#and then they were just like here I have a present for you

[pucksandpower]

Keeping Up With the Leclercs

mafia!Charles Leclerc x bratva! Reader

Summary: ever wondered what it would be like if Morticia and Gomez Addams were in the mafia? There’s nothing quite like a dangerous couple who are (literally) crazy for each other

Warnings: arranged marriage and kidnapping

You stand in your father’s study, arms crossed defiantly as he delivers the news that will change your life forever. The plush Persian rug beneath your feet feels like quicksand, threatening to swallow you whole.

“You can’t be serious,” you spit out, glaring at the man who raised you. “An arranged marriage? What century do you think we’re living in?”

Your father, Nikolai, the most feared man in the Bratva, doesn’t flinch. He merely raises an eyebrow, his steely gaze unwavering. “It’s not up for discussion, Y/N. This alliance with the Monegasque Mafia will secure our position for generations to come.”

You scoff, pacing the room like a caged tigress. “And I’m just supposed to be the sacrificial lamb? How convenient.”

“Watch your tone,” Nikolai warns, his voice low and dangerous. “This isn’t a request. It’s an order.”

The door to the study swings open, and in walks the very man you’re meant to marry. Charles Leclerc, heir to the Monegasque Mafia, saunters in with an air of arrogance that makes your blood boil.

“Ah, there’s my blushing bride,” Charles drawls, a smirk playing on his lips. “I hope I’m not interrupting a touching father-daughter moment.”

You spin to face him, eyes blazing. “You. This is your fault, isn’t it? What, couldn’t find a woman willing to marry you voluntarily?”

Charles chuckles, seemingly amused by your outburst. “Feisty. I like that in a woman.”

“I’m not your woman,” you snarl, taking a step towards him. “And I never will be.”

Your father clears his throat, reminding you of his presence. “Y/N, Charles, please sit down. We have much to discuss.”

Reluctantly, you take a seat on the leather sofa, as far from Charles as possible. He, on the other hand, sprawls out comfortably, looking for all the world like he owns the place.

“Now,” Nikolai begins, “the wedding will take place in three months. Until then, I expect you both to get to know each other and present a united front to our associates.”

You can’t help but laugh bitterly. “Three months? Why the rush? Afraid I’ll come to my senses and run away?”

Charles leans forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Don’t worry, mon chérie. I’ll make sure you’re thoroughly ... distracted.”

“You’re disgusting,” you mutter, refusing to meet his gaze.

Your father sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Enough. You two will learn to get along, for the sake of both our families.”

“And if we don’t?” You challenge, raising your chin defiantly.

Nikolai’s expression darkens. “Then you’ll face the consequences. Both of you.”

The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air. You know better than anyone what your father is capable of when crossed.

Charles, seemingly unfazed, stands up and stretches. “Well, this has been delightful, but I think Y/N and I could use some ... alone time to get acquainted.”

You jump to your feet, ready to protest, but your father beats you to it. “An excellent idea. Y/N, why don’t you show Charles the gardens?”

It’s not a suggestion, and you know it. Gritting your teeth, you storm out of the study, not bothering to check if Charles is following.

The moment you’re in the hallway, Charles catches up, matching your brisk pace. “So, tell me about yourself, future Mrs. Leclerc. What makes you tick?”

You whirl around, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Listen here, you smug bastard. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I want no part of it. This marriage? It’s never going to happen.”

Charles catches your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “Oh, it’s happening alright. But who says we can’t have a little fun along the way?”

You yank your hand away, your skin tingling where he touched you. “Fun? You think this is fun?”

“It could be,” he shrugs, his eyes roaming over you appreciatively. “If you’d let that stick out of your ass for five minutes.”

“Charming,” you deadpan. “Is this how you usually woo women? Insults and forced marriages?”

Charles laughs, the sound rich and oddly melodic. “Only the special ones. Come on, Y/N. Give me a chance. I might surprise you.”

You pause, studying him for a moment. Despite your anger, you can’t deny there’s something intriguing about Charles. A dangerous allure that both excites and terrifies you.

“Fine,” you concede grudgingly. “One chance. But if you so much as look at me wrong, I’ll make you regret it.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Charles grins, offering you his arm. “Shall we explore these famous gardens of yours?”

Ignoring his outstretched arm, you lead the way outside. The sun is setting, casting a golden glow over the meticulously manicured grounds.

“It’s beautiful,” Charles murmurs, genuine appreciation in his voice.

You nod, allowing yourself to relax slightly. “It’s my favorite place on the estate. I used to hide here as a child when things got ... intense inside.”

Charles turns to you, his expression softening. “It can’t have been easy, growing up in this world.”

“Like you’d know anything about it,” you scoff, but there’s less venom in your words now.

“You’d be surprised,” he says quietly. “The gilded cage of Monaco isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. “Oh? Do tell.”

Charles shakes his head, a rueful smile on his lips. “Another time, perhaps. For now, I’d rather hear about you. What do you do when you’re not busy being the Bratva princess?”

“I’m not a princess,” you retort automatically. “And I ... I paint, actually.”

“Really?” Charles seems genuinely interested. “What kind of art?”

You hesitate, unused to sharing this part of yourself. “Mostly abstracts. Emotions translated into color and form.”

“I’d love to see them sometime,” Charles says softly. “If you’d let me.”

You study him, trying to detect any hint of mockery. Finding none, you nod slowly. “Maybe. If you behave yourself.”

Charles clutches his chest dramatically. “Me? Misbehave? I’m wounded by the very suggestion.”

Despite yourself, you feel the corners of your mouth twitching upwards. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

As you continue walking, a comfortable silence falls between you. The tension from earlier hasn’t disappeared entirely, but it’s shifted into something ... different. Something charged with possibility.

“You know,” Charles says suddenly, breaking the quiet, “this arranged marriage thing doesn’t have to be a death sentence.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Says the man who’s not being forced to give up his freedom.”

“Who says you have to give up anything?” Charles counters. “We could make our own rules, create our own version of this marriage.”

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. “What are you suggesting?”

Charles steps closer, his voice low and intense. “A partnership. Equal footing. We present a united front to the world, secure our families’ alliance, but behind closed doors? We live our lives how we want.”

“And what about love?” You ask, hating how vulnerable you sound. “What about building a real relationship?”

Charles reaches out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gentle touch sends shivers down your spine. “Who says that can’t happen naturally? We have time. We can take things slow, get to know each other properly.”

You swallow hard, your heart racing. “And if we end up hating each other?”

“Then we’ll still be the most dangerous power couple the mafia world has ever seen,” Charles grins. “Think about it. With your fire and my charm, we could rule this entire underworld.”

You can’t help but laugh, the tension finally breaking. “You’re impossible.”

“I prefer to think of myself as irresistible,” Charles winks.

Rolling your eyes, you start walking again. “Don’t push your luck, Leclerc.”

As you near the house, Charles suddenly stops, turning to face you. His expression is more serious now, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

“Listen, Y/N,” he says softly. “I know this isn’t ideal for either of us. But I meant what I said about making it work. I respect you, and I want us to build something real, even if it starts from an arrangement.”

You study him, searching for any sign of deception. Finding none, you nod slowly. “Okay. I’m willing to try if you are.��

Charles breaks into a genuine smile, one that transforms his entire face. “That’s all I ask.”

As you stand there, bathed in the dying light of the day, you feel something shift between you. It’s not love, not yet, but it’s a beginning. A spark of possibility that could, with time and nurturing, grow into something beautiful.

Charles takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. Slowly, deliberately, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. The touch is electric, sending a jolt through your entire body.

Pulling back slightly, Charles looks you up and down, a wicked glint in his eye. “You know what, Y/N? I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy everything you have to offer.”

And despite yourself, despite all your reservations and fears, you find yourself looking forward to proving him right.

***

Three months have passed in a whirlwind of preparations, negotiations, and stolen moments. Now, as the clock strikes midnight, you find yourself in the opulent bridal suite of the Leclerc compound, face to face with your new husband.

Charles stands before you, his tuxedo jacket discarded, bow tie hanging loosely around his neck. His eyes, dark with desire, never leave yours as he slowly begins to unbutton his shirt.

“Well, Mrs. Leclerc,” he drawls, a smirk playing on his lips. “Shall we consummate this union of ours?”

You roll your eyes, but can’t quite suppress the flutter in your stomach. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Charles. I’m still not convinced this wasn’t a terrible idea.”

He chuckles, stepping closer. “Always so prickly. It’s one of the things I love about you, you know.”

“Love?” You scoff, trying to ignore the way your heart skips at the word. “We’ve known each other for three months.”

Charles reaches out, his fingers trailing along your jawline. “Sometimes, that’s all it takes.”

You swallow hard, fighting the urge to lean into his touch. “Just ... help me out of this dress, will you? I can hardly breathe in this thing.”

“With pleasure,” Charles grins, moving behind you.

As he slowly lowers the zipper, his breath hot on your neck, you can’t help but shiver. The tension between you has been building for weeks, and now, alone at last, it threatens to consume you both.

The dress pools at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments and ...

Charles lets out a low whistle. “Well, well. What do we have here?”

You turn to face him, a wicked glint in your eye. Strapped to various parts of your body are an impressive array of weapons — daggers, throwing stars, even a small pistol holstered to your thigh.

“A girl’s got to be prepared,” you shrug, trying to appear nonchalant despite the heat rising to your cheeks.

Charles’ eyes roam over you, a mix of admiration and desire in his gaze. “I must say, I’m impressed. And more than a little turned on.”

You can’t help but laugh, some of the tension dissipating. “Is that all it takes? A few knives and you’re ready to go?”

“What can I say?” Charles grins, stepping closer. “I like a woman who can handle herself.”

His hands come to rest on your waist, fingers brushing against the hilt of a dagger. “Though I have to ask, were you planning to assassinate me on our wedding night?”

You smirk, trailing a finger down his chest. “The night’s still young, Mr. Leclerc. Don’t get too comfortable.”

Charles laughs, the sound rich and warm. “Oh, mon amour. What am I going to do with you?”

“I can think of a few things,” you murmur, surprising yourself with your boldness.

Charles’ eyes darken, his grip on your waist tightening. “Care to elaborate?”

Instead of answering, you reach up and pull him down for a kiss. It’s fierce and passionate, months of pent-up tension finally finding release. Charles responds eagerly, his hands roaming your body, carefully avoiding the various weapons still strapped to your skin.

When you finally break apart, both panting, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “As much as I’m enjoying this little arsenal of yours, perhaps we should disarm you before things get too ... heated.”

You nod, slightly dazed from the intensity of the kiss. “Probably a good idea. Wouldn’t want any unfortunate accidents.”

Charles steps back, his eyes never leaving yours as you begin to remove the weapons one by one. With each knife that clatters to the ground, the air between you grows thicker with anticipation.

“You know,” Charles muses, watching as you unholster the pistol from your thigh, “most brides wear a garter. You went for a whole armory.”

You smirk, setting the gun carefully on a nearby table. “I’m not most brides.”

“No,” Charles agrees, his voice low and husky. “You certainly aren’t.”

As you remove the last dagger, Charles closes the distance between you once more. His hands, warm and calloused, cup your face gently.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones. “I know this isn’t how either of us imagined getting married. But I want you to know, I’m glad it’s you.”

You swallow hard, caught off guard by the sincerity in his eyes. “Charles, I-”

He silences you with a soft kiss, so different from the passionate one you shared earlier. This one is tender, almost reverent, and it makes your knees weak.

When he pulls back, you’re both breathing heavily. “You don’t have to say anything,” Charles whispers. “Just ... be here with me. In this moment.”

You nod, unable to form words. Instead, you reach for the buttons of his shirt, your fingers trembling slightly as you undo them one by one.

Charles watches you, his eyes dark with desire. As you push the shirt off his shoulders, revealing his toned chest, he lets out a shaky breath. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands settling on your hips.

You blush, unused to such open admiration. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you manage to quip, trying to regain some of your usual bravado.

Charles chuckles, pulling you closer. “Always with the sharp tongue. I wonder what else it can do.”

Before you can retort, his lips are on yours again, hot and demanding. You melt into the kiss, your hands exploring the planes of his chest, tracing old scars and feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

Charles’ fingers find the clasp of your bra, and he pauses, looking at you questioningly. You nod, giving him permission, and he deftly unhooks it, letting it fall to the floor.

“Gorgeous,” he breathes, his eyes roaming over your newly exposed skin. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

You fight the urge to cover yourself, instead meeting his gaze defiantly. “Your turn,” you say, your hands moving to his belt.

Charles grins, helping you undo the buckle. “Eager, are we?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, but there’s no real heat behind it.

As you both finish undressing, the air between you crackles with anticipation. Charles takes your hand, leading you towards the massive four-poster bed that dominates the room.

“Last chance to back out,” he says softly, his thumb tracing circles on your palm.

You look up at him, taking in the mixture of desire and vulnerability in his eyes. Despite everything, despite the arranged nature of your marriage and the complexities of your world, you find yourself wanting this.

Wanting him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, pulling him down onto the bed with you.

What follows is a dance of passion and discovery. Charles’ hands and lips seem to be everywhere at once, mapping out every inch of your skin. You’re not passive either, giving as good as you get, reveling in the way he gasps and moans under your touch.

It’s not perfect — there are moments of awkwardness, of fumbling and laughter. But it’s real, and raw, and more intense than anything you’ve ever experienced.

As you both near the edge, Charles looks down at you, his eyes filled with an emotion you’re not quite ready to name. “Y/N,” he pants, his movements becoming more erratic. “God, Y/N ...”

You arch against him, your nails digging into his back. “Charles,” you gasp, teetering on the brink. “I’m ... I’m ...”

He captures your lips in a searing kiss as you both tumble over the edge together, waves of pleasure washing over you.

Afterwards, you lie tangled together, both struggling to catch your breath. Charles props himself up on one elbow, looking down at you with a mixture of satisfaction and wonder.

“Well,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “I’d say that was a successful consummation, wouldn’t you?”

You can’t help but laugh, swatting at his chest playfully. “It wasn’t terrible,” you concede, trying to maintain some semblance of your usual sass.

Charles raises an eyebrow, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. “Not terrible? I seem to recall you being quite ... vocal in your appreciation.”

You blush, burying your face in his chest to hide your embarrassment. “Shut up,” you mutter, your words muffled against his skin.

Charles chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest. “Never,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I plan on making you that vocal every night for the rest of our lives.”

You pull back, looking up at him with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm,” he winks, leaning down to steal another kiss.

As you settle into each other’s arms, a comfortable silence falls between you. Charles’ fingers continue their gentle exploration of your skin, occasionally brushing against the spots where your weapons had been strapped earlier.

“I have to say,” he murmurs after a while, “I’m looking forward to discovering what other surprises you have in store for me, Mrs. Leclerc.”

You tense slightly at the name, reality crashing back in. “About that,” you say, sitting up and pulling the sheet around you. “This ... what just happened... it doesn’t change anything.”

Charles frowns, propping himself up on his elbows. “What do you mean?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “I mean, this was ... enjoyable. But it doesn’t change the fact that we were forced into this marriage. That our lives are being dictated by our families and their alliances.”

“Y/N,” Charles says softly, reaching out to touch your arm. “I thought ... I thought we were past that. That we were building something real here.”

You close your eyes, fighting back the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. “We are. I think. But it doesn’t erase the circumstances that brought us together. I just ... I need you to understand that.”

Charles is quiet for a moment, his hand still resting on your arm. When he speaks, his voice is low and intense. “I understand. But, mon cœur, look at me.”

Reluctantly, you meet his gaze. The depth of emotion you see there takes your breath away.

“Yes, our marriage was arranged,” he says. “But what’s happening between us? That’s real. That’s ours. And I’m not going to let anyone, not our families, not the entire damn underworld, take that away from us. Okay?”

You swallow hard, fighting back tears you didn’t even realize were threatening to fall. “Okay,” you whisper.

Charles pulls you back down into his arms, holding you close. You let yourself relax against him, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“For what it’s worth,” you murmur after a while, your fingers tracing the lines of a scar on his abdomen, “I’m glad it’s you too.”

But you’re still going to give him hell every step of the way. After all, where would be the fun in making it easy?

***

The gala is in full swing, crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow over the ballroom of the Leclerc compound. You stand by Charles’ side, both of you the picture of mafia royalty in your evening wear. Your hand rests on his arm, a gesture that has become natural over the past few months.

“Smile, mon chérie,” Charles murmurs, his lips barely moving. “The Woking representative is watching.”

You plaster on your most charming smile, leaning into Charles slightly. “How long do we have to keep this up?” You whisper back.

Charles chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Until we’ve sufficiently convinced everyone that we’re madly in love. So … forever.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it,” he winks, before turning to greet an approaching guest.

As Charles engages in small talk, you let your gaze wander around the room. Something feels off, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Years of growing up in the Bratva have honed your instincts, and right now, they’re screaming danger.

“Charles,” you murmur, interrupting his conversation. “Something’s wrong.”

He looks at you sharply, instantly alert. “What is it?”

Before you can answer, the lights go out. The room erupts into chaos, shouts of confusion and fear filling the air.

Charles’ arm wraps around you protectively. “Stay close,” he orders, his voice tense.

Suddenly, gunshots ring out. Glass shatters, and screams pierce the darkness. You feel Charles being torn away from you, and panic sets in.

“Charles!” You shout, reaching for him blindly.

A hand grabs your arm, but you know instantly it’s not Charles. You react on instinct, twisting and striking out with your elbow. There’s a grunt of pain, and the grip loosens.

The emergency lights flicker on, casting an eerie red glow over the scene. Bodies litter the floor, some moving, others disturbingly still. You scan the room frantically for Charles, your heart pounding.

A movement catches your eye, and you turn to see a man in a black mask aiming a gun at you. Time seems to slow down as you reach for the knife strapped to your thigh, cursing yourself for not being more heavily armed.

Just as the man’s finger tightens on the trigger, a blur of motion tackles him to the ground. Charles. Relief floods through you, quickly replaced by fear as you see them grappling on the floor.

You rush forward, knife in hand, but more masked figures appear, surrounding you. You fight with everything you have, your knife flashing in the dim light, but you’re outnumbered.

A sharp pain explodes in the back of your head, and the world goes dark.

When you come to, you’re tied to a chair in what looks like an abandoned warehouse. Your head throbs, and you can taste blood in your mouth. As your vision clears, you see Charles tied to another chair a few feet away, his face bruised and bloody.

“Y/N,” he breathes when he sees you’re awake. “Are you alright?”

You nod, wincing at the movement. “I’m fine. What happened? Where are we?”

Before Charles can answer, a door slams open. A man strolls in, his expensive suit at odds with the grimy surroundings. You recognize him immediately — Zak Brown, head of the Woking Crime Family.

“Well, well,” Brown drawls, a cruel smile on his face. “The newlyweds are finally awake. How touching.”

Charles strains against his bonds, his eyes blazing with fury. “Brown, you bastard. What do you want?”

Brown chuckles, circling your chairs like a shark. “What do I want? Oh, nothing much. Just the complete destruction of the Bratva and Monegasque Mafia. And you two are going to help me achieve that.”

You spit blood at his feet. “Go to hell.”

“Feisty,” Brown grins, stopping in front of you. “I can see why Leclerc here is so taken with you.”

He reaches out, grabbing your chin roughly. You try to jerk away, but his grip is like iron.

“Don’t touch her!” Charles roars, his chair scraping against the concrete as he struggles.

Brown ignores him, his eyes locked on yours. “You know, I’ve always had a thing for Bratva princesses. Maybe once this is all over, I’ll keep you for myself.”

Charles’ voice is low and dangerous when he speaks. “If you so much as lay another finger on my wife, I will tear you apart with my bare hands.”

Brown turns to him, eyebrow raised. “My, my. Such passion. And here I thought this was just a marriage of convenience.”

You look at Charles, surprised by the intensity of his reaction. His eyes meet yours, and the emotion you see there takes your breath away.

Brown claps his hands, breaking the moment. “As touching as this is, we have business to attend to. You’re going to call your fathers and tell them to surrender control of their organizations to me. If you don’t, well ...” He pulls out a gun, pointing it at your head. “I’m sure you can imagine the consequences.”

Charles laughs, the sound harsh and bitter. “You’re delusional if you think that will work. Our fathers would sacrifice us in a heartbeat to maintain control.”

“Perhaps,” Brown shrugs. “But are you willing to take that chance?” He cocks the gun, pressing it against your temple.

You close your eyes, steeling yourself. “Do it,” you spit out. “I’d rather die than betray my family.”

“Y/N, no,” Charles says, his voice breaking.

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. “It’s okay, Charles. We always knew this could happen.”

Brown looks between you, frustration evident on his face. “Enough of this noble sacrifice bullshit. You have one hour to make your decision. I’ll be back.”

He storms out, slamming the door behind him.

The moment he’s gone, you start working on your bonds. “Charles, can you reach the knife in my hair?”

He blinks, momentarily confused. “You have a knife in your hair?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I do. Now hurry, before they come back.”

Charles manages to scoot his chair closer, awkwardly fumbling with your elaborate updo. After a few tense moments, he lets out a triumphant “Aha!” As he extracts a small, razor-sharp blade using nothing but his mouth.

“You never cease to amaze me,” he murmurs, a hint of pride in his voice.

Working together, you manage to cut through your ropes. Once free, you make quick work of Charles’ bonds.

“Okay,” you whisper, rubbing your wrists. “We need a plan.”

Charles nods, his eyes scanning the room. “There’s probably guards outside. We’ll need a distraction.”

You grin, reaching into your dress and pulling out a small explosive device. “Will this do?”

Charles stares at you in disbelief. “Where did you ... you know what, never mind. I don’t want to know.”

You approach the door, setting the device. “Ready?”

Charles takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “Y/N, wait. Before we do this, I need you to know something.”

You turn to him, confused by the intensity in his eyes. “What is it?”

“I love you,” he says simply. “Not because of our families, not because of the arrangement. I love you, Y/N, for everything that you are.”

Your heart skips a beat, emotions swirling inside you. “Charles, I-”

The door bursts open, cutting you off. Brown stands there, gun raised, flanked by two guards.

“Well, isn’t this romantic,” he sneers. “I hate to interrupt, but-”

He doesn’t get to finish. Charles moves with lightning speed, tackling Brown to the ground. You react instantly, throwing your knife at one guard while launching yourself at the other.

The room erupts into chaos. Gunshots ring out, and you hear Charles grunt in pain. Fear grips your heart as you dispatch your opponent, turning to see Charles and Brown grappling on the floor, both bloodied.

Brown gains the upper hand, pinning Charles down and reaching for his discarded gun. Without thinking, you throw yourself at him, knocking him off Charles.

You end up on your back, Brown looming over you, his hands around your throat. Your vision starts to blur as you struggle for air.

Suddenly, the pressure is gone. You gasp, air flooding your lungs, and look up to see Charles standing over Brown’s crumpled form, a bloody pipe in his hand.

“That’s my fucking wife,” Charles snarls, his eyes blazing with a fury you’ve never seen before. “I’m going to kill you for touching her.”

As Charles raises the pipe again, you struggle to your feet. “Charles, wait!”

He pauses, looking at you with wild eyes. You place a hand on his arm, feeling the tremors running through his body.

“He’s not worth wasting more time,” you say softly. “Let’s just get out of here. The explosive will deal with him.”

For a moment, you think he might not listen. Then, slowly, he lowers the pipe. “You’re right,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Let’s go home.”

You make your way out of the warehouse, supporting each other. As you stumble into the cool night air, sirens wailing in the distance, Charles pulls you close.

“I meant what I said in there,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your forehead. “I love you, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible.”

You look up at him, seeing the truth of his words in his eyes. In that moment, all your doubts and reservations melt away. You realize that somewhere along the way, despite the arranged marriage, despite the danger and complexity of your lives, you’ve fallen in love with Charles Leclerc.

“I love you too,” you whisper, the words feeling right on your tongue. “God help me, but I do.”

