!” He stopped as there was there was a noticeable flinch from under the covers.

“I’m sorry!” She squeaked out, “Don’t hurt me.”

He raised an eyebrow at her response. Did she really think he was going to hurt her somehow? Well, all things considered, the demon can’t say he’s really all that surprised. He grabs the ends of the duvet and yanks it off of her, watching as Arella curls up and raises her arms to shield her head as if readying herself for blows that would never come.

Mammon knows that response all too intimately from the times where Lucifer would beat the ever-loving fuck out of him for indulging in his sin.

“Hey, calm down, okay. I ain’t gonna lay a hand on ya like that. Not only would Lucifer have my head, but I ain’t about beatin’ up on girls anyway.” He kneels down at the side of her bed and is horrified to see an ugly bruise marring the skin beside her eye. She does eventually calm down and pulls her arms away from her head after a few minutes of nothing happening. “Atta girl, now look at me,”

When Arella does open her pupils are dilated and now the demon is a little concerned. Humans’ pupils aren’t supposed to be that dilated, are they? That would mean... Mammon fishes his D.D.D. out of his pocket and shines the flashlight right in her eyes.

“What the fuck, Mammon!” Arella recoils as she hides her face once more and Mammon turns the flashlight off. “You’re such an ass!”

“I knew it.” He tsks, “When did you hit your head? Was it when those idiots tackled you to the ground or did you fall off one of the selves at the store?”

“I didn’t hit my head!” The human retorts, “I’m fine, my head just hurts.”

“Ya got a concussion, ya dumb human! Now out with it. Ya very obviously fell and I wanna know when it happened and how high you fell from!” For someone who couldn’t care less about her, he’s surprisingly concerned right now. If she slipped off one of the shelves at the store, he would be in hot water with Lucifer.

“I said I’m fine!” Arella abruptly stood up, swaying as she did, glaring daggers at the white-haired demon who looked up at her with a look of shock. Where did his docile little human go? “And what do you care anyway!? You said it yourself: You hate me and I’m just an inconvenience to you!”

“Now hold on a tick, I never said that exactly. You’re puttin’ words in my mouth. And you’re gonna fall standin’ on the bed like that. You’re already wobblin’.” he may not have said the part about hating her outright but at the very least he heavily implied it.

“Just get out of my ro-” She let out a yelp as she went toppling forward and the demon rushed to catch her. She landed slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“See I told ya you were gonna fall.” He huffed as he readjusted her while she pounded her fists against his back, struggling against his hold on her as he headed back out to the kitchen.

“Mammon, you put me down this instant! I’m not a sack of flour!”

“Stop being a brat and let me help ya!” The Avatar of Greed says as he places her on the island counter top. “Now stay there while I get you some ice for that bruise and some medicine for that headache of yours.”

Arella just sits there in shock of what he said. He wanted to... help her? That was new. She’s drawn out of her thoughts a few minutes later when she feels of bag of ice being pressed against the bruise. She let out a hiss as she tries to move away from it but it’s then that she notices his hand holding the other side of her face so she can’t move all that much.

“Quit squirming, will ya. It’s just a bag of ice.” He looks into her eyes before shifting the bag of ice over and running his thumb over the outside of her eye socket. “Doesn’t feel like anything’s busted in there. Ya got off lucky, kid... here take these.” he has a pill in his hand

“I’m not a kid,” Arella puffs her cheeks out in a pout. “Why’re you doing this when you said earlier that you didn’t care about me...?” she takes the medicine with a swig of water.

“Don’t get it twisted. I’m only doing this because if Lucifer finds out that you went to the store without me, I’ll be hanging from my toes for the next of the week. I’d rather not have a concussion of my own from getting dropped on my head when he decides I learned my lesson.”

“I won’t tell him if you don’t...” she says softly, “You don’t have to be nice to me. I know I don’t deserve it...”

“Huh?”

“N-nothing.”

“Now hold on there,” The demon says as he moves the bag back to where it was before, “You’re not gonna speed past that and act like ya didn’t just say what ya just said.”

“It’s nothing really,” Arella eyes dart around looking everywhere but Mammon’s. “Let’s just change the subject.”

“Alright, you can answer my earlier question then. How did you fall?”

“I slipped while climbing down from one of the shelving units at the store.... and smacked my head on the shopping cart.”

“No offense, but you’re kinda dumb. You were tryin’ ta get those noodles down, weren’t ya? You could have just grabbed whatever was at eye level or in your reach. You would have been an easy meal for a demon if you had passed out.”

“I know,” She sighed. “But that flavor is your favorite and I got everybody else’s favorites. It wouldn’t have been fair to not get yours.”

“It ain’t worth a concussion, short stack.” Once he’s sure she won’t move away, he lowers his hand from the side that isn’t icing the bruise and places it over hers. “Thanks though. And... I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t think you’d actually go out and try to get yourself eaten because I said I wouldn’t care.”

“I mean, that wasn’t my goal,” She sighed. “But I guess that’s the mess I got myself into huh?”

“Ya wouldn’t have if I would have done my job and gone with ya...” He scoots her over and then hops up on the island counter next to her. “I don’t get you, ya know...”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re too nice to me. I’ve been a jackass ta ya but you never seem to let it bother ya. You’re always coverin’ for me when I steal things from the house ta sell and you never said anything after I stole that necklace and other things from you. You save my plate at dinner when I don’t make it right away and you’ve lied right ta Lucifer’s face on multiple accounts for me... why? Why do you do these things?”

“I just wanted you to be nice to me. I know I just kind of got forced on you...  I thought maybe if I extended the olive branch first, we could be at least somewhat civil with each other... but no matter what I did, it didn’t change the way you treated me so I just kept pushing harder and harder to see if maybe...”

“I get what you’re sayin’...” he hummed. “Let’s start over then... I’ll look out for ya for the rest of the year if you’ll forgive me... It would be ta both of our benefit.”

She nodded as he hopped down from the counter. “Alright, let’s go then.”

“Go? Go where?”

“Back ta the store, some of the stuff ya bought got damaged when those demons attacked ya.”

“Oh... Alright... This isn’t some kind of trick, is it? You’re not going to ditch me, are you?”

“Nah, I won’t. And if anybody wants to eat ya, they’ll have to go through me, first. Got it?” he says as holds his hand out to her. She hesitantly took it and he tugged her along after him as they headed out. She hopes that maybe they could even become friends at some point. That maybe- just maybe- this is a turning point for them.

Find more writings on my masterlist

[astaroth1357]

The Demon Brothers (Minus Asmo) at Their Worst  Pt. 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi)

To the anons who gave me this idea, here it is. Unfortunately, I can’t say I’m all that happy to bring it to you, cause yikes this hurt to write. I’m grateful, however, because I believe I’m better for it. You shouldn’t always stay in your comfort zone. I left out Asmodeus for personal reasons. Regardless of my ability, given the nature of this challenge, I don’t feel comfortable with writing nor posting graphic content of sexual violence and chose to refrain from doing so. Please do not ask for this to be written at a later date, I will politely refuse then as I am now.

Check out the Masterlist for more.

Warnings: THEIR SINS HAVE BEEN TAKEN TO AN EXTREME (AND ALL THAT IMPLIES), Abusive/Controlling Relationships, Violence, Threat of Human Trafficking, Drowning, Angst, Regret, Suicidal Thoughts

This is all for the purposes of fantasy and in no way an endorsement for these behaviors in real life. Be nice (and smart) with your lives, my friends.

Intro: Maybe the MC should have known better. It should have sunk in a long time ago that they were in incredibly risky territory... They should have remembered that these men, though they call them friends, family, and perhaps even lovers, are still demons at their heart and core. Each of them are the embodiment of some of the worst behaviors man has to offer... MC, there are some people you just shouldn’t date, even if they love you, and now you suffer the consequences...

Lucifer

It’s not difficult to see how Pride can go awry. Self-confidence and dignity are wonderful things, but let them build up unchecked and all manner of petty, vindictive behavior can surface from within a person... 

Lucifer is far from immune to these flare ups. In fact, he falls victim to them so often that they may as well be ingrained in his personality. If you do anything that mocks or belittles him, even if it’s small, you’ll get a reaction. One that’s usually more severe than offense calls for...

The MC knew this going into a relationship with him. Supposedly, they knew all the no-go zones, too. Don’t make fun of him or Diavolo, don’t mention the Fall or his back, don’t call him a nag... That sort of thing.

What they hadn’t expected was the full brunt of the expectations suddenly leveled on them.

To say Lucifer was demanding would be an understatement. Everything about him had to be poised, powerful, collected, and perfect. Whether he realized it or not, these expectations bled into their relationship as well.

It started with him nitpicking little details... The way they stood, how they styled their hair, maybe a comment or two on what they ate. But it progressively got worse...

Suddenly he found problems with the way they dressed, what they listened to, what shows they watched, even how they greeted him in the mornings!

Before too long, nothing was right to him… Nothing was good enough. They were his other half, his biggest vulnerability, and in order for him to feel secure about that they had to be perfect… However Lucifer defined it.

They listened to him at first. Though his comments stung, he could be so loving too… He truly made them feel special. Like he wouldn’t be trying so hard if it were anyone but them...

But pretty words and kind actions could only go so far. They couldn’t completely erase the vitriol being tossed at them day after day… 

Slowly, with every little change, they could feel themselves start to dwindle… The choices they made felt foreign, the lifestyle they held became draining, and then one day they realized they didn’t even look right anymore… They were no longer the person they wanted to be. 

Lucifer was doing what he set out to do: train them, break them, then mold them into something new... So they could be perfect...

Just like him.

One day, however, they just couldn’t take being the person he wanted anymore...

He found them in their bedroom just before a party that Diavolo had been planning for weeks. Their hair wasn’t fixed and their clothes were a mess. His frustration nearly skyrocketed until he saw their face, vacant and broken, staring blankly straight ahead…

He couldn’t rouse them. They wouldn’t move no matter how much he shouted, threatened, or swore...

….they didn’t even budge when he begged…

His brothers eventually noticed something amiss and took them away. Their disgust with him was fairly evident… They probably would have tried something had he not been the strongest.

He had taken something wonderful and squashed it... Hurt someone he truly loved and ruined what they could have had to protect his damn ego…

Lilith, his brothers, and Satan especially… was everyone he tried to care for just bound to end up broken too…?

The MC’s recovery was slow. They had a lot of damage to repair and a whole new identity to build. He stayed out of it as much as he could, burying himself in work and seeing his brothers less and less...

He’d done enough damage to them anyway...

Mammon

The Greedy, Scummy Second-Born… Words to etch on his tombstone. Mammon had heard it all before from all angles: the demons above him, below him, hell even a passersby on the street would know his face and his laundry list of a rap sheet...

The one person who seemed to look past all that was MC.

He truly didn’t know what sort of karma he’d gained or luck he scored to have them in his life. They didn’t just see him at his best side, they made him want to fix his worst...

But that’s easier said than done, isn’t it?

The sad truth is Mammon is a gambler at heart. Oh he loves the money, the riches, fine things, and the bling but what else does he enjoy? The rush.

There’s nothing like that feeling of triumphant when the dice falls your way or the pure exhilaration of a close bet. When all cards are on the table and everything’s stacked against you, eking out that win can cause a head-rush better than any orgasm he’s ever had... The higher the stakes? The better the high.

But maybe he went a little too far…

It’s one thing to bet Grimm, he can make more of that in a night. It’s another to bet items, harder to replace but not impossible. People…? Well. If you want high stakes…

MC was actually with him that night when he made the “great” decision to bet his most valuable treasure on poker match. He was running out of Grimm and thought that the added risk would make him play better…

He thought wrong.

MC hadn’t been at the table at the time he made the deal, but they had come back just in time to see him get his ass handed to him. He lost. Spectacularly.

When the other demons there came over to encircle MC, it already felt like his world was crumbling down around him... The look of confusion, then hurt and betrayal in their eyes forever seared themselves into his memory.

“You bet me in a poker game?!”

It sounds almost comical, but he knew what the demons were planning to do to them wasn't. And just seeing the way his human’s wrist snapped when one of the men wrenched their arm from them confirmed it.

He wouldn’t let them get away with that. When the threats escalated to violence, he took his share of punches but in the end he was left standing.

The MC was furious. He had just whittled their entire existence down to a bargaining chip and one that he tossed away carelessly…

Yeah, he’s truly a scumbag, isn’t he?

They didn’t talk to him for quite a while, despite him begging for forgiveness. There was always a part of him that wondered why he even bothered… He had done it before, and in another gambling-induced high he would probably do it again…

They’d honestly be better off without him...

Leviathan

It’s, frankly, quite difficult to be the Avatar of Envy. Every day Levi feels uncomfortable in his own skin… Like he doesn’t measure up to this or that or like he’s not worthy of being in the meager position afforded to him. He preferred to hide himself away and try not to dwell on it… but then MC came along…

For once, he felt like he had something. Something truly special. Something one of a kind and like no other… He couldn’t point to any of his brothers and say that they had something better, hell, he couldn’t even point to Diavolo and say that he had a finer version.

No. He had them. The one, the only, MC. Better than all the rest. His only great accomplishment in his miserable, pathetic life...

… so why did they keep leaving him…?

It didn’t hurt that badly at first when they’d tell him they couldn’t go watch some new anime with him because they had other plans. Sometimes they’d go off shopping with Mammon or have lunch with Beel… That was fine. Understandable.

At least that’s what he’d tell himself.

After a while though, he started to feel lonely… rejected… Was he not good enough for them? Surely that had to be it, right?? A miserable shut-in otaku with someone like them? What a joke!

Any time he’d voice his insecurities, they’d always say the same things: “No, don’t be silly!” “I really do want to be with you.” “I love you, Levi. Don’t you believe me?”

No. He didn’t. With each passing hour spent away from him, time where he would get shafted for one of his brothers instead, he believed them less and less…

Soon all he heard was lies…

Something possessed him that day. MC had just missed their third live stream in a row in order to be with his brothers instead. Which one was it? It didn’t really matter. He felt the stinging pain of isolation all the same…

When the MC walked into his room they had no way of knowing that the festering hatred and inadequacy that had been stewing in him for months was about to spill over. His anger was so quick to spark and their human body too weak to resist...

It was only once he realized how long he had their head forced under the water of his aquarium that he finally let them up for air.

He was stepping over himself to apologize, stammering incoherently through his tears how he just lost control and didn’t know what came over him!

His brothers weren’t forgiving. Not in the slightest. Each of them seemed to want to beat him within an inch of his life and he didn’t blame them… If he could get away with it, he’d march himself into the sea and let it serve as his rightful prison…

His punishments were severe, but not unending, and soon he was back in his room again. Now he never leaves it and the MC is never allowed back in, even if they want to be.

He now, truly, doesn’t deserve them at all...

Link to Part Two: Satan, Beel, Belphie

[mxvladdy]

Diavolo- True Form

Whoooooooo weeeee! ‘Pologies for the wait on these longer posts. I’ve been hit with a one two punch of house emergencies and sudden costly ass repairs, so my creative juices have been rightly squashed as of late.

Plus side I got my drawing tablet and drafting table back so I can neaten up my blog lay out now (yay!) 

Anyway this one was a challenge in the best possible ways. I really like Diavolo because of how little we know about him so it gave me some wiggle room. Or at least what I know of him- im only on like chapter 23 of the stories. Idk if I did him justice as this is angsty af but I sure had a blast writing it!

Hope ya like! Next up: Beelzebub 

Trigger warning: Mention of blood, and swearing. 

Diavolo-

He'll never show you, so don't ask. His true form is god-like in its own right and such knowledge, such truly raw demonic power in its natural form is not for your mortal eyes.

No matter what your lineage, it would break you. And despite his roles and being the literal devil, he doesn’t want you suffering.

Sometimes when he thinks you wouldn't notice he relaxes his hold on reality, just a fraction. He wants to relieve some of the tension that is always building just below the surface. Like closing your eyes when you have a tension headache. The mental energy he has to exert to keep face is enormous. Regular glamour doesn’t work nearly as well as his own, or Barbato’s magic.

But you see hints during your downtime spent in his company. A ripple in his reflection on the window pane. Unexplainable shadows dancing across his exposed skin. Too many teeth in his mouth when he laughs. Sometimes when you stare into his eyes you see something indescribable staring back behind them. His usually warm and inviting gaze darkening. A barest flicker, a hulking bestial thing kept locked behind in his golden gaze. It's enough to freeze the blood in your veins.

On certain nights when you can slip away from the brothers you stay in his room. Lying  awake, you watch his magic wane and shift as he slumbers. Sometimes you see runes, or at times letters. You are tempted to write them down and ask Solomon. But something stops you each time.

The worst images are the faces. Unknown souls trapped beneath his flesh clawing to be freed. Silent screams fading back into his body as he dreams. Your fragile fingers trace the patterns they leave as you wait for the next day wrapped in his embrace.

Only once have you seen more of his form then he would ever wish. The depths of his strength and mental fortitude were unknown to you so the slip up took you both by surprise. He masks the error well, but the sudden shift in energy in the room couldn’t be suppressed .

You are suddenly so aware of the oppressive weight of gravity on your frame. Your bones grinding together under the force of his aura. You panic, desperate by the need to breathe, but are unable to draw even the smallest bit of oxygen as it is robbed from the room. Time and reality wrapped too, distorting in ways only you thought only Barbatos could do. You knew in that moment the sudden dread of death, how mortally was but a rusty shackle tethering you down.

He collects himself, dispelling the energy and locking his glamour down tight to protect you. But that split second of fury felt like an eternity to you as you sink to the floor. You hiccup a shaky sob and shiver. Your fragile human mind bowing under the strain of what it cannot comprehend. Scolding hot tears fall from your cheeks, before splashing crimson the stone below you.

