#will be like actually you’re trying to con promises out of them to not be that way and get them to stay with you forever whether they like

[carfuckerlynch]

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[perlelune]

NDA | Coriolanus Snow

When you get hired as a nanny for President Snow and his wife's firstborn, you’re beyond thrilled and grateful. But quickly, the perfect facade melts, revealing the ugly truth of what actually goes on in the Snows' house.

Warnings: NON-CON, Capitol! Reader, Innocent Reader, Cheating, Coercion, Blackmail, Power Imbalance

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Your worried eyes track the frenzied glide of the woman’s quill over the notepad. You squint, hoping to discern some of the words she’s scrawling that way, but they are indiscernible…just like the stone-cold expression of the bespectacled woman on the other side of the desk.

She catches you trying to peek. Your heart jumps.

As her sharp green gaze zeroes in on you, you clear your throat and shift in your seat.

She puts her quill down and twines her fingers.

“So what do you think sets you apart  from the other applicants?”

You chew on your lip. When you arrived to offer your candidature this morning, you naively believed you’d be early. Instead, you were forced to join the tail end of the massive waiting line stretching far outside the Snows’ estate. It didn’t hit you before that moment, how prized the position is. Each of the women and girls you saw radiated excellent breeding and impeccable manners. Many probably attended the University and could double as a tutor if the need presents itself.

This isn’t your case. Your parents left you and your brother Laertes with nothing when they suddenly passed away in a rebel bombing. You couldn’t blame them. This wasn't the plan. Who plans on dying and leaving their two children to fend for themselves?

Still, you now have a list of bills the length of your arm coupled with a massive mortgage to pay every month. And as Laertes’ sole caretaker, you must ensure you can afford to send him to University once he completes his education in the Academy.

Circumstances denied you that chance. Despite being of university’s age, you couldn’t afford the cost of tuition and had to drop out as soon as you got accepted. You want better for your little brother.

So as soon as you heard the news that President Snow and First Lady Livia Cardew were in search of a nanny for their son Martius, you jumped on the opportunity to apply. You rose before the sun, rummaged through your mother’s closet to find her best dress, and hailed a car to come here.

It’s a long shot, of course. You’re not as polished and impressive as some of the other women. You’re also noticeably younger. But the wages promised alone compelled you to take a chance despite the odds being unfavorable.

Fiddling with your hands, you meet the woman’s impassive stare head-on.

“What sets me apart?” You mull over your answer. You could paint a false, august portrait of yourself, your skills and your accomplishments. Or try to at least.

But what would be the point of pretending to be someone you’re not only to be found out later on? So you elect to tread the path of honesty.

“Nothing,” you say. “But I’m a hard worker. A very hard worker. In fact, I already have three jobs, one at a bakery, another as a clerk in an antique shop and I assist Fabricia Whatnot at her boutique sometimes.” Panic quivers inside you as the woman quickly jots something down on her notepad. You swiftly specify, “...But I’ll quit all of them if I get the position, of course.” You lick your lips as knots tie your stomach. “I can learn everything there is to learn on the spot. I love children, and…” You trail off, gaze traveling to your lap as you muse if you should reveal more. Your fists clench as you add, “I have a little brother who’s a few years older than Martius, and I’m really hoping I get this opportunity so I can give him the life he deserves.”

An unnerving quiet occupies the air. The wait is agony, your nails digging painfully into your palms. The jagged drumming of your heart bleeds inside your ears as she studies you.

Eventually, she leans back in the velvet chair, her face betraying no thought or emotion.

“You’re dismissed,” she says.

Your heart plummets to your feet. You shakily rise, dispirited as you drag your heels towards the door. You steal a glance above your shoulder. The woman’s attention has already drifted away from you as she shouts for the next applicant.

You sourly exit the office. You try to swallow your dejection as you note how many women are still waiting in line, each of them likely more qualified and experienced. It’s obvious you tanked the interview. Shoulders slumping, you take resigned steps through the elegant, palatial hallways of the Snow’s mansion. You get lost in admiring the crystal and gold chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. There isn’t an inch of the house that doesn’t scream excessive, unattainable wealth.

You take your time soaking it in. Chances are you’ll never step foot in such a place in your lifetime ever again.

Distracted, you don’t notice the person in front of you before it’s too late. You bump straight into a hard, inflexible body. 

The sudden collision threatens your balance.

Fingers coil around your wrists as you stagger back, preventing your impending collapse onto the marbled floor.

As your attention drifts skywards, your jaw drops at who fills your vision.

“P-President Snow, my deepest apologies, s-sir,” you stammer, flames licking your cheeks.

As if you didn’t make yourself look dimwitted enough before, you now carelessly crashed into the leader of all of Panem. Just when you thought the day couldn’t possibly get worse.

You take him in. It truly is him. Shock fills you. 

 Tall and dazzling in a crisp white shirt and crimson vest that hints at his lean physique beneath the clothes, his signature blond waves slicked away from his face, he looks every bit the important figure that he is.

The flickering TV screen you own at home doesn’t do him justice.

A gentle smirk unfurls on his lips.

“It’s quite alright. I’m not made of sugar,” he jests.

“No…you’re not, your highness…majesty...I mean sir.”

Your blunder expands his smile. His cerulean gaze drags over your frame.

“Are you here for the nursemaid position?”

“I am, sir.” You unleash a deep exhale, his inquiry tossing salt on the fresh wound. The interviewer clearly wasn’t impressed by your less than stellar performance. Maybe you should have tried to mimic the way the girls with whom you attended the Academy behave more. They carry themselves with such confidence, wading through the world with the certainty of their destinies being secure, bereft of hardships unlike district dwellers.

You envy how carefree they get to be. Everyday you wake up worried you’ll come up short on a bill and you and Laertes will be forced to leave your family home. No matter how diligent you are at work, there never seems to be enough money to sustain the two of you. Even with three jobs, you’re barely eking out a decent living for you and your little brother. Many times, you’ve gone to bed hungry just so Laertes would not.

You don’t even realize tears have filled your eyes to the brim until a handkerchief is daintily pressed into your cheeks.

Flabbergasted, you blink up at President Snow. 

“Thank you,” you exhale, stunned by his kind gesture.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

You search his eyes. Genuine interest lights up his pellucid blue orbs.

Without much thought, you confess, “I just don’t think I did very well with my interview.”

As he scrutinizes you in silence, cocking his head sideways, embarrassment rushes through you.

Words anxiously leave your lips in a tremulous string.

“God, I’m so sorry, spilling my problems to you as if you’re not an extremely busy man, sir.”

He shakes his head. “It’s quite alright. And do not count yourself defeated, sweetheart.” Your pulse stutters when he bends over you to whisper, “You may have left a stronger impression than you think.”

He nudges the pocket square between your hands. It’s still damp with your tears. You gape at it in awe. President Snow’s initials are elegantly etched in the left corner of the fabric.

“Here. Keep it. Though I’d much prefer it if you didn’t cry.” He pauses, studying you. “Girls as lovely as you never should.”

His words send your heart into a frenzy. For a while, you’re too stunned to move. You then shake yourself back to reality, noticing you’re now staring at the empty space where he used to stand. He’s gone. You look ahead. He’s already miles away from you, wrapped in conversation with who seems to be an assistant of his. 

Your thumbs press against the soft fabric of the pocket square. Cheeks ablaze, you hold it to your nose. It smells like roses, the same delicate scent that wafted from him a few minutes ago. Your back prickles. You pivot and are astonished to find the envious glares of some of the applicants still waiting in line zeroed in on you. Self-conscious, you rush to continue your exit, fleeing away from the hateful stares. 

As the outside gates come into sight, you can’t suppress an elated smile. It’s not everyday someone meets President Snow and receives such a gift from him. Shoving the handkerchief in your pocket, you vow to place it somewhere safe and always cherish it. 

When you return home, your brother’s already sitting in the living room, his tiny brows scrunched in concentration and his nose buried in his books. Your stomach sinks. Everything you did today was for him. You can’t help but feel you missed out on a huge opportunity, one that’d have changed the course of his life forever. You glance around at the apartment. The walls are crumbling. The wooden floors are creaking. The pipes in the kitchen have been leaking for weeks, a measly bucket you must empty every morning the only thing preventing a flood. And at night, the pitter-patter of rodents’ paws resonates from the ceiling.

Every inch of your family home is in dire need of repairs.