Charles’ face breaks into a radiant smile, and he leans down to kiss you. It’s not the most comfortable kiss — you’re both battered and bloody, adrenaline still coursing through your veins — but it’s real and raw and perfect.

As you break apart, breathless, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “What do you say we get out of here, Mrs. Leclerc? I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound slightly hysterical with relief and lingering fear. “Lead the way, Mr. Leclerc. But don’t think this means I’m going to start following your orders.”

Charles grins, taking your hand as you start walking. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Your stubbornness is one of the things I love most about you.”

***

The Leclerc mansion buzzes with activity as you and Charles prepare for an event you never quite imagined would be part of your lives: your son’s first parent-teacher conference. The past decade has been a whirlwind of change, love, and unexpected joy, with little Jules at the center of it all.

You stand before the full-length mirror in your bedroom, smoothing down your sleek pantsuit. It’s a far cry from the weapons-laden wedding dress of years past, but old habits die hard — there’s still a small knife concealed in your boot.

Charles appears behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “You look beautiful, mon cœur. Though I must say, I’m a bit disappointed you didn’t opt for your thigh holster.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t suppress a smile. “Very funny. I’m trying to make a good impression here.”

“Ah yes,” Charles grins, pressing a kiss to your neck. “The fearsome Y/N Leclerc, terror of the underworld, now fretting over a parent-teacher conference. How the mighty have fallen.”

You elbow him playfully in the ribs. “Watch it, or you’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Charles spins you around to face him, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You wouldn’t dare. You’d miss me too much.”

“Try me,” you challenge, but there’s no heat in your words. After all these years, the banter between you is as natural as breathing.

A small voice pipes up from the doorway. “Mama, Papa, are you fighting again?”

You both turn to see Jules standing there, his mop of dark curls a mess and his school uniform slightly rumpled. At six years old, he’s the perfect blend of you and Charles — your fierce determination and Charles’ charm wrapped up in one precocious package.

Charles scoops him up, tossing him in the air and eliciting a squeal of delight. “Fighting? Us? Never. Your mother and I were just discussing the finer points of marital bliss.”

You snort, reaching out to smooth Jules’ hair. “What your father means is that he was being an idiot, as usual.”

Jules giggles, looking between the two of you with adoration. “Are you excited to meet Ms. Thompson? She’s really nice, I promise!”

You exchange a glance with Charles, a mixture of pride and apprehension in both your eyes. Sending Jules to a normal school had been a controversial decision among your families, but you were determined to give him as normal a childhood as possible — or at least, as normal as the son of two mafia leaders could have.

“Of course we’re excited, baby,” you say, tweaking Jules’ nose. “Now, why don’t you go make sure you have all your things ready? We’ll be leaving soon.”

As Jules scampers off, Charles pulls you close again. “You know,” he murmurs, “I’m actually a bit nervous about this.”

You look up at him, surprised. “You? Nervous? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Charles shrugs, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. “It’s different when it’s about Jules. I just ... I want everything to be perfect for him.”

You soften, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I know. Me too. But we’ve faced down rival mafia families, corrupt politicians, and your mother’s infamous Christmas dinners. I think we can handle one teacher.”

Charles laughs, the tension easing from his shoulders. “You’re right, as always. Though I do have one request.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

He leans in close, his breath tickling your ear. “Try not to kill any teachers if you don’t like what they say, okay?”

You pull back, swatting his arm. “Charles Leclerc! I would never!”

“Uh-huh,” he grins, clearly unconvinced. “Need I remind you of the incident with Jules’ preschool teacher?”

You flush, crossing your arms defensively. “That was different. She suggested Jules might have behavior issues. I merely ... expressed my disagreement.”

“You threatened to feed her to the sharks in Monaco Harbor,” Charles deadpans.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” You huff. “She never brought it up again.”

Charles shakes his head, chuckling. “Just ... try to restrain yourself this time, okay? We’re trying to give Jules a normal life, remember?”

You sigh dramatically. “Fine. I promise not to threaten, maim, or otherwise harm any of Jules’ teachers. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Charles grins, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Now, shall we go face the music?”

As you make your way downstairs, Jules is waiting by the door, bouncing on his toes with excitement. “Come on, come on!” He urges. “We don’t want to be late!”

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Alright, little man. Let’s go.”

The drive to the school is filled with Jules’ chatter about his friends, his favorite subjects, and how he’s sure Ms. Thompson will have only good things to say. You and Charles listen attentively, exchanging fond glances over Jules’ head.

As you pull into the school parking lot, you feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach. It’s ridiculous, really. You’ve faced down countless dangerous situations without breaking a sweat, but somehow, this feels more daunting.

Charles seems to sense your unease. He takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve got this,” he murmurs. “Just remember — no death threats.”

You roll your eyes but squeeze his hand back. “I’ll do my best.”

Jules leads the way into the school, practically skipping down the hallway. You and Charles follow, hand-in-hand, drawing curious glances from other parents and teachers. It’s not every day that two of the most powerful figures in the criminal underworld show up for a parent-teacher conference.

As you approach Ms. Thompson’s classroom, Jules turns to you both. “Best behavior, okay?” He says seriously, wagging a finger at you. “No fighting, no threatening, and absolutely no talk about the family business.”

You and Charles exchange an amused glance. “Yes, sir,” Charles says solemnly. “We promise to be on our best behavior.”

Jules nods, satisfied, then knocks on the classroom door before scurrying away to meet up with his friends.

Ms. Thompson, a kind-faced woman in her forties, opens the door with a warm smile. “Ah, the Leclercs! Please, come in.”

As you enter the classroom, you can’t help but scan for potential threats — an old habit that’s hard to break. Charles notices and gives you a gentle nudge, a silent reminder to relax.

“Mr. and Mrs. Leclerc, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” Ms. Thompson says, gesturing for you to sit. “Jules talks about you all the time.”

You exchange a slightly worried glance with Charles. “All good things, I hope,” you say, trying to keep your tone light.

Ms. Thompson laughs. “Oh, mostly. Though I must admit, some of his stories are quite ... imaginative.”

Charles leans forward, curiosity piqued. “Oh? Like what?”

“Well,” Ms. Thompson says, a twinkle in her eye, “there was the time he told the class that his parents once fought off a rival family with nothing but a butter knife and a bottle of expensive champagne.”

You cough, trying to hide your surprise. That particular story wasn’t as exaggerated as Ms. Thompson probably believed. Charles, meanwhile, looks entirely too amused.

“Kids and their imaginations,” he says smoothly. “Though I must say, that does sound like an exciting dinner party.”

Ms. Thompson chuckles. “Indeed. But let’s focus on Jules’ academic progress, shall we?”

As she begins to go through Jules’ work, showing you his assignments and discussing his strengths and areas for improvement, you find yourself relaxing. Jules is doing well — excelling, even — and Ms. Thompson seems genuinely fond of him.

“He’s a bright boy,” she says warmly. “Very curious and always eager to learn. He does have a tendency to ... embellish his stories during show and tell, but his creativity is truly remarkable.”

You nod, a surge of pride washing over you. “That’s our Jules,” you say softly, glancing at Charles. His eyes are shining with the same pride and love you feel.

Ms. Thompson hesitates for a moment, then continues. “There is one small concern I wanted to discuss with you both.”

You tense immediately, your hand instinctively moving towards your concealed knife. Charles notices and quickly places his hand over yours, shooting you a warning look.

“What kind of concern?” He asks smoothly, while keeping a firm grip on your hand.

Ms. Thompson looks slightly nervous, but presses on. “Well, Jules has been ... rather interested in weapons lately. He’s been drawing quite detailed pictures of various firearms and knives. While his artistic skills are impressive, I’m a bit worried about the subject matter.”

You and Charles exchange a look. This is exactly the kind of situation you’d been afraid of — how do you explain that weapons are simply a part of your daily life without revealing too much?

Charles clears his throat. “Ah, yes. Well, you see, my wife and I are ... collectors. Of antique weapons. It’s a family hobby, you might say. Jules must have seen some of our pieces.”

You nod quickly, grateful for Charles’ quick thinking. “Exactly. We’ll have a talk with him about appropriate subjects for school, of course.”

Ms. Thompson looks relieved. “Oh, I see. That explains it. Yes, a talk about school-appropriate topics would be wonderful. Other than that, Jules is a joy to have in class.”

As the conference wraps up, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders. You managed to get through it without any threats or revelations about your true profession. Charles seems equally relieved as you say your goodbyes and head out to collect Jules from the playground.

Once you’re back in the car, Jules in the backseat, he leans forward eagerly. “Well? How did it go? Did I do okay?”

You turn in your seat to face him, your heart swelling with love. “You did more than okay, sweetheart. We’re so proud of you.”

Charles nods in agreement. “That’s right, mon chou. Though we do need to have a little chat about those weapon drawings ...”

Jules has the grace to look sheepish. “Oops. Sorry about that. I just thought they were cool.”

You can’t help but laugh. “It’s alright. Just ... maybe stick to drawing cars or dinosaurs at school, okay?”

As you drive home, Jules chattering away in the backseat, you reach over and take Charles’ hand. He glances at you, a soft smile on his face.

“We did it,” you murmur. “No threats, no violence, not even a single mention of sleeping with the fishes.”

Charles chuckles, bringing your hand to his lips for a kiss. “I’m impressed. Though I have to say, I was a little disappointed. I was looking forward to seeing you go all mama bear.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no heat in it. “There’s always next time,” you say with a wink.

As you pull into the driveway of your home, you can’t help but marvel at how much your life has changed. From reluctant bride to devoted wife and mother, from cold-hearted mafia princess to ... well, an only slightly less cold-hearted mafia queen.

But looking at Charles and Jules, you wouldn’t have it any other way. This beautiful, chaotic, sometimes dangerous life you’ve built together — it’s more than you ever dared to dream of.

And if anyone tries to threaten this happiness? Well, you still know how to use that knife in your boot. Some things never change, after all.

***

Sarah Dumas nervously adjusts her cardigan as she enters the school gymnasium for the monthly PTA meeting. Even after three years, she still feels out of place among the other parents. Her eyes scan the room, landing on the couple that always draws everyone’s attention: Charles and Y/N Leclerc.

They stand near the refreshment table, an island of elegance and barely contained danger in a sea of suburban normalcy. Charles, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, laughs at something you’ve said, his hand resting casually on the small of your back. You, for your part, look like you’ve just stepped off a runway, your designer outfit a stark contrast to the mom jeans and polos that dominate the room.

Sarah edges closer, trying to catch snippets of the conversation.

“Mon amour,” Charles is saying, a mischievous glint in his eye, “I still think my idea for the fundraiser was brilliant.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s fondness in your expression. “Charles, we’ve been over this. We can’t auction off ‘A Day in the Life of a Mafia Boss’ as a school fundraiser.”

“Why not?” Charles pouts playfully. “I’d even throw in a complimentary lesson in money laundering. Think of the educational value!”

Sarah’s eyes widen. Surely they must be joking. Right?

Before she can ponder it further, the PTA president, Marie Fournier, calls the meeting to order. As everyone takes their seats, Sarah finds herself next to Beth, another mom she’s friendly with.

“Can you believe them?” Beth whispers, nodding towards the Leclercs. “They always act like they own the place.”

Sarah shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. “They’re ... certainly unique.”

Beth snorts. “That’s one way to put it. Did you hear about what happened at the last bake sale?”

Sarah shakes her head, leaning in eagerly.

“Well,” Beth continues, her voice low, “apparently, Mrs. Leclerc’s lemon bars were so good that Mr. Peterson from the school board accused her of cheating. Next thing you know, Mr. Leclerc has him cornered, whispering something about ‘sleeping with the fishes’ if he ever insulted his wife’s baking again!”

Sarah gasps. “No! What happened?”

Beth grins. “Mr. Peterson went white as a sheet and bought every single lemon bar. Paid triple the asking price, too.”

Their gossip is interrupted as Marie starts discussing the upcoming spring carnival. “Now, we still need volunteers for the dunk tank ...”

To everyone’s surprise, Charles’ hand shoots up. “I’ll do it,” he says, flashing a charming smile.

Marie blinks, clearly taken aback. “Oh, um, thank you, Mr. Leclerc. That’s very ... generous of you.”

You lean over to Charles, whispering something that makes him chuckle. Sarah strains to hear, catching only fragments: “... better than the time in Majorca ... at least this time you’ll be expecting the water ...”

The meeting continues, with discussions about budget allocation, new playground equipment, and the eternal debate over chocolate versus vanilla for the ice cream social. Throughout it all, Sarah can’t help but notice how the Leclercs seem to operate on a different wavelength from everyone else.

When the topic of security for the carnival comes up, you speak up for the first time. “I have some ... associates who would be happy to help out. Free of charge, of course.”

Marie looks both relieved and slightly terrified. “That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Leclerc. Are these associates ... qualified?”

You smile, a predatory gleam in your eye. “Oh, trust me. They’re very qualified in handling ... difficult situations.”

Charles coughs, poorly disguising a laugh. “What my wife means is that they’re experienced in crowd control and conflict resolution.”

The other parents exchange nervous glances, but no one dares to question further.

As the meeting wraps up, Sarah finds herself lingering, oddly fascinated by the Leclercs. She watches as they approach Marie, speaking in low tones. Marie’s eyes widen, and she nods vigorously before scurrying away.

Curiosity gets the better of Sarah, and she edges closer, pretending to study the snack table.

“... really, mon cœur,” Charles is saying, “you didn’t have to threaten her kneecaps.”

You shrug, a small smirk playing on your lips. “It worked, didn’t it? Now Jules’ class will get that field trip to the science museum he’s been asking for.”

Charles shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “You’re a menace. What am I going to do with you?”

“You love it,” you reply, leaning in for a quick kiss.

Sarah fumbles with a paper cup, causing it to clatter to the floor. The Leclercs turn, fixing her with twin looks of amusement.

“Enjoying the refreshments, Mrs. Dumas?” Charles asks smoothly.

Sarah feels her face heat up. “I, um, yes. The cookies are lovely.”

You step forward, your movements graceful and somehow predatory. “Sarah, isn’t it? Jules has mentioned your daughter, Emma. They’re in the same class, right?”

Sarah nods, surprised and a little flattered that you know this. “Yes, that’s right. Emma talks about Jules all the time. He seems like a wonderful boy.”

Charles beams with pride. “He takes after his mother,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You roll your eyes but lean into his touch. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Leclerc.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Sarah realizes she should probably say something. “So, um, how are you finding the PTA? It must be quite different from ... well, from what you’re used to.”

The moment the words leave her mouth, Sarah wants to kick herself. What was she thinking?

To her relief, the Leclercs just laugh. “Oh, you’d be surprised,” you say, a twinkle in your eye. “Managing a group of passionate parents isn’t all that different from managing our ... family businesses.”

Charles nods sagely. “Though I must say, the stakes here can be even higher. You should have seen the great Cupcake Debacle of 2032.”

Sarah finds herself relaxing, drawn in by their easy charm. “Oh? What happened?”

You lean in conspiratorially. “Let’s just say it involved three kinds of frosting, a rogue flamingo, and a very creative use for a fire extinguisher.”

Sarah bursts out laughing, surprising herself. As intimidating as the Leclercs can be, there’s something undeniably magnetic about them.

Just then, Beth appears at Sarah’s elbow. “Sarah, we should get going. Carpool, remember?”

Sarah nods, feeling a strange reluctance to leave. “Of course. It was nice talking to you, Mr. and Mrs. Leclerc.”

Charles flashes that devastating smile again. “The pleasure was all ours. Oh, and Sarah?”

She turns back, curious. “Yes?”

“Do make sure to bring Emma to the carnival. I have a feeling the dunk tank is going to be ... quite the spectacle this year.”

As Sarah walks away with Beth, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s just had a brush with something both thrilling and dangerous.

Beth, meanwhile, is practically vibrating with curiosity. “What were you talking about with them? Did they say anything ... weird?”

Sarah considers for a moment. “Not really. They seem ... nice, actually. A bit eccentric, maybe, but nice.”

Beth looks skeptical. “Nice? Sarah, last week Mr. Leclerc showed up to career day and gave a presentation on ‘The Art of Negotiation’. Half the kids looked terrified, and the other half wanted to sign up for internships!”

Sarah can’t help but laugh. “Well, at least it was memorable. And you have to admit, they’ve done wonders for the school’s fundraising efforts.”

Beth nods grudgingly. “True. Though I’m not entirely sure where all that money is coming from ...”

As they reach Beth’s minivan, Sarah glances back at the school. She catches a glimpse of the Leclercs through a window, heads bent close together, clearly deep in conversation. There’s an intensity to their body language that makes Sarah’s breath catch.

For a moment, she allows herself to imagine what their life must be like outside of PTA meetings and school functions. The glamor, the danger, the passion ... it’s all so far removed from her own suburban existence.

But then Beth honks the horn, jolting Sarah back to reality. With a small sigh, she climbs into the van, ready to return to her normal life of carpools and casseroles.

As they drive away, Sarah can’t help but think that the spring carnival is going to be very interesting indeed. And despite herself, she’s looking forward to it more than she’d care to admit.

Over the next few weeks, preparations for the carnival kick into high gear. Sarah finds herself volunteering more than usual, partly out of genuine enthusiasm and partly (though she would never admit it) to catch more glimpses of the enigmatic Leclercs.

The day of the carnival dawns bright and clear. Sarah arrives early to help set up, her arms full of homemade cupcakes. As she approaches the school grounds, she nearly drops her baked goods in shock.

The usually modest school field has been transformed into something out of a movie. There are professional-grade rides, gourmet food stalls, and even a small Ferris wheel. And is that ... a chocolate fountain?

“Impressive, isn’t it?” A familiar voice says behind her.

Sarah turns to see Charles Leclerc, looking impossibly dashing in casual wear that probably costs more than her monthly mortgage payment.

“Mr. Leclerc! This is ... wow. How did you manage all this?”

Charles winks conspiratorially. “Let’s just say I called in a few favors. And please, call me Charles.”

Before Sarah can respond, you appear at Charles’ side, looking stunning in a sundress that’s both elegant and practical. “Darling, everything’s set up. Oh, hello Sarah. Those cupcakes look delicious.”

Sarah blushes under your scrutiny. “Thank you, Mrs. Lecl- I mean, Y/N. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”

You smile, and for a moment, Sarah forgets to breathe. “I’m sure they’re wonderful. Why don’t you bring them over to the bake sale table? I hear Mr. Peterson has already reserved half of them.”

As Sarah walks away, she overhears Charles murmuring to you, “Did you really have to station Dmitri and the boys at every entrance?”

“Better safe than sorry,” you reply. “Besides, they’re under strict orders. No weapons, no intimidation, and absolutely no business talk around the children.”

Sarah shakes her head, convincing herself she must have misheard. Surely you’re talking about regular security guards. Right?

The carnival is a roaring success. Children laugh and scream with delight on the rides, parents chat over gourmet hors d’oeuvres, and there’s a general air of festivity that Sarah has never seen at a school event before.

But the real highlight, as promised, is the dunk tank. Charles takes his place on the seat, looking for all the world like he’s about to attend a board meeting rather than be dunked in water. You stand nearby, a mischievous glint in your eye as you buy a stack of balls.

“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen!” Charles calls out, his voice carrying across the field. “Who wants to dunk the dashing Mr. Leclerc? All proceeds go to the school’s new science lab!”

A crowd gathers, equal parts amused and intimidated. Sarah watches as you take aim, a look of intense concentration on your face.

“Come on, mon chèrie,” Charles taunts playfully. “Surely the feared Y/N Leclerc can hit a simple target?”

Your eyes narrow. “Oh, it’s on.”

The ball flies true, hitting the target dead center. Charles barely has time to look surprised before he plunges into the water. The crowd erupts in cheers and laughter.

When Charles resurfaces, he’s laughing too. “Well played. Well played indeed.”

As the day winds down, Sarah finds herself helping with clean-up, still buzzing from the excitement. She overhears snippets of conversation from other parents, all marveling at the success of the event.

“I heard they quadrupled the fundraising goal ...”

“Did you see those security guards? They looked like they could bench-press a car ...”

“I swear I saw Mrs. Leclerc talking to the Mayor. Since when do we have connections like that?”

Sarah smiles to herself, realizing that while the Leclercs may not fit the typical PTA mold, they’ve brought something special to their little community. Something exciting, glamorous, and yes, maybe a little dangerous.

As she’s about to leave, she spots the Leclercs by their sleek Ferrari. They’re wrapped in each other’s arms, oblivious to the world around them. The look they share is so full of love and passion that Sarah has to look away, feeling like she’s intruding on a private moment.

Driving home, Sarah reflects on the day. She still can’t quite put her finger on what makes the Leclercs so different, so intriguing. But she knows one thing for certain: life has become a lot more interesting since their son joined the school.

And as she pulls into her driveway, Sarah finds herself looking forward to the next PTA meeting more than she ever thought possible. After all, who knows what the Leclercs will come up with next?

***

Nurse Marion Bouchard has seen her fair share of unusual deliveries in her 15 years at the Princess Grace Hospital Centre, but nothing could have prepared her for the arrival of the Leclerc baby.

It starts with the mysterious men in dark suits who seem to materialize out of nowhere, clearing out an entire wing of the maternity ward. Marion watches, wide-eyed, as they sweep the rooms for ... something. Bugs? Bombs? She isn’t sure she wants to know.

“Excuse me,” she finally musters the courage to approach one of them. “What’s going on here?”

The man turns, his expression impassive behind dark sunglasses. “Security measures. The Leclercs are arriving.”

Before Marion can ask more, a commotion at the end of the hall catches her attention. A striking couple bursts through the doors, surrounded by more suited men. The woman is clearly in labor, but looks more annoyed than pained.

“I swear to God, Charles,” you are saying through gritted teeth, “when this is over, I’m going to make you regret ever looking at me without a condom.”

The man looks both terrified and amused. “Mon amour, you say the sweetest things.”

Dr. Evans, the head of obstetrics, rushes forward. “Mr. and Mrs. Leclerc, welcome. We have everything prepared-”

You cut him off with a glare that could melt steel. “Less talking, more drugs. Now.”

Marion finds herself assigned to your care team, helping you into a private suite that looks more like a five-star hotel room than a hospital. As she hooks up the fetal monitor, she can’t help but notice the way Charles hovers, his eyes constantly scanning the room for threats.

“Is this your first child?” Marion asks, trying to break the tension.

You laugh, a sound somewhere between amusement and pain. “Second. Our son, Jules, is at home with his grandfather. Probably learning how to properly strangle someone as we speak.”

Marion’s eyes widen, and she lets out a nervous chuckle, unsure if you are joking.

Charles steps in smoothly. “What my lovely wife means is that Jules is likely being spoiled rotten with ice cream and cartoons.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure, let’s go with that. Now, where are those damn drugs?”

As if on cue, the anesthesiologist enters. Marion notices how one of the suited men outside tenses, hand moving to his jacket, before relaxing at a subtle nod from Charles.

Hours pass, and Marion finds herself more and more fascinated by the Leclercs. Despite the pain of labor, you maintain a razor-sharp wit, alternating between threats to Charles’ manhood and startlingly accurate assessments of hospital security protocols.

“You know,” you pant during a particularly strong contraction, “if you really loved me, you’d let me stab you just a little. It’s only fair.”

Charles, to his credit, doesn’t even flinch. He just strokes your hair and says, “How about we save the stabbing for our anniversary? As is tradition.”

Marion’s head whips around, but both of you are grinning at each other like it’s some private joke.

As the labor progresses, Marion can’t shake the feeling that something is ... off about the Leclercs. It isn’t just the excessive security or the luxurious accommodations. There is an undercurrent of danger, of barely contained power, that both thrills and terrifies her.

During a quiet moment, while you doze between contractions, Marion’s curiosity gets the better of her. “Mr. Leclerc,” she whispers, “if you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you do?”

Charles smiles enigmatically. “Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that. Mainly, I specialize in ... problem-solving.”

Before Marion can probe further, you jolt awake with a string of curses that would make a sailor blush.