You didn't approach him again for over a month. No matter how strong you are, some things were better off unseen.

Mini Fic

He didn’t know. For once in his ancient pitiful existence, he had been unaware of his surroundings. It had been for just a moment, one tiny crack in his veneer. The foolishness of Mammon and Belphegor’s actions finally poked the right nerve. He wouldn’t hurt them, for Lucifer’s sake. That prideful demon would never forgive him if he did. But he could scare them. A quick look at his true self; a flash of the deepest bowels of hell. Enough to give them a reminder of their positions and standing in his court. He had expected their whimpers of fear, could taste the acidic tinge of it exuding from their pores. What he didn’t expect though was your blood curdling screams alongside.

Ironically, he would have to thank the second eldest later. His fast thinking is the only thing that saved you from complete damnation. His body shielded yours, taking the brunt of the stronger daemons hellish might for you. What little magic Mammon still had left used to protect you. Though, while your vision was blocked, you could still feel his oppressive presence. It racked your mortal flesh. Diavolo knew what affects his power had on humans. He spent years breaking and consuming damned souls with zeal after all.

The brothers had run from him after that, screaming for Simone. Barbatos following close behind, a look of consternation on his usually impassive face. You had been so limp in Mammon's arms. Diavolo could do nothing, shocked by his own weak will and realization that he might have ruined everything. You had been whisked away so quickly by his faithful servant and the brothers that he hadn’t had a chance to look you over himself. But the brief moment he saw will haunt him for years to come. Your eyes red from the sudden haemolacria, the blood staining your clothes and face. Your fingers digging away at your soft skin, black and purple blotches staining what he could see. Mouth opened wide on a silent scream. He knew what you must have seen. The souls of the damned trapped under his glamour breaking free to latch on to your unmarred soul trying to drag you back with them.

Against his butler's advice he stands at your door now days later trying to see you. He couldn’t sit around and just hear updates second hand. The brothers had been keeping guard most days in a valiant attempt to keep him away. But he could only be waylaid for so long before he used his rank against them.

He had arranged a full council meeting. Every one of the brothers knowing full well it was to get them out of his way. Yet, the order was absolute. This time none of the brothers could reject it. Barbatos would keep them in that room for eternity if he so wished for it. He hated using his age and power against them, but he saw no other way to get to you.

It was foolish now, standing as he was in front of your door. A part of him hoping you would turn the knob and let him in. Let him comfort you for once, instead of the asinine distractions the brothers offered. He could help too. Hells, he wanted to. He wanted to be closer to you. Power discrepancy be damned. The other part of him knowing it was for the best that you didn’t. Your guardian and tormentor all in one. He listens to your muffled sobs for a moment fighting with his feet to stay cemented to the floor instead of heading back in defeat.  

"When my father was still around he took me down to the deepest depths of the kingdom. Where the worst of the traitors and sinners are imprisoned." His deep baritone rumbles through your door during a break in your crying. "It’s a place few seldom go; even now I have yet to return. Back then he told me ‘there will never be a human soul that is undeserving of punishment. Even the ones destined for the celestial realm are tethered to sin.’ At that time I believed him. The things I saw in your realm... " The prince chuckles wearily.

He remembers the ever present scowl on the old King's face. His dark eyes looking out at the sea of damned souls he controlled. Even as a young daemon, fresh into his wings and still sharpening his horns to impress others he could tell how much his father detested his position. How it had warped him, turning him bitter and cold, even to his mate and only child.

Diavolo never wanted to be like that. Not to the ones he supposedly cared for at the very least. "I think that is why he hated the other realms so much.” He continued. “Humans, for their ability to choose which realm they would eventually end up in after they pass. That even the worst sinners could find redemption enough at the last moment to get to the pearly gates. While daemons, no matter how well they served, or the duties they did for the good of their own would never be seen as equals to our celestial counterparts or yours. That this existence is all we'll ever be destined to have. Nightmares and monsters, stories to tell little human children to keep them in line.” He pauses, collecting himself. “I believed wholeheartedly that every human deserved the punishments only my kind could dowel out. But, in this past year I have spent with you, I find myself changing. You are so undeserving of such torment. Somehow you are understanding and forgiving beyond measure to us. You handle our ill tempers with such grace. For daemons such as us, it is staggering, and humbling. I regret that I have hurt you so deeply and have broken your trust. I swear it as the head of this realm I would never intentionally do so." He looks at the door handle willing it to open. " I am so sorry."

Your crying picks up again. Huge heaving sobs that rattle your chest. Great Father, he just keeps making it worse. Clearing his head Diavolo turns.

Rejection of this nature was new to him. No one had ever dared to ignore him, especially such as this. The royal in him- his father's blood- seethed that he would even stoop so low as to grovel to a short lived thing like yourself. Even deeper yet, it demanded another taste of your essences. You little soul kept safe behind your rib cage. He wanted it added to his collection, kept tucked away deep within his maws.

It was sick; it was wrong. He chokes on the idea. The intrusive thought burrowing deep. How deplorable was he? Perhaps the angels were right to keep him out of heaven.

You didn't show to class the following day, or the days after. Unsurprising to him and the seven of the inner council. He figured the other day wouldn’t change anything. But it was utter agony to him. These days trapped in his office only getting short and curt updates on your health from Lucifer. It had been a special kind of torment.

Today he sat once again at his desk staring at some godforsaken bitching of a royal cousin. He knew this whelp. Some backwater thrice removed eons ago. Yet he was demanding an audience? The gall. The ink of their eligible handwriting makes him cross eyed. Would this day ever cease? He looks to his hourglass, the sands within seemingly frozen in time.

"My Lord, perhaps you should take a moment to stretch your legs?" Barbatos moved from his corner. Gloved hand coming to rest on top of the same three lines he had been reading for the past two hours. "This work could wait another evening I’m certain ."

"Did I do the right thing my friend?" Diavolo doesn't even bother answering the question his servant posed. They both knew he wouldn't. "This program. Our human exchange students. Solomon is one thing, but-"

"Your will and path is absolute." Barbatos states. "There are no mistakes within you, merely stumblings onto different paths."

With a gentle push Barbatos moves the hulking demon out of his way to collect and organize the scrolls and letters scattered about the large desk. "You made the right choice bringing them here. Look at what they have done. They are entertainment to you are they not?"

The prince rose knocking his desk aside and descended on his butler. His true form out in all its unholy glory now. His highly condensed magic distorting the study as if he was a black hole. The axis of the room shifts. His priceless collection of books and toys disintegrating from the cold radiation he emits.

It was all for show really. There was nothing he could do to an ancient being such as Barbatos. So he lashed out, throwing a tantrum in the security of his office. The hopeless agitation he felt fueling the flames of his rage. His butler had only added holy water to his already festering wounds.

Barbatos had been by his side for time in memoriam. The crafty bastard had helped raise him. Had shaped him into the ruler he was today. If anyone could break and remold him it would be his oldest companion.

The dark haired daemon waited for the waves of agitation to dry up. Moving only when the prince was in his more presentable demonic form. Large barrel chest heaving as he reined himself in. “Are you back to your senses?” He asks coolly, already categorizing the items to replace and furniture to be mended.

"I had not meant for it to go like this."  Diavolo croaks into his hands collapsing back on what remained of his desk. Building a bridge between realms, yes. That noble idea was the greater purpose of this program, but the rest of it. The classes, and dances. The parties where he threw his newest toys about to see how they would react to things other mortals worshiped? That had been for his own curiosity and amusement. Lesser beings navigating a foreign world blind to the dangers that were right under their very nose. Bring a mortal with no magic into his realm? Deep down he knew this was an inevitability. Especially with the freedoms he granted them. He just didn’t think he would get so attached.

“No one believes that you would hurt them on purpose.” His butler cuts off his downward spiral. “It would ruin the program. That is what you are so stressed about, right?” Barbatos eyes him skeptically. Diavolo, himself, and Lucifer had spent many sleepless weeks constructing and negotiating this program. If the Arch Angels heard a mortal was hurt down here it could very well end this little escapade. But the look in the prince’s eyes told a different story.

A warm glow emanated from his cheeks and he was unable to meet the old daemon’s gaze. Ah. "Or perhaps things have changed?" Barbatos smiles coyly up from beneath his bangs. "You are your mother's son after all. Neither of you were ever able to stem your bleeding hearts for long." Diavolo squawked indignantly but didn’t argue. Instead he merely turns a darker shade of red and curses under his breath.

He skipped out on court that evening. Not that he cared much. The other nobles would no doubt use the time to gossip about his whereabouts and uncouth behavior of late. Truth be told, he was avoiding the brothers more than anything else. They had made it expressly clear (some more then others) how they felt about him currently. He wouldn't doubt that Belphegor had a few more brothers on his side now.

Instead he stood at your door once more with a tea tray in hand. He had bumped into Simone on the way. The angel had come to bring you dinner and to check up on the last of your wounds. Celestial magic worked miracles on those who have been touched by the darker arts. Diavolo was grateful for his talents. And, by some miracle, Simone had made it abundantly clear he was not going to bring this to the higher ups on his end either.

Upon seeing the prince slinking up the house's stairwell the other man had simply smiled and offered him the tray. “I suddenly got a message from Luke. Could you perhaps drop this by our friend’s door?” Diavolo had accepted without preamble, large hands dwarfing the platter of little tea cakes and sandwiches. The young cherubs work no doubt. His cooking was a fine treat, and a great incentive to at least open the door.

“Hello again.” He knocks twice. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know I am the last person you wish to see but I was hoping to talk?” Silence greets him. Were you awake? He breathes deeply and focuses on picking up your vitals. You were up, your heart thumping steady somewhere in the room. That was good. “I also have dinner for you. Simone had an urgent matter to attend to so he- for better or worse- entrusted this to me.”

Diavolo searches hopelessly for something else to say. He couldn’t just leave the food and go. He needed to see you. “I don’t plan on staying long today. I understand when I am not wanted, but I cannot help myself but be worried for you. Perhaps this is just me contritioning, because I know I caused this. The amount of times I have been called a ‘ass’ by Solomon over this have been staggering.” He rambles. After another bout of silence from your end he coincides. “I see- I will leave the food by the door and let you rest.” Defeated he puts the food down and turns to leave.

The door clicks open slowly. One bloodshot eye peeking through the crack. “Oh mio piccolo mortale.” He loses his grip on your shared tongue at a loss. You looked- you must have been in the hall longer then he or the brothers had known. Such damage couldn’t be done in a few moments. Your skin was healing as nicely as Lucifer had said, but the deep purple scarring still remained on the surface. The burn pattern of it all was random. Twisting wounds that reflected an oily sheen from the light of the hallway. “I-.”

“I know-” You cut him off with a raised hand. “and I feel as though I owe you an apology too.” Your voice was so weak and shaky. A mockery of your normally strong and jovial tone. Hearing you laugh at school had brightened the dreary halls. He hadn’t realized it until you weren't there.

“You owe me nothing.” Diavolo says in earnest. He watches you contemplate your next words before throwing whatever you were going to say away.

“Would you like to come in?” Your eyes drop to the tray. “Luke always makes more than I can eat.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.” He backs out. All his plans crashing and burning around his feet. His actions had been irreparable.

“Perhaps not,” You open the door wider taking the tray and heading to your side table, leaving him no room to argue. “But then again, being a lamb among such wolves as yourself and the brothers isn’t smart either.” You meant it as a joke but he couldn’t even muster a chuckle. It was true. Gods. “Dia-” You approach him again but falter at the last second.

As much as you wanted to be close to him again the memories were still so fresh in your mind. The cold hell fire of his magic ensnaring you, searing your skin. The whispered words of sinners long since past still echoing in your head, all in languages you’ve never heard before. The worst though had to be the screaming. Lost souls begging for help. Some sounded so familiar…You shutter involuntarily.

You wanted to hate him for this. Curse him for putting you through this pain. But how much could you blame him? Or any of them? They were daemons. Whether he meant to hurt you or not, it truly had only been a matter of time before it happened. It would be hypocritical of you to fear or hate him forever over this. Six of the seven brothers have threatened your life before, and you have forgiven them. Hell, one of them actually killed you. What’s more was that Diavolo’s wrath hadn’t even been directed at you.

Wrong place at the right time; seemed to be your forte. “Please, come in.” You repeat again firmer than before mustering up either courage or sheer human stupidity to order him in. You couldn’t tell the difference anymore. “We need to talk.”  

He enters, following at your heel like a lost puppy. All air of princedom gone as you clicked the door shut. Diavolo fiddles with his hands, old habits from childhood coming with his nerves. He didn’t know what to expect anymore. Yelling? Some kind of beratement? A plea to go home and never look back?  He would let you.

You pass by him, giving him a large berth of space to get to your seat. “Tea?”  

Diavolo jerks his head to you. He had forgotten momentarily the plate of food he had used to get access to you. You smile sheepishly pushing it and a plate of sweets towards him with your unbandaged knuckles. He doesn’t move till your hand retracts back to your lap. You jerk your head to the open seat waiting for him. You weren’t going to take no for an answer.

“I- thank you.” The daemon sits making himself as small as possible in the straight back chair. He takes the porcelain and drinks mindlessly. The scalding hot tea doing little to help the tightness of his throat, but it did thaw some of the ice in his mind.

“Are-how…” He fumbles so unsure of what to do next. “I see you’ve been keeping up with your school work.” Diavolo closes his eyes, wincing internally at his words. That’s what he comes up with? Idiotic.

You smile anyway, eyeing the massive pile of books and paperwork spewn about your bed. “Yeah. I’ve taken to doing my school work with Levi in his room. Mammon and Beel are nice enough to drop it off to the teachers when they are due.” He nods. He knew this of course. But it was nice to hear it from you. But yet, you don’t meet his eyes. Far too afraid to see what hid behind them.

The thought of being dragged back into those dark depths again makes your pulse quicken. You instead stare at your nail beds, finding them more interesting. They were purple now. The nails stained black by the contact with his magic. “Will- will that go away?” He asks. Demonic curses or taints were nigh impossible to remove fully. Disgustingly, he hoped they didn’t. Then your nails would match his. The darker depths of his soul coo at the idea, happy that in a small way every daemon would know your his. Not as good as a pact, but as close as he could get to being a part of your little mortal life.

“I’m not sure.” You reply honestly bringing your hands up to place them on the table. “Simone and Solomon have done what they could. But, it is as good as it’s going to get for now. They say it could fade with time.” You look up at him, eyes gazing to the left of his face. “Luke thinks I should see a stronger angel.” Diavolo winces, the thought stung, and terrified him. “I told him no.”

That surprised him. This was your chance. The celestial realm had been skeptical from the beginning. If they knew, it would be a perfect caveat for them to step in. “Why?” Finally you look at him. The fear was still there. Hesitation evident in your eyes. Yet you forced yourself to look at him, fighting through your trepidation.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About your father and what you think of me?”

“Of course.” He replies without hesitation reaching for your cold hands. You flinch but don’t move away. It felt-nice. His warmth chasing away the perpetual chill that covered your fingertips. Idly you stroke his strong hands with your thumbs.

“Then, I think we can work on this privately.” Slowly but surely you felt like you could fix this. Not for the program, but for yourself.  

[lunar-jimin]

life goes on, it gets so heavy; the wheel breaks the butterfly

Pairing: Jungkook x fem!reading

Rating: 18+

Genre: smut, angst, fluffy ending, ceo!jungkook, secretary!reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: cheating, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, using pulling out as a protective method (don’t do this kids), dom!jungkook, sub!reader, cumming in pants, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, daddy kink, degradation, lovey-dovey sex, impreg kink

Summary: Despite being the golden heir of a wealthy empire, Jungkook is incredibly unhappy with life he’s been handed. When you show up in his office one morning, you change his life in the way he least expected, but in the way he needed the most. 

a/n: This is an anonymous commission for my BLM fundraiser!! If you would like to request something yourself, you can find the link to my official post here! I would also like to thank the lovely @nightowls388​ for beta reading!!

| masterlist | moodboard | playlist |

The air was too hot. Uncomfortable. Sticky. Jungkook loosened the tie around his neck in a desperate attempt to free himself from the confines of his suit. He hated August. It was always too warm, too sunny. He preferred the dark winter days where the snow silenced the universal white noise. Black suits weren’t as suffocating on forty degree days.

He glanced out the window of the Rolls Royce, taking in the pedestrians struggling not to melt in the intense gaze of the sun. He sympathized with their struggle. Even the blast of freezing draft from the air conditioner did little to spare him from the heat. He enjoyed watching people. He was fascinated by the little idiosyncrasies that formed them into unique individuals, each essential to making the world work. Besides, everyone’s life seemed more interesting to him than his own.

There was a point in his life when he was content with the plan his parents had laid out for him before he was in diapers. He looked forward to one day taking over his father’s company, marrying a nice girl, and starting a family. It was a simple plan and one that gained the approval of the adults in his life: something he was constantly vying for as an adolescent. It was what he was raised with. When he went to college, everything changed. For the first time in his existence, he wasn’t being inundated with his parent’s doctrine and found that there was more to life than running Fortune 500 companies. His parents were less than pleased to discover that he had accompanied his business major with a minor in photography. 

But despite the longing that had bloomed in him for something more intriguing than sterile offices and mundane board meetings, he still found himself back home where his parents once again instilled in him the desire to be the golden heir. A year after his return as the prodigal son, his parents set him with the woman who was now his wife. Three years after that, his father decided that he would rather spend his days on the golfing green rather than in sky-high conference rooms, so he handed off the company to Jungkook. Ever since Jungkook had been locked inside stuffy black suits and boring ties. And he absolutely hated it. 