Unfortunately, every penny you earn goes into rent and food, meaning the house falls apart a bit more everyday. Perhaps one day, you and Laertes will awake beneath the rubble of what’s left of your childhood home. Nightmares of that sometimes keep you up at night.

“How was the Academy today?” you chime, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. Worry twists your chest. There isn’t much left. You’ll need to make do with cabbage and whatever other veggies are left. Perhaps you could toss in some leftover dried meat and make a stew.

“My teacher signed me up for advanced trigonometry,” your brother announces.

You close the cabinet and beam at him.

“Oh, that sounds hard. I’m proud of you.” It doesn’t exactly surprise you. Laertes’ always been exceptionally smart. Even his teachers noticed how gifted he is from an early age. Unlike you, he breezed through middle school and now the Academy.

It’s why it’s crucial you make sure he can go to the University. A mind like his shouldn’t be wasted.

You brother shrugs, exuding nonchalance.

“It’s fine.”

You rush to him. You wrap your arm around him playfully and hug him in his chair, pulling his cheek like when he was little. You know he hates when you do that but you can’t help teasing him a bit. It’s your duty as a big sister after all.

“Don’t downplay it. My little brother’s a genius.”

He wriggles his way out of the hug, rolling his eyes. 

“Stop it.”

You head back to the kitchen and fire the stove.

“I’ll make you something,” you say, smiling at your brother.

His brows knit. “Make something for yourself first.”

You nibble your bottom lip. You truly hoped he wouldn’t notice, how much smaller than his your portions are. But he’s growing; he needs it. Much more than you. Besides, how can he focus at the Academy and be the brilliant boy he is supposed to be with a growling stomach? You won’t allow it.

“Laertes…”

He shakes his head, his expression firm.

“No. You always do this. This time, we split whatever is left.”

Heaving out a resigned exhale, you nod. You whirl to resume preparing dinner.

You gather a boiling pot from the overhead cabinet and place it on the stove. With the ease of practice, you begin chopping vegetables and tossing them into the pot. You add spices and water. The mouthwatering aroma quickly fills the kitchen. Pride swells in your chest. Your cooking skills have improved so much in the last year since your parents passed. You now manage to bring flavor to the blandest of meals. 

Once the stew’s ready, you pour a portion in each bowl, putting just a little more in your brother’s and praying he will not notice.

You place the steaming bowls on the table and take a seat opposite him.

“No books at the dining table,” you admonish, mimicking the exact tone your mother used with your brother. Admitting defeat, Laertes sighs and sets his homework aside. The tiny victory tugs your lips skyward.

He tells you about his day at the Academy while the two of you eat. You’re delighted to hear he’s making a lot of friends and he’s at the top of his class for most science subjects. He’s struggling a bit more with his poetry and ethics classes, but you encourage him by reminding him he can just ask the teacher for extra assignments to keep his grade up.

“I interviewed for a new job today,” you reveal, stirring the spoon in your bowl while waiting for your brother to eat more of his food.

“How did it go?”

“Well, it pays really well so I’m hopeful.”

The hope dancing in his eyes makes your chest ache. You don’t have the heart to tell him you made a fool of yourself today. You may not be gifted like your brother, but you want him to know he can rely on you at least.

Pursing his mouth, he looks down at his stew.

“That’s great. It’d be good if you didn’t have to work as much.”

Your smile falters. “Don’t worry. I have everything under control.”

“Okay.”

His dour tone stirs your concern. You wish you were better at hiding things from him, making his childhood as normal as possible. But your brother’s twelve now, and that’s old enough to sense when things are wrong.

He rises from his seat. You frown as you note there’s still food left in his bowl.

“Finish your plate before going to your room.”

Annoyance pinches his features but he still picks up his bowl and hastily guzzles down the remainder of his stew.

“Happy now?” he says, wiping his mouth.

“Yes. Very,” you cheerfully respond.

He gathers his books and strides towards his room. 

Your voice rises.

“Don’t stay up too late to study, okay? I love you.”

“I…love you too,” he mumbles.

You bask in the moment as you clean the table. Thankfully Laertes is still at an age where he says it back. One day he might not. So you must cherish every instant. Every conversation, every hug, every ‘I love you’. Because it could all vanish in a second. You learned that the hard way a year ago.

The day of the interview recedes to the back of your mind as you keep living your life. Work is harrowing, as usual, but you tend to your tasks as best as you can. Your arms ache as you knead the dough in the back of the bakery. You give yourself a second to wipe the sweat off your forehead. It’s been a hectic afternoon. There’s a massive pastry order for some Capitol heiress’ birthday due tomorrow. So you’ve been racing between the front desk and the kitchen in the back. A baker called in sick today, leaving you with twice the workload.

You know it won’t take much to crash into your bed and fall asleep tonight.

To make matters worse, the day hits its nadir when you get your pay that day. You peer inside the envelope for the umpteenth time. An anxious chuckle peals out of your lips. 

“I’m sorry I don’t want to complain, but…this doesn’t match the hours I put in.”

The owner scratches the back of his neck, a contrite expression etched on his face.

“I’m sorry too. With the new taxes imposed by the Capitol, I had to cut your salary.”

Slack-jawed by the news, no word leaves your mouth as you stare at him. He sighs.

“If it’s a problem, we can find someone else-”

“No, no,” you interrupt, blinking in panic. “Please, I need this job.”

He acquiesces and you’re forced to thank him despite feeling cheated. You actually scaled back your hours for your other part-times since this one paid more. What a waste. 

Dispirited, you return home. As you give the driver a bill for the fare, your insides wrench. Every bill counts. Perhaps you’ll need to walk back home from now on. The streets of the Capitol are notoriously dangerous but you can’t see any other way to save your dwindling wages. You already know you’ll need to request an extension for rent this month. How will you pay it, however?

You suppose you’ll have to figure it out. You always figure it out.

These are the somber thoughts swaying in your mind as you check the mailbox. 

Bills. Bills. And more bills. Your already sour mood plummets even more. But a slim, silver envelope sticking out from the pile corrals your focus. Curiosity surges inside you. It looks fancy and there’s a wax seal with the Capitol’s symbol keeping it shut. You rush to open it, heart fluttering in strange anticipation.

You unfold the neatly folded letter inside. As you read the words, you gasp, dropping the letter. Still trembling from shock and excitement, you bend to pick it up. 

You take a deep slow breath before reading it again. 

This time, a squeal escapes from your lips. 

You read it many more times to make sure your eyes aren’t just conjuring wild fantasies. 

After a while, you realize they aren’t. It’s true. 

Holding the letter to your chest, you toss yourself on your bed and kick your feet excitedly. 

You then place your palm on your forehead. In disbelief, you beam at the ceiling. 

Somehow…you’ve been hired to work for the Snows. You actually got the job. 

Perhaps there is light at the end of the tunnel.

You fidget before the iron gates, smoothing absent wrinkles on your skirt. It’s one of the best outfits you could find on short notice that wasn’t moth-eaten or visibly overworn. You pray it’s enough. You let your gaze wander. The Snows’ estate truly is majestic. The lush gardens. The beautiful architecture. You feel a little small as you admire the mansion.

Remembering yourself, you pivot to the man who drove you there. You fish inside your pocket for a bill and hand it to him. He stares at you blankly from the driver’s seat.

A weary sigh ripples behind you.

You turn, your eyes widening. It’s the woman who interviewed you that day. She wears the same stern expression.

“You don’t need to pay him,” she explains, dismissing the man with her hand. He nods and drives away. “He’s your assigned driver. He’ll pick you up each day and take you back home.”

“Oh.” You offer your hand. “Nice to meet you…again.”

She gives you a lengthy onceover, completely ignoring your gesture. Then she motions at you to follow her. You let your hand fall to your side. Heat blooms in your cheeks. Perhaps, you were too enthusiastic just then. Straightening your spine, you try your best to keep pace with her quick strides.

“I’m Pandora. I supervise most housekeeping duties for the president. I’ll show you around the estate. Then you’ll meet the young Master.”

She gives you a tour of the mansion. You’re even more amazed than last time though you try to suppress your awe and not stare excessively. She shows you the garden as well. The sea of snow-white roses makes your head spin. She specifies that the only part of the house that is off-limits is the west wing of the mansion, as these are the First Lady’s apartments and she must have rest and quiet.

She ends the visit by taking you to the nursery. A smile spontaneously finds its way onto your lips. A toddler plays with his toy train on the floor. With his blonde curls and bright blue eyes, he bears a striking resemblance to his father.