“Charles,” you growl, “I swear on all that is holy, if you don’t get this baby out of me in the next five minutes, I will personally ensure that there will be no more little Leclercs.”

Charles pales slightly but maintains his composure. “Now, mon ange, let’s not be hasty. Remember São Paulo? This is nothing compared to that.”

You glare at him. “São Paulo didn’t involve pushing a human being out of my-”

“Okay!” Marion interjects quickly. “Let’s check your progress, shall we?”

As she examines you, Marion can’t help but wonder what on earth had happened in São Paulo. She has a feeling she is better off not knowing.

The next few hours are a blur of activity. You prove to be as fierce in childbirth as you apparently are in ... whatever it is you do outside the hospital. Marion loses count of the creative threats and punishments you devise for Charles, each more outlandish than the last.

“When this is over,” you pant, pushing with all your might, “I’m going to tie you to a chair and make you listen to Baby Shark on repeat for 24 hours straight.”

Charles winces. “Isn’t that a bit extreme? What happened to the good old days of cement shoes and sleeping with the fishes?”

Dr. Evans, who is positioned at the foot of the bed, looks up with a mixture of concern and confusion. “Mr. Leclerc, I’m not sure-”

“It’s a joke,” Charles says quickly. “An inside joke. From our ... cooking class.”

Marion exchanges a glance with Dr. Evans. Cooking class? Sure.

Finally, with one last heroic push and a string of curses that Marion is certain are in at least five different languages, your daughter enters the world.

The room falls silent for a moment, then fills with the strong, angry cries of a newborn who seems to have inherited her mother’s spirit.

“She’s beautiful,” Charles whispers, tears in his eyes as he cuts the umbilical cord.

You collapse back onto the pillows, exhausted but triumphant. “Of course she is. She’s ours.”

As Marion helps clean and weigh the baby, she can’t help but notice how the atmosphere in the room has changed. The danger and tension that had been simmering beneath the surface all day seem to evaporate, replaced by a bubble of pure love and joy.

Charles cradles his daughter gently, looking at her with a mixture of awe and terror. “Hello, little one,” he murmurs. “I’m your papa. I promise to always protect you, even if it means hiding bodies in the- I mean, even if it means staying up all night to chase away the monsters under your bed.”

You roll your eyes but smile softly. “Nice save. Now, give me my daughter before I have to get up and take her from you.”

As Charles places the baby in your arms, Marion feels like she is intruding on something incredibly intimate and precious. The way you look at each other, at your child, speaks of a bond that goes far beyond anything she’s ever witnessed.

“So,” Marion ventures, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, “have you decided on a name?”

You and Charles share a look, having one of those silent conversations that only couples who are completely in sync can have.

“Vittoria,” you say finally. “Vittoria Leclerc.”

“It means victory in Italian,” Charles explains, his voice filled with pride. “Because she’s already conquered our hearts.”

Marion smiles, charmed despite herself. “That’s beautiful. And very fitting, considering how fiercely she entered the world.”

You grin, a hint of your earlier fire returning. “Just wait until she’s older. She’ll be ruling the family busi- I mean, family game night in no time.”

As Marion finishes up her duties and prepares to leave the new family alone, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s just been part of something extraordinary. The Leclercs are unlike any couple she’s ever met, a whirlwind of passion, danger, and now, an overwhelming love for their children.

Just as she is about to exit, Charles calls out to her. “Nurse Bouchard?”

She turns, curious. “Yes, Mr. Leclerc?”

He fixes her with a penetrating gaze that makes her feel like he can see right through her. “We appreciate your discretion in this matter. The Leclerc family values privacy above all else.”

Marion swallows hard, suddenly very aware of the armed men still stationed outside the door. “Of course, Mr. Leclerc. Patient confidentiality is paramount in our profession.”

You chime in, your voice deceptively sweet. “And we’re so grateful for that. It would be such a shame if anything were to ... compromise that confidentiality. Don’t you agree, Charles?”

Charles nods, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Absolutely, mon cœur. A real tragedy.”

Marion feels a chill run down her spine. “I ... I understand. You can trust me completely.”

As Marion leaves the room, her head spinning, she can’t help but wonder what she’s gotten herself into. The Leclercs are clearly more than they appear, your world so far removed from her own that she can barely comprehend it.

But as she glances back one last time, seeing Charles press a tender kiss to your forehead while you cradle little Vittoria, she realizes that at your core, you are just like any other family. Loving, protective, and perhaps a little bit dangerous.

***

Stefan Wheeler wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans for the hundredth time as he stands before the imposing gates of the Leclerc estate. At 17, he thought he was prepared for anything, but meeting his girlfriend Vittoria’s family is proving to be more nerve-wracking than he’d anticipated.

“Relax,” Vittoria says, squeezing his hand. “They’re going to love you.”

Stefan nods, not entirely convinced. “Right. It’s just ... your family seems ... intense.”

Vittoria laughs, a sound that usually makes Stefan’s heart soar but now only heightens his anxiety. “Oh, you have no idea.”

As they approach the front door, it swings open before they can knock. A tall, imposing man with salt-and-pepper hair and piercing eyes stands there, his gaze immediately zeroing in on Stefan.

“Ah, you must be the boy,” he says, his voice smooth but with an undercurrent of... something Stefan can’t quite place.

Vittoria rolls her eyes. “Papa, be nice. This is Stefan. Stefan, this is my father, Charles Leclerc.”

Stefan extends his hand, hoping it isn’t visibly shaking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Leclerc.”

Charles takes Stefan’s hand, his grip firm to the point of being painful. “Charmed, I’m sure. Please, come in. The family is eager to meet you.”

As they enter the foyer, Stefan’s eyes widen. The interior of the house is a strange blend of opulent luxury and what looks like ... medieval weaponry? He could have sworn he saw a battle axe mounted on one wall.

Before he can process this, a whirlwind of energy enters the room. You sweep in with a grace that seems almost predatory.

“So this is the famous Stefan,” you say, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Stefan swallows hard. “All good things, I hope.”

You tilt your head, studying him intently. “Oh, Vittoria’s been very ... discreet. But we have our ways of finding out information.”

Charles chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Don’t terrify the boy just yet. We haven’t even made it to the dining room.”

Stefan laughs nervously, unsure if that is meant to be a joke.

Just then, a young man who could only be Vittoria’s older brother, Jules, saunters in. He is the spitting image of Charles, with an air of danger that makes Stefan want to take a step back.

“Well, well,” Jules drawls, circling Stefan like a shark. “So you’re the one who thinks he’s good enough for our Vittoria.”

Vittoria groans. “Jules, knock it off. You promised to behave.”

Jules grins, all teeth. “I am behaving. I haven’t even shown him my knife collection yet.”

Stefan’s eyes widen. “Knife ... collection?”

Charles claps his hands together. “Shall we move to the dining room? I’m sure our guest is hungry after his ... journey here.”

As they walk, Stefan can’t shake the feeling that he is being herded like prey. The dining room is as impressive as the rest of the house, with a table that could easily seat twenty.

“Please, sit,” Charles says, gesturing to a chair. Stefan notices it is positioned so that his back is to the door, while the Leclercs have clear sightlines to all exits.

As they settle in, you ring a small bell. Almost instantly, servers appear with plates of food that look and smell incredible.

“I hope you like Italian,” you say, your tone making it clear that not liking it isn’t an option.

Stefan nods enthusiastically. “Oh yes, I love it. This looks amazing, Mrs. Leclerc.”

You wave a hand dismissively. “Please, call me Y/N. Mrs. Leclerc makes me sound so ... old.”

Charles smirks. “You’re as youthful and deadly as the day I met you, mon cœur.”

Stefan blinks, sure he must have misheard. Deadly?

As they begin to eat, the interrogation starts in earnest.

“So, Stefan,” Charles says, twirling pasta around his fork with practiced ease. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

Stefan nearly chokes on his food. “I ... uh ... we’re just dating, sir. Getting to know each other.”

Jules leans forward, his eyes glinting. “And how exactly are you getting to know her?”

“Jules!” Vittoria hisses, her cheeks flushing.

You interject smoothly. “What my son means is, what do you two do for fun?”

Stefan relaxes slightly. This, he can handle. “Oh, we go to the movies, hang out at the mall, normal stuff. Vittoria’s been teaching me how to play chess.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “Chess? Interesting choice. Tell me, Stefan, do you know the importance of strategy? Of always being three moves ahead of your opponent?”

Stefan nods, confused by the intensity of Charles’ gaze. “Uh, yes. Vittoria’s been explaining that to me.”

“Good,” Charles says, leaning back. “That’s a valuable skill in ... many areas of life.”

The conversation continues, with each question feeling more like a trap than casual dinner talk. Stefan finds himself constantly on edge, trying to decipher the hidden meanings behind each seemingly innocent inquiry.

“What do your parents do, Stefan?” You ask, sipping what Stefan is pretty sure isn’t just water.

“My dad is an accountant and my mom’s a teacher,” Stefan replies.

Jules snorts. “How quaint. And what do you want to do with your life?”

Stefan straightens, feeling a bit more confident. “I’m actually really interested in law enforcement. I’m thinking of applying to the police academy after college.”

The room goes eerily silent. Stefan looks around, confused by the sudden tension.

Charles breaks the silence with a laugh that sounds only slightly forced. “Law enforcement? How ... admirable. You know, Stefan, there are many ways to uphold justice in this world. Some more effective than others.”

You nod, a strange glint in your eye. “Indeed. Sometimes the law needs a little ... help to get things done.”

Stefan shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I ... I’m not sure I understand.”

Vittoria jumps in, clearly trying to change the subject. “Stefan’s also really into martial arts, Papa. He’s been teaching me some self-defense moves.”

This seems to pique Charles’ interest. “Is that so? Perhaps you’d like to demonstrate after dinner, Stefan. I’m always interested in ... new techniques.”

The way Charles says it makes Stefan feel like he is missing some crucial subtext.

As the meal progresses, Stefan can’t shake the feeling that he is being tested. Every question, every glance exchanged between family members, seems loaded with hidden meaning.

When dessert is served — a delicious tiramisu that Stefan is almost too nervous to enjoy — Jules leans forward with a predatory grin.

“So, Stefan,” he says, his voice deceptively casual. “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to make someone ... disappear?”

Stefan blinks, sure he must have misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”

Vittoria groans. “Jules, stop it.”

You intervene smoothly. “What my son means is, have you ever thought about the complexities of witness protection programs? It’s fascinating how someone can just ... vanish and start a new life.”

Charles nods sagely. “Indeed. The ability to reinvent oneself is a valuable skill in today’s world.”

Stefan nods slowly, feeling like he is missing some crucial piece of information. “I ... suppose so. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

As the meal winds down, Stefan feels like he’s run a mental marathon. Every interaction with the Leclercs leaves him slightly off-balance, as if there were entire conversations happening just beneath the surface that he can’t quite grasp.

Charles stands, clapping his hands together. “Well, this has been delightful. Stefan, why don’t you join me in my study for a nightcap?”

Vittoria starts to protest, but you cut her off with a look. “That sounds like an excellent idea. Jules, why don’t you help me and Vittoria clear the table?”

As Stefan follows Charles down a long hallway, he can’t shake the feeling that he is walking into the lion’s den. The study, when they enter, is a mix of old-world charm and modern technology. Bookshelves line the walls, but Stefan notices some titles that seem ... unusual for a family library. “Advanced Interrogation Techniques?” “Undetectable Poisons Throughout History?”

Charles gestures for Stefan to sit in a plush leather chair, then pours two glasses of amber liquid from a crystal decanter.

“Now, Stefan,” Charles says, his voice low and intense. “Let’s talk about what it really means to be part of the Leclerc family.”

Stefan swallows hard, suddenly very aware of how alone he is with this imposing man. “Sir?”

Charles leans forward, his eyes boring into Stefan’s. “Our family has ... certain traditions. Certain expectations. Dating a Leclerc isn’t like dating any other girl. Do you understand?”

Stefan nods slowly, though he isn’t sure he understands at all. “I ... I really care about Vittoria, Mr. Leclerc. I would never do anything to hurt her.”

Charles’ smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. Because if you did ...” He lets the sentence hang in the air, the threat clear even if unspoken.

Just then, the door bursts open, and you stride in, looking exasperated. “Charles, are you terrorizing the poor boy?”

Charles leans back, the picture of innocence. “Not at all, mon amour. We were just having a friendly chat.”

You roll your eyes, but there is fondness in your expression. “Well, I think Stefan’s had enough friendly chats for one evening. Vittoria’s waiting to say goodnight.”

As you walk Stefan to the door, he feels like he’s survived some sort of elaborate test. The Leclercs gather around, their smiles a mix of warmth and warning.

“It was lovely to meet you, Stefan,” you say, your tone making it clear that lovely might be an overstatement.

Jules claps him on the back, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. “Yeah, kid. You’re not half bad. For a civilian.”

Stefan blinks, confused. “Civilian?”

Charles steps in smoothly. “What my son means is, for someone outside our ... close-knit family circle. We look forward to seeing more of you, Stefan.”

As Vittoria walks him to his car, Stefan’s head is spinning. “Your family is ... intense,” he manages.

Vittoria laughs. “I know. They can be a lot. But they mean well. Mostly.”

Stefan nods, still trying to process everything. “They’re not ... I mean, they don’t actually ...”

Vittoria raises an eyebrow. “Don’t actually what?”

Stefan shakes his head. “Never mind. It’s crazy. I just ... for a minute there, I almost thought ...” He trails off, laughing nervously.

Vittoria’s smile is enigmatic. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s probably best not to say it out loud. Plausible deniability and all that.”

As Stefan drives home, his mind races with questions. What has he gotten himself into? Who are the Leclercs, really? And why does he have the unsettling feeling that dating Vittoria might be the most dangerous thing he’s ever done?

One thing is certain: the Leclercs are unlike any family he’s ever met.

[s0dium]

𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘

A/n: For all my weird tumblr smut AO3 girls Synopsis: No one expects the weird girl to have such a good pussy. Warnings: Male whimpering, squirting, pussy drunk men, pervert y/n, unprotected sex

No one suspects the weird girl to be a perverted fiend.

No one suspects the weird girl who reads AO3 and Tumblr on the bus and has key chains of their favorite chibi anime guy. No one suspects the girl who fumbles over their words during a presentation, the girl who goes to classes in sweaters and sweatpants, the girl who spends her time daydreaming about fictional scenarios. No one suspects the girl who always seems shy and sweet, only to have a secret stash of explicit fanfiction hidden on her phone, the kind that would make even the most confident person turn red.

And of course, no one expects the weird girl to have such good pussy.

So when the confident, smooth-talking guy gets you in his bedroom, how the hell is it possible that he is trembling from pleasure just from slipping his tip in?

"Fuck, I c-can’t—" he groans, his voice breaking as he stumbles over the words. His usual cool demeanor is completely shattered, replaced with breathless gasps and desperate sounds. His head is thrown back, neck taut, and his eyes are screwed shut like he’s trying to hold onto every ounce of composure, terrified that if he opens them, the mind-numbing pleasure coursing through him will slip away. Every time your pussy squeezes around his aching dick his body trembles uncontrollably, muscles tensing and relaxing in waves as he tries to keep himself together.

"Look at me," you coo, your voice steady despite the pounding of your own heart. You may be practically a virgin, but you're by no means an idiot. Hours of reading smut, scrolling through Twitter porn threads, and indulging in endless fantasies have taught you more than you'd ever admit. You've spent too many nights alone, lost in stories and scenes where you imagined yourself in control, learning every filthy detail in your mind until it felt like second nature. So now, laying here with him unraveling over you, you're anything but inexperienced.

He locks eyes with you, big and desperate and you cup his perfect face with trembling hands.

"You're mine tonight ok?" you whisper, bringing him in just enough for your breath to tickle his lips, your voice low and dripping with confidence you didn't know you had. "Every sound, every breath—your mine."

"F-fuck, y-yeah I'm yours" he groans, accentuating his words with a sharp thrust right into your cervix, knocking the wind out of you.

"Mmm!" You cry. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides in and out of you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, you're cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making him let out a low groan of his own as he thrusts even deeper into you. 

“Y/n I-I can feel you doing it to me,” he says hoarsely.

His fingers gently press into the skin of your hip, guiding and steadying you as he pulls back and thrusts into you. The sudden friction and collision with your G-spot makes your brain go fuzzy. Ticklish pleasure courses through your veins and you immediately throw your head back against the wall as he rams into you.

"Hnghh, s-so good~~" You whine. It was dizzying, the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up.

Simultaneously, his other hand sought yours, finding it with a purposeful tenderness. His fingers intertwined with yours, locking them together in a grip that was both a clasp and a caress.

"Were we doing it like this in your head baby?" He grunts, his Adam apple bobs as he groans from the pleasure of how fucking heavenly your pussy feels. "Because this is how we were doing it in mine." He felt good? Try euphoric. How could it be possible that pussy feels this good?

You can't even open your mouth to respond. The friction of his dick against your walls is just too good and as his pace intensified, a dizzying warmth spread through you, filling every corner of your being with a euphoric haze. The sensation of being completely enveloped, utterly connected, sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through your body, making your eyes flutter and roll back slightly in sheer bliss. Every motion he makes, every time his fat tip collides with your cervix, leaves behind a trail of sparkling heat that seems to light you from within.

And of course, no one expects the weird girl to be a squirter.

You don't know whats happening and you don't have enough to warn him. Release washed over you in an all-encompassing wave, radiating out from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It swept through you like a storm, leaving a trail of starbursts in its wake. Your body arched instinctively, clinging to him as the wave crested, then gently, slowly, began to ebb.

He stills his motion and watches through wide eyes as clear liquid sprays onto his abdomen and you tremble and moan. As you floated back down from the heights of bliss, your breath came easier, softer, the lingering aftershocks of pleasure pulsing gently through you.

"Why did you stop?" You whisper.

Sukuna, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro

#weirdgirlpussy

[asharasasylum]

I'm a Good Girl, Officer ♡  Corrupt!Cop Toji Fushiguro x Reader

author's note: Had this idea floating around my head for a little while and finally wrote something. Have an idea for a part two but promising I'll write it and publish it. warnings: non con. dub con. power imbalance. blackmail. smut. mention of drugs. stalking. dark thoughts from Toji. use of sir. 18+ MDNI

As soon as he saw you, he knew he just had to have you. Luckily for him trouble seemed to follow you.

Corrupt Officer Toji who knew from the moment he saw you stumbling down the pavement in your fancy heels, and awfully short dress, that he had to have you. You were a pretty thing– clearly dumb to be out at this hour, wearing that tiny thing that barely covered your ass cheeks. Who knew what was lurking behind the corners of the dimly lit street. You were lucky that he had spotted you first before any nasty fucker stepped out from around one of the alleyways.

He rolled his window down as he crept up behind you in his car. 

Your whole body went rigid as you twisted your body round to face the car, only to ease at the flash of red and blue lights, bringing the clack of your heels to a stop. 

“It’s awfully late to be out here by yourself,” Toji said with a stern tone, turning the lights off as he pulled up beside you. He got a good look at your face then, the dark rings of mascara around your bambi eyes and the streaky wet cheeks. “You could get yourself into a lot of trouble looking like that out here.” 

His eyes ran over you, drinking you in and he saw how you shivered under his gaze. 

“Got a friend with you?” He knew the answer, he was just seeking out confirmation. 

You shook your head, letting out on a small croak, “No, sir.” 

Sir. His slacks tightened around him, dick twitching at what a sweet thing you really were. 

His eyes darkened as he stared at you, clenching his jaw to keep himself at bay. He wanted to step out of the car then and there, tell you to drop you to your knees and use your throat as his own personal fleshlight. But you weren’t anything like the girls he usually picked up from these streets, all smiling and batting their eyelashes as soon as they saw him. They opened their legs so willingly that he was always sure to use protection with them. 

You were different. It was in the way you swallowed thickly as he watched you and how your gaze flickered around you, looking for some sort of escape. You knew not to trust him and while he could tell you were a bit stupid, you weren’t going to fall for his usual lines and open your legs for him. 

“Get in.” 

“I don’t-I-” you stumbled on your words, looking like you might sprint the second the opportune moment presented itself. 

“I’ll take you home,” he huffed with a roll of his eyes, turning to face the road ahead of him. “Trust me on this, no uber is coming here to collect you.” 

You didn’t argue at that, slipping into the back of the car behind him and falling into his trap. 

But you weren’t that stupid. 

You directed him to your place with a few words, even offering him a small smile as you thanked him with another sir falling from your lips. You knew he was watching as you stepped out of the car, walking up to your apartment complex and fumbling around with your keys in your bag as you waited for him to go. 

It was only when he pulled over around the corner did he watch you waltzing off to another direction. For this he had to actually get out of his car to follow you, finding you making your way to another apartment complex a few blocks over. 

It was a cute attempt to trick him, he’d give you that. But unfortunately for you it didn’t work. 

The second time you met had been a complete coincidence. A happy coincidence for sure. 

Toji was more accustomed to working the night shifts but today he had stepped in for another officer he owed a favour to. Only to find you when he’s called in for an armed robbery at a corner store. 

You gave him a small smile when you noticed him, wincing as you stretched your busted lip. You were holding a bag of frozen peas against it and when you moved it, turning it over to a colder side, he noticed the purple mark caught on your chin. 

“Playing hero, huh?” He teased when he came to take your statement, crouching down to where you were sitting in the staff room. 

“Didn’t mean to get in the way,” you told him with a soft pout and wet eyes. “Was just trying to help.” 

He listened to everything you had to say, jotting the notes down for every bit of description that you could give him. The bastard that robbed this store wouldn’t know what hit him after Toji would be through with him. Even if you did say you pitied the poor man. 

You were too good. 

“Thank you, Officer…” you trailed off, narrowing your eyes as you tried to make out his name tag.

“Fushiguro,” he answered for you, bearing a wide grin. 

“Fushiguro,” you repeated bashfully. 

The third time you met had planned on his end. After watching you through the window of your apartment getting changed into that tiny bit of fabric you called a dress, he knew that he had to watch over you. Who knew what sort of trouble you’d find yourself into tonight, especially with the friends you associated yourself with. 

He didn’t plan this meeting because he hadn’t been able to get the image of you out of his head all week— or the fact he’d spent the last few nights beating his meat to the sound of your voice spinning around in his head. Sir. Officer Fughiguro.

No, they weren’t the reasons at all. 

It was all because of how your ass was barely covered in that dress and the way he knew that by the end of the night you’d find yourself in the same situation he had caught you in only two weeks ago. Only if he weren’t around it would be some other sick fucker that’d have you folded over in some dingy alleyway. 

He hadn’t realised he had been staring at you from the other side of the bar, only catching on when one of your friends noticed him and giggled turning to the table. 

All of your table looked over at him then, smiling widely as they got a good look at him. He hated the stares but he didn’t back away not when your gaze fell upon him, finally getting a good look at him without his uniform on. 

You clearly didn’t recognise him at first, not until his eyes locked with yours and you quickly found yourself looking away. It was then he was sure it clicked.

He wasn’t at all surprised with your friends’ attempts to flirt with him, flinging themselves his way as they passed him at the bar. But he had been surprised at how you didn’t even approach him, not even a smile as you made your way past him to get to the toilet. 

To say he was annoyed was an understatement, Toji was thinking of wrapping his hands around your throat and watching as you wheezed each time his thick fingers tightened their grip. 

It was what had him following you to the toilet the fourth time you passed him, not even bothering to hide the fact he was hot on your heels. He waited outside the bathroom stalls, tapping his foot impatiently as his hands reached out to catch you at the first chance he got. 

Toji wasn’t sure if it was pure luck, or the fact you clearly weren’t all that bright after a few drinks but something was working out for him. Because when you stumbled out of the bathroom, a little bag of powder fell from underneath your dress, landing in the inch of space between you and him. 

“It isn’t mine, I swear,” you instantly said, panic washing over you. You stepped backwards into the dim corridor, cursing under your breath. 