He squirmed in his seat, his desire to escape increasing with each second he was locked in the back of the car. God, why was it so hot? He felt like crying- a feeling that had become increasingly common during the past six months. His brain felt like a bubbling volcano waiting patiently to explode. Sometimes, Jungkook imagined what would happen when it did. He would divorce his wife, leave his job, and move to some island in the Caribbean where he would spend the rest of his days taking pictures. It was a nice dream, but it was only that, a dream. 

He shook his head, trying to contain his runaway emotions. As the car came to a halt in front of the office building, Jungkook tightened his tie and grabbed his briefcase before exiting out into the scalding heat. If inside the car was bad, outside was absolute hell. It was so hot, Jungkook swore he was on fire. He frowned, rushing into the safety of the air-conditioned skyscraper in front of him before he broke out in a sweat. 

He sighed in relief the second he made it through the rotating doors. He had never been so grateful for the large air conditioning bill in all his life. His relief was so immense that it took a full minute to realize something was wrong. Normally, the second he walked through the door, his secretary greeted him with an iced coffee and a pastry, but as he looked around, his secretary was nowhere to be found. Yet another sigh escaped his mouth as he stepped into the elevator. Why of all days did today have to be the day his secretary magically disappeared? He shook his head. 

He noticed her the minute he arrived at his office floor. She was bent over a box, all her attention focused on searching for whatever object was eluding her. It took her a moment to notice his presence, but when she did, she bolted upright before scurrying in front of the desk, hands behind her back. Jungkook looked her up and down, transfixed by the beautiful stranger.

“Can I help you?”

His voice came out harsher than he meant it to and he cringed when you tried to disguise a wince. 

“Um, yes, I’m your new secretary, Mr. Jeon.”

His brows furrowed. 

“New secretary? What happened to the old one? He was perfectly fine.”

He didn’t remember any emails about his secretary leaving, although to be fair, he hadn’t been paying attention to much these days. He might physically be at work, but more often than not, his mind had drifted to far off places. Mostly island paradises. 

“He moved away.”

“Ah,” he gave you a once over, “and what is your name, new secretary?”

You answered him. He nodded as if you had given him the right answer on a quiz.

“And I don’t suppose anyone has told you how things work around here.”

“No sir.”

His hands clenched at the name, a picture of you on your knees before him (with much less clothing) popped into his head. He shook it off, trying to stay the least bit professional. He had a wife for god’s sake. 

“I see. Well, for future reference, I expect you to meet me each day in the lobby with an iced americano and a pastry,” he paused when he realized how demanding he sounded before softly adding, “No cherries though, I hate cherries.”

You nodded, grabbing a sticky note and jotting down his instructions.

“For now, just get settled in. Do you happen to know if I have any meetings today?”

You nodded again, “You have a lunch meeting with the Samsung marketing director at one, sir.”

There it was again. That damn formality. It was really going to get the better of him. 

“You will accompany me. I expect you to take notes, but don’t contribute to the conversation. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jungkook nodded before making a beeline to his office before he got a boner. He let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him. His heart pounded in his chest and despite his desperate attempts, he’s chubbed up a bit in his pants. 

He didn’t want to admit that it’s because you might be the most attractive woman he has ever seen. He didn’t want to admit that he hasn’t been this turned on in months. Instead, he passed it off on the fact that he hadn’t had sex with his wife in three months which left behind quite a bit of built-up tension. 

The hours ticked by and Jungkook attempted to bury himself with the neverending stack of paperwork. He remembered there was a time when he loved to show off his signature (there was a reason fifteen-year-old him never had a girlfriend), but now he wanted to chop off his hands so that he could never sign a contract again. He was thankful when the clock struck eleven, releasing him from his office, even if it meant being stuck talking shop for an hour while eating expensive but flavorless food. 

He stepped out to find you arranging photos on the wall beside your desk. You glanced up when you heard the door open and flashed him a blinding smile. 

“Ready, sir?”

He nodded. The title was really going to be a problem. 

The meeting was the beginning of Jungkook’s personal purgatory. Every day you would greet him with a smile and the best pastries he had ever tasted. (He was surprised when you admitted to him that you had baked them yourself. If you weren't proving to be an amazing secretary, he would suggest that you open a bakery, but he’s selfish.) You were a good listener and caught onto his routines without a struggle. But every day you would show up dressed as pure temptation. It wasn’t even that your outfits were scandalous, just simple pencil skirts and pastel blouses, but you made them look like sin incarnate. It didn’t help that every night he went home to his wife who he barely noticed existed anymore.

There had been a point when he and his wife were, er, passionate. For the first couple of years, Jungkook even managed to convince himself that he was in love with her. But a couple of months ago, weekly dinners turned into once a month before they disappeared altogether. To make the situation worse, his mother was starting to complain about her lack of children, but he didn’t know how to break it to her that he couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed his wife, much less had sex with her. There were no bitter feelings or resentment, just indifference. He had briefly considered couples therapy before deciding against it. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to attempt to salvage the crumbs of his marriage. 

You had only added fuel to the fire. Jungkook found himself just as infatuated with your mind as he was with your body. Not only did you laugh at his dumb jokes and listen to his whining, but you had witty contributions and easily found out-of-the-box solutions. He swore this quarter’s numbers would be higher just from you alone. And you flirted. He wasn’t sure at first, incredibly hesitant to respond in fear of a scandalous HR report. But when he caught your gaze on him when you thought he wasn’t looking one too many times, he realized there was a good chance that you liked him just as much as he liked you. 

Between you, his wife, and his desperate need to escape this world of offices, limos, and quid pro quo, his life was unraveling right in front of him. Still, he tried to hold onto all the pieces before they landed in a disappointed heap in his lap. He wasn’t quite ready to let it all go to shit. He definitely was not ready to meet his parents’ disapproving faces when he lost everything they had worked so hard to ensure he had. 

Two months after you began working, he found himself at an overcrowded party praying he was anywhere but there. Sadly, being a CEO meant that he wasn’t allowed to drink away his woes, lest he make a fool of himself in front of all the investors. Instead, he was forced to stay exhaustingly sober as he watched everyone around him devolve into debauchery. He found his wife pleasantly drunk near the bar talking to one of her friends whose face he recognized but couldn’t remember her name for the life of him.

“Having fun darling?”

He grinned, trying to play the role of loving husband. A role that had become increasingly difficult to mimic. 

“It’s your birthday party, I should be asking you. Have you even had a drink? Probably not,” she turned back to her friend, “He never drinks at these things, something about keeping up appearances. I think it’s dumb. It’s his own birthday for fuck’s sake.”

He rolled his eyes. There she went again, putting him down. It wasn’t the first time she had commented on his festive sobriety. She wasn’t a fan. Maybe it was because he only fucked her after he drank. Still, he conceded to her teasing, figuring one drink wouldn’t hurt. He waved down a bartender.

“A whiskey on the rocks, please,” he turned back to his wife, “satisfied?”

She grinned at him before resuming ignoring him in favor of whatever fascinating conversation her friend was providing. He sighed before grabbing his drink and making his way out to the balcony. The air inside the penthouse was stuffy and he was beginning to feel claustrophobic. He was surprised to find you already out there, nursing your own drink in your hand. It wasn't unusual for people from the office to be at his personal parties. His father had taught him a long time ago that inviting your employees into your personal life was key to inspiring loyalty. It made them feel like they knew you and that they were important to you. But seeing as you were a relatively new addition, he had never seen you outside of the office and if you were sexy in skirts and blouses, the dress you had on should be illegal. He gulped before leaning next to you on the rail.

"Parties not your thing?"

You jumped, spilling a bit of your drink onto the dark street below. 

"Um, no, parties are fine. Rich people parties are just a whole new animal."

He chuckled.

"That's fair I suppose. Even I get sick of those fuckers. They do realize that they aren’t at the office anymore right? No need to brag about how well your stock is doing"

You smiled at him before looking back out at the city skyline. Despite having grown up with views like this, Jungkook still found it breathtaking. Almost as breathtaking as he found you. He took a sip of his drink, trying to drown his thoughts in alcohol. When he looked at you again, he felt his stomach churn. You were so beautiful that he wasn't sure what to do with himself. A sigh escaped him. You broke out of your trance and turned to look at him.

"Something wrong?"

"No. Not really."

You raised your eyebrow.

"I just- I know this sounds stupid and pretentious- but I really just don't want to do this anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"This job. This lifestyle. This life. I was raised to be the perfect CEO with the perfect family, a copy of my father really, but that's not what I want. All my family has ever seen me as is the golden heir and honestly, I don’t know if I can be that anymore."

"Who do you want to be?"

"I don't know. A photographer I guess. And marry somebody I actually choose to fall in love with. And live away from the stress of trying to please every person in my life at the cost of my own happiness."

"You don't love your wife?"

"No, I do. Kinda. I just... My parents picked her out and at some point, I was smitten with her, but we're so different and she wants success and money and, well, I don't care about that as much. She’s not a bad person, she’s just obsessed with her books and her writing, and well, that doesn’t leave much room for family. I’m not much better though."

"Oh."

"And we haven't been too hot lately."

"How so?"

"Um, well, we're really distant, and, um, we haven't had sex in two months."

You snorted and he blanched. He usually never shared that kind of thing with anyone and here he was confessing his personal problems to you, his secretary. The alcohol must be affecting him more than he thought. This is why he didn't drink at parties.

"How? Has she seen you? I would be all over you if I was your wife.”

You realized what you had said a moment too late and you looked at him with wide eyes, a faint blush covering your face. He let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Would you now?”

You nodded before downing the rest of your drink. Jungkook felt something akin to butterflies begin to flutter in his stomach. He had known that he was fairly attractive, but something about hearing someone as ethereal as you admit it made his heart do flips. 

“Yeah, well, it’s really on me I guess. I haven’t really wanted to.”

“You don’t want to have sex?”

Relief washed over your face when you realized that he wasn’t going to linger on your slip up. 

“Yeah. Well no. I do want to have sex. Just not with her.”

“I see. Well, who do you want to have sex with?”

It was a small glimpse, almost imperceptible, but he saw the recognition in your face as you watched his eyes glance over you.

“Me?”

Jungkook gulped. What was he doing? What was he getting himself into? He had a life to protect. Expectations to uphold. And yet, here he was, considering risking it all for a secretary who was making him feel something for the first time in months. 

When he gathered enough courage to look at you, he found you staring at his lips. One second he’s waging a war with himself and the next your mouth is on his. Your lips are just as warm and soft as he thought they would be and for a moment he lets himself be absorbed by them. But reality rapidly floods back, and he pushes you away. You looked at him, obviously hurt by the rejection. 

“I’m sorry.”

He’s being honest. He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he was a coward who was afraid of what people thought of him. And the things people would think about him if they knew he kissed his secretary were not pretty.

“It’s fine.”

You failed to cover up the disappointment in your voice. 

“It’s not you. It’s just I have a wife, and a family with expectations and-”

He sighs.

“Look, it’s fine. Really. I’m just gonna get going, okay? I’ll see you on Monday.”

With that, you leave him to his own devices. He watches your figure go, before turning back to face the city. 

“Fuck.”

If work was hell before, it was nothing compared to what it was now. Every day, he found himself torn between wanting to take you on his desk and wanting to never see you again. Ever since the party, the memory of your lips pressed on his had haunted him like an orphaned Victorian ghost with a thirst for revenge.  It was on replay in his mind to the point he couldn’t properly sleep anymore. He felt like shit, and he was pretty sure he looked it too, but if anyone noticed they neglected to say anything. 

You, on the other hand, seemed to be doing just fine. You hadn’t so much as mentioned the party. You performed your duties with your usual pep and continued to bring him your heavenly pastries. He resented you a little bit for being able to move on so easily. Here he was hung up on a moment he had fucked up, and there you were acting like nothing had happened. He wanted to scream. 

So he pulled back. He only talked to you if it was absolutely necessary. He never looked your way. He threw himself into his job. But you were still there, just as tempting as the first day he had seen you. His mind was being forced to choose between you alongside the island paradise he dreamed of, and keeping up appearances while pleasing his elders. A week passed and he was miserable. He was exhausted and all his will power had been depleted. 

That’s why he ended up doing what he did. Or at least that’s what he told himself. Friday rolled around and Jungkook was at his wit’s end. And then there you were, fifteen feet away from him flirting with some random guy from IT. (Namjoon, maybe?) It was harmless, but it didn’t stop Jungkook’s gut from twisting about inside of him. Why didn’t you flirt with him? Why didn’t you show him any signs of affection? He reminds himself that he rejected you, but it’s no help. Jealousy overwhelms him as he squirms in his leather chair. He barely noticed his hands clamped into fists or the way his jaw had clenched to the point of pain. When Namjoon leans over to whisper into your ear, Jungkook loses the small tidbits of control he had left. 

He pushes himself out of his chair and storms out, not bothering to say anything as he grabs your arm and pulls you away from a stunned Namjoon and back to his office, slamming the door behind him. 

“Can I help you?”

Your tone is curt and your face was twitching with displeasure. Jungkook realized that once he had you, he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do with you. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He would certainly like to bend you over his desk and fuck you until you couldn’t walk, but he was fairly certain that wouldn’t go over well with you right now. 

“Umm…” 

He felt a blush cross his face as he realized he was still holding onto your wrist. He released it before turning to pace back and forth across the marble floor. 

“Well?”

You folded your arms across your chest, your eyes were alight with something dangerous. Something that Jungkook found incredibly sexy. Before his brain could register with what he was doing, he found himself marching over to you, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. 

You stiffened against him, but before you had a chance to respond, he had pulled away from you. The guilt was almost immediate, drowning him in regret and confusion. You too looked confused, as you stood stock still, surprise plastered all over your face. Jungkook turned and walked back to his chair. 

“You can go.”

You seemed to barely register the words as you nodded before absent-mindedly wandering out of his office. Jungkook relaxed in his seat as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He knew he had feelings for you, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Nothing he couldn’t control. But he had lost control and now he wasn’t able to trust himself. And he didn’t know if he wanted to.

After that, things went back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be. He gathered the courage to interact with you again. But now instead of friendly glances and gestures, there were secret looks and subtle touches. Jungkook knew he was a wind-up toy one twist away from snapping, but he couldn’t help but indulge in your flirty gestures. 

He found himself growing bolder as the consequences he had once worried about seemed to be a world away. What started with the brush of a hand across the hip, grew to a hand on your thigh in the back of the car. Dark stares and lip bites plagued his day. At night, he would go home and lock himself in his private office where he would wrap his hand around his cock while conjuring up images of you in a variety of wanton states, all for him. 

He should’ve known that staying at work late with you would be a bad idea. Usually, you had the rest of the employees to keep you in check. With them gone, he found himself finding little reason to hold himself back.

“And so that’s why I think it’s a good idea to start engaging with younger consumers.”

You had been discussing ways to boost sales for the quarter, but he had stopped listening long ago, instead focusing on how your shirt was opened a button lower than usual.

“Mr. Jeon?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you listening?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Of course. Younger consumers. Got it.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

“What?”

“Maybe if you spent less time staring at my chest and more time focusing on these market studies, we would already have higher sales.”

“Sorry.”

“Sure you are.”

“You’re right. I’m not.”

The drop of his voice surprised even him. You looked at him with an unreadable look from your perch on the edge of his desk.

“And what is so enticing about my chest?”

Jungkook gulped. Your eyes had darkened and he felt himself start to stir in his pants. 

“It’s a part of you. And you are so sexy I can barely control myself.”

You smirked, before sauntering over to him and lowering yourself into his lap. The scent of your perfume overwhelmed him as you leaned in to whisper in his ear. 

“Then don’t.”

Somewhere inside him, a cord snapped. The control he had been trying to reign in had broken free and he was left to his own primal devices. He pulled your lips to his, finally relishing in getting to properly kiss you. You responded instantly, lips moving against his as your hands buried themselves in his hair. You tugged on the strands and Jungkook moaned into your mouth, hips bucking up into you as his hand grabbed your ass. You returned his moans and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

His brain was a mess of emotions and hormones. He was overwhelmingly hard in his pants and your lips felt too good against his. You rolled your hips on top of him and he let a growl, the need to take you battling with his need to preserve the few remaining shreds of his dignity. 

He didn’t have the chance to make a decision though when the office door swung open and the head of a very confused janitor popped in. 

“Uh…I thought you were gone,” he stuttered, “...I’ll just leave.”

The janitor blushed before shutting the door. Jungkook turned back to look at you to find a similar rosy hue had graced your cheeks. 

“Um...I should probably get going too.”

Your voice was meek and the embarrassment of getting caught was plastered all over your face. He can’t blame you though, he isn’t doing too well himself. The fear of getting caught had left him deflated in more ways than one. 

“Yeah, sure, that’s probably good.”

You moved off his lap, readjusting your skirt as you do so. You grab your purse and jacket before walking to the door. Just as you were about to open it, you turn back to look at him. 

“Good night, Jungkook.”

He looked up surprised. It was the first time you had called him by his first name. It sounded heavenly coming from your lips. 

“Goodnight.”

Before he left for the night, he made sure to track down the janitor and offer him a healthy sum of money to stay quiet. He took it happily and continued on his way.

The weekend passed slowly for Jungkook. You plagued his thoughts with images of your rumpled skirt and the feeling of your hands in his hair. His wife was out of town for yet another business trip. He didn’t care. It just gave him more time with the thought of you while his hand was around his cock.

When Monday finally rolled around, Jungkook found himself the happiest he’d ever been to go to work. As he walked into the lobby, the sight of you washed over him like the cold water of a lake on the hottest day of summer. Something about your smile seemed to relieve him of all the heavy stress he was carrying on his shoulders. 

He almost made it through the day without losing control of himself. Despite all the glances he gave you, or the way you brushed your hand against his while you leaned over next to him to explain a chart, he managed to keep it together. But when you bent over in front of his desk to pick up a pen he dropped, he lost all control. The next thing he knew, he was slamming you against his office door, lips attacking yours, while his hips rutted into you. 