“That’s him? He’s so cute,” you whisper. Even the stern woman’s expression thaws a little as she looks at the child, softening ever-so-slightly. You send her a questioning glance. She gives you a nod of approval. 

You approach the boy and crouch in front of him.

“Hi. You’re Martius, right?”

He lifts his head and beams at you. You’re immediately endeared. Again, his smile reminds you of President Snow. You suppose one could probably take over the world with a smile like that. 

You turn to Pandora.

“Is his mother around? I should probably introduce myself.”

Her face pinches. “Mistress Livia has been unwell as of late. She is not to be disturbed today as she is quite tired.”

“Of course.” Your lips squeeze shut for a few seconds but curiosity gets the better of you. A question burns on your lips, one that nagged you ever since you got the job. It slips out before you can think it through. “Is this…Is this why the president and his wife require a nanny? The First Lady is sick?”

Pandora glowers at you. You flinch as she steps further inside the room, her searing tone like a whip.

“You are here to do your job, and nothing else. Mistress Livia’s health is no concern of yours. Do you hear me?”

You rise on shaky feet. You forgot yourself.

“I-I understand. I’m sorry I asked.”

“This reminds me. You have to sign this,” she says, handing you a pen and clipboard. A thin stack of papers are attached to the clipboard. The front page spells ‘Non-Disclosure Agreement’ in bold letters at the very top. You scowl as you flip through the pages.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a contract, one signed by every one of the President’s employees.”

“I don’t understand most of what’s written here…”

A frustrated exhale peals from her lips.

“I’ll make it simple for you then. For the duration of your employment here, nothing you see or hear must ever leave this house. You are here to care for the young master, that is all. Nothing else should concern you. Is that clear enough?”

You swallow thickly. It doesn’t sound hard at all. Discretion is essential in every job, isn’t it? But the way Pandora makes it sound, you’d assume there are bodies buried beneath the Snows’ estate. You’d laugh if her death stare weren’t so disquieting.

You peruse the contract, perplexed by most of the legal mumbo jumbo filling the pages. None of it rings any bell. You understand the gist of it however. You must preserve the president and his wife’s privacy. While you don’t know the specifics of the first lady’s condition, her public appearances have been few and far between in the last few years.

She used to be the envy of every woman in the Capitol. Beautiful, young and married to the dashing President Snow.

She was a fairytale princess come to life.

Then their son Martius was born. And when they held him up from the balcony of their mansion for all of Panem to gaze upon, they truly seemed like the perfect family.

Until one day, Livia Cardew simply…vanished.

She was noticeably absent from all the events of the season, some she even hosted herself. Tongues wagged of course, rumors and wild theories spreading like wildfire. 

But no one knew the truth of what had happened to her.

The matter seems delicate. You promise yourself not to bring it up again.

You click the pen and scribble your name at the bottom of the very last page.

“I’ve…never signed a contract like that before starting a job.”

Pandora lets out a wry chuckle.

“Well, you’ve never worked for President Snow.”

As promised, you quit your two other jobs to focus solely on Martius. You’re hesitant at first. Your departed parents taught you never to put all your eggs in one basket. And it’s exactly what you’d be doing by trusting the Snows. But when you receive your first paycheck, long before the end of the week, every qualm you had fades. It’s more money than you’ve ever had, more money than you expected. Rent isn’t an issue anymore. Neither is food.

Besides, gifts keep coming from the estate. Clothes mostly, for both you and Laertes, but also jewelry, perfume and other fancy things you don’t need. Overwhelmed by President Snow’s generosity, you try to send some of it back, but you don’t have the heart to return everything when you see your brother’s happy face when he opens his wardrobe one day.

You’ve caught the self-conscious glimpses he casts at his classmates sometimes, when not wearing the Academy uniform. Their clothes are always brand new and custom, perfectly tailored while his are stitched back together by your clumsy hands whenever they fray at the seams. You’re not a seamstress but you’ve always done your best. But you know your best doesn’t compare to the access and privilege those kids have.

Other than those blessings, your time with Martius has been a breeze. Only hazy memories of your brother as a toddler linger in your mind, but you don’t recall him ever being as sweet and calm as the little boy is.

It hardly feels like work, caring for the small child. You spend the day playing along with his games, reading stories to him and, as the day nears its end, the two of you feed the ducks in the massive pond behind the mansion. He even gives them names and gets upset when they fight with each other. 

“Lily doesn’t like James anymore,” he whispers to you one day, a sullen pout scrunching his tiny features. 

“And why is that?”

“I think she’s angry that he steals her food.”

You chuckle and ruffle his golden locks. The little boy always has a story for everything he sees. At all times, his world must make sense. So if he cannot find a reason to explain what fills his gaze, he’ll weave a tale that matches it. His stories are each more wild than the other and he sometimes utters words you’ve never heard a four year old use.

But you surmise it is expected from the son of the president. When he isn’t with you, the little boy is often with his private tutor. Even at his tender age, the importance of manners and eloquence is impressed upon him.

Martius tugs at your skirt when you make your way to the door. You look down. His blue eyes are pleading. 

“You’re leaving again?”

You heave out a long exhale. The little boy wasn’t so clingy before but with your bond growing, he’s been expressing more sadness from watching you go at the end of every day. 

You hunker down to his level.

“My little brother’s expecting me.”

His forehead puckers. “Stay…”

“I told you before, Martius. I have a brother. He’ll miss me if I’m not here.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, giving a begrudging nod. Tears already swim in his eyes though. Panic flows through you. You didn’t want to upset him. You pick him up and bounce with him in your arms to try to soothe him.

“Oh, no. Don’t cry, sweetie.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, nearly squeezing you to death when he wraps his arms around your neck. His loud, tearful sobs swell in the room. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow like always, okay? So I need you to be brave for me.” His grip on you loosens as he sniffles. You put him down and the two of you pinky promise that you’ll return. Your heart twists at the sight of his tear-stained little face. 

You give his hair one last affectionate pat before rushing outside. If you stay, he might throw another tantrum. No matter what, you can never get mad at Martius. He’s just a child. In the absence of his mother, he’s bound to grow attached to any woman filling a role adjacent to hers. You loathe that you’re taking those moments from the first lady. Though it pleases you to have a steady job and spend time with the sweet boy, it feels wrong that she isn’t there. She should get to see her baby grow up. She should hear his inane ramblings and eccentric stories.

As time wears on, you’re dying to meet her and tell her about Martius. Is she truly so sick that she can’t even see him for a mere few minutes? You’re itching to break the rules and visit the west wing of the mansion. Sometimes you hear blood-curdling  screams and wailing coming from the dark halls but you never dared venture through them. You know that if you did, Pandora would crucify you.

Laertes’ well-being matters more than your curiosity.

Humming absently, you halt in your tracks in the middle of a hallway. Confusion has you blinking. A peculiar noise bounces faintly against the walls. Your gaze drifts sideways, where the noise seems to come from. You’re clocking out. Whatever’s going on in the house isn’t any of your business at this hour.

But what if someone needs help? What if it’s something bad? You’d feel awful if you learnt something happened the next day and you pretended to ignore it. So you gingerly approach the wall. Your fingers graze the tapestry covering it. 

Your eyes widen when the wall moves, a tiny crack forming in it.

Your eyes bulge. It’s an ajar door, you realize. A secret door one wouldn’t notice if they weren’t aware it was there. Light spills from the slight opening.

Confining your breath, you bend over the crack in the wall to get a glimpse of what’s behind it. 

The vision crowding your sight makes the blood in your veins freeze. 

President Snow rutting into a maid with his pants down to his ankles. His usually neat blonde locks are tousled, a few damp curls kissing his forehead. His massive cock glistens with the girl’s essence, disappearing into the girl’s spread lips over and over again. Her body is bent over the railing of the bed and her maid outfit is bunched around her hips, exposing her ass, the flesh trembling with each of the president’s harsh, pointed thrust.

Each time he snaps his hips he draws a broken moan from her. One of his hands is around the back of her throat while the other’s on the small of her back. He grunts low in his throat as she clenches around him, thrusting into her even faster than before. 

The obscene sound of their coupling rises, coalescing with the feral grunts spilling from the president’s mouth. In that moment, he’s not the poised gentleman you’re used to seeing, he is an animal in rut chasing his high.