“This isn’t what I expected at all.” He crouched down, tutting as he picked up the powdered substance. “Want to explain.” 

“It’s not mine,” was all you could tell him. 

“It definitely belongs to someone, sweetheart,” he said, pulling his handcuffs from his back pocket. “So want to tell me which one of your friends this belongs to?” 

Your eyes widened when you looked up at him, breath catching in your throat as you realised what was about to happen. 

He had you right where he wanted you. There was no way you would give up one of your friends and even if you did, the drugs fell from underneath your dress, not any of theirs. 

“Please,” you pleaded with him, falling further back into the hallway. 

Toji followed you though, matching your short quickened steps with his slower strides. He held out the cuffs, practically jingling them in your face. 

Your lips parted but you were caught like a mouse in a trap with nothing left to say. 

“I feel like you’re normally such a good girl so I’m feeling a little generous.” 

He almost chuckled at the way relief washed over your face and your body relaxed at his words. Almost.

“So I won’t handcuff you and parade you around for the whole bar to see,” he told you, placing the handcuffs back behind him. “But that means I need you to be a good girl and follow me out the back to my car.” 

It was clear in the way your eyes grew wet that you didn’t want to go with him but you weren’t going to fight him on this. 

Toji didn’t even bother driving you home to have his way with you. He lasted all of thirty seconds before he found a secluded spot in the parking lot and shoved you into the back seat, him following shortly behind. before shoving you into the back seat with him following. 

You hadn’t been so willing at first but after a few threats of sleeping behind bars for the night, you become pliant in his hands. 

It was how you found yourself straddling his waist, holding yourself up slightly as Toji had his way with you. 

You whimpered when he slid a third finger into you, barely able to hear the mumble of his, something about getting you fully stretched out for him. You felt so full and if his thick digits were anything to go off of, you were sure that the bulge in his pants was going to leave you ruined. 

“Officer,” you whined, at the feel of his palm brushing over your clit. 

“Officer Fushiguro,” he corrected, curling his fingers inside of you. “You’re dripping, baby.” 

That you were. Your pussy had made a mess all over his pants, a wet patch forming underneath you. He wasn’t upset by it though, not with the way his eyes grinned down at the sight, continuing his antics as he continued to thrust his fingers deep inside you. 

“Please, sir.” 

You didn’t exactly know what you were begging for but you begged anyway, staring at him with wet eyes and pouty lips. 

“Please,” you repeated, clenching around him. 

You had wanted to cum, you had wanted it so bad but instead you found yourself bouncing on his dick, being painfully stretched out by his girth. 

He held you up, using you as a toy as he fucked himself into you. He didn’t even stop when you sobbed against him, begging him to be gentler with you. Instead he pounded into you like a crazed bull until the pain was only a slight sore tinge and the pleasure finally began to take over. Until all that was left to fall from your lips were desperate sighs of either ‘Sir’ or ‘Fushiguro’. 

“Tomorrow I’ll let you call me Toji,” he groaned in your ear as his pace became sloppy and his thrusts became hard. “But tonight I really like the way you address me.” His tone changed, mocking you as he repeated your words. “Officer Fushiguro.” He chuckled, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Go on, say it again.” 

“Officer-” you struggled to get out, your words getting caught on your own moans. 

“Say it,” he warned, his hand painfully tightening around your hip. 

“Officer Fushiguro.” 

Your climax hit you hard at that and you screamed at the sudden way your pussy was leaking all over him and your knees almost buckled under your weight. 

It had Toji laughing at that, grinning into the crook of your neck as he finally let go himself. 

You only realised he was finished when he pulled himself out of you and you felt his warm cum spilling out of you as he pressed a hand against your stomach. Even though you knew that letting him cum inside you was a terrible idea, there was no way you were going to protest against him and in your state, you were honestly too fucked out to care, collapsing onto him. 

You also knew that you shouldn’t rest against him— that you shouldn’t fall into his arms so easily. You knew how happy he would be to have you so docile on top of him, already feeling the chuckle rumble in his chest. 

And Toji was happy. Even though he was never going to admit it, he was overjoyed with the way he had ruined you into submission. It had only taken one round to get you like this and he couldn’t help but imagine what you’d be like after four. 

But he let that thought slip to the back of his mind as he traced his finger into the sweaty skin of your back. 

“Officer Fushiguro,” you called, tilting your head up to catch his gaze. 

He hummed, giving you a small nod to carry on with what you were about to ask. 

“Will you take me home now?” You asked. 

“I’ll take you home,” he answered, with a sly smirk. “We can continue this there.” 

Your body tensed in his grip, moving to peel yourself away from him only to be harshly yanked back to your spot. 

“And you can call me Toji when we’re not fucking.”

(Dividers by @cafekitsune)

reblogs and comments are always appreciated

[runnning-outof-time]

Tommy & His Girls | Tommy Shelby x Reader

read more of the Girl Dad Mini Series — HERE.

request: yes by anonymous

pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

summary: When things get rough, Tommy can most certainly count on the girls in his life to lighten things up.

warnings: drinking, smoking, Tommy being a horsegirl

word count: 2089

a/n: back at it with another girl dad!Tommy fic - I just love using this little family I’ve created (if you couldn’t tell) I hope you like this installment of their story!! p.s…I’m sorry if the ending’s corny…I didn’t know how to, well, end it. Enjoy!! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Tommy barely said a word as he entered Arrow House. He handed his things to Frances and made a b-line to his study. Things with the business were rough today...they'd been rough for as far back as Tommy could remember. It seemed like he was the only one in the family pulling the weight and that left him feeling like there was war happening inside his head as he made the drive home.

He pushed his study's door closed behind him as he walked into the room, not even caring if the door had enough velocity to latch or not. He trudged his way to his desk after pouring himself a generous glass of whiskey. Half of it was downed in the first drink; he really wanted the pain in his head to cease.

Setting the glass down, he went through the motions of lighting himself a cigarette. The first, deep drag he took finally made some of the noise quiet down.

It's unclear how long he sat like that: slumped back on his chair with a cigarette burning between his fingers. The next time he came to, however, was when the office door opened slightly.

"Dad?" a small voice came from the opposite side of the room, making Tommy sit up straighter in his seat.

"Yeah," he answered, his voice not quite audible. He cleared his throat before responding louder, "yes?" He focused in on the doorway, seeing his oldest daughter, Thea, standing in it.

The young girl said nothing else as she fully entered the room and made her way right over to his desk. “You didn’t come to my room to say hello,” she stated, a slight frown present on her face.

She stopped in front of his chair as she finished speaking, her arms open to show him that she wanted a hug. The second he opened his, she fell into them.

Tommy let out a sigh as he felt the weight of his eldest daughter against him. “Hello, Thea,” he breathed, a sigh escaping with his words. He couldn’t deny the fact that he felt terrible in that moment. He always made sure to greet Thea when he returned home from work, no matter what type of day he had.

How could he have gotten so frustrated that he forgot one of the most important parts of his day?

Thea was the one to break away from the hug — Tommy could have sat there like that all evening if she allowed it — and step back to look at her father.

He watched her, waiting to see what she’d do next. To his surprise, she made her way over to one of the seats that faced his desk and sat down.

The two stared at each other for a few moments longer. Thea looked as if she was studying her father; like she was taking notes on the entire situation. Tommy was quite confused as to why the ten year old wanted to stick around after greeting him.

Finally, after several moments of silence, he had to ask her just that, “why have you decided to stay, love?”

“I was able to tell that you’re stressed out over work, dad. I don’t want to leave you alone,” she answered him, sounding simultaneously like a ten year old and like a person who was beyond their years.

Tommy took a moment to let her words sink in. Then he couldn’t help but smile as a soft chuckle escaped his lips. The innocence that his daughters held despite the line of work their father was present in was always something that grounded him, no matter what was going on. He knew that he could count on it to bring him back down from that position of power to just being their dad.

“You can keep working,” Thea’s voice broke through his thoughts, making him realize that he had been sitting there, staring at her for some time.

Tommy glanced down at the papers that were scattered across his desk. They were covered with statements that he truly didn’t want to read anymore. Then he looked to one of the photographs that sat proudly on his desk. It was of Thea, Evie, and Juni. They were all hugging onto each other and smiling their biggest smiles. His eyes finally moved to Thea, who was still sitting with a smile on her face.

“I can’t work any longer,” he said to her then as he stood from his chair, “let’s go and see what your sisters are doing,” he suggested, his statement making Thea rise from her seat as well.

Tommy and Thea found Evie and Juni playing in the front room.

“Dad’s home!” Thea exclaimed, making the two younger girls quickly turn around.

“Dad!” they both cheered in unison, smiles lighting up their faces.

Tommy smiled as they rushed over to hug him. He could slowly feel the stress leaving his body. “Hello, girls,” he greeted them, rubbing both of their backs as they held onto him tightly.

“Come play, dad!” Juni exclaimed as she pulled away from him to go back to the toys they had strewn about on the floor.

“Have you ladies finished your homework?” he asked the older two before making his decision.

“Course I have,” Evie answered in a matter-of-fact tone, “it was too easy.”

“Mine’s finished as well,” Thea answered with a smile.

“Good,” Tommy nodded, smiling at his girls.

“Let’s play!” Juni shrieked from where she was standing by the toys. By this time she already had one leg in one of the ‘princess dresses’ that the girls had specially made for them. Tommy smiled as he saw the one she’d chosen - it was one that Thea had been given when she was little.

“What game?” Tommy asked, watching as his other girls followed suit and grabbed the things they needed from their toy chest.

“Princesses, of course,” Evie answered like it was common sense….well, in this Shelby household it kind of was. Tommy chuckled at that thought.

“Thea’s the queen!” Juni shouted excitedly.

“She’s always the queen though!” Evie protested, a frown on her face as her hands dropped to her hips.

“I’m the queen because I’m the oldest,” Thea calmly explained to her disgruntled sister, “it’s just one of my jobs as the oldest sibling. You and Juni are princesses because you’re my younger sisters, and you’ll get to be queen once I’m older.”

Tommy couldn’t help but smile as he listened to her explanation. She was truly wise beyond her years, and she handled everything with such grace.

“Fine,” Evie huffed, deciding to accept the decision even though she sounded a little disappointed.

“What’s my part in this?” Tommy asked the three once their conversation had ended.

“The part you always are, dad,” Evie was the one to answer.

“Got it,” Tommy nodded, surpressing a groan as he lowered himself to the floor. I’m getting too old for this, he thought to himself, but he didn’t dare let that feeling show. He’d never turn down the opportunity to play with his girls.

(Y/N) was finally finished with discussing all of the changes that were to be made with the grounds and house keepers. A lot went into preparing Arrow House as one season rolled into the next. Despite the magnitude of the task and all of the moving parts that were involved, (Y/N) would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy overseeing these changes.

Now, however, she was more than ready to get back to her family.

She was able to hear them before she saw them. The giggles of her girls and one of Tommy’s unmistakable impressions. She laughed to herself just hearing it.

The sight she was met with in the front room brought the widest smile to her face. “What’s going on in here?” she made her presence known with a question.

“Mum!” came as a chorus of yells from the three girls as they forgot what they were doing to run and greet her.

“Hello, my darlings,” she greeted them, eagerly accepting their hugs. “What’re you playing in here with dad?”

“Princesses!” Juniper chirped, holding up her wand excitedly.

“Ahh,” (Y/N) nodded in understanding, “and what part is dad playing?”

“He’s the prized horse,” Evie happily answered.

(Y/N) finally looked to her husband. The sight she was met with had her stifling her laughter. Tommy was still down on all fours, and was wearing a rather strained expression as he looked at her through the longer strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes.

“Of course he is,” she finally responded, grinning at him before focusing her attention on the girls. “How about we give him a break now, hmm? Frances has informed me that dinner is ready,” she then suggested.

No pushback was received from any of the girls, who promptly began making their way to the dining room.

(Y/N) looked over at Tommy again. He was now wearing a look of relief, and he matched his eyes with hers again just briefly before he began the process of standing up. (Y/N) couldn’t help but giggle at his predicament, waiting for him to be on his feet again before she started walking to the dining room.

For once, Tommy was actually relieved to have heard that dinner was ready.

After dinner the family decided to go out onto the grounds and enjoy one of the final warm, late fall evenings before winter hit.

Juniper, of course, wanted to go to the stables and check on the horses. Tommy happily took her while the older two stayed back with (Y/N). It wasn’t a surprise, however, when he saw the three cresting the hill to join them in the stables.

Later that night, Tommy was - surprisingly - ready to be in bed at the same time as (Y/N). He helped out with tucking the girls in, wanting to spend as much time with them as he could.

(Y/N) didn’t miss the groan that left his lips as he sat down on his side of the bed. “Not as nimble of a horse as you used to be, huh?” she teasingly commented, biting on her finger to stiffle her giggles when his head snapped to look at her. “Maybe they should put you out to pasture.”

Tommy shot her a look that told her she should watch what she was saying. His look made her giggles escape.

“They’ll still treat you as their prized pony,” she conceded, moving over to where he was so that she could drape her arms over his shoulders. “You know how much they enjoy having you play with them,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck.

Tommy smiled at the sentiment, nodding his head slightly as he brought his hand up to set it against the spot her wrists crossed each other.

“I don’t believe I’ve asked you…” (Y/N) started after a few moments had passed. She lifted her head from his neck before continuing, “how was your day?”

A breath of a laugh left his lips and he closed his eyes for a moment, silently recounting his day’s events and deciphering what he wanted to tell her. “I came home stressed, but the girls were able to put me into a better mood,” he decided not to go too far into details, settling with a short summary.

“They’ve stolen my job then, hmm?” her question wasn’t the sort of response that he was excepting, and it was one that had him turning his head in confusion, hoping that she’d offer more explanation. “It used to be my job to put you into a better mood,” she remarked, the smile she was wearing telling him that she wasn’t being completely serious about this.

“All of you girls put me in a better mood,” he responded in a matter-of-fact tone before adding, “don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And that was the truth. Without those girls, he probably would have still been in his office, droning over the same stack of papers and nursing his umpteenth whiskey.

Without those girls, he probably would have had to deal with another night of keeping his demons at bay as the shovels hit against the walls.

Without his girls, he would most certainly be a completely different man than the one he is today.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver

@stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder

@cillmequick @strayrockette @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo @novashelby

[taegimood]

— call it what it is (c.sb) ♡

pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, best friends to ? lovers? rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 2.5k warnings: virgin!soobin, idol!soobin, softdom!reader?, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, messy cumshot, cum eating, brief use of petnames (baby, handsome), brief masturbation (m), some finger sucking, lowkey body worship? (m receiving), soobin horse cock but what else is new

a/n - trying to find some other fucking soob pictures to match the middle one was just impossible so i gave up lmao i’ve been reminded of why i never add photo headers.. i got lucky finding yeonjun’s within 30 seconds for the last fic 🙂‍↕️

──────────────────────

the lighting in soobin’s room is dim, the glow of his gaming setup situated on the desk in the corner offering just enough low light to cast the room in an unfamiliar new atmosphere, one that you haven’t ever felt in the countless times that you’ve been here before.

maybe it’s the quiet lull of having the dorm completely to yourselves tonight, or the clock ticking into single digit territory on the hour hand; maybe it’s the sudden vulnerability of this moment and the ones that led up to it.

maybe it’s the manner of what you’re about to do together; or maybe it’s the glow in the near-darkness that silhouettes your best friend so sensually as he stands in front of you while you’re leant back on the edge of his bed — his handsome face nervous and outlined by soft shadows as your eyes trail down his neck to the contours of his collarbones, past his chest and quick-beating heart to the gentle curve of his abs that stiffen slightly from the attention, or perhaps from the hesitant ministrations of his hand further down.

maybe it’s all of the above.

when you had come over earlier that evening for one of your typical hangout sessions, seizing the fact that soobin had no schedule tomorrow, you think it’s pretty safe to say that neither of you imagined it ending up like this.

the two of you were post anime binge and bingsu feast flopped across his bed, talking about anything and everything when the topic shifted to relationships and your conversation took a very interesting turn.

as close as you and soobin are, he’d never mentioned much about his sex life, and now you knew why: he didn’t actually have one.

you honestly weren’t too surprised when he, while talking about the difficulty of dating with his crowded idol life, somehow accidentally let it slip in frustration that he was still a virgin; and as red-faced and stuttery as he became while then attempting damage control to salvage his dignity, you were quick to reassure him with understanding words and a nonchalant smile.

and, as it turned out.. with an offer.

if he’d prefer his first time to be with someone he could trust, someone who would take care of him…

you don’t know what came over you when you carefully presented the idea.

you’d be totally lying if you said you had never considered what it’d be like to be with soobin physically; he was strikingly gorgeous from head to toe, after all. his gentle demeanor and dimpled laugh never made it any easier for you, either, but whenever your mind dared tiptoeing the line into romantic territory, well, you were always very quick to reel it back in.

until.… now.

you suppose there’s no other way to explain it as fondness blooms in your chest when you look at him, his trembling hands having fumbled over the buttons of his shirt until you’d replaced them gently with your own and did it for him instead — butterflies in your tummy at the sound of his quiet, shaky breaths every time your fingers brushed his skin — his face so close to yours, swallowing hard when you smiled softly up at him in reassurance.

there’s no other way to explain the affection that washed over you as he melted into your lips when you asked if it was okay to kiss him; or his breathy moans as your lips then made a home across the soft expanse of his neck after guiding his hands to begin undressing you in turn.

there’s no other way to explain the way that your heart swelled when he shyly turned off the overhead light and allowed you to trace kisses down his body as you sat on the edge of his bed and worked his sweatpants down with careful hands.

each time you moved to take things to the next step you’d look up at him for confirmation; and each time you were met with yearning, a trusting anticipation in soobin’s brown eyes that made you want to give him everything you could and more.

even in the near-dark you could still make out the rosy hue that colored his cheeks when you moaned at the sight of his cock, thick and long and pretty and just plain big as it came up to slap against his tummy once freed, leaking tip now eye-level with you from where he stood in front of the bed.

sensing the tension in his body, you’d slipped off the rest of your clothes so that he wouldn’t feel so vulnerable;

leaning back on your hands to gaze at him, watching the way his widened eyes flitted across your naked figure, lingering several times on your tits — you noted this for later — and you couldn’t help the pace of your own heartbeat as your pussy throbbed from the sight of him.

“you’re beautiful, bin.”

your soft words had startled him out of his trance, his eyes even wider then as they flickered up to meet yours;

“so are you,” he breathed, a whisper, cheeks reddening further in the dim light, and you could see the desire pooled in his stare.

“binnie.. can you touch yourself for me?” you’d asked carefully, voice sweet like honey, and the premature twitch of his cock was enough to send wetness leaking down between your thighs.

so now, as you watch him hesitantly stroke himself, large hand almost making his large cock look normal-sized until you remember that everything about him is just big, your body betrays you as your legs squeeze together and you can feel the drool threatening the corners of your lips at the expectancy of having something to wrap them around.

he’s biting down hard on his plush bottom lip as his eyes travel over you again, and you can tell that he’s trying not to breathe too heavy as they stay glued on your tits until you slide forward to the very edge of the bed.

the movement of his hand falters as the sudden proximity of your face so close to his cock sends a fresh bead of pre-cum to his tip;

“you don’t have to be nervous,” you murmur gently, looking up at him with a comforting smile. “can i touch you?”

his breath catches as he hesitates only for a second before he’s quickly nodding his head with a shakily-whispered “yes.”

his eyes follow your every move as you slide your own much smaller hand over his bigger one to remove it from his length — you shiver at the size difference — and when you gently wrap your hand around the thick base of his cock and lean in to place a feather-light kiss against his lower abdomen, the soft sigh that leaves soobin’s lips is suddenly the prettiest sound that you’ve ever heard.

you stroke him slowly, soon figuring out the amount of pressure that he likes judging from the staggers in his breath when you apply it; you have nothing on your mind other than to make him feel good as your lips trail over his skin, placing soft kisses along his abs, suckling a pretty mark onto his hip bone as your thumb caresses the head of his cock.

he moans, embarrassed at first until you look up at him through your lashes in a way that tells him you’ve never found anyone more sexy than this; and after that he doesn’t try holding back as much from the pretty sounds escaping his throat.

and when you finally lick at his tip before your free hand comes up to cup his balls and your lips slowly sink down on his shaft, soobin’s head is tipping back into a deep groan as his hips twitch forwards, your throat constricting around him at the sudden added length and your pussy gushing a fresh wave of arousal between your legs from the lewdness of it all.

god, soobin, you’re so fucking hot.

you’d tell him as much if your mouth weren’t stuffed full of his cock.

you haven’t even taken him half way yet when his tip nudges the back of your throat, your spit sliding down his shaft as you use your hands to pump whatever you can’t fit in your mouth; his own hands have flown to your hair now as he watches you with parted lips and half-lidded eyes, breathing heavy around moans and whispers of incoherent curses, grounding himself in the feeling of your strands between his fingers as he fights to control his hips from bucking forwards.

“s-shit-! oh my god-”

it’s only a couple of minutes later that you can tell he’s already close to bursting as you pull off of him for air with spit stringing from your lips, hands pumping steadily up and down from base to tip as you watch his face, feeling a mix of pride and affection at how fucked-out he already is as his eyes meet yours.

“you’re close, baby. do you wanna cum now or wait ‘til you’re inside me?”

you shouldn’t have said that.

the visual you just gave him shoots straight down to soobin’s cock as his abs tighten and his shaft twitches in your hands, a strangled moan that you think was supposed to be a curse flying from his lips as he cums, thick ropes of release covering your neck and chest and dripping down your tits, his mouth hung open as he watches and only cums harder — you get over your surprise quickly as you wrap your lips around him and suck, coaxing the rest out of him as he cries out with a tightening grip on your hair that makes you keen.

he cums more than any other guy you’ve been with and you swallow every remaining drop that you can, finally pulling off of him as he’s left trembling, making sure he’s watching as you look up at him and slowly swipe your fingers through the thick pearly liquid that drips down your skin, bringing it up to your lips to suck clean.

“fuck,” he whimpers, completely dazed, chest heaving, eyes dancing over your face and down to your cum-stained tits.

you lean in and give one last slow lick up the underside of his cock and over the tip; he hisses at the sensitivity, abs clenching, and when you place a gentle kiss to the head before moving back with a smile, soobin swears he’s seen heaven.

you take his hand and guide him to sit down, which his jelly-like legs are thankful for, urging him to lean back against the headboard as you soothe your thumb over the love bite on his hip and brush his hair out of his face with your free hand.

“how was it?” you ask playfully, tilting your head to the side, and now that he sits at this angle the glow from the desk illuminates his face instead of shining from behind him; your eyes trace the details of his hazy expression as he rests his head back against the wall and watches you.

“you’re fucking amazing…” he mumbles, still slightly catching his breath, face flushed and fucked out and beautiful.

“so are you,” you whisper teasingly as you lean in to capture his lips in a slow kiss, which he gratefully accepts, and you’re not sure how you’ve ever made it this far before tonight without the feeling of his lips on yours.

you push away the possibilities and consequences of tonight’s actions to the back of your mind.

right now, all that matters is him.

“s-sorry that i…” he’s suddenly shy as he looks away from you, and you already know what he’s trying to say when his voice trails off awkwardly, “i didn’t mean to.. you know…”

“why are you sorry for being sexy as hell?”

the surprise on his face makes you laugh, and his lips curl into a bashful smile when you continue, “i mean damn, soob, i knew you were hot before but seriously..”

you coyly poke at one of his dimples. “i’m flattered that you came that fast to the thought of fucking me.”

you can see the effect of your words in his eyes as he bites his lip.

“about that…. i still.. i mean, if you still want to, i….”

his voice grows quieter. “…i still want to.”

you can hear the vulnerability and hope in his tone that he probably thinks he’s better at hiding than he is.

“soobin…”

you take his hand in yours, and his eyes widen when you slowly guide it down between your legs, his sharp inhale a clear indication of the gushing wetness he feels there along with the warmth of your cunt.

you lean in closer, his hungry eyes flickering back up to yours; “what do you think, handsome?” you tilt your head again.