Your initial shock wore off almost instantly and you groaned as you melted into him. You wrapped a leg around his waist, dragging him closer to your core. The kiss was messy and he was sure your lipstick was ruined. A fervent need overwhelmed him as he humped you like a desperate teenager. You pulled away to catch your breath, dark eyes looking staring back at his own. 

“Fuck, you turn me on so much, baby,” he growled into your ear, hips moving faster. 

Words seemed to fail you as you whined back at him, pleasure contorting in your face. You suddenly let go of him, before dropping down to your knees. Instead of going to undo his pants like he expected, you simply gave a long lick over his bulge. Jungkook’s legs immediately turned to jello and he had to brace himself on the door to keep himself upright. 

“Oh fuck, what are you doing baby?”

“I’m getting you off. Do you want me to make you feel good sir?”

For once he was happy to hear the name. He didn’t get a chance to respond before you grabbed him through his pants. He threw his head back with a moan. It briefly occurred to him that people might hear through the thin walls, but your hand on his hard cock soon relieved him of all thought. It didn’t take much to get him to the point of no return. Even with all the nights spent with his fist and a bottle of lube he still felt like a rubber band getting stretched to its limit. You were barely touching him, but there he was, on the precipice of cumming in his own damn pants. He barely had time to warn you before spurts of hot cum filled his boxer briefs with white. “Oh, fuck.”

You giggled as he let out soft groans, cock twitching in its confines. The high of pleasure was quickly wiped away as the sensation of sticky underwear rose to his attention. 

“You’re a bad, bad girl, baby. You made me cum in my pants. Do you know what happens to bad girls?”

“No, sir.” 

“They get punished.”

“And how are you going to punish me, sir?”

Jungkook had to stifle a groan. You were still on your knees in front of him, calling him ‘sir’. Despite having just had one of the better orgasms in his life, his dick twitched with interest. 

“Stand up.”

You quickly obey, rising to your full height, but keeping eye contact the entire time. 

“Take off your panties.”

Your eyes grew wide at his demand, but you obeyed him nonetheless. The second you grasped the pink lace in your hand, he snatched them from you, immediately bringing them up his nose. He inhaled, letting himself get lost in the musky aroma.

“Shit, baby, you smell so good. I can’t wait to eat your wet pussy. But not today. You were bad today and only good girls get their pussy eaten.”

You let out a whimper but kept your mouth shut, body frozen in place. He stuffed your panties into his pant pocket before walking over to his desk and taking a seat. 

“You may go.”

You looked like you wanted to say something, probably about your lack of undergarments, but you held your tongue and turned to leave. 

“Oh, and one last thing.”

You turned back to him.

“I’m going to need a new suit. It seems I’ve spilled some coffee on this one.”

He smirked and you nodded, before stepping out the door. 

He didn’t try to hold himself back after that. He would take you whenever the opportunity arose. It didn’t take long for him to fulfill his promise to eat you out. He would forever remember the way you whined his name while his mouth pulled not one, but two orgasms from your dripping pussy. And when he finally got to feel your mouth around his cock, he was fairly sure he had found nirvana. 

He wouldn’t fuck you though. He knew it was silly as if he would be betraying his wife any more than he already was by having sex with you, but for some reason, he felt the need to draw a line. To separate the boundary between the fantasy land he had created with you and the cold reality that he returned home to. His wife had become all but a ghost in his life, and as a result, Jungkook found you providing his only emotional support in addition to sexual release. He didn’t want to admit that somehow, in a few short months, you had grown from being just his secretary to his closest companion. 

He didn’t want to admit it because he was too afraid of where it would lead. He was already teetering on the edge to give it all up, even before you had shown up in his office looking like a gift from heaven, but now, now he was fairly certain that even the tiniest breeze would push him over. And he didn’t know if you would be there to catch him if he fell. 

But that didn’t stop him from starting to dream of a future with you. The island paradise in his mind expanded to include you. Flashes of laughing children, nights under the stars, and soft kisses danced through his mind. You would have your own bakery, he would take pictures, and together you would create your own little family. One that was far removed from the hassle and the stress of his painful existence.  

Jungkook was over the moon to discover that you would be accompanying him on a work trip to Japan. For one whole week, you would be one door away. Even if it was a ruse, Jungkook would be allowed to pretend, for one whole week, that you were his and he was yours alone. On the plane ride alone, he made you cum three times in the cramped bathroom. During the day, you would both try to hold it together. Merger meetings were laced with subtle glances and hidden touches. At night, you would become a whole other animal. 

You tested his limits. Dared him to give in and finally give you what you both wanted: him inside you. Every night you would knock on his door in translucent nighties that highlighted the fact you had discarded your bra. After the second night of showing up in see-through clothes, Jungkook decided to return the favor, opening the door with his shirt unbuttoned, leaving his abs out for anyone to see. While you were both visibly affected by each other’s teasing, neither of you gave in until the last moment, each of you leaping into each other's arms and making a mess of the hotel furniture. But he still didn’t fuck you. It was his line. His final frontier. 

On the last night of the trip, Jungkook suggested that they finally test out the jacuzzi on his balcony. Bad idea. When you showed up in a tiny red bikini that did little to protect your dignity, Jungkook felt himself spiraling out of control. Instead of greeting you like he usually did, he thrust a cocktail in your hand while trying to will his dick into submission. He made it through about ten minutes in the hot tub, trying to participate in regular conversation with you. But he couldn’t, not when your tits were sitting right there. He was no longer sure if the sweat dripping down his forehead was from the warm water or the pent up tension. 

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“I can’t take this anymore,” he groaned.

“Can’t take what?”

Your eyes gleamed, daring him to admit to what they both knew he so desperately needed. 

“There is nothing more I want then to sink into your pretty pink pussy right now.” 

“So why don’t you?”

It was the first time you had questioned why he refused to have sex with you, and now that you were finally confronting him about it, he found himself at a loss for a reasonable explanation. The line that he thought he was creating by refusing to have sex with you had long ago been blurred to the point of no longer existing. And here you were, with your warm body inches from him, wanting him just as much as he wanted to you and he knew that he was done for. 

“Fuck it.”

With that, he pulled you onto his lap, attaching his lips to yours for the three millionth time. He would never tire of your kisses, the way they comforted his soul, and quenched his constant need for your touch. You eagerly responded to him, tongue licking the seam of his lips. As the two of you began to explore each other’s mouths, his hands came up to the string keeping your bikini top together and gave it a quick jerk, letting the scarlet cloth fall from your body. He pulled back and groaned at the sight of your perfect tits, the water around you swishing as he rolled his hips up into yours.

You whined out, “Fuck, baby. Just like that. God, I can’t wait for you to be inside me.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook’s voice was low with lust, “Me neither, baby. You’re gonna be such a good slut for me aren’t you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Even after months of you calling him ‘sir’ in less than professional situations, Jungkook still hadn’t gotten used to it. He felt every inch of his skin tingle with sheer pleasure every time the word fell from your shameless mouth. You whined, teeth pulling at his bottom lip as you pressed down on top of him, just as desperate as he was. He moved from your mouth to your neck, kissing down to your collarbone, where he stopped to take the time to leave a rosy mark that signified you were his and his alone. Once he was satisfied with it, he continued down your chest, taking one of your pretty pink nipples in his mouth, sucking on the hardened bud. You moaned out his name, hips stuttering against his. God, he loved your breasts. 

Your hands tangled themselves in his hair, pulling on them to the point of pain. Jungkook didn’t care though. He loved when you showed him just how good he could make you feel. It made him feral. Sure, receiving pleasure was gratifying, but there was nothing quite like watching you squirm from his ministrations.

He reluctantly pulled away from your tits to pull the ties keeping your bikini bottoms intact before discarding the garment in the same manner as your top, leaving you naked on top of him. He took a moment to pull back and admire how beautiful you looked. You sat there as he looked you over, a blush rising to your cheeks. You crossed your arms over your chest in an attempt to make yourself less vulnerable to him.

“Oh no baby, don’t hide yourself from me,” he gently pulls your arms away, “you’re too beautiful to stay covered up.”

Your blush intensified. He smiled at you, wrapping his large arms around your body and carrying you out of the hot tub. Your lips reconnected with his as he stumbled his way into the hotel room, tossing you on the king-sized bed. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

His voice was as dark as his eyes. You nodded in response, voice escaping you. 

“That’s my baby.”

He pulled off his wet swim trunks before joining you on the bed, where your wet body had begun to soak the sheets. If he had his way, they would be much wetter by the time the night was over. He wasted no time diving into your pussy, lips attaching to your clit, drawing out your sweet moans. His fingers found your entrance, circling it a few times to collecting your slick, before slipping one in. Your back arched at the sensation and Jungkook let out a chuckled against your clit. 

Your whines grew higher and he could tell that you were getting close to finishing. After months of exploring your body, he was well acquainted with how to play your pussy like an instrument, conducting your symphony of pleasure. He slipped in a second finger, crooking them upwards in search of the spot he knew would make you scream. When you cried out he knew that he had found it and not five seconds later, you were coming all over his digits. 

“Fuck, Kook.”

“I hope you don’t think that we’re done yet,” he growled as his fingers slowed before leaving your sopping cunt, “when I’m through with you, you won’t be able to walk for days. I'll have to carry you to every meeting and explain to them that I fucked you too hard for you to function.”

You clenched around nothing at his words and he mindlessly took his cock in his hands, giving it a few quick strokes. 

“You like that don’t you? You would love for the entire world to know how much of a whore you are for my cock.”

“I would. I’m a whore for your cock, please give it to me. I’ve been a good girl.”

Without bothering to warn you, he lined himself up before sinking into you. You both groaned at  the feeling of your tight cunt stretching around his cock. After months of dreaming of what your pink walls would feel like around him, he could confirm that the sensation was much better than anything his imagination had conjured. 

He started with slow thrusts, trying to give himself time to come off the edge he had already been worked up to. Your legs came to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to you. As soon as you had adjusted to his girth, you began to roll your hips up to meet his.

“Go faster.”

“Uh uh, if you want Daddy to go faster, you have to beg like a proper slut.”

It just slipped out. Jungkook knew he had a daddy kink, but it generally stayed repressed deep within after his wife had shamed him for it. But you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, you squeezed him even tighter.

“Please Daddy, please go faster. Fuck my tight pussy.”

He conceded to your wishes, pulling all the way out, before thrusting back in. He set a tireless pace, pounding into you so hard the bed began to shake. He leaned down, meeting your lips in a sloppy kiss. Your teeth clacked together, but Jungkook didn’t care. He just wanted to be as close to you as possible. 

He pulled away from your lips and his cock twitched at the visual of the string of saliva connecting your mouths. Without him to silence you, your moans mingling with the sound of skin slapping creating a beautiful symphony for Jungkook’s ears. 

He felt himself approach the edge, honing in on his release. Luckily for him, your pussy was tightening around him, signaling that you were close too. 

“Fuck, are you gonna cum for me, baby? Are you gonna come around Daddy’s cock like a good girl?”

“Yes Daddy, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-”

Your voice broke off into a high pitched moan as you clenched around him. You threw your head back, hands clawing into his skin. The mix of pain and pleasure sent him over the edge with you. He quickly pulled out before covering your pussy and stomach in white strands. As soon as the waves of ecstasy rescinded, he collapsed on top of you, exhaust claiming his muscles. 

He laid there for a minute before hopping up and heading to the bathroom. When he came back out, warm towel in hand, he found you passed out on the soaked sheets. His heart skipped a beat at your blissed-out face and for a moment he wished he could feel as peaceful as you looked. After making sure you were thoroughly clean, he collapsed on the bed next to you. Sleep was quick to come to him, but not before he took you into his arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

A dam had burst. The two of you went at it like rabbits, he would take you any and every way could, whenever he could. He couldn’t get enough of you. He would take you in the back of the limo, in the elevator, empty conference rooms. It was to the point he was sure the entire company knew of your amorous relations, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. All he thought about was you. Even the fear of disappointing his parents was beginning to diminish. As his feelings for you grew and blossomed, his desire to please anyone else faded into a faint buzz in the background of his mind. You had him whipped. 

He knew things were bad when his five year anniversary with his wife rolled around and he didn’t feel a thing when she told him that she wouldn’t be able to be there due to some book tour. Sure, a little part of him was upset that she didn’t care enough to even try to change the tour dates, but he knew that he didn't have a leg to stand on. In fact, he was rather grateful he wouldn’t have to plan some dinner to celebrate a love that had died long ago.  

When you heard that he was spending his anniversary alone, you had offered him some company. He felt a twinge of guilt about the idea of having sex with a woman that wasn’t his wife on their anniversary, but not enough to stop him from inviting you over. So there you were, in his foyer, with an overnight bag, a bottle of wine, and a smile that could light up the heavens. He grinned back at you, taking the bottle and leading you into the living room. 

“I’ll get us some glasses, yeah?”

“Sure. Do you mind if I change? Work clothes aren’t the most comfortable.”

“Oh, yeah, go ahead. There’s a bathroom down the hall to your left.”

When he returned to the living room with two glasses and a bottle opener, you were curled up on the couch in a tank and shorts. You were flipping through the photography book that he kept on the coffee table. You were so immersed in the pictures that you didn’t notice his presence.

“So whatcha want to do?”

You jumped, startled by the sound of his voice. 

“It’s your anniversary, you should decide.”

He placed the opener and the glasses on the table next to the bottle before taking a seat next to you. 

“I don’t know. How about we just drink and talk for a bit?” he paused, “Maybe that’s stupid.”

“Nope. Nothing about you is stupid.”

There was your damn smile again. Jungkook hated the way his heart pounded faster because of it. He smiled back at you. It only took a few sips of the merlot before Jungkook had begun to relax. He had been drunk around you plenty of times, but there was something about wine that made him want to pour his entire heart out to you. 

He watched as you laughed at your own joke, strands of hair that had fallen loose from your tight ponytail danced on your cheek. The world seemed to slow down a little, time coming to a halt, making the room for him to exist with just you and no one else. It was somewhere in that warm, fuzzy space that the words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

“I think I love you.”

Even the air in the room stilled. You stared at him, eyes wide with shock.

“What?”

You looked like a deer in headlights. Jungkook felt like one.

“Nothing. I was just running my mouth. Don’t mind me. Go back to telling me about this dream bakery of yours.”

Much to his chagrin, you didn’t budge, eyes still fixed on his rigid body. Your surprise had evaporated and you were now looking him up and down as if you were trying to analyze his inner thoughts. You both sat frozen for what felt like ages before you moved to kneel in front of him, taking his shaky hands in yours. When you opened your mouth, your voice was soft, caressing his soul.

“I love you too.”

The world stopped in its tracks. Jungkook swore his heart stopped beating in his chest. And then your lips were on his and even though he had kissed you more times than he could count, this felt different. This felt like the collision of two planets, the implosion of a star. Fireworks weren’t enough to describe the cascade of emotions pouring through him. His hands grasped your cheeks, gently caressing the soft skin. You hummed against his mouth as he pushed you back to lie on the couch, while your legs spread to make room for him between your thighs. 

Jungkook swore he felt a tear trickle down his cheek, but he couldn’t tell if it was from you or him. He honestly didn’t care. The woman he had grown to love loved him back. He now knew that you would catch him if he fell. And so he let himself tumble over the precipice he had once been so terrified of.  He could finally admit that your embrace was home and that your arms eyes were the safety he never felt. He loved you. You loved him. The stars had aligned. 

He trailed his kisses away from your lips and to the crook of your neck where he inhaled. You smelled of the remnants of your perfume mixed with your own personal scent. He swore if he breathed it in enough, he would get high off it. Instead, he placed soft kisses on the delicate skin, before taking it in between his teeth, shamelessly marking you. The whole world would know that you belonged to him, almost as much as he belonged to you. 

You moaned as he sucked the bruised skin into his mouth before shifting lower so that his face was right between your breasts. Your flimsy tank top did nothing to stop him from tearing it in two. 

“Jesus, Kook,” you groaned as he took in the sight of your braless chest, bare before him. 

“What? I can buy you all the tank tops you want. I would buy you the whole world.”

And it was true. If that’s what it would take to make you happy, that’s what he would do. Tears glinted in your eyes at his words before Jungkook ripped a moan out of your mouth when he took a nipple in his. He sucked on it before releasing it with a pop. 

“These are the best tits in the world. I love them almost as much as I love you.”

He dove back in taking the neglected breast in his hand, rubbing the nipple. Your hips bucked up into him, desperate for more concrete pleasure than the little he was teasing you with. 

“Slow, baby, I’ll get there. Slow.”

You whined in response, head thrown back against the arm of the couch while Jungkook swirled his tongue over you. Even though he was unbelievably hard in his sweats, he found no motivation to do anything about it, his sole focus on you and your pleasure. 

He moved to kiss down your stomach. When he reached the hem of your shorts, he pulled them off, before moving to kiss over your lace panties. An obvious wet patch marked the center and Jungkook once again took the time to stop and smell you. The aroma overwhelmed him, driving him mad with carnal lust. 

“Fuck baby, your dripping, and I’ve barely touched you yet.” 

“That’s ‘cause you’re taking forever. Please baby, I need you.”

And how could he deny you when you were so sweet and all fucked out, just for him. He pulled your soaked panties to the side, groaning at your soaked, pink lips. He dove in, licking one long striped from the bottom of your cunt up to your clit. You bucked against him desperate for more. 

In response, he wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding you in place. His tongue found your clit, eliciting angelic moans from you while he drew abstract shapes on your bundle of nerves. Your thighs began to quiver in his grip and he smiled against you. The thought of you coming from just his mouth had his dick twitching in excitement. 

“Fuck, Kookie, I’m gonna cum.”

“That’s right baby, cum all over tongue.”