A shocked exhale escapes your lips. Your hand flies to cover your mouth. President Snow’s head snaps up, his gaze landing straight on you.

Your heart slams against your ribcage.

You jump back from the door and push the secret door closed. You dart across the hallway, determined to find the exit as quickly as you can. You don’t glance back, your steps hasty and panicked. 

Pandora was right. It’s best not not to hear or see anything, to become a tomb in which secrets are buried.

You can only hope he didn’t recognize you through the tiny crack in the door. 

Though you’re shaken to your core, you continue your work as a nanny. You still need money. You may have set aside everything you made thus far, but it will only sustain you and your brother for a month or two. Besides, you’ve already handed in your resignation for your other jobs.  The positions have likely been filled. You can’t exactly show up out of the blue and ask for your former job back. 

No. So you convince yourself that it’s alright. You have a good thing going anyway. You’re making more than you hoped. The child is happy. You’re happy. All is well. Or it would be at least.

…If you could conjure the memory of President Snow railing into the maid far away from your mind. 

You want to forget it, bury the moment so deep in the abyss of your thoughts, it can never be unearthed.

But it isn’t so easy. Because every time your mind wanders even a little, you see him again. Skin glistening with sweat and blue eyes alight with lust. The image is tattooed into your brain. 

You wonder if the first lady knows. Perhaps it’s why she’s hiding away. The weight of her husband’s indiscretions may have grown too heavy to carry. It sours your heart. President Snow seemed so kind, good and noble. He was nice to you. You still have the breast pocket he gave you tucked away in a drawer. You loathe to think he’d do that to his wife. No woman deserves this.

You lift your head when your name is uttered. You get to your feet. Adrift in your thoughts, you didn’t realize Pandora was in the nursery. 

“Yes?”

“The president wants to see you in his office.”

Dread wrenches your gut. It’s exactly what you feared. Does he know? Did he see you? Your pulse picks up. What other reason would there be? He never summoned you before.

“Really, why?”

“He didn’t say, but I’m assuming it’s to congratulate you.”

Befuddlement wrinkles your forehead. “Congratulate me?”

Pandora heaves out a weary sigh. “Well, you’ve done much better than we thought,” she begrudgingly admits. “The young master smiles all the time.” She rolls her eyes. “Even if we must deal with his tantrums when you leave.”

A sliver of pride flutters through you with her admission. Pandora made her doubts about your capabilities plain and obvious from the beginning. It gladdens you that you may have changed her mind a little. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” She turns to him, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “It’s a small price to pay for his happiness.”

Your smile vanishes as she adds, “Now let me escort you to the president’s office. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you trail behind her. The entire trek to the president’s office, your stomach’s in knots. You keep wondering if it’s the day you’ll lose your job for being too nosy. You should have walked past the noise. You shouldn’t have peeked. 

You inhale a lungful of nerve as Pandora opens the door to his office and frees room for you to enter. Your clammy hands wrench in your lap. He’s sitting behind his desk. You stagger further inside the room as he motions for you to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk. He looks the same as the first time you stumbled into him, disarmingly handsome in an impeccable shirt and pants that flatter his long legs.

A sharp contrast to the version of him that has plagued your thoughts lately. 

His sky gaze follows you as you take a trembling seat.

“Are you settling in well?” he asks.

“Hm, yes,” you stammer, anxiously twining your fingers. “It’s pretty much the perfect job. I get to be around a cute child all day.”

“I hear my son is very fond of you.”

You bashfully dip your head. “He’s very easy to like. He’s such a good boy, sweet, kind, and curious. You and your wife are raising him well, sir.”

He hums in thought. “I can’t take much credit for that. I’ve tried my best to carve out time for Martius…but work’s kept me busy. As for Livia...” He lets out a humorless chuckle. “Well she isn’t quite herself these days.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He places one hand under his chin, scrutinizing you. You try not to twitch beneath his stare, your insides tight with dread.

“Hm, it’s strange,” he states after a minute that goes by like an eternity.

Your head rises. “What’s strange?”

“A girl like you.” His lips drag upward. “Sweet, nurturing, beautiful. Shouldn’t you be married already?”

Your lips part in astonishment. This isn’t the line of questioning you expected. “I-I’m not.”

“No fiancé?”

“No, sir.”

“A lover then?”

Warmth rushes to your face.

“No…”

He laughs, mirth dancing in his cobalt orbs.

“You must pardon me for being so forward but I simply find it astonishing. No suitors? It’s hard to believe since you’re so lovely, sweetheart.” He tilts his head. You shift in discomfort, his attention making you feel see-through. “I mean, a husband would have made your life easier than it’s been thus far, wouldn’t he, dove?”

A long exhale flows from your lips. “I’ve had offers, after I graduated from the Academy. There was even this boy, he was so kind to me.” The memory draws a small smile from you. “He proposed. I’m sure he’d make a great husband, but…”

“But…”

Your mouth dries.

“I know it’s probably naive and unrealistic but I want to marry for love, that great, life-changing love, like in those romance novels my mom used to love, not money or status.”

His eyes twinkle. “Or financial stability?”

Shame gathers in your chest. You know it sounds silly when uttered aloud. 

“I know, I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. It’s sweet that you still believe in love.” He appears lost in a faraway memory, his gaze hazing over with remembrance. “I used to believe in it too. I used to think, ‘Who needs wealth and success and power when love conquers all?’”

He chuckles but it’s bereft of amusement. 

“Really? What happened then?”

His gaze locks with yours. 

“I grew up.”

Confused, you frown. 

“But aren’t you and the first lady in love?”

Another laugh bursts from his chest.

“God, you’re sweet.” His tone lowers to a dulcet whisper. “It’s like none of the world’s ugliness has gotten to you yet.” He reveals matter-of-factly, “My wife and I hate each other.” His smile widens at your flabbergasted expression. “Always did. It’s best that way, more…efficient. Of course, there was a time, when we had…passion.” He licks his lips, something you can’t pinpoint flickering in his gaze. “But not anymore. She’s far too gone for that.”

He rises from his chair. You stiffen as he circles the desk, making slow steps towards you. 

“Which is why I must…satiate my needs wherever I can,” he mumbles, fingers lurking under your chin, forcing your eyes to fall upon him. “Do you understand my meaning, dove?”

“I…yes.”

Discomfort flares within you. Tension hangs in the air, so heavy it clogs your airways. 

He cocks his head, lips slanting crookedly.

“Do you really? With that innocent look in your eyes, it’s hard to tell.” His thumb sweeps over your shuddering bottom lip. “Men have needs. And am I not a man, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes you are, sir.”

He bends over you to whisper in your ear. “You saw everything that day, didn’t you?” Your heart stops.

Flames lick your face as you bow your head. “I-I didn’t see anything.”

His warm breath ghosts over your earshell.

“Liar,” he mumbles.

Your pulse quickens.

He leans back and nudges your chin upward.

“Since my wife fell sick, I’ve been very lonely. And sometimes…” He looms over you, crowding your space as you peer up at him, fingers squeezing the arms of the chair. “I need something soft and warm to forget that feeling.”

President Snow slowly falls to his knees in front of you. His fingers find your thigh, starting to creep under your skirt. A devilish glint sparkles in his cobalt gaze. He finds your center, pressing the sheer fabric into your folds. You gasp. He chuckles at your reaction. He starts teasing you through your panties, tracing your slit and dragging over your tender bud. Your breath hitches as the air around you grows hotter. You grow slick beneath his finger, your thighs shaking as tingles bloom on your flesh.

“Sir…” you whimper, tears welling up in your eyes.

He pushes further inside you, adding another finger, and you unleash an audible breath. You try to close your thighs. He places his other hand on your knee to keep you open for him.

The air in your lungs grows thinner as he rubs your core through your soaked panties. The friction is a delicious torture. Pleasure pools in your belly causing your face to burn with shame. You’re getting embarrassingly wet with President Snow’s attention.

“I just want a little taste,” he murmurs, his deep timbre bleeding lust. “Just one time and it’ll never happen again,” he promises fervently as his lips graze your ankle. You find some relief when his fingers disappear from your drenched center. But your respite is ephemeral. He slips his hands under your ass and tugs at your panties.

Panic widens your eyes. Cheeks ablaze, you pull at the material between your legs with both hands. But he’s stronger than you and effortlessly drags the fabric along your legs. A wicked smile plays on his lips as tears glisten in your eyes. It’s soon down to your ankles. You squeal when the president yanks the panties off your foot, tossing them aside. Cool air sneaks beneath your skirt, swirling over your bare folds.