“think i want it too?”

his stare locks onto your every move when you bring his hand back up and wrap your lips around his wet fingers, swirling your tongue around them as you suck them clean and release them from your mouth with a pop.

“hm?”

his eyes shoot back up to yours.

he doesn’t trust his own voice as he swallows thickly with a nod and you find that he’s rock hard again when you straddle his lap, sighing in relief as you finally feel some friction from the way your wet folds glide slowly over his shaft.

you wrap an arm around his shoulders, taking his hand in your free one again to bring it up to your plush chest, his eyes honed in there immediately, and he lets out a quiet moan at the feeling of your soft tit in his grasp as he squeezes.

“you trust me?” you ask gently, and soobin looks up at you.

the glow from his desk makes his eyes shine.

his free arm circles around you and his face is so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips when he whispers,

“yes.”

and when you lift your hips with a smile to line him up at your entrance, promising “i’ll take care of you,” as you press your forehead to his and slowly sink down on him, watching the way his brows pinch together and eyes flutter shut, his lips parting in a breathy moan as he clutches you closer and whispers your name —

well, there’s no other way to explain the feeling that explodes in your chest like fireworks than to just call it what it is.

it must be love.

[blackmoonoracle]

BLACKMOONORACLE PRESENTS ...

PICK A CARD • OCTOBER PREDICTIONS

P I L E O N E

Soooo, you’ve definitely got a pretty decent release coming in during the month of october. I specifically heard the releasing of a karmic contract, so, I truly love that for you. You could be making a decision about a connection, it definitely feels like a past energy though. Some sort of cycle you’ve experienced with a particular soul over and over again. You put a stop to this though, I feel like you called it like it was. I’m channeling Vultures by Earl Sweatshirt and the beginning of the song literally goes. “I’ve been on the run, that’s why I go harder than you go. Plus I call em how I see em, maybe that’s why I’m all alone.” Season of the Witch is currently playing and it’s the part that goes “you’ve got to pick up every stitch” it feels like an energy of uprooting. I do feel like this pile has a tendency to hold onto people that don’t serve them in any way shape or form. Channeling Serve the Servants by Nirvana, in specific this part stands out:

“I just want you to know that I don't hate you anymore There is nothing I could say that I haven't thought before”

There feels like a specific intention in this pile to remove themselves from relationships that are dragging them down.

Something may be occurring that is causing you to let go of this connection, like something is going to make you realize you’re wasting your time. It’s not like usual either, it’s like this undismissable feeling of disgust and realization.

The mask is being ripped off, and in a very ugly way LOL.

I feel like whatever information you’re going to learn from this situation is actually going to help you develop better self esteem and turn a new leaf. It feels like a sigh of relief, this person possibly made you feel like you weren’t good enough, or were a bad person. I heard “I’m always the problem” and you’re going to realize that you aren’t and never were the problem.

I literally heard “reactive abuse”.

If you’d like to book a personal reading you can always dm me on here or instagram.

P I L E T W O

You guys are making social waves the month of october by setting harsh boundaries and restrictions in place with others. I heard “Look but don’t touch” I feel like there may be some kind of drama going on in october. I did hear workplace, so for some of you this could be career/reputation/workplace related drama and bs bubbling over. I see you taking things into your own hands and very critically thinking about the situation so you can make a solid decision that is balanced and fair. I also heard “in your favor” I feel like whoever this person you have issues with is doesn’t have a very good reputation. It’s almost like this person speaking so negatively of you constantly is really aggravating other people. Especially because you don’t really talk about them at all. You’ve pretty much moved on from whatever this is.

I heard “bitter ex friend” and I also heard “bite the bullet” and I heard something about a poison apple? Someone could have tried to use an apple in some sort of hex or spellwork towards you. It could be also that someone has poisonous intentions of trying to gain access to you and that you are putting that shit to a stop.

I heard scorpio, so this person could be a scorpio. I see you essentially making a judgment on this person socially which is going to cause other people to really see them in a different light. You could also be bringing context or clarity to some kind of situation, you hold missing information or you are a missing link in some way. I also heard complexity, so this situation could be very complex.

This new judgment will teach you to be more selfish with your time and resources so that you can create a genuine balance in your life.

Too much gratitude I heard, which is lowkey crazy? I think that what that means is that essentially sometimes you put shit on a pedestal. There’s a self worth wound being worked out in this situation tbh.

If you’d like to book a personal reading you can always dm me on here or instagram.

P I L E T H R E E

I see a new financial opportunity becoming available in the month of october for you, something unexpected. It could be in something with creation of some kind, doing and creating content possibly even? I see you handling business matters and phone calls of some kind? I heard admin, so some sort of administrative position? I also heard dream job, so for some of you this could be a once in a lifetime opportunity or for others this could be a really solid offer. I also heard high caliber, but I’m also hearing don’t work yourself to death. This group feels very capricorn type of energy, addicted to working, you love making money. I see where you’ve fought long and hard to get into whatever position is being given to you. I see where you’ve lost so much, in search of stability and I feel like you will need to face your shadow of lack and insecurity while in this job position or offer. It almost feels like some of you may try to eject yourself out of the situation because you’re scared or because it feels too good to be true? I feel like this is a good opportunity, but don’t get wrapped up in social liaison I heard. I feel like you have to learn to be comfortable with not fitting in or being like neck deep in a community. You’re meant to be a bit of an outlier at this current point in time because you are learning something new. You’ve already developed the social skills, this is about developing a deeper personal skillset that you can really utilize to drive you to your success.

I see this group really coming to terms with the past, and releasing either the fear of being seen for who you are. I’m also hearing “of being heard” a fear of being perceived for who you really are. You are healing your relationship to yourself, i heard “grotesque” you might be really mean to yourself a lot of the time. Like highkey you are very impatient and cruel to yourself at times and it lowkey sucks for you. I also heard don’t lose sight of what you have, this new opportunity is here for you to milk it for what it has to offer and then dip when things begin to culminate on a deeper scale for you. Some of you could really go through a deep spiritual awakening and learn what happiness truly means to you as a result of this.

If you’d like to book a personal reading you can always dm me on here or instagram

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - The Contract (Long Drabble) Author's Notes: Once again playing with something new. Not gonna lie, hated this because this was more work than I had expected. Next one will be more narrative for my sake Warnings: MDNI, Angst (ALSO PUT YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO CAUSE I DO BLOCK)

Contract of Employment - Intelligence Operative Name: [Retracted] Address: [Retracted] The basic terms and conditions of your employment are outlined in this Contract of Employment and the Employee's policies. Duration of Contract: Your employment with the Employer under this Contract started on [Retracted] and will end after 12 months after the initial date. Contract can be renewed after the Employee ends in good standing with the Employer after the 12 months and the Employee deems it a good fit.

Job Title and Hours 3.1: You are employed as INTELLIGENCE OPERATIVE for [Retracted] reporting to "the Captain." 3.2: You are expected to perform all duties outlined below starting at 0800 (8:00am) to 1700 (5pm) Monday through Friday. 3.3: You must be available for any extenuating circumstances past these hours. All emergencies will be informed by "the Captain" and "the Captain" only.

Price: Need you to review the plan for the next mission before the meeting tomorrow.

Ghost groans after reading the message. Price just had to ruin his Sunday night. Realizing that his plan to sleep in was just ruined, he decides to text you. Seeing that you normally got in around that hour, maybe you could join him?

Did he deserve that? God no. But, he missed you. So he sends the text and waits... and waits... and waits...

Next thing he knew, his alarm was ringing, signaling the new day. He checks his phone and sees there are no new messages. It didn't matter. He'll see you around soon enough.

But soon enough comes around and you're nowhere to be seen. Were you running late? Shit, your car. Maybe you were walking again? He sends you a text, but again, no response. He's so worried that he can't even focus when looking over the plans. It's not until he sees you walk in for the meeting exactly at 0800 that his mind eases. Surprised to see you walk in late, he decided to check up on you after the meeting.

Knock, knock

You glance up from your monitor. "Lieutenant?"

Lieutenant? Sure, that was his title, but you always called him Ghost. Something didn't feel right.

"Sorry, I just wanted to check up on you."

You stop typing and completely turn towards him. "Why?" Your tone is accusatory.

He stumbles a bit. You were never short with him. "C-cause you came in late toda--"

"I did not come in late. If you look over my contract, you would see that my start time is 0800, exactly the time I clocked in today." You turn back to your monitor and continue to work.

Ghost takes a big gulp. "Oh. I- uh... I sent you message last night and this morning."

You let out a heavy sigh and stop typing. "Was it an emergency?"

"No, but--"

"Good. I can't waste any time here, have to make sure I put all of my energy in my work. So if you don't have anything else of importance, you can leave." And with that you continue to type.

Ghost walks out of your office and closes the door. Why did it feel like it wasn't just your door that was closed here?

Job Responsibilities 4.1: You are responsible for all work that requires intelligence which includes analysis, gathering of intel, and presentation of said intel. 4.2: You will not participate in work that falls outside your jurisdiction.

After today's meeting, Gaz was weary of the plan. Despite being checked by Ghost, he couldn't help but feel like it needed to be discussed further. He kept in his thoughts during the meeting as he wanted to process them further.

Now after thinking about it all morning, he realizes he needs one more brain to help finalize his thoughts. Not just any brain, however, yours. If he wasn't so caught up in his thoughts, he would have realized that he no longer had any entitlement to your help. But alas without a second thought, he rushes to your office.

He knocks on your door and walks in before you have a chance to say anything. "Hello, hello!" he chirps. And, instead of being greeted by your warm smile, he is greeted by nothing. You don't even bother to glance at him.

Without removing your eyes on the screen, you say with no emotion, "Sergeant Garrick, what do you need?"

Sergeant Garrick? Ewe, that sounded so wrong coming out of your mouth. You always called him Kyle... Gaz if you felt cheeky. Feeling nervous now, Gaz hesitates to speak.

"Sergeant, I really don't have time for your shenanigans. Do you need something?" You quickly glance up and shoot him a sharp look.

That look brings Kyle to the present. "Sorry, yes. I was hoping you would..." You finally look at him, but instead of easing his nerves, it only exacerbated them as you looked at him with annoyance. "If you can, obviously, help me go over the plans for the next mission. Something about them just seem off and I could really--"

You interrupt him. "I have to stop you there. No." And just like that, you turn back to your monitor.

"Why?" he asks without thinking. He catches the way you took in a sharp breath.

Without looking at him, you respond, "I have never been in the field so what use do I have for you? Besides my job is in intelligence and in intelligence only."

He cringes at his own words. He tries to get another word in, but you're clearly not listening. Feeling defeated, he walks out your door.

"Sergeant?" you call after him. He quickly whips around. Maybe you changed your mind?

"Close my door."

Job Responsibilities 5.1: You have jurisdiction over all work that deals with intelligence. 5.2: You have complete authority to discipline officers of lower ranking or similar rank if their actions interfere with your responsibilities.

Soap doesn't know how it happened. He has been in his office all day, working. Sure, maybe he spent more time than he should have thinking about you, but everyone else does it. Now he was scrambling, trying to finalize the schematics for the explosives needed for the next mission.

Low on time, he rushes to your office to beg for your help. He knew he was in deep water with you, but he really had no choice. He hoped your caring heart would pity him this one last time.

He barges into your office, calling your name out. You immediately shoot up from your seat, worry apparent in your face. You hurry to the front of your desk to reach the panting Scotsman.

"Sergeant MacTavish, is everything okay?" Johnny can hear the worry in your voice. Good, you still might care.

"It's an emergency. I need to finish these blueprints by today or Price will kill me! Help your favorite Scotsman out?" he begs. Soap nearly whines when you take a step back from him.

You scoff. "Are you being serious right now?" Okay, maybe you don't care.

"I know, I know. But I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate," he cries. His entire body shudders when you scoff at him once more. You shake your head in disbelief and return to your seat.

"Please, get out."

"Please, it's not even a lot. Just go over--"

"No, Sergeant. I have my own work to do."

"It won't take a lot of time, just--"

"NO!" you stand up again, slamming your desk. "Sergeant MacTavish, it is not in my contract to babysit fools like you." He winces. "If you cannot handle the work that comes with being in Special Forces, I recommend you to consider other careers. So leave my office before I write you up for insubordination," you hiss.

Soap quickly apologizes and leaves your office. He bumps into Price on his way back, but it doesn't phase him. Your utter disappointment in him plays back in his head over and over and over again.

Breach of Contract 8.1: If Employer deems the work of the Employee as unsatisfactory, contract will immediately be terminated. 8.2: If Employee deems the Employer is breaching any of the parts outlined above, Employee has the right to terminate the contract without any repercussions

John didn't take Soap crashing into him personal. It was clear his sergeant was lost in his thoughts. What did pique his interest was where he walked out of. It seemed like every member on his team had a chance to pop in your office today, but him. Refusing to let any of those muppets get in your good graces before he does, he decided to pop in.

Since Johnny left you door open, he just knocks on the doorway before letting himself in. "Hopefully, I'm not disturbing?" he jokes. The clacking of your keyboard stops and you slowly turn to look at him. You take in a deep breath, almost as if you're trying to contain yourself.

"Captain Price," you announce plainly, "do you need something? I'm almost done with today's report."

"No, not at all. Just wanted to check up on you. See how you're doing?" He doesn't quite catch what you mumbled under your breath. "Sorry?"

You roll your eyes. "Nothing," you pause. "I'm fine. Just trying to get my work done before 5pm."

"5pm? Have an appointment or something?"

You stare at him for a bit and remind him of your contracted hours.

Assuming that you were worried about not finishing on time, John assures you that you can always stay in late or pick up again tomorrow. "It happens to the best of us."

Your eyes go cold. "It wouldn't have happened to me if your men and yourself weren't adamant in harassing me with matters that frankly do not pertain to me." You readjust yourself in your seat. "I advise all of you to go over my contract to avoid further misunderstandings. I would hate to leave mid-mission."

John goes cold. You... leaving. He looks in your eyes to see if there was any hesitation. There’s none.

Employer Signature: [Retracted] Employee Signature: [Retracted] Date: [Retracted]

After that day, the 141 realized what they had done. They had completely crushed your spirit and pushed you to be the epitome of professionalism. You were still a phenomenal Intelligence Officer, but you were just that. You were no longer their team mate... their friend.

But you're still here so that's fine... right?

Word Count: 1732

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[gloomwitchwrites]

You're having a bad day so they do their own version of Magic Mike for you

ANON! This ask sent me into a fit of giggles. I am so happy to do this. I had a lot of fun putting together some quick writes. I know you've been waiting a while. I hope you have a good laugh out of this, and maybe even giggle and/or kick your feet with glee. I know I did!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings: swearing, suggestive themes, dancing, singing, striptease, lap dance, brief non-descriptive nudity

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

"Everything okay, love?" asks John from the bathroom.

"Just a headache," you reply. "Had a busy day."

"Busy? Or bad?"

He knows you too well.

"Bad," you sigh, propping yourself up on an elbow.

John is no longer in the bathroom. He stands inside the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with one hand.

Freshly showered. Towel hanging on his hips.

"What?" you ask, noticing the smirk on his face.

John lightly pushes off from the doorframe. In a sultry sway, John begins to approach you, both hands reaching as if to undo the towel.

"John?"

He doesn't drop the towel, just teases the undressing. Your face grows hot as he nears. John comes to a stop just in front of you, the towel still perched on his hips.

"Go on," he purrs with a heated stare.

You tug and the towel falls away.

"Plan to fuck away my headache?" you cough out, gaze darting upward, focusing on his face and not what’s behind the towel.

John grabs your forearm, helping you to a seated position. "Not yet." He places one knee beside you on the bed. John holds your chin with thumb and forefinger. "No touching until I say so."

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"I’ve had a bad day," you sigh. “I’m tired.”

Turning your head away from Simon, you glance out the window.

As you exhale, something soft and large lands on your head. You yank it away. It's Simon's shirt. As you turn to address him, something else comes flying in your direction.

With a yelp, you snag it out of the air before it hits you. Simon's jeans. Belt included.

"What—"

Simon stands ramrod straight with arms at his sides in nothing but his boxer briefs and socks.

Perplexed, you fail to form words as Simon starts to saunter over to you. It’s stilted. Odd. The man has no rhythm but clearly all the confidence in the world.

"Oh my God," you murmur, clutching Simon's clothes to your chest, sinking further into the couch.

He's trying. He really is. But all you can focus on is how intense Simon’s face is, and how stiffly he…dances?

"Are you okay?" you ask.

Simon blinks. Frowns. "Yes." He glances down at himself. "Do you not like this?"

Whatever foul mood you were in has vanished, replaced with soft amusement and disbelief.

“Just…cuddle with me on the couch.”

“Clothes off?”

“Clothes off,” you confirm.

John "Soap" MacTavish

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really," you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

When you glance up, Johnny has a devilish grin on his face.

"What?" you ask cautiously.

Johnny pushes off from the kitchen counter and reaches over his head, removing his shirt. Your mind promptly forgets its previous concern. All it cares about is Johnny's broad chest and muscled stomach.

"What are you doing?" you laugh as Johnny twists the shirt and grabs either end, placing it behind your neck.

"Helping," he coos.

Now in only grey sweatpants, Johnny pushes in. You lean back, a bit startled.

"Helping how?" you giggle.

Johnny rocks his hips, swaying them slightly in a semi-erotic rotation.

"You look ridiculous."

"Maybe,” he agrees. “But you're smiling."

You are. To the point that your cheeks ache.

"I could keep going," he teases, rolling his hips again.

You playfully push at his stomach and Johnny takes that moment to sink down into your lap. "Nope," you laugh. “Absolutely not."

Johnny does an exaggeratingly awful impression of a lap dance. It sends you into a fit of giggles, and he doesn't stop until you're wheezing.

"Better?" he teases.

The bad mood is gone.

"Much."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"My brain is static," you groan. Kyle grins and starts to hum. "What are you doing?"

He saunters over to you, the humming turning into singing.

"Is that Pony by Ginuwine?" you laugh, disbelieving.

“Girl, when I break you off,” he continues to sing, removing his shirt, spinning it over his head like a lasso. “I promise that you won't want to get off.”

"Oh my god," you mutter, covering your face, cheeks flaring hot.

You peek through your fingers only for Kyle to toss the shirt at you. It lands above your head.

“If you’re horny, let’s do it,” he sings, reaching for the front of his pants. “Ride it.”

Your mouth is open, staring at Kyle as more of his clothes disappear. He’s in nothing but boxer briefs. Placing his foot on the couch, his hips flex forward, giving you a clear view of what’s beneath the fabric.

"Stop," you giggle, covering your eyes with one hand. The other extends to cover his junk.

Kyle takes your wrist and draws your palm to his chiseled stomach. "How are you feeling now?"

The static is gone, replaced with a soft affection that warms your everywhere.

"I'm better,” you laugh.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@umno-yeah @daemondoll @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez

@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[earthchica]

never lose me | 2

Terry richmond x black fem! reader

summary: Terry takes you out on a date and, afterward, makes passionate love to you.

warning: explicit smut (18+), fluff, oral (f), unprotected sex, sweet talking, creampie, slight daddy kink, foreplay, pet names (baby girl, baby, etc.)

note: thank you all for the incredible love you've shown for the first part. There are a lot more Terry fanfics on the way. 😝💗

part two of ( never lose me )

-

It was date night with Terry, and this date was supposedly going to be different from your previous dates, which were pretty low-key but fun.

You were checking yourself out in the mirror, admiring how the satin backless dress hugged your body in all the right places and beautifully color complemented your lovely brown skin.

A soft knock echoed through the hallway; quickly, you brushed a few stray curls away from your face before you hurried to the door and eagerly swung it open.

You were met with the sight of Terry, who stood tall and imposing. He wore a short-sleeved, black button-up shirt, black pants, and dress shoes.

Both of you let out a synchronized "Damn!" as eyes roamed from each other's heads to toes, resulting in a burst of shared laughter.

"Baby girl," Terry's deep voice was passionate as he entered your apartment.

"You look stunning in that dress," Terry expressed with a charming grin, gently placing his hand on your hip.

The warmth of his compliments never failed to bring a wide, lovesick smile to your face. Oh, the effect this man has on you.

"Thank you, Terry. You look mighty fine," you said, touching his shirt and admiring his handsome appearance.

With a confident grin, he replied, "Well, they don't call me playa, playa for nothing" while popping his collar.

You rolled your eyes and playfully hit him on the chest which made him chuckle.

"I'm just playing. Thanks, baby...Oh, shit, I almost forgot, these are for you," he revealed, presenting a bouquet of your favorite flowers from behind his back.

You took the bouquet of flowers with a genuine smile illuminating your face. Reflecting on your past relationships, you realize this was the first time anyone had given you flowers.

"Aww, Terry, thank you. They're absolutely gorgeous," You gently rose up on your tiptoes, leaning in to give him a quick, sweet peck on the lips.

After placing the flowers in a vase with water, you grabbed your purse and keys and left your apartment together.

-

"So…where are you taking me tonight, handsome?" You inquired, observing him start the car before turning to look at you.

"You'll find out soon, baby. Be patient," he replied, flashing that charming smile that always made your heart flutter.

You gasped when you arrived at your all-time favorite jazz club. It offered delicious food, a live jazz band, and a dance floor. 

You used to sing here every friday night with the live band, and Terry would always come and support you; sadly, your dreams of becoming a singer never came true.

It had been a while since you last visited. You turned to Terry in surprise; he simply smiled and held your hand as you entered.

A rush of memories flooded back; this place was like a forgotten dream from the past. 

The serene ambiance, the captivating live music, and the sight of people dancing felt like magic rekindled.

You both settled at a candlelit table, ordered some wine, and savored the moment until the waitress approached to take an order.

"I think I'll go for the grilled chicken with rice," You mentioned, browsing the menu as she jotted it down, then turned to Terry.

"I'll have the steak with mashed potatoes and broccoli," He announced, returning the menu to the waitress.

"Great, I'll get the orders in right away," She said with a slight smile, and you both expressed gratitude as she walked off.

With confidence, he said, "I know, I know. I did the damn thang, huh?" and you couldn't help but laugh as you placed your hand on his.

"You did, Terry. Thank you, baby." You expressed your joy with a warm smile.

"Good! Cause all I ever wanted is to bring happiness to your life and see your beautiful smile," he said sincerely.

You gently assured Terry, caressing his cheek as he looked at you with deep love and sweetness, "As long as I'm with you, I'm happy."

"I know, baby girl," he murmured, gently pressing his lips against your hand, eliciting an even brighter smile from you.

You never thought you would see Terry's romantic side, but you were happy you did. He was so gentle and sweet; you only knew his tough and rough side.

The waiter brought the steaming, flavorful dishes to the table. As you two savored each bite, engaged in lively conversation, discussing everything and anything.

The live band began to play a cherished, familiar tune that resonated deeply with you. Observing your delight in the soft melody, Terry realized it was the perfect moment for a dance.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked, a warm smile on his face. He gracefully stood up and extended his hand towards you, inviting you to join him on the dance floor.

With a smile, you replied, "Yeah," as you placed your hand in his. He tenderly kissed your hand before guiding you to the dance floor.

Terry's warm hands rested gently on your waist as your hands were on his broad, steady shoulders.

The two of you swayed in perfect harmony with the music, completely absorbed in each other's eyes.

In that magical moment, it felt as though a captivating energy enveloped the two of you.

Transporting you both into a world where it was just two of you, dancing in a blissful cloud of love.

You never imagined experiencing love like this; for the past weeks, Terry made you feel incredibly loved and cherished.

You fell even more deeply in love with him with this entirely new and captivating side of him.

With a graceful movement, Terry spun you around and drew you close, planting a passionate and tender kiss on your lips.

You both savored a passionate minute of kissing, lost in the moment before reluctantly drawing back to catch your breath.

You gazed at him with so much love and desire, while his gaze reciprocated the same feelings.