Seconds later, you're soaking his mouth while you writhed in pleasure. But Jungkook didn’t stop. He was too blissed out with his face in your cunt. He would stay like this forever if he could. He pulled one hand away from your thigh, to sneak around to your entrance, a finger slipping inside.

“Oh god, Kook, it’s too much.”

“You can do it, baby. I know you can.”

You looked like you were about to protest before he curled his finger up, hitting your g-spot. You cried out, more slick pouring out of you, if that was possible. He knew that there was a large wet spot staining his ten-thousand-dollar couch, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Slipping another finger in you, he began to flick with his tongue, daring you to come again. It didn’t take long.

“Oh shit, Kook, shit, shit, gonna cum, shit, shit-”

He’s never heard you scream so loud in all the months he’s had the privilege of giving you orgasms. Before he could properly register what was happening, you were squirting all over him. Your hips bucked out of your control as you painted his face with your orgasm. Jungkook swore that if he had any less self-control, he would’ve come all over in his pants. 

As you came down from your high, Jungkook scooped you up, carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you gently on the bed, giving you a few moments to recover as he stripped himself of his own clothes. You sat up, watching him closely as he slowly revealed himself to you. He was well built, he knew that, but you often told him how much you appreciated his muscles, as if the way you kissed and bit his abs weren’t enough of a clue. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t started working out more just to please you. 

But he also knew that he could never step foot in a gym again and you would still love him just as much. That was the difference between you and his wife. You loved him without condition, without the need for him to be someone he wasn’t. His wife had fallen in love with only one version of him, a version that no longer existed. 

He joined you on the bed, crawling up between your legs, giving you a soft kiss when he reached your lips. You fell back on the pillows letting him take in your face, your body, you. He bucked up against you, tip rubbing your clit and you let out simultaneous moans. 

Just when he was about to slip into you, his phone rang on the bedside table. He groaned, lifting himself up to see who dared to call him when he was about to have sex with the love of his life. A flash of guilt rushed through him when he saw his wife’s name light up the screen. Of course it was her. Despite everything, this was a woman who would keep up appearances until her dying breath. And here he was, about to have sex with another woman in their shared bed. He sighed, swiping to ignore the call, before tossing it back on the table. 

This time, he didn’t wait to enter you, thrusting in immediately. He groaned at the feeling of your soft walls encapsulating him. Ever since the first time you had had sex, he had always made sure to use a condom, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that he wasn’t using one now. Being inside you without the extra barrier felt so intrinsically right. In fact, part of him was excited about the idea of going raw and risking getting you pregnant. 

“You wanna get me pregnant?”

Your voice was soft and curious. He stilled inside of you, 

“Umm…?”

His voice trailed off as he tried to come up with a reasonable response. His brain failed him. 

“It’s okay if you do. It’s kinda hot actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind having your kid.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the moan that fell out of his mouth. He thrust softly in you. So many hormones were flooding his brain that he could barely focus on what was happening. 

“Well, then I guess it’s my duty to make sure you’re nice and pregnant for me by the end of the night.”

“Yeah, Kookie,” you whined, “give it to me. Want you to cum in me. Want your baby.”

The two of you met in a messy kiss as Jungkook pounded into you, balls slapping your ass. Desperation flooded him, determination to knock you up with his child overriding every other need. He’d never had the desire to get someone pregnant like this before. There was something about you that pulled at all his primal instincts. 

You were tightening again, your moans drowning out the sound of skin slapping accentuated by Jungkook’s own grunts. Jungkook himself wasn’t too far from finishing himself, having been on edge since you squirted all over him. 

“Fuck baby,” you moaned, “you fuck me so well.”

“Yeah. Are you gonna cum for me? Are you gonna cum so that I can get you pregnant?”

“Yes, fuck, I love yo-” 

Your voice faded into a scream as tears rolled down your cheeks as you came for the third time that night. The look on your face triggered Jungkook’s own orgasm. He roared as jets of white cum covered your inner walls. His hips stuttered as he chanted your name. Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, holding him deep within you. 

He rolled over without pulling out, keeping you tight in his arms.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “hope that did the trick.”

“Yeah? Me too,” he smiled. 

You grinned back.

“Are you not gonna pull out?”

“We gotta keep my cum in you so we make sure it does the trick.”

“Okay,” you chuckled.

“What?”

He pouted.

“You’re just cute.”

“I’m not cute.”

“Sure...”

He giggled when you rolled your eyes, pressing a peck on your lips. The two of you stayed like that for the rest of the night, wrapped in each other's arms, talking until sleep carried you off into dreamland. 

Jungkook woke the next morning before you. He took a moment to admire your face, not believing that you were really all his. He softly kissed your forehead before wiggling his way out of your embrace. 

He quietly slipped on a tee and some sweats before making his way to the kitchen where he put on a pot of coffee. While he waited, he checked his phone, expecting to find a voicemail from his wife. He was surprised to find none. He opened the phone app and his stomach dropped. There at the top of his recent calls was a twenty-minute call with her. He must have accidentally answered it. She must have heard everything. Anxiety crept up on him as he began to pace the white kitchen floor. Before he knew what he was doing, the phone was dialing. 

“Hello?”

Her voice was groggy.

“Hi.”

His voice quivered. 

“What do you want Jungkook?”

“Oh, umm, I’m sorry I guess,” his voice is quiet, “For what you heard.”

“You mean listening to you moan about how you wanted to get your secretary pregnant?”

He cringed at her dripping sarcasm. 

“Yeah. That.”

“Don’t be.”

“What?”

“Don’t be sorry. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“Jungkook,” she sighed, “I think we both knew something like this was going to happen.”

“Yeah, I guess. But that doesn’t mean that it was okay for me to cheat on you.”

“That’s true.”

They both stay silent for a minute, letting it all sink in. 

“I suppose that means this is the end of the road for us then, huh?”

“Yeah, it is. But it’s okay. We weren’t meant to be. All things being said, you sound like you really love her.”

“I do, I really do.”

“And if I’m being honest, I’ve kinda had a thing for my editor for a while.”

“Seokjin?”

He was honestly surprised that he remembered his name.

“Yeah.”

They both laughed. 

“We’ll talk when you get back, yeah?”

“Yeah. Goodbye, Jungkook.”

“Goodbye.”

He hung up before leaning against the counter, throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. A breath of relief escaped as all the weight he had been carrying for so long fell from his shoulders. It was over. His dead marriage was finished and now he had the rest of his life to love you. He laughed giddily before running to wake you up and tell you the news. 

Six months later, he’s on a beach in Jamaica, trying to take a picture of you without you noticing. He’s almost successful, your nose is buried too deep in a paperback you had propped up on your pregnant stomach, but you looked up when you heard the shutter click.

“Jungkook,” you groaned, “I told you not to take pictures of me.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I can’t help it. You're too sexy carrying my baby.”

You rolled your eyes behind your shades.

“Whatever. As long as no one else sees them.”

“Of course, baby. I’m keeping you all to myself.”

You grinned before turning back to your book.

A month after his conversation with his now ex-wife, their divorce had been finalized. He’d simultaneously quit his job as CEO, unafraid of disappointing anyone else at the expense of his happiness. He had made more than enough money to support the two, soon to be three, of you for the rest of your life. Together, you had moved to Jamaica, where you were working on opening a bakery and he had begun a fairly successful photography business. And in three months, the two of you would welcome a beautiful baby girl into the world.

He sighed, overly content with his life. He glanced down to your hand to spot the sparkling diamond on your ring finger. A month ago, he had taken you out on a boat ride where he had asked you to be his wife. You had eagerly accepted. 

Now he was blissed out in that island paradise he had dreamed about all those months ago. His stress levels were an all-time low. And, sure, maybe his parents weren’t that happy with him, (all though his mother was over the moon when he announced the impending arrival of a grandchild, finally), but whenever he woke in the morning with you by his side, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. You were his whole world, and he wouldn’t give that up for anything. 

masterlist

[luxekook]

cream | knj

❯ pairing: namjoon x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship au, pure smut

❯ summary: you thirst over the outline in the pants of kim namjoon’s iconic cream suit just one time too many, and he’s ready to make you pay for it

❯ word count: 1.8k

❯ warnings: 18+, pwp, basically 1.8k words about joon’s d, cursing, dirty talk, mentions of masturbation, dom!namjoon, sub!reader, oral (m receiving), dry humping, spanking, KIM NAMJOON’S CREAM SUIT PANTS

❯ dedication: this fic is for my darling lindy @ppersonna​​!!! happy (early) birthday! i hope you enjoy your brand hehe ily!

The outline of his cock will be the death of you. Despite already knowing what it looks like uncovered, the subtle tease of its hardness - its thickness - just does you in.

You’re alone, spread out on your shared king bed and scrolling through your top secret compilation that you tastefully dubbed “Namjoon’s Cock Outline Thirst Folder”. It hadn’t been your best work or your finest moment, but you had been distracted - and rightfully so.

Namjoon’s dick is a thing of beauty, a work of art. It’s a sculpture just waiting to be made, and you curse the gods every damn day that you are not blessed with artistic abilities because that thing deserves to be enshrined in multiple mediums.

Your boyfriend is currently out of the apartment, deep in preparation for the upcoming tour. In fact, Namjoon is gone more often than not lately, and you miss him. You miss his warmth, his dimpled smile, his gentle caress in the darkness of your bedroom. You miss his sweetness, his affection, his rambled 2AM thoughts.

You miss his cock.

Your fingers just aren’t cutting it anymore - even while you scroll through the various pictures of Namjoon’s beautiful crotch and the bounty of gifs of him bodyrolling in that goddamn cream suit.

As you fixate on the image of him looking like sin in his cream suit, you fail to hear the door to your apartment open, signalling Namjoon’s return home.

No, you’re too entranced by the undulations of your boyfriend’s body - the sensual nature of his movements, the fucking outline of his cock. A soft moan slips out of you as the gif replays over and over, taunting you.

You’re still too busy thirsting over Namjoon’s clothed dick to realize that he is now standing in the doorway to your bedroom with his eyebrows raised and an amused smirk gracing his full lips.

Your traitorous hand is still down your shorts as it continues to fail to substitute for what you really want.

“Having fun, baby?”

You let out an inhumane screech, chucking your phone clear across the room in some sort of attempt at self defense.

“Kim Namjoon, are you out of your mind?” You slap a hand to your heart, feeling its erratic pulse beneath your fingertips, “You need to wear a bell around your neck, I swear!”

While you’re still ranting, Namjoon picks up your thrown phone from where it lays face down on the floor by his feet. He begins to move towards you but then halts as he notices what you’ve been looking at on your screen.

“Baby,” he chuckles, interrupting your continued rant on how he should announce himself each time he enters a room. “What is this? Do you really have a folder full of pictures of me that you thirst over?”

Embarrassment washes over you. You had never meant for him to find out about your desperation. There is only one way for you to attempt to gain the upper hand. “For your information, I have thirst folders for all of the boys,” you sniff, crossing your arms across your chest.

The sad truth is that you’re not even entirely lying. You do have a group folder with pictures of the entire group that you drool over during stolen moments. Lately, your attention has strayed to Jimin and how good he looks in tight jeans…

Which brings you right back to how Namjoon looks in well-fitting pants. Damnit.

As your inner turmoil rages on, Namjoon’s face is darkening rapidly. “You’re thirsting over my friends, (y/n)?”

You gulp as he stalks towards you and sets your phone down on the bedside table. “Am I not satisfying you? Do I need to remind you who you belong to? Whose cock you’re desperate for?”

“N-no,” your voice cracks, totally betraying your attempt at being nonchalant.

Namjoon’s palms rest on the edge of the bed as he leans over you. “You know,” his deep voice washes over you, “I just don’t believe you, baby.”

Words fail you as he chuckles just once at your wide-eyed expression.

“I want you naked and kneeling on the ground facing the foot of the bed by the time I get back, (y/n). Don’t disappoint me.” Namjoon brushes a thumb across the seam of your lips, his dark eyes bore into your own. And then he’s gone, stalking across the room and into your shared walk-in closet.

You spring into motion, tugging your shirt off before you’re even fully standing. You don’t know what your boyfriend is up to, but you do know that there would be hell to pay if you don’t listen to his orders. And although sometimes you revel in being disobedient, you’re way too impatient for that right now.

Bad girls may get deliciously punished, but good girls get fucked.

Your knees barely hit the soft carpet before you hear Namjoon re-emerge into your bedroom. Silence envelops you as your ears strain to catch his movements, but all you can identify is the harsh staccato of your own breathing.

The lightest touch across your bare shoulders causes you to jolt. You’ve been so touch-starved that even the smallest brush of Namjoon’s fingers sends a rush of heat through your body.

“I’m surprised you listened, baby,” his words sound from right over your shoulder, but you dare not look. “Gave me so much attitude before… What happened?”

You don’t answer. He’s baiting you, and you know it.

Namjoon’s lips press into the nape of your neck, and you can feel the smile grow with each passing moment that you refuse to rise to his challenge.

“Fuck, baby,” his hands glide up your waist, stopping just below your breasts. “You really missed me this much? You don’t even want to talk back? Get spanked? Ride my thigh?”

A shiver rushes down your spine at the thought of riding him, and of course Namjoon catches it.

“Ah, that got your attention, didn’t it? You want to ride my thigh, baby?” His hands are cupping your breasts now, thumbs circling your nipples.

Your head shakes before you can stop yourself. And just like that, Namjoon’s touch is gone from your body.

“No?”

Your eyes widen as your boyfriend sounds more amused than annoyed with your refusal. The reasoning becomes clear as he continues, “My baby wants to ride something else, doesn’t she.”

The lack of questioning in that statement alerts you that you are so, so fucked.

That conclusion is confirmed when Namjoon steps in front of you, standing between you and the foot of the bed, in nothing but his goddamn cream suit pants.

A low whine bubbles up as you unconsciously sway forward; you’re unable to think as the shamelessly prominent outline of his cock is inches from your face. Your eyes shoot up to meet his for the first time since you knelt down.

He’s already looking down at you with pure hunger. His eyes are the darkest you’ve seen and his hair is in disarray. The muscles of his arms and torso flex as his hands clench and unclench as if he’s trying to hold himself back from throwing you onto the bed and fucking you into next week. Not that you’d have a problem with that…

And so you decide to test the waters. “Sir, can I taste you? Please?”

You’re playing dirty by using that honorific. It’s Namjoon’s favorite after all.

But you’re a girl on a mission, and that mission is worship that cream covered cock in every way imaginable.

And your boyfriend knows it as he curses quietly before sliding a hand through your hair. “Yes, baby, you can— fuck!”

The only words you register are ‘yes, baby’, and you lunge forward, hands gripping the backs of Namjoon’s thick thighs as your mouth latches onto the head of his clothed cock. The heat of him is overwhelming despite the layer of linen in between you and his skin.

Your hand comes up to palm the base of his cock while your mouth continues to kiss and suck the tip. You’re not sure who’s moaning louder at this point - you or Namjoon.

He lets out a particularly low growl as your grip tightens. Your other hand travels down your own body to begin circling your clit. You don't even realize you’d done it, but Namjoon does.

Your boyfriend tugs you up onto shaky legs before he sits on the bed, legs spread wide. Your eyes fall onto the mess you’ve made of his pants and a surge of pride rushes through you.

Thwack. Your ass stings from the impact of Namjoon’s palm.

“Someone’s pleased with themselves, aren’t they?” He murmurs, his hand now kneading your ass before gripping it firmly. You nod, not even attempting to hide it.

How bad would he punish you if you just sat on his dick right now?

As if reading your thoughts, Namjoon chuckles lowly, “Hop on, baby.”

Well, he doesn't need to tell you twice. You straddle him instantly, using one hand to line up his barely clothed cock with your wet pussy. And when you sink down onto him, you almost come just by the sheer context of the situation.

How many times had you replayed the image of Namjoon in these pants and wished to be right where you are now?

Your hips roll once. Twice. Your pussy sliding over hardness of his cock feels fucking incredible, and it seems that your boyfriend agrees by how he grips your hips, thrusting up against you.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby. I can feel you soaking through to me.” His forehead falls onto your shoulder as you continue to grind down onto him. With every shift of your hips, your clit rubs against him, pleasure building.

There barely feels like there’s a barrier in between you now. You can feel him throbbing beneath you, his fingers digging into your ass, lips pressed to your neck.

“Joon,” you moan, your movements becoming more and more urgent.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” Namjoon growls into your neck, and you nod frantically. Each roll of your hips brings you higher and higher. Your legs shake, your back arches, your eyes slam shut.

You barely register Namjoon telling you to come when you unravel completely, coming with a scream. You are lost in him, drowning in the sensation, the bliss of finally fulfilling your thirstiest dream. He’s whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you return to earth, panting.

Your limbs feel like liquid as he eases you off of him, setting you gently on the bed beside him. Namjoon stands, looks down, and laughs. Your eyes follow his gaze and you immediately groan, a sound that your boyfriend interprets as embarrassment but in reality is of mourning. His pants are ruined.

“It’s okay, baby,” Namjoon’s voice draws you to look back at his face. “I’ll just buy another pair.”

“No, buy at least three! No, four,” you immediately insist, “In different colors, too.”

It’s Namjoon’s turn to gape at you before his smile returns in full force. “You’re going to be the death of me, baby.”

“You love me,” you grin back at him as he looks at you like you hold his world in the palm of your hand.

“I really do.”

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[herstarburststories]

Devil, bring me to heaven

Kinktober day 5: Deep throat

Hauntober: Moonlight

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

Summary: You suck Dean off under the moonlight and you both are interrupted.

Warnings: oral sex (male receiving), public sex, jealous!dean, kinda of non intentional voyeurism for a bit, hint of fluff bc yes

Your knees ached against the soaked cement. It rained earlier, making the situation more painful and you mind a bit more sickened with the realization that you couldn’t change a thing. Man, that would probably leave some bruises.