Hands over your knees to keep you spread, his wolfish gaze sweeps over your glossy folds. 

Your skin heats, embarrassment gathering in your chest. You’ve never been this vulnerable and exposed in front of anybody before.

“Please, President Snow, s-stop…” 

“But you’re dripping, sweetheart,” he states smugly, sinking a finger inside your weeping core, as if to make a point. Your breath hitches. He takes his finger out sluggishly. You clench when he grazes one of your sensitive spots. “Just as sweet as I expected,” he hums, obscenely licking your essence off his long digit.

Without a warning, he buries his head between your thighs. A sharp exhale leaps from your mouth. His cool tongue traces a wet trail over your folds. President Snow traces maddening patterns over your swollen bud causing your eyes to roll back.

You card your fingers through his silken platinum locks, hoping to push his head away. But the delightful sensations grow too overwhelming. You unravel beneath his sinful ministrations, your limbs twitching as the thread of your thoughts comes loose.

Your grip on his hair weakens. Your belly tightens, your chest rising and falling rapidly. 

You jolt as his tongue flickers over your tender heap of nerves. 

“P-President…” 

He purrs against your folds and the vibrations rock through your core. You squirm in the chair. Your thighs quake. Your vision dims, your mind blank as waves of pleasure swaddle you in their tide. Protests scatter on your tongue, replaced by wanton whimpers and moans.

Electricity ripples through your spine as you cry out.

Bliss engulfs you and your legs turn liquid. Shame swirls in your gut as your juices coat his tongue. He drinks your nectar, elation rumbling in his chest. 

When he lifts his head, you hardly recognize him. The feral glow in his gaze chills your blood.

There is no time to collect yourself, realize what just occurred, as the blonde gathers your limp frame from the chair and places you on his desk. Documents and papers are flung to the ground as he grabs your thighs and presses his throbbing hard-on against your cunt. 

He hastily unbuttons his pants, freeing his hard length. He fists his cock and guides it through your wet entrance. Your back arches, the sudden intrusion robbing you of air. He reaches the hilt of you in a few seconds, giving you no time to accommodate his thick girth. You collapse over the desk, weak whimpers leaving you as your walls are stretched to their limit. He drags out of you, his pupils flaring as they trace the motion of his length in and out of you. Coriolanus leans over you. He snaps his pelvis into your hips, each of his thrusts tearing tearful moans from your throat.

When you turn your head, hot tears flowing down your cheeks, he grabs your chin so you’re forced to meet his lustful stare. Bracing himself on the desk, he reaches between your bodies to pinch your swollen clit. He plucks at your soft bud until you shatter around him with a sob. His throat bobs, a look of sheer bliss flitting across his face when you clench around him.

“I’ve been dying to fuck you the minute I saw you,” he confesses, trailing soft pecks over your collarbone. A sinister chuckle peals from his lips. “The way you looked at me with those sweet, innocent eyes…it made me rock-hard.” He tilts your chin towards him, his thumb skimming over your parted lips.

Satisfaction glimmers in his eyes as they flick over your prone form.

“You should thank me. Those boys at the Academy wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like you…” His cock twitches inside you. Sticky warmth spills from him, painting your walls and dripping past your hole. Drops of his seed leak onto the desk. A throaty sigh pours from President Snow’s throat as your cunt flutters around him.

His teeth nip the skin of your neck.

“...But I do.”

After what occurs in his office, you hope to avoid President Snow. Those hopes are swiftly dashed however. President Snow lied to you. It doesn’t happen once. In fact, you begin to lose count of the actual number.

Every time the president finds a little spare time, he summons you.

Sometimes you end up bent over the desk in his office as he pours the frustrations of the day into your warm hole. Sometimes he prefers you sprawled on your back in one of the multitude of luxurious beds in the mansion while he devours you as if you were his very last meal. And at times, he grows even more impatient and simply shoves you against a wall before ravaging you.

More than once, a maid or footman has walked in on the two of you, and you’ve had to swallow your shame and embarrassment.

As you’ve come to learn, the entire staff is aware of Coriolanus Snow’s insatiable appetite and none of them seems to care.

You feel sick, desperate, trapped in something twisted and awful you never signed up for.

But how does one say no to President Coriolanus Snow? The entire Capitol yields to his every whim. And you are the same. Here to bow and smile and lie back whenever he demands it.

You long to focus on your job, to care for Martius and nothing else. Whenever the boy looks up at you with those innocent blue eyes, eerily similar to his father’s, your stomach wrenches. You pray he never comes to learn what kind of man his father is. You wish he’d stay just as kind and sweet as he is now.

Those are the thoughts drifting through your mind as you watch Martius play with his toy trains. Your eyes wander towards the window. Outside, orange and purple hues are bleeding into the sky, the afternoon nearing its end. Your stomach coils. It’s during times like these that President Snow often seeks you out. You’ve tried to run away from him but it’s all a game to Coriolanus, and he always delights in chasing you through the hallways.

Your brows crumple as you note that Martius has stopped playing. He drops his toy and rushes to your side. Confounded by his behavior, you’re on the cusp of asking him what’s wrong…but your gaze follows what caught his attention on the other side of the room.

You fall silent, your eyes rounding in shock.

“Martius. Come here, my love,” says the blonde woman in a white robe and nightgown, her arms wide open.

Time stands still for a few seconds. It takes you a while to realize who stands before the door. She looks so different, more ghost than woman, her glassy blue eyes hollow and sunken. But her likeness is unmistakable. Even with her graying, limp tresses and ashen complexion, you recognize Livia Cardew. The president’s wife.

You bolt to your feet. Arms still open, Livia takes slow steps towards Martius.

“I’m your mom, sweetie. Don’t you remember me?”

The little boy’s fists clutch your skirt as he hides his face against your leg.

“You’re not my mom.”

A stricken look twists Livia’s features as she shrinks. As if her own son just drove a knife through her heart. Your chest twinges. While her abrupt appearance is a shock, you can’t imagine how she must feel. You place a hand on Martius’ back and try to nudge him forward.

“Martius. It’s the First Lady, your mother. Go on, hug her,” you urge softly.

He shakes his head, tears filling his eyes as he hides behind you even more.

You’re stunned. Has it truly been that long?

“Martius-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, Livia lunging at you, her eyes wild with fury.

“You! This is all your fault,” she hisses. She points at you and scoffs, “You’re his new whore, aren’t you?” Her mouth wobbles as she grips her head. “First you take my husband, now my son.”

Martius begins to sob. His loud cries overlap with his mother’s frantic yelling. You cover his eyes, tossing Livia an apologetic look.

“First Lady, I never meant-”

Before you can explain yourself, she grabs a nearby vase and smashes it. White roses scatter on the floor. Stomping all over the petals and broken glass, she collects one of the shards and races towards you. Terror numbs you. You freeze as Livia aims the shard at you, scarlet droplets dripping on her nightgown as she squeezes her fist around the glass.

Your eyes shut as you wait for the inevitable strike.

You shiver, waiting still.

But it doesn’t come.

“Livia, darling, that’s enough. It’s time for you to sleep and take your medicine.”

The familiar sound of Coriolanus’ voice causes your eyes to snap open. 

You watch him restrain a struggling Livia. She curses at him, fighting him with all her might. It’s a painful spectacle. 

“No, don’t touch me!” Other staff members rush into the room. It takes several people to hold Livia down, colorful expletives pouring from her mouth as she punches and kicks whoever comes close. “You’re killing me! You bastard! Give me my son back! Martius! Martius!”

The child trembles against your skirt, his tear-filled gaze stuck to the floor.

Eventually someone manages to stick a needle into Livia’s neck. She instantly goes limp, arm still reaching for her son in her last conscious second.

“Take her away,” Coriolanus instructs.

The first lady’s flaccid form is dragged out of the room. Still shaken by what you just witnessed, you don’t move a muscle. President Snow approaches you, worry swimming in his blue orbs. 

“Are you alright, dove?” He cups your cheeks, his brows crumpling as his gaze settles on your neck. “I’ll have Doctor Gaul look at you. She has an ointment for that.” He caresses your cheeks, smiling. You gape at him. How can he smile at a time like that? “It won’t even scar. I promise.”

You graze your neck. Your fingers come away bloody. Oh. Livia nicked you with the shard but you didn’t even feel it. Perhaps adrenaline numbed you to the pain.