Terry's voice was tender as he asked, "Does my baby need me?" He gently rested his hand on your cheek, his touch as soft as a whisper.

He possessed an intimate understanding of you; not a single word needed to be spoken.

“Mmm, come on, baby girl. Tell me what you need.” He whispered so profoundly and sensually.  

“Yes, I need you…Terry,” You whispered desperately, your fingers gripping his shoulder ferociously as if your life depended on it.

"Okay, baby," he grinned, his warm hand enveloping yours as you both strolled back to your table to pay the bill.

-

The drive back to your apartment felt like an eternity, and as you sat in the car, a wave of overwhelming lust made it seem like you were on the brink of losing your mind.

Terry wasn't help with stroking your leg. His touch was delicate, yet it had the power to get your panties soaked.

He was fully aware of his impact on you and wielded that knowledge precisely.

You were first to enter your apartment, the familiar scent enveloping you. The door clicks shut behind you, and before you can react, Terry presses you firmly against the wall.

A moan escapes your lips as his tender kisses trace a path along your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

You both moved across the room to your bedroom and slowly shed each other's clothes.

“Terry…I need you.” You let out a gentle moan, slowly pulled away from the tender kiss, and then started to softly stroke his dick, but he stopped you. 

“Shh, I got you, baby—such a needy little thang," he says with a chuckle before continuing to talk.

"I’m going to eat that pussy first and then going to make love to you,” He spoke, carefully lowering you onto the soft bed.

Terry took his precious time, though. He began trailing a path of soft, tender kisses to your neck all down to your stomach, hands grasping your tits for a second.

You were so eager for more that Terry found it amusing how you couldn't hide your impatience and irritation.

Terry let out a deep chuckle as he shifted slightly to get a better view of the adorable little pout on your face.

"It's not funny, Daddy. I need you so bad; please stop teasing," You said, feeling like you were about to cry.

"How much do you need me, baby?" He asked, deeply kissing your inner thigh.

"So much, Daddy. I need you; I need you to eat my pussy, please," You begged.

"Mmmm, so wet and needy for Daddy. I'm giving you what you need, baby" he said, watching him spread your legs out a little wider before diving into you.

You gasped, placing your hand on the top of his head while the other was gripping the sheets. His tongue was magically sliding through your wet folds, swirling around your clit.

“Terry,” you whimper his name, and eyes roll in the back of your head, hitching your hips up an inch to get a little bit more.

Terry let out a little muffled growl, gripping your legs to rock your hips against his face, soaking his nose and mouth.

“So feels good,” You cried in pleasure, which was always music to his ears. 

He loved hearing how he made you feel good and the pleasure he gave you. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head again when you felt his tongue hit an excellent sweet spot. 

“Mmm, you taste so good, baby.” He declares so deeply, voice sending shanks down your spine to your dripping cunt.

Terry dives back in, tongue dipping in and out of your hole at an unforgiving pace.

“Yes, yes, just like that daddy.” You moaned, feeling him begin to finger you while continuing to suck the soul out of you. 

He lifted a finger to your mouth, and you quickly sucked your juice on his finger, moaning, loving every minute of that. 

“Fuck...that’s my good girl,” He said with a little moan, pulling his finger out of your mouth, which made you whine.

He diving his tongue in and out of your pussy. Your legs began shaking and tense.

The dirty sounds of wet slurping mixed with the squelching of his fingers were...

“I’m so close, Terry…can I cum, please?” you whimpered, voice wavering more and more.

“Cum for me, baby,” he ordered, lips detaching as his fingers pressed hard and deep against that sweet spot.

You cried out his name, shaking from the great release. You lay there panting heavily, trying to get yourself together. 

Terry began kissing up your body to your lips, and you moaned, tasting your sweetness on his tongue. 

"You good, baby?" His voice barely above a whisper, he gently caresses your face, locking eyes with yours in a tender gaze.

"Shit...yeah!" You manage to say the words with a little chuckle. He responds with a grin, leaning in to plant another tender kiss on your lips.

Terry pulls away for a second to grasp his big, erect dick to fill you up perfectly. He groans at the feeling of you wrapped around him tight.

He leaned his forehead against your forehead, pulling out a little bit before thrusting back in, which made you gasp.

You were both in love, lost in the intensity of each other 's eyes as you began this passionate lovemaking. 

His thrusts were slowly and gently, the moans between you two were soft, and the holding of each other was so tight. 

"Shit," Terry groans deeply, throwing his face into your neck for a second before moving back up to fasten the pace a little bit. 

You loved feeling every inch of his dick slowly moving in and out of you. You may be a rough kind of girl, but this slow, gentleness was doing many things for you.

“Ah…you're so beautiful, baby. My girl, you're my girl, right baby?.” Terry gently asked while tenderly placing a kiss on your neck.

 “Yes, I’m your girl, Daddy,” you whispered, looking deeply into his beautiful eyes. 

Terry's strong arms effortlessly lift you, cradling you securely as you instinctively wrap one arm around his broad shoulders.

"Fuck, I love you baby." He moans, leaning his forehead against yours, thrusting up a little faster, setting a steady rhythm. 

"Ah…Terry….I love you, I love so fucking much," You moaned, feeling your pussy clenching around his dick. 

Terry pushed a few curls out of your face before kissing you, gripping your waist tighter. 

You pulled away with a moan, feeling yourself getting ready to cum. Terry immediately could tell by the expression on your face.

"Cum baby. I'm right there with you," He whispers in your ear, which is all you need to go over the edge.

"TERRY!" You cried his name, orgasming intensely. He moaned with a firm grip, seizing the back of your neck while shooting his load inside you.

The two of you remained in that position for a brief moment until Terry gently guided you down to the soft pillows before slowly pulling out of you. 

"Damn, look at that" He smirks proudly, glancing down at his cum dripping out of your pussy. 

Your intense high begins to fade while Terry goes to get a soft washcloth to clean you up.

The two of you settle into a warm cuddle now, and you nestle your head and hand against his chest.

His strong arms wrapped around you, as his hands tenderly caressed your arms.

Both of you were filled with happiness and satisfaction, basking in the afterglow of a deeply fulfilling moment.

[ozzgin]

Based on The Lighthouse (2019) movie, because I feel like it would make a nice monster romance. Isolation, vivid dreams of sea creatures, and a tentacle beast hiding in the top room? Come on.

Content: gender neutral reader, same gendered captain (homoerotic tension), monster romance (merfolk and tentacles), dubious consent, absurdism, horror, NSFW

“Y’know, the others…they don’t make it to the six month mark.”

Your captain continues to eat, unbothered by the ominous statement they just made. You fiddle with your cutlery, slowly digesting your present circumstances.

You’ve been shipped to this island as the lighthouse keeper. It’s you, the captain, and the tall, crashing waves. A boat will pick you up and bring you back to land in a few months, if everything goes well.

If everything goes well.

You drag your feet upstairs, to the small, cramped room you share with your higher up. Your hands search underneath the pillow, until they eventually pull out a wooden statue. It’s a monstrous human donning a chiseled fish tail instead of legs; the merfolk. You’d found the trinket on the day you moved in, stuffed in your mattress.

When did your vivid dreams start? Probably around the same time as your discovery. You opened your eyes to a pale, deformed creature thrusting into you. You could hear the wet, sloppy sound of its claspers ruining your hole, the waves breaking against the rocky shore, and its breathy giggle as it observed you. You tried to slap it off you, but your arms were mush, flailing without aim. Your gaze lowered to its long, scaly tail, spasming and curving to the rhythm of your defile.

One morning, you woke up outside, sprawled on the sand with your tongue dried up and your skin scratched all over. Your fingers relaxed, revealing a clump of translucent scales.

“You must’ve sleepwalked”, the captain declared at the time, stroking your hair with one hand and holding their smoking pipe in another. They reminded you of your parent, yet the nostalgic feeling quickly vanished once their bony fingers slid up your thigh.

You sat in their lap, quietly accepting the flaccid explanation. Then, you wondered whether to bring up another dilemma: at night, you can hear them sneaking away, up into the locked room you are forbidden from seeing.

“No one but me has a key to it”, the captain huffed. “It’s where we keep the light. It’s the heart of the lighthouse.”

You followed them once, much too curious to remain in your chamber, silently pacing yourself to their heavy, limp step. Through the cracks of the attic door, you could see enormous tentacles swirling around, engulfing the burning lamp. You ran back to your room, hiding under the blankets and praying for an ounce of clarity. In your slumber, you met the kraken once more. It throbbed and slithered, calling out to you alluringly.

“I dreamt of a beast with many tendrils”, you finally confessed, squirming within the firm hold of the sailor.

“It does have a thing for pretty ones like ya!” the captain joked, releasing a loud, strident laugh.

You place down the statue and flip through the pages of your work journal. Only a few more months to go. Then you’ll be away from the bizarre visions, and the strange yearnings, and the isolation. You’ve touched yourself one too many times to the uncanny silence.

“Dumbass!”

The captain sways in, visibly drunk. They notice your thick, little binding of pages and chuckle.

“The boat was s’pposed to arrive yesterday. You missed it. Matter of fact, it never showed up.”

No. They’re lying again. They always feed you nonsense and fake promises!

Your ears pick up a faint sound coming from outside, millions of suction cups rapping at the old tile of the lighthouse, trampling down to your window.

You’re not stranded here. It can’t be.

[More Monsters]

[wystiix]

"love is sour grapes"

❥ pairing: arlecchino x fem!reader ❥ synopsis: It's a rainy night and you're snoozing. Arlecchino just watches over you while thinking about your time together, and how far you both had come. ❥ cw: n/a ❥ additional tags: second pov perspective, reader is not traveler ❥ word count: 804 ❥ notes: hi hi so like ya i haven't played her story quest, but i wanted to write this dedicated to my bae (vel)!! i hope this isn't too inaccurate.. erm yeah. i was cooking this shit at 2am in the morning so take what you get. ❥ taglist: @honkai-freak (for u bbg) @mikashisus @tragedy-of-commons

According to the books, love is an intense feeling of deep affection. It is often portrayed as a positive feeling, from the butterflies fluttering in your stomach to the overall warmth that spreads throughout your entire being.

It can elevate you to the heights of bliss. At the same time, it can cut deeply enough to leave scars.

Arlecchino has experienced the latter. Her heart, if it still could be called that, had long been hardened like stone. What is love, if not a knife carefully pressed to her heart? She had avoided it for so long. The thought, the concept itself—it never dawned upon her.

Yet, here she was.

You slept soundly, snuggling in the sheets as you took off to the land of nod. Arlecchino simply observed you on the other side of the bed, watching your chest rise and fall to the sound of pouring rain outside. 

How would one describe such a complex feeling? Why did she feel all tingly whenever she thought of you?

She leaned in and brushed a few strands of your hair to the side, showing your peaceful, sleeping face. A slight prickle met her fingers and a warmth seeped through her chest as a result. There it was again.

It was almost hard to fathom—and pathetic—that people would go to any lengths for the sake of their beloved. However, now she understood. Now that you were here, she’d willingly hurl herself into a pit of barbed wires if you desired.

The faint warmth of your body coaxed her closer, unable to pull her gaze away from yours. Her eyes traced over your sleeping form, memorising the shape of your face that she so adored. She felt so… alive. Alive in a way that almost scared her.

What does it truly mean to deserve love? Is it something that must be earned like a hard-earned gift, or does it simply come to you?

Honestly, she wasn't sure herself. She didn't know why you had chosen… her out of all the people in Teyvat. Arlecchino didn't have to work for your love, no? She had already earned it according to you.

Deserving. That word left a bitter taste in her mouth. What did she do to deserve this peace, this unwavering affection? What did she do to deserve you at all? Nothing, she thought. And yet, you still chose her. Despite the amount of blood stains she had and the rough calluses on her hands, you still intertwined your fingers with hers, bringing them to your lips and pressing a tender kiss on each one.

Is love a blessing or a burden?

It was like a sour grape, once thought too sharp to swallow. Though, the grape turned out to be much sweeter than expected the more she chewed.

Perhaps, she'd be willing to bite the pain as well.

She scooted closer to you, her breath warm against your skin as she gently brushed her fingertips across your face. You stirred in your sleep, instinctively reaching out for her warmth, and she let you find her.

Silence enveloped the dark room as Arlecchino lay there, staring up at the ceiling. The rain pattering against the window mirrored the steady beat of your heart, grounding her in the present at this very moment. She stroked your hair lovingly, relishing the softness of it.

Soft, like fragile threads of silk. Her mind raced. That leaves her to ponder: what if she hurt you? What if the same hands of a Harbinger that had caused so much pain to others couldn’t hold you as gently as they should?

“I don’t deserve you.”

You didn’t seem to hear her. She felt you shift slightly once again, a soft mumble escaping your lips as your hand blindly reached out and curled around her fingers. Her fingers grazed your cheek again, gentler than the first touch as if she feared you’d slip away if she wasn’t careful. She pressed a fleeting kiss on your hair.

Arlecchino wanted to say so many things to you. How thankful she really was for someone to walk into her life.

She swallowed hard.

“Even then, I'm quite content it was you, I…” she paused, processing her thoughts.

The words were foreign on her tongue. She'd never spoken them before. However, the truth radiated from within.

“I love you.” 

The words slipped out, softer than she intended, but they felt right. They didn't have a bitter, sour aftertaste to it. It rolled off her tongue so, so easily. She wasn’t sure if you heard. If you didn’t… perhaps that was for the best.

She didn't deserve you. She never would.

But with the way you held onto her like an anchor, she knew one thing for certain—she would never let go of the one she cherished ever again.

[alotofpockets]

Rough shift | Caitlin Foord x Doctor!Reader

Where Caitlin comforts you after you lose one of your patients

Warnings: surgery, blood, cpr, patient death

Woso masterlist | Words: 2.5k

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“Good morning, how is my favourite little Champ doing?” You ask as you walk into Maya’s hospital room, followed by four of your interns. “I’m doing good.” She answered, but the smile didn’t fully reach her eyes, a tell tale that she wasn’t telling the truth.

You had met Maya last year, when you moved back home to work at the hospital you worked at before. It had been hard leaving London, moving away from your girlfriend and your friends, but there was a shortage of pediatric surgeons at your former place of employment, and they reached out to you. You talked about it a lot with your girlfriend, Caitlin, who was very understanding of why you felt like you needed to go.

The two of you have been doing long distance for the duration of it. While it was hard at times, the two of you made it work. You were already excited to see her later today, since she and the rest of the Matilda’s would be arriving for their training camp.

Maya had been one of your first patients when you got back. She had been in for many surgeries before you had met her, and have been there for plenty after. She was a tough kid, that besides all of the medical treatment remained positive. 

“Alright,” You continued, ignoring the fact that she lied about her well-being. She was here for another surgery because her bowels were acting up again. Sadly no one had been able to find a permanent solution for her illness yet, and repeated surgeries were only short term solutions. “Doctor Taylor, can you present, please?” 

He stepped up with Maya’s chart, and started presenting her case. “Thank you Doctor Taylor.” You said after he perfectly shared all the necessary information. To teach the interns, you asked them a couple questions about the surgery, and made sure that they answered in a kid friendly way to make Maya feel at ease.

“Do you have any more questions for us, Maya?” You turned to the young girl on the bed. “Will you be there when I wake up?” Her eyes filled with hope, “Of course, I always am.” And you had. After every surgery you had been with her in the recovery room, always making sure to give your patients that extra bit of comfort that they needed. 

While your interns walk out of the room, you take a moment to speak to Maya’s parents. While they were used to the surgeries by now, every parent was nervous about their child getting operated on. Surgery on the bowels was always risky.

“How long do you think this fix will last?” You felt for Maya and the family and were gutted for them that there still wasn't a permanent fix. “Our best hope is another few months.” They knew that was the answer they were going to get, yet they still hoped that this time would be different. 

When you walked back into the hall you overheard Taylor brag about being the best in their class, and not needing the hours on peds because he won’t be choosing that specialty anyways. You listen for a bit longer and cannot believe the words you hear coming out of his mouth.

“Why do we keep going with these hopeless cases? It’s not like she’s ever going to get better. We’re just delaying the inevitable.” His words hit you like a punch in the gut, but you quickly gather yourself and step forwards. “Doctor Taylor,” The sharpness of your voice quickly grabbed the attention from everyone around you. “With me, now. All of you.”

You didn’t say a word until you had all of them in an empty hospital room. “These aren’t just cases, they are human lives; children’s lives. You are talking about Maya as if she’s some sort of lost cause, but she’s not. We are giving these kids the best care possible. We are keeping them alive, for when there is a permanent cure.”

Taylor opens his mouth to respond, but you aren't done yet. “If you cannot handle treating every patient with respect, you have no business being in this field. You are off this case, go find the Chief and see if she is willing to put you on a different case today.” He walks off with the whisper of a “Sorry.”

“As for the rest of you, I want to make it very clear that this is not how we talk about patients, especially not on the floor where everyone can hear you. If one of your peers does this, I want you to take the responsibility to tell them off. Do you understand?”

They all nod in understanding. “Good, now that we have that out of the way. Anderson, please get all the tests to the lab and page me when you’ve got the results. The rest of you with me to continue our rounds.

It was your job to make these interns good doctors. You hated having to kick them off cases, but if they treated patients like this, there had to be consequences.

The rest of the rounds went smoothly, and just as you got done with the last patient, Anderson paged you that the results were ready.

“How are we looking, Anderson?” He handed you the tablet, “Looks good. All her test results come back to the right levels.” You look over the results yourself to verify and agree with his conclusion. “Alright, prep Maya, and let me know when she's ready to go to the OR.”

“I'm here!” You announce before bending down and putting your hands on your knees, pretending to be out of breath. “Did I make it? Am I still on time?” 

Maya's giggles filled the room, the reason you loved to joke around like this. Kids deserve to feel comfortable and at ease in a place that is filled with unknowns. 

“We can't start without you, silly.” The girl laughs. “Oh, you're right, silly me!” You wipe the non-existent sweat off your forehead. “Alright Champ, are you ready?” She nodded and reached out her hand for you to hold, like you had done for the last couple of surgeries. 

You hold her hand until you arrive in the OR. “Alright Champ, hop on over.” The girl expertly switched onto the surgical bed. “What flavour popsicle will it be this time?” She puts her hand to her chin, “Strawberry!” You had expected no other flavour, as it was her favourite. You grab your phone and start typing. “Alright, I've let the chef know your order. It will be served when you're ready.”

Once Maya was under anaesthesia, you left the room to scrub. You learned that kids often found comfort in seeing someone they knew, you, for as long as possible. When you got back into the OR you were gowned and gloved, before you went to work.

The three interns still on the case were allowed to observe in the OR. You remembered what residency was like for you, and wanted to make sure that they got as many opportunities as possible in an OR, before they got their first operation.

Everything went smoothly, until it didn’t. 

Seemingly out of nowhere her lower abdomen filled with blood. “I need suction.” You instructed and were instantly handed the device. It was pooling in her abdomen fast that you could clear it. You handed the suction device to Doctor Jackson, who was on the other side of the table. “Lap pads, please, and keep them coming.”

Lap pad after lap pad was thrown in the little bin beside you, but the blood didn’t seem to lessen. “Doctor Smith, what’s her pressure?” You needed one of the interns to read the board, since you were both too occupied with trying to stop the bleeding. “BP is 60 over 40 and falling.” 

You cursed under your breath, while desperately trying to find the source of the bleeding. “Clamp.” The tool was in your hand mere seconds later. You tried to clamp off the vessel, but despite your best efforts, the bleeding didn’t slow down.

“She’s crashing.” The anesthesiologist warned. “Not on my watch. Doctor Anderson, take over suction. We’re going to transfuse.” Doctor Jackson handed over the suction, and got ready to set up a transfusion.

“BP is 50 over 30.” Doctor Smith announced. “Hang in there Maya.” You willed her to fight. But the blood was still not slowing down and her pressure was dropping rapidly. 

“We’re losing her.” The anesthesiologist said with worry in his voice. “We are not giving up. Get the crash card ready.” You took a deep breath and got ready to start CPR. 

The room full of doctors watched in silence as you continued compressions on the tiny body that laid on the table. “Come on, Maya.” Your voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t know how long you had been going, but your arms were starting to get tired. Doctor Jackson put his hand on your shoulder, “It’s time.” You shook your head, “No, she’s just a kid.”

His hand stayed on your shoulder, “You did everything you could. It’s time to let her go.” You slowly stopped compressions and looked down at her still body. Tears blurred your vision as you realised she was gone. 

“Time of death,” You started but weren’t allowed to finish the sentence. “11:16” Doctor Smith filled in. You stepped back and ripped your bloodstained gown and gloves off, and threw them onto the ground in frustration. 

You took a moment to gather yourself. You had to inform her family, and you needed to be strong for them. 

The moment you walked into the waiting room, Maya’s parents stood up. “No.” Maya’s mom said as all hope left her face. “No, my baby.” She could tell from your expression that the news wasn’t good, like it had been previous times. “I’m so sorry,” your voice broke. “We did everything we could, but Maya didn’t make it.”

You stood by as they fell into each other’s arms with tears streaming down their faces. They knew every surgery was a risk, but losing their little girl was something no parent was prepared for. “What happened?” Her dad asks.

“She lost too much blood. I- we tried everything to stop it, but we weren’t able to.” He nodded, still in disbelief. “Alright, thank you.” He got out before letting out another sob. Your heart broke even further. “If you want, you can see her for a bit. Would you like me to take you to her?” 

You walked them to the room and let them have a private moment with their daughter. Once you stepped outside, you got a page and headed to reception where you were asked for assistance. 

In a blur you walked down the hall and rode down in the elevator. It wasn’t until you laid your eyes on Caitlin that your vision got a bit more clear. You make your way over to her, and fall into her arms without saying another word. With her comforting arms around you, you couldn’t hold back any longer. The tears started streaming down your face, and Caitlin had to hold you tight, to keep you up right. 

“Oh, my love, what’s wrong?” She shared a worried look with her best friends Mackenzie and Alanna, who you hadn’t even realised were there too. “Can we go somewhere more private?” She asked softly. You nodded and took her hand. That’s when you realised the other girls. “Oh hi, I’m sorry. You guys can come too.” 

You walked the trio into your office and pulled Caitlin down onto the couch, to fall into her hold again. “I lost her, Cait. I lost Maya, she didn’t make it.” The room went silent. Caitlin held you while you sobbed. 

After a while you had no more tears left. “I’m sorry, you guys were here for a fun time, and now you’re stuck with me being emotional.” Alanna is quick to shake her head, “Don’t apologise, we’re all here for you.” Mackenzie agreed, “Yeah, if there is anything we can do for you, please let us know.” 

“You should drink some water, love.” Caitlin suggested and pointed out the water pitcher to Alanna. You did as you were told, and sipped on the water that Alanna handed you. 

“Macca, could you do something for me?” She nodded instantly, “Of course, anything.” You had thought back of the last conversation you had with Maya. “Could you go down to the cafeteria and get some strawberry popsicles?” The request seemed odd to her, but she asked no questions.

Not long after she got back with four strawberry popsicles. “They were her favourite, we were going to have some when we were in the recovery room.” You put your head back on Caitlin’s shoulder. “This one’s for you Maya.”

You sit with the girls for a while longer. Maya had been your only surgery for the day, as you had taken the rest of the day off to be with Caitlin. When you feel strong enough to get up, you ask them to meet you down in the lobby, since you wanted to check on Maya’s parents before you left.

Her parents just walked out of Maya’s room when you walked onto the floor. You weren’t sure what to say except sorry, which you did again. What happened next surprised you. Her mom hugged you. “Thank you for giving us more time with our girl than we ever thought we’d have.” Every surgery had given her a couple of months longer to live, yet you had hoped you’d be able to keep her alive until a permanent solution was found, they made you realise that keeping her alive this long was a miracle already. 

Maya’s dad gave you a firm handshake. “While now is a dark moment for us all, we want you to know that we know you have given your best to our Maya, and for that we will forever be grateful.”