Then again Dean loved bruises on you. At least, this demonic version of the king of your heart did. He enjoyed love marks and hickeys before. It made Sam constantly call you two horny teenagers. It was rougher now, but this was still Dean.

It was Dean. That was all that mattered, even if you had to lose yourself to find him.

The cold ground was as unrepentant to you as the green-eyed demon's cock in your face. He was hard, his precum wetting your cheek as you dared to look up. The moonlight shined on his face as if it had always been meant for him.

You kissed his balls, already familiar with how he liked his blowjobs. You didn't have time to spare here, though. You two were in an open parking lot behind a forgettable restaurant — someone could easily walk through here. You had to make him come quick.

Dean's toughened hands caressed your head, tangling his fingers in the glossy strands of hair. You looked so beautiful like this, on your knees just for him. He may be a demon now, the Knight of Hell even, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate you — especially when you knew his body so well. 

“Come on, baby girl. Take it slow. You know I love some good foreplay, no rush here.” He pulled you back once your skilled mouth became too spirited for his liking. Dean was relaxed tonight. Maybe he'd even go slow on you later. You could take your time here.

You did as he said like you usually do when it comes to sex. Your smart mouth and commandeering nature always melted away when he was like this, exposing you at your neediest. Dean, of course, was more than happy to oblige.

You teased at his tightened sac, enjoying the weight of the stiff cock pressed against your cheek. Your mouth got greedy as time passed by, starting to mouth at the soft flesh of one of his testicles while your fingers slowly rubbed the other one. Dean let out a quiet groan, fingers sunken in the ocean of your hair to lead you to his throbbing cock. You two were dwindling into the night, coalesced as one holy sin.

Your lips had barely been placed on the side of his velvety cockhead when you heard footsteps. You grunted after giving his dick an open-mouthed kiss and started to pull away, but Dean wasn’t having any of this.

If someone had a problem with his girl sucking his cock, then he'd simply kill them. Granted, he'd probably kill them anyway for seeing you in that position — this was only meant for his eyes, green or black.

The unfortunate person might’ve been lucky to die for this, honestly. Dean would say that seeing you blow him off was a pretty damn good last thing to see before being murdered. He was a man about Sam’s age; tall, yet not as tall as Dean; and muscular. Dark hair, hazel eyes, and tan skin. He was essentially the guy you'd call your type before you met Dean.

The Winchester had seen enough crappy 70’s flicks to know you had a weakness for it. He already hates this guy's guts. He was going to die or, at least, bleed enough to make unleash a crimson river under the moon’s pale radiance.

What? He was a demon, after all. He didn’t need much of a reason to hate, much less channel his aggression onto any Tom, Dick, or Harry that so much as looked at you twice. 

The man's steps grew closer as Dean guided your swollen lips back to his cock. You whined and nuzzled his sweat-slick skin as if there was no better place to be. Still, you weren't sure about someone else seeing you suck Dean off. You've never minded some harmless public touching, but this is way more forward than anything you’ve ever done before.

The male stopped in his tracks, the hard pavement under your knees digging into your skin as you jolt. Your lips were gentle to the base of his shaft. You kissed your way to the top where the precum smeared your lips. Your hands on his hips dug in, winding him in closer while your tongue soothed the ache of his weeping head. 

“Whoa, woman. You know I love it when you do that thing.” Dean grunted under his breath when you slipped your tongue into his slit. Your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock before swallowing him thickly, soaking up the warmth of his slick spill. “Yeah, honey. Go ahead. Take all of me into your mouth.”

“What the fuck?” The other male choked, taking in the scene with wide eyes. You didn't appear to be forced onto doing this, so he didn't rush to push Dean away, but why the hell were you two fucking behind an Arby's? This was his dad's restaurant!

You jumped a little when you heard his voice. Why didn't he just keep walking? You were so embarrassed by anyone but Dean seeing you like this. Even though you had your clothes on, you also had half of a cock inside your mouth. Contradictorily enough, it also turned you on. Someone was seeing that you were Dean's and he was yours.

The eldest Winchester could feel hesitancy in the tenseness of your neck, but he soon managed to wipe away your worry with his hand on the back of your head, caressing your hair with a gentleness that could only come from his human side.

“What? Haven't seen a hot girl sucking cock before? You should try a porn site, buddy.” Dean gave him a whimsy smirk, forcing himself not to moan as you swirl your tongue around the heat of his still-hard cock. You leaned in as he was coaxed with the promise of your tight throat. Just like you two trained.

Besides his flushed cheeks and obvious arousal despite his indignant surprise, the guy managed to speak: “Who the fuck do you think you are? This is a serious establishment.”

“I'm Dean Winchester,” the demon answered with a cocky smirk. The unprecedented third party to their fun might not know what his name holds now, but he surely would find out soon. “And this is Y/N Y/L/N. She's too busy to tell you hello right now, all hungry for my cock. My girl just can't let it go, not even for a minute.” Dean shook his head lightly, as if you were some poor, needy thing. Pursing his lips, he asked, “And you are…? Wait. I don't care. Get lost.”

“I'm Priestly Conner. Just the owner of this place.” The stranger, Priestly, groaned in fury. He was hiding the fact that his dad was the actual owner. How dared Dean to disrespect and degenerate his ego like this? The Winchester, though, couldn't care less. He gave the Priest dude or whatever was his name the chance to walk away and keep his life. You’d taken the time to swallow more of him, the glossy sheen of his swollen cock buried in your throat as you repressed the urge to gag. It was perfect. “Can she get up? And can you get your dick back in your pants and leave now?”

Priestly's voice was starting to irritate Dean's ears. Hurting his ego was good, but wasn't it obvious who had control of the situation here? Besides, he wanted to enjoy this blowjob, thank you. That man was nothing but a distraction. If you could talk now, you'd probably roll your eyes, slap Dean's puffed chest, and something along the lines of ease up and knock off the alpha-macho behavior, Winchester.

As usual, you'd probably be right. There was no reason to garner unnecessary attention to yourselves over a spoiled little man wearing clothes more expensive than Dean's car. He tried to take it easy and give Priestly one last chance.

“Yeah, sure. Just two problems: I don't answer to you, and my girl won't let go of my cock.” He grinned darkly. To prove his point, the green-eyed man moved back a little. You let out a sharp whine, nosing close enough for your nose to brush against coarse hair. His balls slapped your chin with the sudden jerk, your slippery tongue enveloping his hardness in a desperate effort to keep him close. Fuck, that felt good. “See? She's all about my dick, sorry. Don't worry, babe. It's all yours.”

Dean ran his fingers through your hair in a soft reminder that he wasn’t going anywhere without you. He murmured encouragement under his breath as you sucked his cock. His girl was so good to him.

“You… She…” Priestly was tenting in his pants, unexpectedly excited by the scene like it was live action porn meant just for him. Dean groaned. Couldn't this dude get the hint and leave? He was getting the best head of his life here. “G-get your bitch and get the hell out of here!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, both you and Dean knew he fucked up.

“Now, now, now. No name calling. It’s rich of you to call her a bitch and still get a hard on out of it.” Dean bore his cock down harder into the wet of your throat. It made you gag, but you kept going as if you were made to keep his dick in your mouth. When he howled, neither of you were able to discern if it was out of anger or pleasure. “Maybe that's why you don't have a girl right now, buddy. You don't know how to treat women, so you don't get a good suck.”

“You… ”

“I'm done with you.” With a waft of his hand, Pristley was thrown at the wall, hitting his head and falling unconscious on the floor. Weak. “Come on, honey. Make me cum so I can go wake up that son of a bitch and break his back for disrespecting you.”

A moan reverberated in your throat, causing a whimper out of Dean as his dick throbbed. He pulled your hair and started to move his hips, fucking your mouth as if he was fucking your pussy. He was tearing you apart, thrusting deep you like you had a sweet spot there too. 

You felt so full like this. Sure, it wasn't like having him inside your cunt, but the warm sensation of his cock occupying all of your throat was heavenly even when you knew how inappropriate that sounded: the devil taking you to heaven.

You coughed when Dean’s rhythm hastened, thighs pressed together in a loose attempt to gain some relief for your wet pussy. Your hands cradled his balls, massaging them while your mouth swallowed his cock.

It didn't take longer for him to cum, shooting his load inside you as you took all of it. He tasted a little too salty, a flavor you’ve grown accustomed to since his transition into demonhood, but you found yourself quickly craving it. You loved how he tasted and how he came so much and all for you.

Dean kept his hands on your head, helping you remain standing until you swallowed all of his cum. You finally released his dick with an audible pop, looking up to him. The moon made the big tears budding in your eyes glisten marvelously. Dean felt so lucky. He helped you to get up, kissing you softly for once. The old Dean, your Dean, came in glimpses sometimes. 

He tasted himself on your lips. It was a delicious proof that you were still his. He had to let Sammy go, but you were here. He still had family, someone to cling to. Someone who wouldn't change him. Dean licked your lips.

“So good, honey.”

Your legs still trembled as your pussy cried out for attention. Thankfully, Dean held you close. “What are you gonna do about him?”

You nodded at the breathing body on the floor, your voice gruff from taking him so deeply. He loved it.

“That son of bitch?” He groaned at the mention of the annoying interruption. You placed your hand on his heart, rubbing there. Dean placed his forehead on yours. “He disrespect you so he's gonna die.” His green eyes changed into black with a wink, showing the actual weight of his darkness. “And then I'll eat you out and fuck that pretty pussy that's already wet for me.”

“Dean…” You sighed, ready to try putting some sense in his head, but then his bruised hand slipped, fingertips touching your bare arm, your hand, and then your belly, hips, and pelvis. Dean pressed a single digit on your clothed heat. You managed to ruin your panties, yourself, and the silk skirt all for him. You gave in. “Okay. Be quick.”

“I wasn't asking for you permission to kill him, Y/N.” He raised his eyebrows as your hips chased his touch.

“I know, but you still need my permission to get inside me,” you said despite the situation. You didn't think talking so casually about killing a guy would somehow become your new normal. Although, in all honesty, it wasn't that different from the hunter’s life before.“Take it or leave it, Dean.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever.” He huffed, rolling his eyes before he pulled away to walk towards Priestly. “You better go wait in the car if you don't wanna see some blood, sweetheart.”

“Make it quick. And Dean?”

“What?” his gruff voice asked, turning to face you. You were so gorgeous under the sequin moon. 

“Cuddles later?” You beamed at him, as if he wasn't about to murder someone.

The single smile he gave you in return could convince any jury of his innocence. “Of course, honey.”

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[your--isgayrights]

not sure if this is what you had in mind but i was thinking maybe kdj and hsy meeting briefly earlier in life (at 20/22 years old or sth)? maybe having a misunderstanding or an argument over something trivial (like interpretation of a book or who should take the last lemon flavored popsicle in the store) and somehow still managing to reach some recognition or understanding of each other. years later they would forget about each other but still remember that bizarre situation sometimes. i have no idea if that makes any sense but i believe in your writing and massive brain and powerful swag. xoxo

Aaaaah, Exe I'm sorry if this isn't exactly what you asked for... I was just like... what if that time Han Sooyoung and Kim Dokja almost met in the epilogue went a little differently and like... haha...

The first part is basically copied and pasted from that chapter before the twist, so go read that first if you haven't!

Han Su-Yeong staggered and walked closer to Kim Dok-Ja. Several passersby brushing past her looked back in suspicion.

Kim Dok-Ja was now walking down the subway’s steps.

Kim Dok-Ja, with earphones stuck in his ears and reading something on his phone while walking downstairs.

She knew what he was currently reading.

“—!!”

She barely managed to shout, but her voice still didn’t come out. So, she desperately chased after him.

Because of the story you wrote, author-nim, I was able to survive until now. Han Su-Yeong was also able to survive while reading the sole reader’s words.

She managed to write the next part of Yu Jung-Hyeok’s life through them.

She was able to endure her boring and stuffy teen years, the days she never wanted to go back to, thanks to those words.

This train is bound for… She spotted Kim Dok-Ja standing on the platform, waiting for the next train to arrive. A person hiding within the small world crafted out of letters to protect himself was standing right there.

Kim Dok-Ja, who didn’t know anything about the apocalypse about to happen.

Kim Dok-Ja, who’d get to live on the expansive world of the ‘Ways of Survival’.

Kim Dok-Ja, who’d get to meet the protagonist he so longed to become.

Kim Dok-Ja, who’d become the ‘Demon King of Salvation’.

Kim Dok-Ja, who’d sacrifice himself multiple times for the sake of his companions, and as a result, came to the 1863rd turn and met her.

Kim Dok-Ja, who was destined to become the ‘Most Ancient Dream’, the price he paid for loving a certain story too much.

[Your mental state is crumbling!]

[The main body’s ego is regaining its control.]

[Your Fable is being extinguished.]

Her legs grew heavy, and her arms didn’t want to move anymore. Her body was gradually becoming not hers.

Even then, Han Su-Yeong wanted to tell him.

⸢To tell him that he was definitely not at fault for this story being born. And to tell him that the things he was about to experience were not his sins.⸥

Because, her past 13 years existed solely to say those words to him.

⸢To say that, though you have grown up while reading this story, there’s no need for you to become it.⸥

She barely managed to muster up her strength, her arm coiling in on itself and preparing for her one last willful action.

[Your ego will convert into the ‘subconsciousness’.]

As she set her weak, pre-scenario body into that final decisive movement...

The twenty six year old Han Su-yeong who knew nothing of the soon to come apocalypse, woke up thrusting her fist forward into the face of some guy on the subway.

She would've thought she was still dreaming, if it hadn't been for the feeling of his soft cheek slamming against the hard bone of his teeth under the force of her balled up hand.

'What the hell? Why am I doing this?'

Han Su-yeong most likely would have asked herself these things if she had any more time to think before her punch had landed.

She got her answer, though. Despite never asking her question, that reason she was looking for became clear as the man staggered off his balance.

He made a futile attempt to right himself before being knocked to the ground. The phone that he had been holding so close to his face clattering screen-side up onto the concrete of the subway floor.

That was when she saw it.

She only had to read a snippet of the words on that phone screen to come up with an explanation for her own actions at that very moment.

[There are three ways to survive in a ruined world. Now, I have forgotten a few, but one thing is certain. The fact that you who are reading this now will survive.

-Three ways to survive in a ruined world

Author’s words: Thank you so much for reading ‘Ways of Survival’ up to here. I will come back to you with an epilogue!]

'Ways of Survival.' 'Three ways to survive in a ruined world.'

...

Yes, there was no doubt that this guy sat on the subway floor rubbing at his cheek deserved it.

Some latent evil of the world must be working to Han Su-yeong's advantage, because none of the commuter passing by spared her a second glance as she sorted out her own motives. They simply dodged around her and the man she had assaulted moments ago.

If Han Su-yeong had to write some train of thought into their actions, she might imagine these negligent bystanders saw something like an overly dramatic lover's spat. Something personal that they ought not get involved in.

Were it not for the pervasiveness of such a cliche recurrent in physical altercations between men and women, maybe they would see it for what it was. A question of honor between authors.

Because Han Su-yeong was certain that was who this man was. An author who was so shitty that he had created an alt to try and hype up his terrible novel.

That was right... It was years ago now, but Han Su-yeong remembered that unsubstantiated accusation of plagiarism on her first published webnovel, SSSSS-grade Infinite Regressor.

This shitty guy had made an alt account that was so obvious... it was something 'Dok-ja,' like he wasn't even trying to pretend he didn't make it just to pretend to 'read' his own webnovel...

If that didn't prove it, then it was also clear from the comments that he had left on every single chapter. When she was reading them, Han Su-yeong had known that if she were such a bad author that she would have to have just one reader, the words that he wrote represented that perfect amount of reader to author engagement that she would have desired.

But that sort of relationship... it was unrealistic. Han Su-yeong had been an author for something like 13 years now, and she had never had such a relationship in her entire career.

So it was obvious that a reader like that could only be written by an author with those same desires that she held.

And then he even had the nerve to wander out of his self contained fantasy, accusing her superior work of plagiarizing his shitty one just to draw in more views and commenters.

So of course he had a lot of nerve to be rereading his own damn author's note right where she could see hi-

"Can I help you?"

Han Su-yeong felt all of the hot air she had been blowing herself up with to justify her current situation deflate upon hearing that voice of his.

The man she'd injured looked up at her with hollow black eyes. Eyes that perhaps had only seemed bright while being illuminated by a screen.

His voice was mild, too. As if getting punched in the face were something that was merely tiresome to him, instead of something to stir anger or indignity. The reactions that Han Su-yeong had been mentally preparing herself to butt heads with.

Nothing about his reaction seemed to ask Han Su-yeong for her motives. There was no race to find an explanation behind those hollow eyes. No bit lip, straining to come up with a turn of phrase to become an appropriately biting retort.

This guy wasn't an author.

...

Hey...

Why had she punched this guy again?

"Sorry." Han Su-yeong found herself saying, as her body deflated, extended arm going back to her side. "From the behind, you looked like my shitty ex."

She let herself fall into the cliche.

"Ah. I see."

Han Su-yeong hated the guy's expression, just then.

It was one that said, 'Well isn't that just my luck?'

But she couldn't help but watch, as this unlucky guy stood up and picked up his phone, brushing it off instead of himself, as if it were more precious to him than his own body.

And when that Dok-ja turned around, Han Su-yeong only saw his back for a second, before the sight of him was once more swallowed up by the uncaring world of the subway station crowd.