“Dada,” Martius chimes, lifting his chubby arms.

Coriolanus’ face warms as he picks up his son. He tosses him in the air and catches him. Martius giggles through his tears.

“My sweet boy. That was very scary, wasn’t it?” he says, balancing his son on his hip. Martius nods and wipes his nose. Coriolanus flicks his cheek, beaming at him. “Don’t worry, son. The scary lady won’t bother you anymore in a few months.”

A wave of ice blows through your veins. You wonder why the president uttered those words with such certainty. Like a promise. Or a prophecy. Almost as if he knows exactly when the grim reaper will come knock on his wife’s door.

The next day, you hand over your resignation to Pandora. Her expression is skeptical as she gauges the manila folder you give her.

“This is for the president,” you announce.

She unleashes a deep exhale. “You should reconsider, sleep on it.”

You almost laugh. Sleep on it? You can hardly find rest, the picture of a disheveled Livia Cardew crying out for her son haunting your nights. Whatever befell upon the poor woman, you wouldn’t be surprised if her husband somehow had a hand in it. It broke your heart, seeing her like that, her own son unable to recognize her. You also despise the role Coriolanus forced you to play in erasing her memory.

All of it feels wrong. 

And most of all, you don’t want President Snow to use you to satisfy his lewd desires anymore. He took all your firsts, all the moments that should have been beautiful, and made them a nightmare you have to relive every time he touches you.

You respected him; you admired him. Now you can’t be in his presence without dread whispering through you. What will he make you do this time? How will he make you small and powerless again?

“I can’t…I can’t do this anymore. He can hire someone else to care for him.”

Pandora purses her lips and shakes her head.

“It’s really not that simple. The president has developed…a fondness for you.”

You bristle. “I have to go back home. Laertes is expecting me.”

“You won’t like what comes next, trust me.” Her gaze narrows. “No one leaves the president.”

Ignoring the shudder elicited by her daunting words, you pivot and make a beeline towards the exit. Pandora’s voice echoes down the hallways.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Depleted, you glumly make your way to the gates. You enter the car that takes you back home everyday. Your thoughts wander as the Snow’s house grows smaller through the car window. You were thrilled when you got this job. It felt like kismet after the year you and your brother had. A rainbow after the rain. A slice of hope.

How it all went to hell so quickly. You’re still reeling from it. You’ve no idea what you’ll do next. The only thing you know for certain is that you will not step foot into the Snows’ estate ever again.

The car suddenly halts. You bump your head into the passenger’s seat. Wincing, you grip the sides of your head. As you retrieve your senses, you look around. You stopped.

You toss a questioning look at the driver.

But before he can respond, the car door opens and you’re yanked outside. Two pairs of strong arms drag you away from the car.

You take in the blue uniforms of the men. Terror pulses through your blood.

Peacekeepers.

Noting the guns at their sides, you stop trying to resist. There’s no fighting against them, ever. They are the Capitol’s fist and carry the President’s will. You don’t stand a chance. In fact, you likely never did. You slump in their grip, despair thrumming inside you.

They escort you to a black car with tinted windows. Your pulse soars. You’ve only ever seen one individual step out of this car.

The peacekeepers toss you inside and slam the door shut.

Your fearful gaze rises to him.

He casually sits in front of you, his eyes narrowed.

“You disappoint me, dove.” He lets out a weary sigh. “After everything I’ve done for you…you try to leave me. I thought you were smarter than that.”

You twine your hands, sputtering, “I-I’m not the right person for this job, sir.”

He slides his fingers under your chin, tilting it upward.

“Oh but you’re perfect. My son loves you. You’re sweet, dutiful and most importantly…” He smirks. “You are mine. Mine to hold, spoil and fuck whenever I please for however long I please.”

The prospect fills you with dread. He wants you to be his toy again, submissive, available whenever he pleases.

“Sir…”

His jaw ticks, his hold on your jaw tightening.

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if your brother could attend the University, free of charge? A bright young mind such as his, I believe he deserves it.” His blue eyes twinkle. “Instead of, let’s say…end up in a District, his name chosen as a tribute in the next Hunger Games.” Your heart sinks to your feet. “That’d be awful, wouldn’t it? So cruel…” he mumbles, stroking your trembling bottom lip.

“No, please,” you beseech, tears swelling in your eyes. Your brother’s all you have left in the world. Nothing can happen to him. 

Coriolanus fondles your cheek, the tender gesture a sharp contrast to the wicked words rolling off his tongue.

“It’s all up to you, then, dove. As long as you behave, I’ll give you the world. But if you act like a little brat again…” A threat lurks in his soft tone, a glint of madness swaying in his cobalt orbs. “I really don’t know what I might do.”

Chills dance over your spine.

“I promise to never do it again,” you blurt out.

He pulls out a square from his breast pocket. It’s identical to the one he used the first time.

But a lifetime seems to have passed since that moment, the world now so different from what you imagined, and the man before you…even more so.

“Good girl,” he lauds while swiping away your tears. 

He shoves the pocket square back in its place. Coriolanus then beams at you as he starts unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his pants.

“Now, I’ve had a long, exhausting day. So how about you get on your knees for me and make it better with that sweet mouth of yours, dove?”

[peachsayshi]

cc x·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ thinking about...reader trying to break up with yandere gojo  

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: yandere; dub con; lovesick gojo & he’s obsessive/toxic about it; he’s mean but yummy, okay?; size kink (ish?); gojo showing off his strength; sex without protection

notes: I had this written as an idea right after I wrote my hc’s for the jjk men in their yandere version. twylm readers, please forgive me for not posting the next chapter. I am working on it but I am really struggling - I had the worst burn out after the last chapter, and have been having a hard time trying to get back into the story >.< 

wc: 1,228

gojo plays with the hem of your skirt - the flat expression on his face telling you that he’s listening but appears unbothered by your statement. you can see the annoyance in his eyes, the irritation that you would say something so ridiculous in the middle of a make out session. 

his hands find the back of your thighs and with one swift motion he pulls you over his long legs so you’re hovering above his lap. the imbalance forces you to clutch onto his shirt with frustration, and he mindlessly reaches to undo his belt before tugging your underwear aside with his long, slender digits. 

“toru, are you listening to me?” you whisper in a small voice. 

“you want to take a break?” he repeats calmly, but those last two words are laced with disgust, barely slipping through his clenched teeth, and he lowers you down just enough for him to press the tip of his swollen cock against your slit. 

“I need to slow things down...” you breathe, lashes fluttering at the sensation from the contact. 

your thighs naturally start to tense up when he holds you there, and the pads of his fingers dig roughly into your hip to keep you in place. you hiss against the harsh touch, gazing down to find your lover pouting at you like a disappointed child.

any stranger would consider this an adorable expression with the way his big eyes widen while his brows upturn sorrowfully. 

to you, however, it was an entirely different message. 

“are you unhappy?” he asks, his words weighed down by hurt. 

a warm sensation travels up your calves as you try to maintain the pose and you shake your head no while squeezing him gently with reassurance. satoru flickers his attention back to the point of contact. your pelvis feels tight from holding this awkward position, and the ache to have him inside you naturally makes the space between your legs pulse with need. 

satoru gojo has given you everything and more. there is no reason for you to be unhappy. 

he made sure of that. 

“okay,” he confirms with a sigh, one palm moving to grope the curve of your ass while the other stabilizes your leg as he draws you down his length. “do you not love me?” 

a hard lump forms in your throat. 

you’re careful never to actually say those words to him. 

satoru’s devotion consumes your entire your soul - you can’t help but feel like you would be making a deal with a devil if you decided to admit your true feelings. 

you managed to keep his peace of mind this far by reassuring him with deep, promising kisses and strong acknowledgements of his feelings. 

technically you aren’t lying, but the reality is that you’re afraid to love him...and of what your love does to him.

giving him another silent reply, you nod your head as your fear creeps up the back of your spine. the only relief you find is the stretch between your legs, and your lips part into a circle as satoru gives himself to you inch by glorious inch.

your skirt flaps over you both, concealing him buried inside you. he arches forward to kiss your jaw, his large hands finding your breasts and he massages them over your fitted tank. 

he delicately trails his fingers down your waist to latch onto your hips once more. “then why...” he murmurs into your neck, “do you want to take a break?” 

your hand finds the back of his head, a moan leaving your parted lips when you feel him lick a stripe up the column before lightly nipping at your earlobe. 