“Maya was an incredible young girl. While the circumstances of us meeting were never possible, I am honoured that I was allowed to know her. If there is ever anything I can do for you and your family, please don’t be afraid to reach out.”

You made your way downstairs again, where Caitlin met you at the bottom of the stairs. Her arm wrapped around your shoulder, as she walked you out of the hospital. “I sent the girls to get us some food, they’ll meet us at home.” 

You didn’t care for the food, but you were glad to be surrounded by your loved ones. All plans you previously had for the day were wiped off without having to communicate your needs. The couch is where you spend the rest of the day. A movie was playing on the tv, but you had fallen asleep in Caitlin’s comforting arms a long time ago.

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[gojo-licious]

The Big Bad Wolf?!

Summary: Satoru is a wolf hybrid and started working for your department where only prey animal hybrids work. What could possibly go wrong? It’s not like he has a crush on you, his boss who just so happens to be a sheep.

Warnings: 18+, mdni, fem! reader, afab reader, hybrids, reader is a sheep-hybrid, Satoru is a wolf-hybrid, reader goes into heat, sub-ish! Satoru, bondage (Satoru gets his hands tied up), breeding kink, pet names (baby, sweetheart), unprotected, p in v

a/n: I read "I'm a Wolf, but by Boss is a Sheep" and got inspired to put my own twist on it!

"I'm sorry Satoru-kun, but we need you to work overtime today. But I promise it’s the last time this month!“ you say empathetically, understanding that he probably wants to go home on time.

The deadline for the project your department has been working on is moving closer, much faster than anticipated. Most of the work has been already finished, but the draft Satoru sent in needs to be refined before tomorrow's meeting.

"Oh! It’s okay. I will finish my work as fast as you can and then I can drop you off at the station." Satoru replies without showing a hint of sadness or any tiredness. In fact he looks excited to spend more time at the office. Especially since it’s just the two of you left on the floor, everyone else already left.

"I'm still very sorry, Satoru-kun. I know you were excited to head home early today. You did say that one of the games you play is releasing a new DLC today. I will buy you dinner tomorrow to make it up to you, is that okay?“ you reach to ruffle his hair affectionately in an attempt to convey that you truly feel apologetic.

Satoru's ears perk up. The wolf-like ears on the top of his head stand up and his tail starts to swoosh back and forth like that of an excited puppy. Dinner? Alone with you? That’s the closest to a date he has ever had! "Of course!“ he states a little too enthusiastically. "I mean- I mean, yes, that would be lovely!"

His eagerness is delightful and elicits a giggle out of you. "Okay. I will make a reservation for us. Now, how about we both finish our work and head home, hm?" you lightly scratch behind his ears affectionately.

Since Satoru is the only predator-animal-hybrid in your department. At first it seemed to be a hurdle, since the other members of the department wanted to keep their distance. It is a little nerve-wrecking to have a predator so close at all times when one isn’t used to it. But all the worry turned out to be for nothing. Satoru is a delight to work with. He is always eager to help, very gentle with everyone and, most of all, understanding of the difficulties in predator and prey interactions. And a well-built man who can carry all the heavy things is always a plus.

"Okay Boss!" Satoru's tail keeps wagging in excitement and hearts form in his eyes as he watches you leave to your office. He lets out little whimpers at the loss of your touch but makes sure that you don’t hear how pathetic he is being.

The only sound that Satoru can hear is the air conditioning cooling the office air, providing a comfortable work environment. He honestly just wants to go home and play games, but for you, he would willingly spend a few more hours here. And the thought of walking you to the station and talking to you just sweetens the deal even more. His games could wait.

The typing on his keyboard speeds up as he understands what improvements need to be made. The presentation at tomorrow's meeting will be easy to handle for you, if he finishes up quickly.

The clock ticks on as the sky turns darker and the streetlights outside of the office window turn on. Satoru sends the final draft to you and stands up to stretch his aching back from all the hours of sitting. He packs up his bag and carries his cacao brown suit jacket on his arm as he gracefully maneuvers through the halls.

As he stands in front of the door to your office, he takes a deep breath to gather his composure and courage. Satoru looks confident and dashingly handsome as he stands in the hall, but internally he is freaking out. His crush on his superior messes with his head to the point where he stumbled over his words and, in the worst-case scenario, can’t even form a coherent sentence.

The knock on your door goes unanswered, which makes Satoru nervous. You always answer with a small come in or come to open the door yourself, but right now there is no sign of you. He raises his hand to knock on your door again, but he hears a loud thud. Satoru freezes. Are his ears messing with him?

His worry gets the best of him and he reaches for the doorknob. "I'm coming in!“ he lets you know and swings the door open. The first thing he notices is that he smells something strong. It’s your scent, but somehow stronger and more alluring. It makes his ears ring and nose twitch. The second is your face covered in a light sweat. Your hands are harshly gripping the mahogany desk as you breathe unevenly.

All the symptoms only have one obvious cause. You are in heat! This is bad. "F-fuck! W-what should I do?" Satoru asks out loud. He doesn’t know how to help a sheep who has gone into heat.

"Satoru-kun~" you whine out to him as you stand on your wobbly legs with most of your weight being supported by the desk. You look good enough to eat! No, bad Satoru. He needs to do something. "Come here~" you call him over to you.

Satoru is frozen in place. What should he do? If he gets any closer, he will have a hard time helping you. His brain is already malfunctioning. Your pencil skirt is hugging your hips so deliciously and you’re also wearing a turtleneck! It has been on his mind all day.

You walk towards him, but stumble because of the feverish symptoms from your heat. Satoru drops his bag along with his suit jacket and hurries to catch you in his arms. Your sweet scent envelops him completely. There is no way he is making it out of here without developing an even more crazed obsession with you.

Right now, Satoru feels like the prey. You yank him down by his tie and push your body weight onto him for support. "Satoru-kun, can I kiss you?" you manage to ask while looking up at him with a barely functioning mind. Your lips ghost over his.

"Are… are you sure? This is your heat talking. We need to call someone!“ Satoru panics at the thought of doing something he might regret and ruin your relationship with him forever! He can’t let that happen.

You, on the other hand, shut the door behind Satoru and push him up against it. Satoru closes his eyes in surprise and feels terrified that if he sees you up close like this, he will lose his mind.

"Toru-kun~ I like you. This isn’t only the heat. I like you a lot, I promise." you say earnestly.

The breathlessness in your voice eggs Satoru on as he gains a little more courage. "Really?" he asks as he peeks down at you with barely opened eyes. His tail starts to swish back and forth, giving away his true feelings.

"Hmm…" you hum to support your previous statement. "I really like you.“ The confession is muted since you decided to bury your face in Satoru's chest in hopes of smelling his scent better. Not only does his woody scent ground you a little, you can also hear his heartbeat pick up. It’s pounding against his ribcage. Maybe he’s nervous, or maybe he’s about to have a heart attack. Satoru couldn’t tell either.

"Y-you like me?" he’s stunned. He leans closer to you and gently cups your face in one of his hands. "Say it again, please! I need to hear you say it again," he mutters as his body heats up. His face and ears turn red and he uses the back of his left hand to cover the lower part of his face.

He looks at you with such an intense gaze. Your hand lets go of the fabric of his shirt and wanders lower and lower until your fingertips graze his bulge. The sharp inhale makes your ears perk up. "Let me show you how much I like you, Satoru-kun." you coo at him.

His false, somewhat calm demeanor breaks into pieces as he lets out a loud whine. Satoru leans in to capture your soft lips against his own. The spit, tongue and heavy breathing get to his head. He feels dizzy. He feels overwhelmed.

He breaks away from the kiss, allowing the spit to connect your lips to his for a few seconds longer. The dashing smile that follows makes your pussy quiver. Satoru wipes the spit away with the back of his hand and goes to wipe the spit away from your lips using his thumb. But what he didn’t expect was for you to take his thumb into his mouth and suck on it. "Oh~ f-fuck-" he moans out loudly, not expecting your lips to have this kind of effect on him.

His reaction makes you smirk. He’s so cute! You take this opportunity to gently stroke his cock through his slacks. Up and down. Up and down and squeeze lightly.

"Fuck- fuck! Baby! Your hand f-feels soo~ good.“ Satoru throws his head back. His hair falls over his eyes. His prim and proper look exchanged for a disheveled mess.

He pulls at his tie with one hand. Meanwhile you release his thumb from your mouth with a loud 'pop'. "Can you help me, Toru?" you ask with faux innocence in your expression, trying to hide the carnivorous look in your eyes. If only he knew you wanted to swallow him whole.

All Satoru can do is nod dumbly and let you strip him off of his clothes. The belt falls to the floor along with his slacks, boxers and shirt. The tie is repurposed by you, into a make-soft bondage. His hands are tied snuggly behind him as you push him to take a seat on the sofa in your office.

Satoru’s eyes a shining brightly under the fluorescent light. He looks like a puppy more than a wolf, with his ears pressed to his head. On the other hand, he never expected you to be the predator everyone should have been worried about in your department. A real wolf in sheep’s clothing.

"I wanna fuck you soo bad, Toru." you run a nail down his chest, teasing him. "I want to ride you and you can suck on my nípples, okay?" You throw your unbuttoned blouse to the floor, followed by your bra. Satoru’s eyes stay glued to your tits as they jiggle while you try to shimmy your way out of your pencil skirt. His mouth opens involuntarily, letting a small moan escape and hoping you will let him latch on to one. Tempting you to do so.

His reaction coaxes a giggle out of you. He’s so eager. In a way, seducing you without even trying to. "I-I want- no need your tits in my mouth. Please, please, please- I need it so bad!" he sounds delirious. So desperate to bring you any kind of pleasure.

„Like this?“ you ask teasingly as you straddle him and shove his head into your chest.

Satoru hums in appreciation and lets his eyes roll to the back of his head.

"Oh~" you sigh out in pleasure as you start to move your hips against his. Your clit bumping into his bulge repeatedly. "Yeah… such a good boy~" you coo out. „but I need more. I wish you could feel how wet I am." your grinding comes to a halt. "Actually, you can! Silly me. Here, feel.“ you slowly slip his tip in, not giving him a second to adjust to your warmth as you slide him in completely.

"F-fuck! Baby, you shouldn’t have, I‘m gonna- cum!" Satoru cums immediately. His face is bright red from embarrassment. How could this happen! He’s going to die from how embarrassing this is. Now you are going to think he can only pump once and can’t bring you any kind of pleasu- Huh?! Are you giggling? "Baby, I’m so sorry, so sorry! Nnngh- fuuuck. Wait- d-don‘t move so fast, I just came!" he rambled desperately, trying to gain some kind of control over the situation. Are you really going to overstimulate him?

"S'goood. I'm not going to last long! You need to go deeper. I want your babies! You have t- to fill me up good." You stammer out in a horny haze. It’s clear to Satoru that your heat has hit you full force.

You place your feet next to his thighs to get a better angle. This position also makes it easier for you to ride Satoru's cock like a dildo. The mixture of Satoru's cum and your slick is pooling on the sofa, but there is no sign that you are stopping anytime soon.

Both of your moans fill the room along with the wet squelching 'plap' 'plap' 'plap'.

Satoru leans his head back and allows the drool to leak from the corner of his mouth. „Ugh- I'm… baby! Sweetheart, no- not again! Please cum with me, I don’t want to do it alone. Cum, cum, cum!" he lets out a whimper followed by a loud groan that sends shockwaves through your body.

You let your own orgasm wash over you as you continue to grind against him and milk his cock of every drop. You take the opportunity to lick the drool off from the corner of his mouth that had already wandered down to his sharp jaw.

"F-fuck baby.“ he groans seductively. "You wanna go to my place so I can fuck you good? Don’t wanna let my girl do all the work, especially since she wants my babies soo bad." he teases you for your earlier comment.

"Only of you wear your glasses." you tease back with a smile smirk on your face.

"Only if I get to play with your little horns." he retorts as you loosen the tie, freeing his hands. They quickly find their way to your waist and he envelops your lips in a kiss. One of his hands reaches for your horns as he lightly races them and in turn makes you shiver from how sensitive they are.

[bbsmuts]

Mistaken Identity ft. Allissa Shin

A/N: Aaaaaand we have a special guest tonight, Miss Allissa Shin! I imagine this is something of a curveball, since I've never broken away from K-Pop idols, but here we are. I can't find fics of her ANYWHERE, so I guess it's good that I get to be the pioneer of it. Note that she will be one of the only people I write about outside of K-Pop, so don't bother requesting Taylor Swift or anything. This was another phenomenal pitch from @xiaoondc, the main contributor to my current success. It's also starting to seem like my readers are into BBC gangbangs, considering the number of pitches I have and have had that involve them. Allissa Shin looks so much like Rosé it's almost impossible to tell them apart in some photos. I'm ramping up the use of daddy and of tildes in this one at the suggestion of readers. So without further ado, I present Mistaken Identity. Forgive me if I spell her name with only one L, my brain thinks it should be spelled like that. Also prepare yourself for overly excessive use of tildes in Allissa's speech.

{Note: Any and all photos of Allissa Shin used in this work are 100% real and can be found on her Instagram, allissashin}

-상훈

Length: 5.34k

Possible TW: Bondage, spanking

Tags: Gangbang, BBC gangbang, DP, bondage, spanking, 69, cunnilingus, rimming

Allissa rapped the counter with her knuckles and traded another bill for another shot of whiskey from the bartender. She swallowed half of it, relishing in the spicy, woody taste with the subtle hint of sweet, and the burn that followed the liquor down her throat, making her wince a bit.

"Too strong?" The bartender asked, rubbing a glass with a pristinely white cloth. "I can get something lighter."

"Nah, it's perfect." She downed the rest of the shot and handed him back the shotglass, leaning back in the plush seat. "How many was that?"

"Nine." He replied, washing out her glass and drying it before it took its place in the cabinet. "Going through something?"

"Nope. Just felt like a being a little extra drunk tonight."

He chuckled. "Well, I'd advise you to be careful, Miss Shin. There are some who would take advantage of your intoxication."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

A huge, hulking black guy took the seat to her left, quickly joined by four of his buddies. From a glance in their direction, she could see that each and every one of them was not only very muscular and very attractive, and they were all wearing tank tops and sweatpants to prove it. The one closest to her had a large dragon tattooed on his right arm. She felt a distinct rush of arousal course through her, which might've been from the alcohol, but she liked it either way.

"The usual, I assume, Ekon?" The bartender asked. (I figured Ekon would be a good one because it's an Nigerian name that literally translates to "strong", which is quite fitting, considering who he is.)

"That's right. And one for all of my homies, on me." The guy on her left said in a deep, rumbling voice.

The bartender nodded and whisked away to prepare the drinks, and the guy threw a glance at Allissa.

"Oh shit, is that you, Chaeyoung? Yo guys, it's Rosie! Wassup!"

She looked over, confused, as the other guys erupted into cheers.

"Uhm...h-hi." She replied amongst the whoops. "Not to be rude or anything, but do I...know you guys?"

"Wow, after all this time you forgot about yo closest homies?" another one said, feigning tears. "Daaaamn."

'They must be mistaking me for someone else," she thought, watching them all colloquially fake being sad, during the course of which she conveniently heard all their names. 'Well...they are all really cute, I guess it couldn't hurt to play along.'

"Oh, shit, hey! I didn't recognize you guys at first!" She said in a bright tone, smiling. "Sorry about that, it's been too long!"

"Man, you gon' break a brother's heart messing 'round like that, forgettin' us." said the one directly to her left.

She laughed. "Yeah, sorry about that, E."

"Nah, you all good. Ayo!" He called to the bartender, who was still mixing the drinks. "Lemme get one for my homegirl over here too!"

He nodded and continued his mixing.

"What'd you order?" She asked.

"Girl, you don't even remember my go-to? Damn, we really ain't seen each other in a fat minute. I got all us some good shit, rum and liqueur and stuff."

"Ah." She said. "Sounds good."

"Trust him, it is good." One guy on the end tapped in. "And don't take too much, because that shit'll have you on the ground if you take one sip too many."

"Yo, remember back in high school? She couldn't handle anything!" This caused a fair amount of laughs, which needled her into speech.

"Yeah? Let's see how I am now then. I already had nine shots of Jim Beam."

"That's true." The bartender chimed in, bringing over the seven drinks. "Nine shots."

"Damn." Ekon said, accepting the drink and adjusted the chain on his neck. "Thanks, man. Somethin' musta changed since we last saw each other Chae, back then you could barely take one shot of henny. Nine shots of Jim Beam? That ain't never happenin' seven years ago."

Allissa suddenly realized something. 'Are they mistaking me for Rosé?' She thought. 'No way...well, still can't hurt to play a long a bit.'

"Well, a lot's changed in seven years." She said as the other guys calmed down, taking a small sip of her drink. "This is good."

He nodded. "Sure is. Rum, coconut liqueur, pineapple juice, orange juice, stuff like that. So how you been?"

"Pretty good. You?"

"Same. Life's been good. You ever get that modeling gig you was always after?"

"Funnily enough, I did." She had actually gotten into modeling, just not the gig he was referencing. "Pretty successful."

"Oh, so you got some bands. Nice. I got a question though, don't answer if you don't wanna."

"Go for it."

"You still a virgin?"

"Hell no." She replied immediately. Allissa didn't know whether or not Rosé was a virgin, but she certainly wasn't.

"Really?" He downed the last sip of his cocktail. "Something's changed about that attitude too. Last time we saw each other you was saying you weren't gonna lose it until you got married."

"Guess I changed my mind." She took another sip of hers.

"How many?" Another guy down the line, who'd been lying attention to the conversation said. She didn't have to ask what he meant.

"Nine." She replied.

Ekon nodded. "Respectable amount. Less than I would've expected, to be honest."

She raised an eyebrow. "I said I'm not a virgin, not that I'm a whore."

He raised his hands. "My bad, gang, my bad. So you going anywhere else tonight?"

"I wasn't planning to, but I wouldn't mind."

"You wanna come back to our place?"

She was suddenly very aware of how sheer and tight her dress was, and more aware of how the defined muscles of Ekon's arms rippled with every movement.

She didn't say anything, but he could definitely figure out the change in expression on her face.

"Well?"

"S-sure, yeah." She said, voice wavering a little.

He turned to the guy on his left. "Yo, she coming home with us. Y'all finished?"

The other one smirked, nodded, and passed the news on while Eli turned back to Allissa, a smirk on his face too.

"You finished with the drink?"

Despite her anticipation and slight nervousness, she put on a bolder face and downed the last bit of the cocktail.

"I am now."

"Alright," he said, smiling wider, grabbing his keys, and tossing the bartender a wad of bills. "Let's roll."

...

Bursting through the doors into the cool night air was refreshing after the interior of the bar. Though cozy, it was warm and a little stuffy inside. Her steps were definitely weaving a little, but she made it to Eli's car alright. A classic '69 Pontiac GTO, painted black.

"Yo! You driving?" One of the other guys called to Ekon.

"Nah, you drive, Adrian. I wanna, uh...catch up with Rosie."

Allissa took the back seat, Adrian driving and another riding shotgun, and Ekon in the back with her. The engine awoke with a roar and the headlights switched on, illuminating the dark parking lot.

"I gotta say, Chae, you been doing some developing." Ekon commented as they started down a dark boulevard.

She had a feeling she already knew what he meant, but she asked. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean..." he gestured to her body then outlined a curvaceous figure in the air with his hands.

She blushed, hitting him on his muscular arm. "Stop!"

"I ain't joking, man. I mean...damn."

She giggled. "Thank you..."

He grinned. "Really is good to see you again though, Chae."

"You too. What are we doing when we get there?"

"We gonna figure that out when we get there. But I know you ain't stupid, you could take a good guess."

One look at his expression told her all she needed to know, and she looked away, the thought causing a thrill of anticipation and a fresh wave of arousal to a certain place in her lower region. She pressed her thighs together, trying to stave off getting turned on, but she couldn't stop her gaze from wandering over to his chiseled torso, on which every line, curve, and detail was put on display by the tight white muscle shirt. She found herself unconsciously licking her lips as her gaze roved over his perfect cumgutter abs, outlined pecs, and massively ripped arms. And from what she could see, he had a hell of a package in his boxers. (I feel so gay writing this entire part💀)

"Like what you see?" Her excitement and intense gaze did not go unnoticed.

"Mm, yes, I do~" It might've been the alcohol fueling her words, but part of it was coming directly from down below.

He chortled. "Yeah, I bulked up. Been going to the gym a lot recently."

She slid a hand over his rock-hard thigh, gently squeezing the fibers which felt like steel under her fingers. She gasped in pure arousal as her hand moved onto an absolute monster of a cock, which was massive without even being erect.

"Oh my god~" She massaged the phallic behemoth and moved closer on the seat, allowing him to put his arm over her shoulders and pull her into him. His powerful grip and iron-fiber muscles around her turned her on even more. His hand moved slowly downward, caressing the soft round of her breast through the thin fabric of her dress. She gasped again softly as his index finger traced her nipple, her sensitivity kicked up by the alcohol and how purely turned on she was.

"Save it for the room, y'all," said Adrian. "Ain't no one wanna see that."

"Don't even lie, bro, you know you want a piece." Ekon fired back. "Homie try to bullshit me..." he muttered. The other shrugged and stopped talking.

It was only a short ride more before they arrived at a large, mostly White House that resembled a a palace, with marble columns and everything. Allissa, even being the owner of a not-so-humble estate herself, was shocked at the sheer size and grandeur of the mansion.

"This is where you live?" Pleasure forgotten temporarily, she pressed her face against the window and gazed like an awestruck child.

Ekon chuckled, bringing his hand down to her now-exposed ass and giving it a strong squeeze. "Yup. There's five of us, we all live in the same joint."

"Wow..." His fingers wandered a little lower, pulling up the bottom hem of her dress so her thong was exposed.

"Damn, Chae, a thong?" He chuckled a little more. "Didn't know you was gettin' yo freak on so much."

"Mmhmm~" She bit her lip at the sight of his cock hard and straining against his sweats. "Fuck, you're big..."

Undergoing a sudden change of demeanor as they pulled into the driveway, he pressed her against the seat by the neck and spoke in his deep rumble of a voice. "And you want that, don't you?"

"Yes, daddy, I do~" Her voice came out as a whimper, his dominance only serving to make her more needy. "I want it a lot~"

"Well, yo ass bouta get it, hard."

"Oh yes, please, daddy," she moaned, his hands on her making her wet. "I want it!"

Ekon had opened his mouth to say something in return when the voice in the passenger seat piped up again.

"Y'all! We are 20 feet from the damn house, hold off for a second!"

"Aight, my bad bro. But you," he said, returning his hand to her neck as she giggled at Adrian, "better keep your little slut mouth shut."

"Yes, daddy," she said submissively, getting wetter by the second. They all got out of the car and walked quickly into the house, followed by the other two from the other car. The moment they all piled in through the door and it closed, Ekon pinned her arms to the wall above her head with one hand and kissed her, tongue aggressively pushing into her mouth. She moaned, his other hand going to her neck, while other hands pulled up her dress and caressed various other parts of her. Before long she was rid of her dress and left only in her bra and panties.

They backed off momentarily to admire her curvy, sexy figure. After a few "damn"s, they converged once more and she was pinned against the wall again.

She bit her lip as hands slipped into her panties and bra, teasing her sensitive spots and making her moan. Her hands, helplessly held above her head, twisted and writhed as multiple fingers plunged into her entrance, teased her sensitive clit, and rubbed over her nipples, assaulting her senses from every side. It had been a while since she had anyone, and she found herself quickly approaching her first orgasm.

"I'm gonna cum," she panted, gasping as several fingers found and roughly fingered her g-spot. "Oh god yes, I'm gonna cum!"

"Already?" Ekon said, triceps inconveniently flexing and turning her on more as he pushed against her hands and throat. "You little slut."

"Mmm, yes~" She moaned with rapid breaths, arching her back in pleasure. "You're gonna make me cum~"

His hand left her throat and slapped her face, leaving a small stinging mark in its wake. She was surprised at first and then felt a warm surge of sensual humiliation send a jolt straight to her pussy.