[peachyteabuck]

i’m a money symbol

summary: when ransom finds out he’s been cut from the will, there’s a different reason he flies into a murderous rage 

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

words: 1655

trigger warnings: degradation, findom/sub dynamics, sex work, 

notes: thank you to @helahades​ for talking to me about this concept when i was still debating writing it. ur an enabler but i love u very much

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Ransom stares at you with eyes that rival that of pleading puppies - large and watery and a deep, deep blue. His clean-shaved face, tear-stained and reddened from the sobs that still riddle his body, is equally as pathetic.

“I-I promise I-I can pay you s-”

You cut him off with the raise of a single sculpted eyebrow, looking down at him as he falls to his knees - body folded and hands clasped together like a fervent believer praying for forgiveness after committing some heinous sin, or a servant begging their superior to let them keep their lowly position. Either analogy seems fitting given the circumstances, given his lack of inheritance and the slowly declining numbers in his bank account.

“One thing,” you hiss, lifting one of your expensive Louboutin heels so that it presses into the base of his neck, forcing his body into an even more unnatural position. He groans just a little at the pain - ass (and much more of him, probably) still sore from last night’s session. You ignore him. “I ask for one thing. It’s not hard. In fact, it was the one thing you could do quite well. Any now, what, you have none?”

Ransom gulps, nearly out of breath. “I-I have money it’s just that I-, I’m cut off right now I sw-”

The pointed heel presses further, his legs spreading underneath him to make room as his nose nearly touches the recently cleaned red oak flooring.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hiss, practically spitting as you glare down at him. “Only good little boys who pay me to earn the right to speak to me are allowed to blubber like children.”

He whimpers as the sharp pain from your expensive shoe merges with the clumsy position of his limbs to settle in his blood – his whole body screaming like a banshee as his cock strains in his years-old designer skinny jeans.

“The worst part is,” you sigh, watching his muscles strain just as heat settles in your stomach. Slowly, but surely, it moves to your core. “I was looking forward to seeing you again. Can you imagine such a thing? Me, looking forward to seeing one of you stupid little pay pigs…”

A dry laugh fills the air that sense another wave of arousal through his nervous system, his muscles and brain screaming at him to get up and walk the Hell out of there while his cock pleads with him to stay in place.

“Now get naked,” you sigh, swishing the sweet cocktail in one of the glasses monogrammed with your initials you had gotten as a gift (again, not from Ransom) last year. “I know of a way you can be of use to me.”

Immediately he strips, your gaze heated and targeted as he peels that damned sweater he refuses to replace from his toned body. He sucks in a sharp breath as the air – cool despite the roaring fire – hits his bare skin, goosebumps erupting all over as he shivers under your heated gaze.

It’s amusing, to say the least, to watch his clothes hit the floor, kicked aside as if they were something worse than trash despite their designer tags. Money means nothing to Ransom Drysdale-Thrombey if it’s not being spent on you.

Without preamble, you kick him with a single heeled foot so that he’s knocked to his knees, hands strained at his sides as he desperately attempts to obey the rules that accompany punishments. As his eyes screw shut in pain, you take the few seconds to grab the worst thing you keep in the drawer of the small table next to your plush, deep purple velvet armchair. It’s the thing Ransom hates the most in this world – even more than his family or their stupid maid or being broke or even disappointing you.

Just as his eyes open, you lean down to lock his cock in the pink plastic cage with a wince-inducing click, depositing the key in the space between your chest and the baby pink fabric of your bralette. It’s simple, mostly sheer with embroidered flowers spanning over the length of each breast while barely concealing your hardened nipples. The matching panties show off your tummy and thighs – cutting you in just the right places so that you look even more heavenly than usual.

“Fu-uck,” he moans when he realizes what’s happened, what you’ve done to him. It’s almost cute in how pathetic it is, the sound he makes and the precum that gathers at the tip and how his stomach tightens with each breath. It’s cute how pathetic he is – how his face scrunches up and he bites his lips until they’re beautiful and plump. Ransom Drysdale-Thrombey may be a chauvinist asshole with an ego bigger than his trust fund (or, what he trust fund used to be), but damn can he be so pretty it hurts.

“Down,” is all you say, giving him a small hmm as he falls to all fours. His eyes remain focused on the ground as you haven’t given him permission to keep anything else in his eyeline. He doesn’t need to be told to keep his back straight, body barely flinching as you sit back down and plant your feet in the center of his spine, your authentic red bottoms a beautiful contrast to his milky skin.

“You like my shoes, baby?” you ask, rolling them back in forth against the ridges of his spine. “You got them for me when you had money—you weren’t as useless then…”

Ransom’s back is parallel to the plush white throw you’d placed on the ground for him, his palms, knees, and the front of his feet warming the fur as you rest your own feet in the center of his spine. He can’t see you as he faces your fireplace, doesn’t have the pleasure of watching you as you talk with other clients - other men with millions, maybe even billions more than him not only in their bank accounts, but in their futures. Your long acrylic nails, ones it pains him to think he didn’t pay for, taptaptap against your phone screen as messages are typed. Judging by the click he hears every so often (in combination with your shifting in your seat) Ransom assumes you’re also taking photos – but whether they’re of you to send to customers or of him to use as blackmail, he may never know.

It's painful in a plethora of ways – but the playboy can’t tell if the pit in his chest, the aching of his cock, or the sharp pain in his back hurts worse. None of these things improve with time, either, the hours marked by glasses of champagned downed and Venmo transfers made.

The only thing that makes it better is the familiar sound of your phone being locked and placed in the side table screen-down before your feet are planted back on the floor with two sharp clacks. Sounds that would normally make Ransom’s cock jump if not for the plastic that was locked around him.

“Get in position, you useless slut,” you hiss, your hand flying to this throat so you could squeeze a warning against his skin. “You’re going to pleasure me until I say you can stop.”

Ransom gulps, his eyes wide with fear and pupils blown from lust. He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a way that reminds you of when he deepthroats one of your many, many straps, and bows his head in submission. “Y-yes Mistress,” he moans deep, his eyes fluttering shut as the sheer memory of your dripping cunt floods his mind. It’s been so long – too long – since he’s been with you, been inside you; and he’s desperate as you push your panties to the side to reveal your soaked lips.

Ransom waits for your nod of approval before he launches himself forward, placing wet kisses wherever he can reach. You’re sensitive already, little gasps falling past your lips when he takes your clit between his teeth and sucks.

You don’t do a lot of sex work that involves service clients – it’s exhausting, to say the least, requires a lot of set up and take down and the like. For a long while you did no contact work, but it was a few clients – Ransom included – that convinced you to break into it.

And, fuck does he make all the work worth it. His fingers slide into you with confidence and expertise, finding that special spot inside of you with ease, groaning into your dripping cunt each time you cry out his name.

“Jesus, baby boy,” you cry out between guttural moans. “You’re so fucking good for your Mistress aren’t you?”

He nods, flatting his tongue as his face moves up and down and that-

That is what breaks you.

You come on his face as your thighs nearly choke him – his hands digging into the insides of your thighs. Ransom himself can’t tell if he’s trying to pull him apart – desperate for air as his whole body goes cold from lack of oxygen – or if his arms holding them in place so he has the honor to die while experiencing pure euphoria. As your pussy pulses on his tongue Ransom wonders if he’s already passed over, if Heaven is the space between your legs and why he’s been allowed there despite his many, many sins.

It doesn’t take long before his movements slow for a moment, causing you to groan in frustration before grabbing his previously-impeccably styled hair.

“Did I tell you to stop, slut?”

He gives you a small whine before shaking his head, eyes large and jaw soaked.

You smile at his obedience. “Then get down there and eat me out until I’m crying.”

Ransom smiles before moving his head back down, returning to his position below you.

God, you think. This really is the best job ever.

[gins-potter]

everything will be alright (with you by my side)

@halzekrhodestead​ sent me these requests literally a million years ago and i’m just now getting around to filling them.  sorry about the wait and i hope you enjoy it! yes i know will didn’t do emergency medicine in nyc i just decided to retcon that

Will’s skin practically crawls at the sound of the elegant string music floating out of the ballroom at the top of the stairs.  The music is nice enough he supposes, but Will’s never been able to hear violins and not be reminded of the vibrant, boisterous music his mother had filled their home with when he was a child.  But maybe it’s not the music at all that sets his teeth on edge, but rather the people lining up to enter the gala, who shed their coats to reveal expensive tuxedos and glamorous dresses.  Maybe it’s the glasses of champagne they accept as they step inside, the liquid surely the rarest of vintages and served in undoubtedly crystal flutes.

Beside them, in the tux he’s had since med school, and the tie Connor gave him before they even started dating, Will feels more than a little lackluster.

But, he rationalises to himself, he never did understand the point of hosting a charity event if you were going to blow tens of thousands of dollars just throwing the damn thing.  But he knows the cause is important to his boyfriend, so in a surprisingly un-Will-like fashion, he resists the urge to make a comment about it, and instead pastes a pleasant smile on his face.  Because after all, he’s not here to make waves; he’s here to be a buffer with a pretty face and make the night as painless as possible.

At least that’s the way Will remembers Connor phrasing it.

Speaking of, beside him Connor takes a deep, shuddering breath as they reach the top of the stairs and the wide double door entrance looms ahead.  Pausing at the threshold, Connor slips his hand into Will’s and squeezes gently.

“Hey,” he murmurs, tracing the back of Will’s hand with his thumb.  “Thanks for being here?”

Will feels his lips twitch up into a genuine smile despite his surroundings, and says, “Yeah well, you promised you’d do that thing with your tongue that I like if I came, so…”

The words surprise a laugh out of Connor, and he shoots Will a grateful look, before squaring his shoulders, as if emboldened by the exchange and leading his boyfriend inside.  Will sighs a little and accepts a glass of champagne, figuring he’s going to need it.

Into the lion’s den they go.

.

The night starts off well enough, all things considered.

Having been away from the whole scene for so long, Connor is almost immediately swarmed by artificially eager socialites who want all the details on what he’s been up to in recent years.  Will watches his boyfriend’s face and knows him well enough to know when he needs to step in and gently shift the subject matter, or when Connor genuinely likes the other person and he can sip his exorbitantly priced champagne and let the conversation wash over him.

His southside accent sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the other guest's polished speech but Will plays it to his favour, working the ‘blue-collar boy who put himself through med school’ angle that they lap up like some of their expensive wine.  His father would spit if could see him, and Will hates himself a little bit for doing it, their condescending smiles stoking the embers of that anger.  But all it takes is to see the gratefulness in Connor’s eyes to know it’s worth it, and he stamps out those embers enough that they don’t become a raging inferno.  Besides, by the pressure of a hand on his lower back, Will can tell that Connor knows exactly what he’s doing and will make it well worth his time when they’re back in their apartment.

They even survive the, thankfully brief, exchange with Connor’s father, it being the first time they’ve met in the year that Will and Connor have been together.  It’s polite, and it’s pleasant, and they smile for the benefit of the other guests milling around, but Will doesn’t miss the disapproving glint that enters Cornelius Rhodes’s eyes when Connor introduces him as his boyfriend.  And it doesn’t go unnoticed by him either that Connor introduces him as ‘Will’, but Cornelius manages to call him ‘William’ - something even his own father never calls him - a grand total of six times in the space of their three minute conversation.  

It makes Will wonder which is a bigger affront to Cornelius: that his son is dating a man, or that he’s dating someone who doesn’t come with a trust fund.

But despite it all they manage to survive the few minutes that the encounter lasts for until Cornelius gets pulled away by another guest and they can escape to the other side of the ballroom.  It would have been ideal to avoid him completely, but as a main benefactor of the gala, Cornelius was well and truly in the spotlight, and people would surely talk if the two Rhodes men ignored each other all evening.  That was certainly the reason, Connor mutters to Will as they hightail it out of there, that Cornelius had sought them out; it simply would not do for the Rhodes’ to be talked about for anything other than their roaring financial success.

But all in all the evening is going well.  Connor works the crowd with Will at his side, charming smile firmly in place as he convinces many of the other guests to sign over large swathes of money to the National Alliance on Mental Illness.  Connor chats to friends of his late mother, runs into old classmates from high school, and even gets dragged onto the dance floor by his sister.  And despite his father’s looming presence, Will can tell his boyfriend is actually starting to enjoy himself.

Which is why he feels comfortable enough to leave Connor in the hands of his sister and escape into a hallway off the ballroom when he overhears a young socialite complain to her friend about the darling little yacht her father refuses to buy her.

What’s a mere three million dollars after all?

He just needs to take a breath away from the music and the lights and the people.  But he’s not there for more than a few minutes, when a figure appears at the other end of the hallway, striding towards him.

“Mr Rhodes,” Will says, once he recognises him in the dim lighting.  He straightens, and pushes off the wall, a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

“William Halstead,” Cornelius says slowly, a dangerous smile on his face.  Something about the way he says Will’s name has the hair on the back of his neck standing up, and his suspicions are confirmed when Cornelius doesn’t waste time with pleasantries.  “William Halstead.  Born to Pat and Shannon Halstead, a construction worker and kindergarten teacher from Canaryville.  One brother named Jay who was first an Army Ranger and is now a detective with the Chicago Police Department.  You went to college out of state, was involved in aid work in Sudan, before studying emergency medicine in New York.  You came back to Chicago on a whim to visit your brother, were briefly accused of murder before later being cleared, and decided to move back permanently when you were offered a position at the Gaffney Chicago Medical Center.”

The champagne flute in Will’s hand groans under his tightening grip, but he manages a guarded smile as he says, “I see you’ve looked me up.”

“Oh, I’ve done more than look you up,” Cornelius says ominously.  “Which is why I know that despite your best efforts you were unable to secure a scholarship, and the two jobs you worked through medical school barely dented your student loans.  So, let’s cut to the chase, William, how much will it take?”

Will blinks, and then laughs uncomfortably, unable, or perhaps unwilling to understand what Cornelius is trying to imply.  “I’m sorry, how much will what take?”

Cornelius exhales sharply, as if perturbed by having to explain himself.  “How much money will it take to get you to walk away from my son and never look back?”

The words cut like a blade through Will’s chest and his next breath comes out strangled and ragged.  “I don’t-”

Cornelius spreads his hands, cutting Will off with ease.  “Look, I’m a reasonable man.  And I can be very generous when I want to be.  Those loans of yours could be taken care of with a single phone call.”

Will seethes at the arrogance of the man before him, and at both the idea of someone being able to clear eight years worth of accumulated debts with half a thought, and at the implication that there was a sum of money large enough to get Will to walk away from Connor.

When he doesn’t answer, Cornelius continues.  “I know about you, William, I know your background, and I know that you and my son come from two very different worlds.  And I know that when I pass on and my son inherits the empire two generations of Rhodes’ men have built, he’ll do so with someone of the correct social standing by his side.  Someone,” he adds, eyeing Will with open disgust.  “Who is able to provide a natural continuation of the Rhodes’ line.”

“So,” Will says, realising that he being a man and a poor kid from Canaryville are equal sins in Cornelius’ eyes.  “It doesn’t matter to you that your son might be miserable as long as he marries someone you deem socially acceptable?”

Cornelius shrugs carelessly.  “I’m sure Connor will be upset for a while, he always was a…. sensitive child.”  His lips pull back, more a bearing of his teeth than a true smile.  “But I’m also sure that he’ll get over it eventually, and come to realise that I’m right.  Hell, he might even thank me for it one day.”

Will wants to tell him that there’s a better chance of hell freezing over than of that happening, but Cornelius has already continued talking.

“So, all that’s left to be settled is the price.  Name it and it’s yours.”

Here, Will has to laugh.  And not just an awkward or polite chuckle, but a real laugh, the first he’s uttered all night.  He laughs, and laughs harder, when Cornelius’s expression becomes pinched.

“Oh, you really thought that because I was still standing here and listening, you were actually going to be able to pay me off?”

Cornelius tries to smile again, but it’s lacking it’s earlier swagger.  “‘Pay off’ is such an ugly term, isn’t it?  I prefer to think of this as a business deal.  One that you would be very stupid to turn down.  So be reasonable, William.”

But Will shrugs, grinning effortlessly.  “No one has ever accused me of being all that smart.  And reasonable?  Me being reasonable is walking away from you right now instead of introducing you to the Canaryville version of a no.”

Will idly cracks the knuckles of his right hand, and feels a dark satisfaction when Cornelius’s gaze drops to the hand still hanging by his side.  But he doesn’t curl that hand into a fist, doesn’t let himself draw back his elbow and let the punch fly, no matter how good it might feel in the moment.  No, instead he just shoves both hands into his suit pockets, shoots Cornelius one more careless grin, and starts to stroll back down the hallway.

“You’re going to regret this, William.”

He almost turns back, but decides it’s not worth it.  Besides, he really doesn’t think he is.

.

Connor is blessedly alone when Will steps back into the ballroom.  He hands his glass, still half full, to a passing server with a nod of thanks and beelines for his boyfriend, slipping an arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his temple when he gets there.

“Hey,” Connor says, leaning into him.  “Where did you go?”

“Just out for a breather.”  He pauses, then says, “Ran into your father, had an interesting conversation.”

Connor’s eyes darken and he starts to pull away.  “What did he say?”

Will huffs a breath of a laugh and tightens his grip, preventing him from leaving.  “Nothing.  Well, nothing important anyway,” he allows when Connor clearly doesn’t buy it.

He’ll tell him eventually, it’s not the kind of thing he can keep from Connor.  But later, when they’re in the privacy of their home, and there’s no chance of Connor ruining a charity gala named in his mother’s honour by punching his father in front of a couple hundred people.

“Will-”

He drops his head and nuzzles the side of Connor’s face for the briefest of moments.  “Later,” he murmurs, before pressing another feather light kiss to his skin and drawing away again.

Connor doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t try to pull away again, which is answer enough.  

Will grins, his teeth flashing.  “Dance with me?”