“it’s just...” you gasp, feeling flowers of heat bloom in all the places he’s touching you, “I just feel like we are getting ahead of o-ourselves..ah...” 

he rocks your hips back and forth, moving at such a languid pace that you can’t help but clench your thighs around his own. your fingers curl around the snowy threads of his white hair, tugging at it gently before pulling his face away so you can meet his eyes. 

he looks smug - but he always does because he knows that you’re just addicted to him as he is to you. 

“isn’t that what we want?” he questions, the corner of his mouth twitching into a lazy smile as he takes off your top and unfastens your bra, “we’re already so perfect...” 

“satoru,” you whine, “that’s not the point-” 

this time he ruts his pelvis upward, interrupting your thoughts as he hits you at the right spot that makes your eyes disappear into the back of your head. he leans against the chair, maintaining full eye contact with you as he casually lifts you up before dropping you back down on his cock. “just want to make you m’pretty wife, is all...fuck you like this every single night...” 

you bite your bottom lip, frustrated with how wet he’s making you with his words. your body subconsciously succumbs to his demands and you slowly start bouncing up and down over his length. 

“that’s right, angel,” satoru grunts with approval, his hungry hands grab your ass roughly, and you squeak when you feel a slight sting from behind as the sound of his palm slapping against your skin echoes around the room. “see? I’m making you feel s’fucking good, your pussy’s so wet f’me...just for me...” 

when his mouth finds yours, you know you’ve lost the battle. his scalding kisses leave your lips swollen but you still search for him out of desperation to feel the fire. he’s reminding you how hard it would be to let go of him, reiterating that there is no man in this world who could ever love you as much he does. you feel silly for bringing this up, questioning your own trepidations about him and wondering if this is simply you sabotaging what you already have. 

you are in a daze from the way he fucks you but he isn’t slowing down his movements and you feel like he might actually split you in two. he would never speak to you with angry words, but you can feel it in his movements.

“gonna c-cum, gonna cum, gonna cum...” 

it comes out of you like a warning, but it only makes satoru go deeper and before you know it your vision is white. your body feels everything all at once, and the coil that’s been tightening around your lower belly loosens from the intense orgasm. the pleasure is euphoric, sinfully so, and it drains you of all the energy you’ve preserved. your body goes limp in satoru’s arms, and he keeps them wrapped securely around your waist as he pumps his cum inside you.

he holds you in this embrace, allowing the seconds to pass. his breath fans your collar bone while he tries to catch himself. your eyes feel heavy when you blink them open, and you cup his face in your hands as you seek to cool yourself down with his azure eyes.

“I’m never going to let you go,” he confesses with a sweet kiss to the inside of your palm, before placing another on your cheek while he tightens his grip, “so stop trying to push me away.” 

[actuallysaiyan]

I'll Do Anything(JJK virginity loss headcanons)

warnings: virginity loss, unprotected sex, use of condoms(Nanami), mentions of cunnilingus/fem!oral sex, dub con(Sukuna), forced sex(Sukuna), dark themes(Sukuna) word count: 1.7k pairings: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader, Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader, Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader, Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader a/n: I'm so close to finishing up season one of JJK, so I just had to write more content! I hope you all enjoy!! Smut under the cut!

“Pretty baby,” he coos softly as he slots himself between your thighs. “You sure you’re ready? I’m really big.”

You can barely make out what he’s saying. He’s been between your thighs for what seemed like hours. You knew it was to make you more comfortable with losing your virginity to him, but part of you wonders if he takes pleasure in lapping at your cunt.

“Sweetie, I need your consent.” Gojo reminds you, and you lick your lips. You look up at him, and those gorgeous eyes of his just pull you into a trance.

“Ready for you, Gojo. ‘Promise ‘m ready for you,”

He smiles, “That’s my good girl.”

Slowly, he lets his cockhead prod your tight hole. You’re just dripping all over his swollen, red cockhead. It excites him to no end that you’re going to let him be your first. In his mind, there’s no bigger stroke to his ego to have you cumming on his cock and knowing pleasure simply from him taking your virginity.

As he pushes more of himself into you, you swear you can feel your muscles beginning to give out. It’s all too much for you. Your eyes screw shut as the thick cock slides into you inch by inch. You’re panting as it reaches further into you. You didn’t know it would be this good. 

“Oh, baby,” Gojo says, his tone teasing. “You really are taking my cock so well.”

The words, you swear you hear them, but your brain is already so mush from all this lust that you aren’t sure he’s speaking the same language as you. It doesn’t take much for him to push the rest of his cock into you, and the moment it brushes against your cervix, you shudder.

“Gojo, I—” you whine. Your walls are contracting around him, making him grunt. 

Your whole body shudders and shakes as you feel all this pleasure come over you. You’ve never experienced an orgasm quite like this. It’s so much better than touching yourself or trying to make yourself cum with a vibrator. White hot pleasure is just coursing through you, making you whine and whimper.

Once you’ve come down from your high, you look up at him. He blinks; those beautiful orbs so full of wonder but you can see mischief in this look as well.

“Huh,” Gojo ponders aloud. “You just came, didn’t you?”

Your cheeks burn, “Gojo…”

He leans in to kiss you, “No need to be embarrassed. There’s more to come, sweetheart.”

He thinks you look so beautiful like this, all sprawled out on the bed. But there’s this part of him that just wants to tease you for being so fucked out already. He hasn’t even entered you, and you’re moaning just like a bitch in heat. It’s honestly one of the most flattering things to him, and yet he’s trying not to let it get to his head too much.

“Such a naughty baby,” He murmurs as he presses sloppy kisses up your body.

His lips capture yours as he slots himself between your thighs. You don’t even have much time to react before he’s pushing his thick cock into you. Tears sting your eyes at the sensation of being stretched out like this. You push on his stomach, pleading for him to take it a little slower than he is.

“Come on,” he goads. “You can take it,”

You’re panting now, and the pleasure mixes in with the pain of being stretched out like this. You want to look down to make sure he’s not actually splitting you in half with his cock. But his forefinger and thumb capture your chin to make you look into his eyes. If he could have this moment ingrained in his memory forever, he would choose to do so. You look so precious to be losing your virginity just like this. It’s exactly how Geto wanted it.

“You can take it all, baby. I know you can.”

You whimper as he pushes even deeper into you. Your eyes cross as the pleasure keeps building inside of you. Your walls are clamping down against his cock, making him grunt at the sensation of your virgin pussy trying to milk him for all he’s got. He knows he wants this to last, but he wasn’t counting on it feeling this good. 

“Look at you,” Geto chuckles darkly. “You’re a natural slut,”

You whine, “Please,”

He laughs again, loving the effect this has on you. Who would've thought all he needed to tame your brattiness was just some cock? You were clearly so pent up, and now all he had to do was fuck you until you’re brattiness just disappeared. 

“Please what?” He asks, his tone mocking.

“More, please.”

And with those words, Geto positions himself on his knees for a little more stability. With his hands on your hips, he begins pounding you into the mattress.

He can’t help but feel enamored by the sweet sight of you on his bed like this. He can’t remember the last time he felt this aroused. When you asked him to be your first, he was touched. Nanami knew he had to make this a moment that you’ll never forget.

And he prepared for the night too. He took you out on a romantic date, bought some condoms and lube, and he made his bed extra comfortable for the two of you. By the time he has you back to his apartment, you’re already feeling pretty affectionate for the man. He was just so special to you, and you knew he’d treat you right.

You look up at him, smiling that sweet smile of yours. Everything that you do in this moment, it goes straight to his cock. Nanami reaches down to adjust himself in his underwear, then he turns his attention back to you.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” He asks, reaching over to the bedside table for the box of condoms. You smile sweetly again. “Yeah, I’m ready,” 

He leans in to kiss you, and your tongues rub together sensually. You’ve never been more sure of something in your life than this. You’ve been in love with Nanami for so long, so when you were ready to lose your virginity, you knew it would have to be him you’d want to lose it to.

He undresses himself completely, and he spreads your thighs. As much as he wants to go in raw, he knows it’s not responsible. So he takes one of the foil packets from the box and tears it open. His eyes inspect the condom, and once he deems it acceptable, he begins rolling it onto his leaking cock.