"A-ahh, fuck, yes, yes, ngghh yes, I'm cumming!" She bucked her hips off the wall, crying out in loud pleasure as she squirted on the many hands teasing her. She slid down the wall as the guys backed off, chest heaving even from the light orgasm she just had.

Apparently they weren't patient enough to postpone fucking her, so with little more ado they hoisted her to her feet and onto the rich white leather couch, a couple of them removing her panties and bra. Shirts were removed around her, filling her sight with abs and ripped arms. Jeans and sweats were next, taking boxers with them and leaving everyone present completely naked, and the other guys backed off as Ekon approached and went behind her.

She let out a sharp cry as a massive cock penetrated her pussy and immediately shattered whatever semblance of coherent thought she had left. The sheer size inside her stretched her walls out and caused a fair deal of pleasure and slight pain.

"Please," she murmured quietly, arching and then wiggling her ass to allow him better access, "ruin me."

He wasted no more time and started ruthlessly pounding her, loud claps on skin on skin sounding as he slammed his hips into her ass. She couldn't control the cries that left her mouth, face contorting in pleasure.

"Fuck!" She yelled, his cock reaching unbelievable depths inside her. "Oh my god yes, you're sso big! Oh yes, daddy, fuck my pussy!"

She could hear commentary from the five others, but her mind was too far gone to pay attention to it. He roughly grabbed her arms and held them behind her back, ramming her into the couch and leaving her helpless to the relentless assault on her tight tunnel.

"Yes, yes, yes, fuck! Don't stop, please keep going daddy!"

"Shut the fuck up and take it, you little whore." He leaned some of his weight on her, letting him growl in her ear, and pressed his hand over her mouth, muffling her moans.

"Mmph! Yes daddy!" Her voice was muted by his hand. He let go of her mouth and she turned her head to the side to survey his body. His hands left the couch as well, abs flexing to hold himself up as both hands were brought down on her supple ass in a punishing smack.

"Oh yes, spank me! Spank me harder daddy!" He gladly complied, landing more hard slaps on her ass. The sting brought her a blissful mix of pain and pleasure that was building up an orgasm like an edifice inside her.

"Shit, I'm gonna cum!" She heard the low groan behind her, accompanied by a few more spanks, and bucked her hips back into him as much as she could.

"Are you ready to take my cum, little slut?"

She nodded eagerly, still being slammed into the couch by his relentless thrusts. He delivered another hard spank to her ass, grip tightening on her arms behind her back.

"Try again."

"Yes, daddy!" She cried, eyes rolling into her head as the pleasure overtook her. "I want all of it, give me your cum, please daddy!"

A moan sounded behind her and a second later, a hot current of cum streaming into her pussy. The feeling of being filled with his cum overwhelmed her senses and threw her headlong into a strong orgasm; a wail of pleasure left her as she arched her back and squirted hard onto him.

She got barely a few moments' recovery before all the others approached and loaded onto the couch. Ekon stepped away and let them take their turn, and after one of them lifted her leg and positioned himself under her, she was penetrated in her ass and pussy by two enormous cocks.

Nothing but a gutteral, throaty moan was produced by her already overworked vocal cords. But she noticed two more guys walking around to her backside, and a thought crossed her foggy mind. They weren't going to...were they?

Her question was answered as the feeling of two more hard, throbbing tips pressing against her entrances sent signals of ecstasy to her receptors. With little more ado and no consideration for how much they were stretching her out (which was overloading her with pleasure), the shafts of the tips thrusted inside her.

"Fuck!" Pleasure turned her mind to mush for a moment as she briefly lost touch with reality. Two cocks in each hole; she hadn't been fucked like this in ages.

No, she hadn't been fucked like this ever.

Various murmurs of dirty things reached her ears, but none of them really registered with her brain. She kept up her dialogue of submissive moans, her pleas growing more and more wanting as she got more and more desperate.

"Oh yes, fuck my pussy," she panted, yelping as the smacks pelted down on her ass cheeks. "Fucking give it to me! Harder!"

All four cocks were pumping in and out of her with furious vigor; her pussy was soaked like a monsoon, and was made even wetter by the obscenities and degradation coming from behind her.

"Yeah, take these dicks, you slut!"

"You like being filled up like this, whore?"

"Yes daddy~" she whimpered, being overloaded with sensation. "I want all of your cocks in my tight little cunt! I'm your slutty little toy, keep fucking me just like that, yes!"

More spanks rained down on her ass, causing more waves of pleasure-pain to spread through her and intensifying the telltale tingling in her pussy.

"Oh fuck yes! More!" She cried. "Spank me harder!"

To her slight dismay, the slaps stopped. But a second later, something that stung a lot and something that was definitely not a hand made contact with her pinkened ass cheeks. She glanced around just as the strap was brought down on her once more, and a hand slapped her face. Her arousal turned to the max, she bit her lip and turned back around to a cock in her face. Without a second thought she opened her mouth and allowed it to push past her lips. She sucked passionately and hungrily, ignoring the slight discomfort she felt when his length went down her throat.

"Fuck, such a good little slut. Ain't that right, Rosie?" Ekon's deep voice was easily recognizable.

She nodded vigorously and continued impaling her throat on his massive cock. Her eyes rolled back and she gagged as her mouth and nose made contact with his pubes. She flicked her tongue out to trace circles on his balls as he grabbed her hair and held her right where she was. Slurping obscenely, she stuck out her tongue as far as possible to let him push every last centimeter into her squeezing throat.

"Mmph!" Her moans and gags were muted, but had she been able, the whole neighborhood would have heard her screams. She was going to cum and she knew it, the many cocks invading her holes proving to be too much to handle.

"Phhk!" More strikes from the strap, more thrusts from the guys. "Guhnuh kmm!"

Their hands stroked and caressed her passionately, in stark contrast to their cocks brutally, mercilessly pounding her. No relent, no mercy, no caring for anything more than raw pleasure. And she loved it that way.

"Daddy, I'm gonna cum!" She brought her head off Ekon's shaft and cried out to the room. "It's so fucking good, yes!"

She couldn't take it anymore. Her back arched and her hips bucked against them as her third orgasm slammed into her like a truck, her body trembling with the force of her squirting. Her arms gave out and her front half collapsed, burying her face in the couch. Still, there was no pause in the way they pitilessly railed her, driving their thick cocks in and out of all her holes.

Vaguely, she heard every single one say they were, too, on their way to orgasm, which brought her back to reality. She threw her head back and shouted out her pleasure, and her desire to be filled with cum.

"Please, daddy, cum inside me! Fill me up like the pathetic little cumslut I am! I want all of daddy's cum inside my tight little pussy!"

She bucked her hips into them in desperate need of another orgasm. Slaps landed on her face, heightening her arousal and making her even wetter, making her clench around the rods fucking her, adding to their pleasure.

"Fuck yes, breed me daddy! Fill up my pussy with your hot cum and breed me!" Her own dirty talk was turning her on as well as them, a fresh coat of slick lubricating her.

And then suddenly all four of them pushed as far as they could and bottomed out inside her, simultaneously painting her walls with thick ropes of warm, white cream and triggering her fourth orgasm. With a scream and a shaking body her pussy erupted, spraying their thighs with her own cum. One by one, each cock slid out of her, eliciting a whimper from her, and she was able to let her hips fall. Trembling and hypersensitive, she turned over and laid flat on her back, already feeling the cum start to leak out of her and drip down to the couch.

After a minute she sat up slightly and looked between her own thighs, where their cum and her juices were slowly soaking into the couch cushion.

"Oops," she giggled, letting her head fall back over the couch arm. "Guess you might have to get a new cushion."

Ekon chuckled from the other couch. "Chae, if we gave a damn, we'd fuck you on the bed."

He got up and walked away, his massive, semi-hard cock swinging from side to side. Despite having had four orgasms already, she found herself getting wet again at both the sight of him and the thought of getting fucked again. She reached down and gasped as she accidentally brushed her own clit; the touch sent pleasure shooting through her. Her soft moans did not go unnoticed, and as she fingered herself, they converged. She spread her legs eagerly, but instead of fucking her, one of them lowered his head to her soaking, tingling pussy and pressed his tongue against her clit. A high-pitched gasp left her mouth and her hands clamped down on the cushion as her hips immediately and automatically started grinding into his face.

"Oh god, yes," she moaned, eyebrows contracting up as he deftly swiped at her pussy. "Fucking eat me, daddy..."

Allissa felt her arousal and pleasure growing quickly. Clattering came from the next room where Ekon was.

"Oh yes, give it to me, daddy!" She cried, closing her eyes bucking her hips hard against his tongue. "Your tongue feels so good!"

She felt a cock press against her lips and immediately opened her mouth to let it in. She sucked on it hungrily, bobbing her head up and down.

Then someone pushed her legs up into the air, bringing her hips up, and she felt the tongur slide lower, down to her asshole. She shivered at the foreign sensation, and at the same time felt movement above her. To her slight shock, a second tongue planted itself on her pussy, and she looked down to see that the man whose dick was in her mouth had maneuvered into the top side of a 69 to eat her out. This allowed him enough leverage to thrust his hips into her face, driving his cock deep down her throat.

At that moment Ekon returned, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a massage wand in the other. Pinned down by 150 pounds of muscle, she could do nothing as he slipped the wand under the abs of the other guy and pressed it against her nipple. She moaned into his base, the vibrations adding to all the stimulation she was getting. The tongues probing her holes were very quickly catapulting her to her fifth orgasm; they had her bucking her hips and moaning with ease. Ekon's vibrator made her want to writhe and squirm, but she was helplessly trapped by the muscular body above her. Together, the sensations proved too much once more.

Wailing in ectsasy into the thick member in her throat, she clutched at his back and squirted intensely right into his mouth; the tongue in her ass was suddenly replaced by the head of a cock, closely followed by its shaft. Tears sprang to her eyes as she orgasmed again, hips jerking wildly as more cum streaming out of her.

Someone grabbed her and turned her over, sliding under her and pushing into her oversensitive pussy. Before she even had time to react, two more stretched out her saliva-covered asshole, and Ekon's cock returned to her mouth. From behind her, someone grabbed her hands and roughly tied them together. Someone grabbed her hair and pulled viciously, and Ekon slapped her face on both cheeks.

As soon as the others had come, she felt that all-too-familiar buildup of heat in her core. They reached points inside her she never knew could be hit, fucked her harder and better than she had ever been fucked in her life. Hands tied behind her back, hair being savagely pulled, ass being spanked hard, pussy, ass, and throat being mercilessly railed and used. There was no return to normal sex after this.

More slaps landed on her ass, thighs, face, and breasts, each one sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through her. She could feel herself and all the shafts inside her throbbing with need for release, and that they got.

The first one set off a chain reaction. The one under her groaned and buried himself balls deep inside her, explosively cumming and sending another tirade of warmth into her. At the same time, she and Ekon both met their orgasms, another load spurting down her throat. Several streaks of cum splattered onto her stomach, breasts, and face from the bystanders. A spray of her own cum splattered the thighs of the two fucking her ass, and the increased tightness of her ass caused two more loads to jet into her bowels. And then a second orgasm in a row hit her.

"FUCK!" she screamed as Ekon's softening length slid out of her mouth. Waves of ecstasy and intense pleasure slammed through her one by one, her mind going blank as they overtook her. Her world was a haze of bliss, and she could barely manage to crack open her eyes once the throbbing in her well-fucked cunt died down.

Each cock pulled out of her holes, followed by a steady flow of slick and thick cum. When she had recovered sufficiently, she raised her head and saw that her body was a mess of handprints, red marks from slaps and spanks, bruises, cum streaks, and sweat droplets. Spent and well-used, she let her head fall back onto the armrest.

A short while later she got up and wiped all the various bodily fluids off herself with a towel and then returned to the living room, once-coiffed-and-pretty hair disheveled and, in her opinion, sexy as hell.

"Seems a lil' bit ironic to ask, but did you like it?" Ekon asked, reclining in a seat, as she flopped onto a different couch.

"Yes~" she replied, biting her lip and giggling. "A lot."

Gesturing to the amount of cum still leaking out of her pussy and ass, she said, "You boys really outdid yourselves this time, hm~"

He smirked and returned his attention to the glass of whiskey with an approving nod.

Then it occured to her that they were still under the impression that she was Rosé.

"Can I...can I be honest for a second?"

He nodded nonchalantly. "Go for it, homie."

"Well...I-I'm not Rosé." She said in a small voice.

All sets of eyes in the room roved around to her, a few eyebrows raised. "What?"

"I'm not Rosé." She blushed under their intense gazes. "You guys thought I was at the bar, and I thought you were really cute, so I played along, but I'm not Rosé, or whoever it is you thought I was. I'm really sorry."

Ekon and all the rest looked at her for a long moment, and then they all started laughing. Slapping their knees, rocking back and forth laughing.

"Wait, wait, wait." Adrian said, fighting to control his laughter. "So you tryna tell me I been fuckin' some random girl all of us dumbasses thought was our old homie?"

She nodded meekly, glad at least that they weren't mad.

The laughter erupted again, each one of them crying with mirth. Her face turned hot, her embarrassed in a way.

"Aww, she so cute when she blushin'," commented Ekon, still giggling over the mistaken identity.

"Shut up!" She blushed harder, giggling and covering her face with her hands.

He raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"

Realizing what he meant, she fell silent, a small blossom of arousal rushing to her pussy at his dominant tone.

"Do we need to punish you again?" His voice turned low, dangerous. She was silent for a moment, the small blossom blooming into a large and very wet flower.

"Yes please, daddy~"

A/N: I searched everywhere for more Allissa Shin smuts, and they don't exist. I mean, I searched on Tumblr, AO3, FFN, AFF, everywhere. So I guess I get to be the pioneer of Allissa Shin fics. Yay. This shouldn't have taken me a month to write, but wifi router problems, a considerable period of writer's block, work, and a fair amount of procrastination delayed it. Hope you enjoyed.

[solxamber]

Knights and Oaths - Leona Kingscholar x reader

You come from a long line of knights that have served the rulers of the Savannah. But sometimes traditions are meant to change and the second prince is looking like someone worth changing them for.

The sun hangs low in the sky, painting the Savannah in golden hues as you approach the ceremonial grounds. It’s been years leading up to this moment—years of training, discipline, and growing up side by side with royalty. Your mother serves Falena’s wife, and your father serves the king himself. By all accounts, it’s expected that you’ll follow suit and dedicate your knightly oath to Cheka, the five-year-old prince. That’s just how it’s always been—loyalty passed down through the generations, swearing fealty to the rightful heirs of the Sunset Savannah.

But you’ve never been one for following expectations.

Not when you’ve spent your childhood in the shadow of two princes, one of them your closest companion and sometimes, greatest annoyance. Leona Kingscholar—second prince of the Sunset Savannah, the man who always seemed just a step away from what he could have been. Too lazy to reach it. Too proud to admit it.

When you were kids, Leona’s idea of "training" usually involved you chasing him around, trying to get him to spar when he’d much rather nap beneath the acacia trees. "What’s the point?" he’d grumble, arms folded behind his head, the sun casting dappled shadows across his face. "No matter how hard I try, Falena's the one everyone cares about."

Yet somehow, despite his best efforts to seem indifferent, you always found yourself drawn into his orbit. There was something about Leona that you couldn’t ignore—a pull, a desire to prove himself despite his constant veneer of nonchalance. You saw him in a way others didn’t. And maybe, somewhere along the way, he saw you too.

That’s why today feels different. Your whole life, everyone assumed your path was already written. You’d swear your oath to Cheka, Falena’s son, just as your parents had sworn theirs to Falena and his wife. It was expected, anticipated. But they didn’t know the whole story. They didn’t know about you and Leona, the time spent laughing, bickering, and—more often than not—arguing over ridiculous things like who could run faster or who could climb the tallest tree.

Now here you are, stepping into the hunting grounds, your sword at your side, ready to make your choice.

The hunt is a time-honored tradition. Whoever brings back the most impressive game gets to make their dedication. You can almost hear the whispers as you prepare—"Cheka’s knight," they call you. It’s been assumed for years. But they don’t know what’s coming.

The ceremony itself is simple enough. Each knight pledges their loyalty by dedicating their game to the person they swear to serve. It’s a public declaration of fealty, one made before the entire royal court. But there’s more at stake than just loyalty. The knight who brings back the most impressive game is awarded a golden rose—a symbol of something far deeper than duty.

Love.

Hours later, when you emerge from the hunt with the largest bear the kingdom has seen in years, all eyes are on you. The whispers grow louder, anticipation thick in the air. Everyone knows you’ve won the rose, and with it, the right to swear your loyalty. They’re expecting you to kneel before Cheka, the adorable five-year-old prince bouncing with excitement. Even Leona’s lounging nearby, watching the whole affair with that bored, half-lidded gaze of his, looking as if he might fall asleep at any moment.

But you? You have different plans.

With the golden rose in hand and your bear presented, you walk right past Cheka—past the gasps of the court, the murmurs of confusion, the stunned faces of your parents. And you kneel before Leona.

Leona’s eyes snap open, and for the first time in ages, he looks genuinely surprised. His eyebrows raise, just the barest fraction. "What are you doing?" he asks, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You grin, because of course he’s trying to play it off like this doesn’t matter. "Swearing my fealty, obviously," you say, loud enough for the court to hear. "I dedicate this hunt and the rose to Prince Leona Kingscholar."

The silence that follows is deafening. You can practically feel the jaws dropping across the Savannah. Even little Cheka’s mouth forms a perfect little "o" of shock.

For the first time all day, Leona stirs, the mask of indifference slipping just enough for you to catch the flicker of something beneath it—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. His eyes meet yours, sharper and more intense than ever, and for a moment, the world falls away.

Leona’s eyes narrow, a mixture of suspicion and amusement flickering across his face. "I thought you’d be on your knees for someone else," he drawls, his lips quirking up at the corners.

You shrug. "Everyone else may have decided my fate, but I make my own choices."

“For you, Leona,” you repeat, your voice steady and loud despite the pounding in your chest. “I dedicate my loyalty to you, and this rose... to the one who has always held my heart.”

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you, his expression unreadable. It’s Leona, after all. He doesn’t do grand gestures, never needed to. But you notice the way his fingers twitch, like he’s resisting the urge to reach out and take the rose immediately. When he finally speaks again, his voice is low, a bit rough around the edges, but there’s an unmistakable thread of satisfaction laced through it.

“You really know how to cause a scene, huh?”

There’s a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, and his gaze flicks down to the rose in your hand before meeting your eyes again. “A bear and a rose... For me?”

The teasing tone doesn’t hide the way his chest seems to expand just a little bit, like someone had finally acknowledged him for the first time in years. He reaches out and takes the rose from your hand, his fingers brushing yours in the briefest of touches. It feels electric, like every unspoken word between you is packed into that fleeting moment.

He twirls the rose once between his fingers, his smirk growing. “Guess I should thank you,” he says casually, though there’s a weight to his words, something you’ve rarely heard from him—appreciation. Real and tangible.

Leona stands up slowly, stretching as though this whole event is just another inconvenience, though the pride in his stance is unmistakable. He knows exactly what this means, both for you and for him. No one can dismiss him as just the second prince anymore, not after this. Not when someone like you, bound by honor and tradition, chose him. Over everyone else. Over Cheka. Over the kingdom’s expectations

He leans down, close enough that his breath is warm against your ear as he speaks softly, for you alone to hear. “I never thought you’d choose me. But I can’t say I’m not... pleased.”

Your heart does a strange, fluttering thing in your chest at his words, and you dare to meet his gaze, only to find a look there that you’ve never seen before. Something softer. Something real.

Before you can react, he tugs you in close, his arm settling around your waist in a way that feels both possessive and protective. The world narrows to just the two of you, the warmth of his body radiating through your armor. The smug grin he wears is softened by something deeper in his eyes—something that makes your heart skip a beat.

His hand lingers at your side, thumb brushing lightly against your hip, like he's claiming you just as much as you're dedicating yourself to him.

Before you can respond, he turns, still holding you close, and faces the crowd. The murmurs have turned to outright whispers of shock and disbelief, but Leona seems entirely unbothered by the spectacle you've made. In fact, he revels in it.

“This knight is mine,” he declares, his voice steady, ringing with finality. There’s no hesitation, no doubt—just that lazy confidence and a quiet triumph that says he’s more than pleased with your choice.

And in that moment, you know that, despite everything—his pride, his laziness, his gruff exterior—Leona Kingscholar is proud of you. Proud that you chose him, that you saw him, really saw him, when so many others didn’t. And as his arm tightens around you just a little, you can feel it too: the quiet, unspoken promise of what comes next.

A lifetime bound to the second prince—exactly the way you both want it.

Masterlist

he's so special to me :(((

[sharedramblings]

I think Larissa would be the biggest tease if she caught on that you're also attracted to her while you haven't yet realized that she knew, relishing on your every hitch breath, reddened cheeks, and flustered face.

So one time when she needs to check if she has to touch up, but doesn't feel like going to the comfort room, she turns to you who already has your trusty compact mirror in hand, already doing the same thing.

"Can I borrow that, darling?" She asked, blue eyes looking at your hand before meeting with yours.

"Here." You said, offering the mirror to her.

What you expected her to do was to take the mirror, but when Larissa instead adjusted your hand so she could see her reflection properly, your eyebrows shot up in silent query.

She paid you no mind and leaned closer, turning her face here and there to inspect her make up, humming to herself. The sudden closeness had your breath catching in your throat, and with such proximity, she heard it clearly, one corner of her lips curving upwards at your reaction.

Within the first few seconds, she already knew she doesn't need any touch up, but she continued checking a bit more just to mess with you, her soft and warm hands not letting yours go.

You simply watched her then, unable to think of what to do other than that. Appreciating how close she is, how you can feel her warmth, how her breath hits your skin every now and then. Eyes roaming her face, taking in every feature of hers, thinking just how unbelievably gorgeous the woman in front of you is. And how you would kiss her if you could. And how you would want her to kiss you, please. And how addicting this small space between you two is, dreaming this be your reality all the time.

So lost in thought that you didn't realize Larissa is staring at you. When your eyes meet, you can't help but feel like you were caught doing something you shouldn't, and the knowing glimmer in her eyes doesn't help your case at all.

"Do I still look presentable?" She asked, batting her eyes at you. Teasing smile on her red painted lips. Head tilted a bit to the right.

You blushed, her unrelenting actions causing an onslaught of emotions.

"Yes," you managed to meek out, voice higher than you wanted.

"And my lipstick? Do I need to reapply it?" Your eyes immediately flicked down to her lips, feeling your cheeks get hotter. You gulp as you feel your throat start to dry, and with your focus trained on her mouth that you've been desperately wanting to feel, you failed to notice how Larissa followed the action.

You felt like combusting, and you really hope she couldn't see how flushed this is all making you feel (you knew she could, it's impossible with the little distance you two have). Her hand was still cupping the back of yours, and you have no idea if it's grounding you or adding fuel to the fire.

"No," you answered after what felt like a long time, the tension distorting your sense of time, "your lips look lovely."

You wet your lips as you realize what you said, adding the first thing you thought of as you panic. "I meant..." taking a deep breath to stabilize your trembling voice, you look her in the eye again, "...you know, the coverage is amazing, as always."

You cringed at yourself, but the low chuckle Larissa let out made up for it (almost).

"Of course," she stated.

Not trusting yourself to take anymore of this any longer, you move to keep the mirror inside your bag, the bustle on the cafe coming back to your senses.

"Shall we head out?" Larissa offered, softly taking you in one more time.

You nod and regard her with a sheepish smile she finds adorable, "Work's calling us back."

As you two walk towards her car, your hand can't help but seek her warmth, taking every chance you could to touch her even just for a few seconds under the guise of poorly believable excuses, ready to slip off your tongue to justify it to anyone who dares point it out. While she waits for you to officially make a move, Larissa would enjoy every bit of this in the meantime.