Connor seems surprised but nods and takes his hand, leading him out amongst the other swaying couples.  Will is sure Cornelius is out there somewhere, watching them and seething at the sight but in that moment he doesn’t care.  All that matters is Connor’s arm around his waist and his head on his shoulder, and the love they both feel for each other burning bright in their chests.

[dudeandduchess]

" You’re not going out in that outfit" with possessive kyo pleeeeeease

Hope you like it, bby. 🥰🍉

***

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: “You’re not going out in that outfit” (Smut Prompts, Modern AU, NSFW Scenario)

Warnings: Smut, Possessive Kyō, Mirror Sex, Creampie, Language, Pussy Spanking, Ass Spanking, Sex Toys (Wireless Egg Vibrator), Daddy Kink, Multiple Orgasms, D/s Themes

“Baby, where are you going?” Kyōjurō’s voice, despite its softness, had (Y/n) jumping in surprise; almost causing her red lipstick to smudge outside her lips.

With a quirk of her eyebrow, and a brief glance at her husband in the mirror— right before going back to finishing her make up— she answered, “I have a meeting with the board today, remember?”

The blond couldn’t hold back the sigh that passed his lips at her answer, feeling disgruntled as his gaze traced over how shapely her ass was in that dress of hers. It was modest enough, and it looked professional to boot, but his problem was that she looked too gorgeous in it.

He had no doubt that all the men that were going to see her would be thinking dirty thoughts. It had him wanting to go with her to her meeting, just so he could fend off any other men.

“You’re not going out in that outfit.” The words were out of his mouth before he could even process them, yet Kyōjurō didn’t find himself wanting to take them back. His usual jovial tone was replaced by a serious one; one that had chills running down his wife’s spine because of the genuine warning it held.

However, (Y/n) wasn’t put off by his words. In fact, she was only spurred on by them as she picked up his phone— which she had comfortably taken from where he’d left it on the kitchen counter earlier— and turned on her heel to hand it to him.

“I downloaded an app for you. Something that you’re going to like,” (Y/n) began coyly, sitting down on the lip of her vanity and pressing her thighs together, and suppressing a moan, when she felt the egg vibrator shift inside of her.

Kyōjurō’s interest piqued at his wife’s words, causing him to stare right into her playful gaze before turning his full attention to his phone. He then unlocked the device, pursing his lips a little when an app was already pulled up on the screen.

His right thumb hovered over the ‘on’ icon automatically, pressing the screen lightly and immediately hearing a sharp gasp come from his wife.

Red and orange tinted eyes instantly shot up to look at (Y/n), widening in surprise when they took her in; heavy-lidded and biting down on her bottom lip, as she took hold of either side of her dress before hiking it up.

Her bare cunt was a surprise to see, but it was a welcome one. Especially when she parted her legs and reached between them to boldly spread her pussy lips for his viewing pleasure.

Kyōjurō was already semi-hard before, but he was hard as a rock at that moment; even feeling his cock twitch in anticipation inside his pants.

A tiny bauble peeked from his wife’s sopping entrance— which he reckoned were the connection receptors for her own app on her phone— and he would be damned if he admit to thinking that it was hot as hell.

Judging by the lustful glint in her husband’s eyes alone, (Y/n) was sure that he liked her little surprise for him. Still, she had to tease him, “I’m taking that you like it? You can play with me while we’re both at work.”

“I love it,” The young man rasped out, clearing his throat as his voice got deeper with lust. “But what kind of husband would I be if I let you out of this house while looking so sinful like that?”

One condition he could think about to let her out was marking her pretty skin, all to let everyone know that she was his; either that or filling her up with his cum and letting her go out without cleaning herself up.

The latter was proving to be a much more tempting thought.

So, in a few strides, he’d closed the distance between them; one hand gripping (Y/n)’s face by the chin, and the other slowly rubbing her clit and making her sigh in pleasure— after he had set his phone down beside her.

Her heavy eyes got even heavier with every swirl of her husband’s fingers around the tiny nub, only to fly open when an unexpected smack landed on her still-spread pussy. It was then followed by him pinching her clit, which inevitably had her toes curling in pleasure.

“Fuck, Daddy,” She whispered with a moan, subtly pushing her hips upwards to offer herself even more to him.

A pleased smile lifted the corners of Kyōjurō’s lips when he realized what his wife was doing, and after another slap to her cunt, he ran a finger down her slit and let it tease her opening.

Teasingly, he dipped a digit inside her pussy, feeling the soft and pliable tail of the toy shift around along the back of his middle finger. Her wetness made a lewd, squelching sound that had his cock twitching even more in anticipation.

“I’ll let you out of the house, on one condition,” A smirk lifted the corners of his lips once more, sending a shiver running down (Y/n)’s back at how absolutely sinful and alluring he looked right at that moment. Gone was her usual bubbly and carefree husband, and in his place was the Kyōjurō she knew inside the bedroom.

The blond then leaned in towards her, closing the distance between them so he could brush his lips against hers; right before ghosting his lips up to her ear—baring his teeth and gently nipping at the shell of it.

(Y/n)’s eyes fell closed as a pleasured sigh escaped her lips, while her right hand snaked its way between them so she could cup it over the bulge in her husband’s pants.

“Let me fill you up with my cum, and you try to keep it inside you while at work.” She knew that it was impossible because of gravity, but she still found herself nodding; getting swept along with the intensity of his lust that it clouded her own judgment.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. You deserve a reward.”

At that, Kyōjurō pulled away from (Y/n), leisurely taking in the way that she was still perched on her vanity. He wanted to take her as she was at that moment, but he knew that fucking her in such a tried an tested manner wasn’t the reward she deserved. So, he held a hand out to her and helped her step down from her perch; briefly closing the gap between them once more so he could plant a kiss on her lips.

“Turn around and bend over. Hands on the vanity, and eyes on me through the mirror,” His voice was soft, coaxing, yet still held an undertone that demanded complete submission from her; and it made her even wetter than before.

Wordlessly, with complete subservience, the young woman followed his orders— trying to calm her racing heart as she prepared herself for what reward her husband had been talking about. Was he going to spank her? Choke her? She had absolutely no idea which plan he would follow through with, but she would be lying if she didn’t say that it added to the thrill of being submissive to him.

The sound of his zipper opening had her swallowing thickly, eyes firmly anchored to his through the mirror in front of her. And when he traced the head of his cock along her pussy, slapping her clit a handful of times, it took everything inside her not to let her knees buckle beneath her.

“Eyes on me, baby.” With that, Kyōjurō pushed his cock inside her; grunting softly as he felt the soft material of the toy rubbing against the underside of his cock. The deeper he got in however, the stronger that the vibrations felt around his cock; which had him struggling to keep his balance due to so much pleasure.

And the moment that he had managed to sheathe half of his cock inside her, he felt the head pressed up against the toy itself.

“Fuck,” Kyōjurō whispered to himself, before he pulled back and thrust his cock back in; deliberately pushing the toy further up inside his wife, so that it would press up against her cervix. Her reaction was instantaneous: eyes screwing shut, and hands clenching into fists, as she bowed her head out fo reflex.

Doing so was pleasurable in its own way, but the neglected half of his cock was already crying out to him; begging to be shoved inside her too. Still, he kept up the gentle pace; continually thrusting to fuck the toy up against the mouth of her cervix, and taking joy in the whimpers and mewls that bubbled free from (Y/n)’s lips.

It didn’t take long for him to feel her walls spasming around his cock; gripping down on him so tight that he had to stop and collect himself from blowing his load so soon.

“That’s it, come around Daddy’s cock,” With those words hanging in the air, Kyōjurō reared a hand back and landed a smack on (Y/n)’s ass; closing his eyes and relishing in the feel of her cumming around him as her walls clamped down even tighter on him and the toy inside her. “Good girl.”

He soothed the reddening mark on her ass then, smiling at her reflection through the mirror when she lifted her head to look at him. She already looked disheveled just from that alone, but it was only the start of what he wanted to do with her.

So, with one last teasing thrust inside her, the blond pulled himself out of his wife’s sopping cunt, reaching over to his phone and turning the toy off before taking it out of her as well. She shuddered when it finally slipped free from her needy cunt, but he paid no mind to her quivering entrance as he shamelessly set it down on the vanity.

“Are you ready for the real fun, baby?”

***

(Y/n) was so delirious with pleasure that she could barely keep her eyes open. And with every thrust that Kyōjurō aimed at her cervix, she felt her legs start to shake even more; quivering so bad that— if it weren’t for him holding her up by the undersides of her thighs— she would have already collapsed on the floor.

Her hands were looped back around the back of his neck, anchoring herself to him as much as she could, as he kept her legs open in front of the mirror. Every detail stark with the glow of the morning light illuminating both of them.

She could see where they were connected if she opened her eyes long enough; watch where his cock disappeared inside her with every mind-numbing thrust he subjected her to.

“P-please, Daddy! I’m so close!” She cried out, throwing her head back against her husband’s shoulder as she felt him bite down on the side of her neck.

In turn, Kyōjurō began to pound up into her faster; bringing her down on his cock even harder than before, as he himself felt so close to his own orgasm. It was one thing to watch her when they fucked, but it was another heady thing to see both of them fucking.

He was so sweaty, and she was mostly disheveled, but he had to admit that it was one of the hottest things that they had ever done.

(Y/n)’s legs involuntarily jerked— almost clamping shut, if it weren’t for Kyōjurō’s hands keeping her open to his hungry eyes. “Watch, baby. Watch how hard I fuck you on my cock.”

And with his words came his subsequent actions; pounding her even harder, if that was even possible. But (Y/n) started screaming with pleasure the rougher he got; with him locking his arms tighter around her to brace her for the onslaught of his fucking.

At that point, the young woman had already closed her eyes as she kept begging him to let her cum again. “Please, please, Daddy!”

As much as Kyōjurō wanted to keep up that pace, however, it was starting to strain his back— which had him setting her on top of her her vanity; getting her to go on her knees and present her ass to him with a few tugs on her body.

It sometimes blew his mind just how in sync they were. But it wasn’t the time to rehash on that.

So, with his hand guiding his cock, he bottomed out inside her once more; grabbing hold of his wife’s hips as he kept pounding her against the mirror on the vanity. He could feel her clamping down on him once more, along with the telltale pulsing of her walls, which told him that she was only a few more thrusts away from cumming.

Then with his right hand, he snaked it down to her pussy and began toying with her clit; flicking, slapping, and pinching it until all he could hear were her loud moans above the smacking of their skin.

He could also feel his orgasm approaching then, making his knees weaker as he tried to keep up the frenzied pace that they had. (Y/n) had even begun desperately pushing her hips back into him; meeting him thrust for thrust to get both of them off.

But it was only when she reached down between her legs and began fondling Kyōjurō’s balls did he actually falter in his movements. He buried his cock all the way inside her, down to the hilt, before pulling out almost all the way and slamming right back in.

And with that final thrust, he came; spurting thick ropes of cum inside her and coating her walls. Still, despite already cumming, he kept up his ministrations on her clit— frantically rubbing it with his fingers until (Y/n) cried out with her orgasm, and pressed her forehead against the fogged up mirror in front of her.

Both of them were completely spent and shaky, yet the young man still found it in himself to lean forward and press a kiss against his wife’s shoulder. All before uttering his teasing words.

“Look at how thoroughly fucked you look in this dress. I guess you’ll just have to change, baby.” It wasn’t what he intended to do at first, but it had a much better result than he had wanted.

[slashiest-slasher]

How would the slashers act with a s/o that came hone drunk and just wanted to ya know... have some 'fun'?

i’m sorry i wrote most of this months ago while drunk, and finishing it up just now equally as drunk ﾍ(ﾟ∇ﾟﾍ) enjoy!

Michael Myers (1978 'verse)

- When you go out without telling Michael where, he usually worries thinks you're going to rat on him. But you've just worked your way into his hear enough that he's stopped stalking you everywhere you go.

- But when you finally manage to find your way home, he doesn't expect you to fumble with your keys and slam the front door open. He was watching TV when you did, and while Michael doesn't get startled, he did whip his head a bit quicker.

- He just manages to catch sight of you stumbling in, and catching yourself before you faceplant on hardwood floor. "MIKEY~ I'M HOOOOME~" you bellow out and make your way to the couch.

- Oh boy.

- Michael doesn't react when you plop yourself down in his lap, wrap your arms around his neck, and clumsily attempt to press your lips to his mask. Normally, Michael has a rather voracious sexual appetite. But you're sloppy, and uncoordinated and smell like beer. It's disgusting, and Michael is the kind of guy who eats dog carcasses.

- So instead he pushes you down onto the couch, and pulls down the blanket from the back of the couch. Every attempt of yours to climb back on him is met with being pushed back down while he watched TV.

Jason Voorhees

- Jason is in a similar-ish boat where he has just begun trusting you to leave without flipping out and thinking you're running away. So yeah, he isn't a fan when you tell him you're going for a few drinks at the pub in town.

- Yeah, few drinks his fucking ass. You come back 2 hours later than you intended, stumbling out of some guys jeep, and trip just past the entrance of the camp. You just... lay there, in the dirt. If your back wasn't rising and falling, he'd think you were dead.

- He still panics, because he's Jason. What else is he supposed to do other than kill teens? He runs and hauls your body over his shoulder, and back to the cabin. And our boy built like a brick house, jumps when you start groping his ass.

- "Jaaaason, I need you to fuck me, like right now," you slur out when he dumps you on the bed. Yeeeaaahhh, no, not happening. Not now, not ever when you've been drinking. He can hardly tolerate anyone consuming alcohol, and mixing sex in? What would mother think of him?

- One sin at a time, as you always say.

- He still lays in bed with you, because he's tired and it's his bed too! Even if you try getting him to have sex with you, is a Stone Wall, and will not allow anything to happen until you eventually pass out from exhaustion.

NSFW bellow cut, because c'mon, theyre serial killers

Thomas Hewitt

- Drunk people? At his house? Color Thomas shocked (not). Please he lives with Holt, who drinks pretty much every hour of every day. He can scarcely think of a time when he wasn't drunk. But hey, if the two of you were going off to drink and fish (a past-time you forced Holt into liking) then whatever, he has work to do. He'll just wait until you get back to demand your attention.

- When you and Holt manage to pull up in front of the house without crashing the truck into a tree, he's content. Neither of you seem dead, and you also have a cooler full of fish. A refreshing change from human. Holt stumbles to the front door, as per usual, but you're barely hanging off his shoulder, dragging the cooler behind you.

- Oh No. Thomas Is Not Happy.

- He didn't care if you drank, at all. He didn't even care if you got drunk. Everyone, even Luda Mae drank at the house, so it wasn't a problem. But you can barely walk, and pretty wasted people and Holt don't mix. So Thomas sweeps you up to his room as soon as possible.

- Despite being drunk, you're pretty damn strong. Enough so to pull Thomas down on top of yourself when you land on the bed. You get him nice and settled between your legs and pet the back of his head. "Well heelloooo handsome," you murmur. "You here to show me a good time?"

- Thomas, and rightfully so, freezes. You two have barely just gotten to hand holding stage, and now here you are: flushed, disheveled, and practically asking him to fuck you. Thomas breathes heavily behind his mask, and can't help but grind against you. You're too irresistible.

- But he won't go any further than dry humping until both of you are satisfied. Luda Mae, after all, raised a proper southern gentleman (or her version of one at the very least), so having sex when you two aren't married, or when you haven't consented, would be awfully rude of him. But he is Horny, and you are Horny, and what's a little grinding until he cums in his pants?

Freddy Kruger

- You? Drinking? What is this, torture time featuring the hot person who is the only one who Freddy seem unable, or unwilling, to kill? You're killin him, Smalls.

- Seriously, you're hot as hell to Freddy, and since you're alive and not some demon that haunts everyone's nightmares, you can do everything Freddy can't. You can drink, you can fuck, you can eat, and it drive him mad! So when you're getting sloshed, Freddy is getting more riled up. He can only get dream wasted, which is nowhere near the same.

- So he bides his time until you pass the fuck out and end up in dreamland. But lo and behold, you just polished off an entire fifth of whisky by yourself, so you're still trashed. Even while you're asleep and dreaming of yourself getting plowed by Freddy.

- Fucking jackpot. Freddy knew there was a reason he liked you. So he doesn't really do anything at first, just kind of goes invisible and watched while your version of him has got you on your back, legs over his shoulders, and making you moan like some kind of porn star. He'd like to be all up in there, but watching you go at it is kind of hot?

Brahms Heelshire (bc he is MY BOY; also dubcon warning bc the reader is drunk and cant properly consent)

- Okay so Brahms is kind of in the same boat as Jason where he as literally just got around to trusting you to leave without worrying that you were going to abandon him. Except it took a lot longer for him. You are allowed to go out to the pub for TWO HOURS with Malcolm, but that's it.

- (If Brahms wasn't so adverse to leaving the house he would've gone with you so you would've kiss Malcolm)

- But you're an HOUR late, and he's about to start breaking shit until he sees you stumbling up the road to the manor. Singing. LOUDLY. If Brahms wasn't so wound up he'd find it endearing.

- As soon as he throws the door open to yell at you, you pretty much topple on top of him, and try getting his shirt off. "Braaahms, you're sooo hot. What did I do to deserve someone like you?"

- Oh damn.

- Oh damn.

- You hit two of his major turn ons at once. And since Brahmsy is a feral little man with no manners, he just pins you to the floor, gets your pants off, and starts finger banging you right then and then. He wastes no time before shoving himself in. He's gotta take you right here, with the cold wind blowing in.

- Boy is practically shaking from how much you got him riled up in such a short time. He really does try to savor in the sight of you sprawled underneath him, face red, and unable to hide your moans.

- For once, you cum before him, and that's what has him cumming. Your O face is one of the hottest things to him. And you both pass out, just right there in front of the open door. At least when you wake up five hours later, moderately sober and in need of a piss, you manage to herd him upstairs and into bed.