You can’t tear your eyes away from this scene. He looks so good doing something as simple as putting a condom on his cock. It’s just the idea that the lewd act is coming. He grabs the bottle of lubricant from the bedside table and he smears a little of it onto the already lubed up condom. The rest of the lube goes onto your vulva, and he spreads it all over your tight hole and your swollen clit.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Nanami says before pressing the tip of his cock to your hole.

A gasp falls from your lips as he begins pushing into you. It feels so good to be full like this. His eyes are scanning your features for any signs of pain, but you look so full of love right now. It really warms his heart.

“Please, don’t stop.” You whine, which earns you a sweet chuckle from Nanami. “I wasn’t planning on it,”

As soon as his cock is inside of you fully, Nanami knows that he can start thrusting slowly. He sees the love in your eyes, and he knows he made the right choice in being your first.

Sukuna absolutely loves being able to fuck virgins. But there is something extremely special about you. He’s not even sure what it is, but you’re just so adorable and sweet. He usually thinks himself better than to fall into this kind of affection, but the way you keep clinging to him makes him a little dizzy with lust.

“Oh, you are just asking for it,” Sukuna comments, and his fingers go down to your pussy once more.

You’ve been sitting on his lap for what feels like forever now, and he’s been so eager to just let you have all this pleasure. Whether it be with mouths or with his fingers, he’s happily had you cumming for hours now. You’ve made such a stain on his pants, and the smell of you is just permeating the air. You’re barely coherent now, but you want to hang on. You want more than just cumming on his fingers or on his tongues.

“You want my cock now, don’t you?” He asks, though he knows you don’t have much choice in the matter. You’ll be taking his cock whether you like it or not.

But you nod so obediently, “Yes yes yes, please!”

A delirious laughter rumbles through him. You remind him of the reason he loves virgins so much. They become so caught up in all the pleasure that they forget that they have to give away a part of themselves to him.

“That’s a good girl,” his voice is thick with a mocking tone. “I knew you’d want it.”

With one of his hands, he holds you up. The other hand begins undoing his pants quickly. He wants to be buried deep inside of you as soon as he can. His cock slaps against his abdomen as soon as he’s got it freed from the confines of his pants. You barely have time to react as he sinks you down onto the immense girth.

You scream his name as the sensations of his cock splitting you in two hit you. It’s all so intense at once. Sukuna smirks as he watches you squirm and wiggle, almost trying to get off of his cock. But he keeps his hands on your hips, practically locking you onto him. Before you know it, he’s bouncing you up and down on his thick girth.

“Ganbare, ganbare,” Sukuna teases. His thumb wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “You’re doing so good for me, heheheheheh…”

He throws his head back as the pleasure of your virgin cunt overwhelms him. He’ll gladly keep you right on his cock for eternity if he chooses to do so.

[wandasfavv]

Make You Mine

Wanda x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ummm stepmom Wanda being upset with you for hosting a birthday party and not listening to her??

Idkkk this is my first time writing anything SO PLEASE just give me chance. I’m not really sure what I’m doing but like it’s something and I wrote this in one sitting. So please ignore any mistakes I made

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Stepmom!Wanda x Fem!Reader, alcohol, intoxicated r, non/con, somnophilia, mommy kink, oral(r receiving), jealousy, mentions of straight relationship, just Wanda being pervy

The floor trembled under you as music played obnoxiously through the speakers. You had the house to yourself and since it was your 21st birthday, you hosted a party at your house. There was around twenty people or so that you invited, having known them from college or even before.

With the promises of causing no trouble and being good, your father decided to give you permission to celebrate with your friends. Your step mom on the other hand, not so much.

“Y/N no, I told you already I don’t want you and your friends making a mess in the house that I know you’re not going clean,” Wanda said sternly as she set the dirty dishes in the sink. It was so rare for the older woman to ever let you do anything surrounding your friends. Despite being an adult, she’s always treated you as if you were a kid who never knew how to take care of yourself, and you hated it. Here she was doing that exact thing.

“I promise I’ll clean everything, Wanda. Just let me,” you responded, helping her clean up the table from dinner just to prove a point. She sighed before looking back up and at you, her expression displaying a displeasured look. You, being persistent, kept trying. Begged even as you put on a pleading face. “Please, I’ll do check ins and make sure nothing breaks or anything.”

Wanda found herself amused at your attempt of convincing her, the use of ‘please’ being sorta cute. However, you breaking stuff or making messes weren’t her actual concerns. She just didn’t trust you with your friends.

There were so many nights where she’d catch you trying to sneak out with them, sometimes not being able to and waking up to see you in the morning covered with marks and hickies from whatever. It made her feel an itch whenever she saw you unawarely show off anything that didn’t come from her. Plus, she was always worried about your friends taking advantage over you and making you do stuff she just thought you shouldn’t be doing. And now that you’re planning on a party where’d you be unsupervised, and possibly going to be doing more of these things, she just couldn’t bear the thought.

“For the last time. No-“

“Hey come on it’s fine. Let the kid do what she wants, it’s her 21st birthday,” your father intervened, not noticing the anger and frustration on his wife’s face. He smiled at you, and went his way to Wanda through the kitchen, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s just take it as a chance to go on a date or something.”

The sight of him touching her and the word ‘date’ coming out of his mouth made your stomach churn. You didn’t know why though. Sure there were moments you found Wanda attractive and pretty even, but she was like a little less than twice your age and married to your father. It’d be weird to like her in any way like that. Right…?

“Well, thanks dad. I’ll go ahead and do it then,” you replied, your voice sounding taunting to Wanda as you glared up at her.

Excusing yourself, you went to your bedroom, trying to get the picture of the two out of your head. But before leaving, you noticed how Wanda somewhat pushed him away gently.

Back to the party, there you were taking shots and drinks down your throat like you’ve had before. Since you were now legally able to drink alcohol, everyone brought some combined with any that you found in the cabinets. You knew Wanda would probably be mad at you for taking some, but at least you left her favorite wine.

After a couple hours of playing games and enjoying your time letting the drunk feeling sink in, people began to leave, saying bye as they departed and said their birthday wishes to you. It was around 1am at this point, and you knew your dad and Wanda would be back soon. Though, you could barely see anything as you walked. After taking so much of the burning liquor and not considering the consequences, you felt completely sick and out of it, obviously not remembering your promises of cleaning up. Your phone was no where to be found and you had no clue about Wanda’s concerns.

Your last couple of friends helped you with a little bit of trash, picking up only after themselves however, and leaving most of it to you. Feeling lightheaded, you found your way to your room as you held onto the walls, plopping down on the bed once you were in as if you weren’t on the verge of throwing up. As you laid down comfortably, your eyes became heavy, leading you into a deep sleep in which you didn’t hear the car driving and parking onto the driveway.

Wanda came into the house, already prepared to yell at you after you didn’t answer her calls from earlier. She walked over the cups and napkins left on the floor toward your room, expecting you to be up and just ‘busy’ doing anything but cleaning like you said. But instead, she walked into you passed out on your bed, still in your uncomfortable clothing as you reeked of alcohol. She once again sighed out in irritation, not sure if she should be shouting at you or your father for letting you host a stupid a party.

She takes a few steps towards you, reaching her hand out to gently push the loose strand of hair from your face as you slept at the edge. Wanda couldn’t help but smile at your cute sleeping antics though, noticing your eyebrows create an indent in between and your nose twitch. Picking you up with her unusual strength, she put you into bed correctly, placing your head onto the soft pillow lightly. She paused for a moment thinking about her next move as she realized again the clothes you were wearing. They were revealing and provocative, something you’d never proudly wear in front of her or your father. Wanda bit her bottom lip, not knowing whether she should do what she’s thinking, but she did it anyway.

Slowly, she put her hands at the hem of your short top, trying her best to take it off you without you waking. She just didn’t want you to sleep in uncomfortable clothing, that’s all… Successfully pulling it off, she threw it down on the floor. Her eyes trailed down to your chest, which was still covered with your bra. She blushed a bit, finding your body beautiful yet so tempting her eyes then made their way to your bottom half, contemplating if it was a good idea to take your pants off too.

The sound of your father’s voice shook the thought out of her head. He called her name, wondering if everything was okay as the house was quiet, which wasn’t usual if it was Wanda yelling at you. She quickly got out of your room, hoping she wouldn’t be caught doing anything inappropriate with her husband’s daughter and went to her own bedroom, now ignoring the mess that surrounded her through the halls.

After about an hour, Wanda came back into your room. Just to check on you, maybe. She cleaned herself up, taking off any of the makeup she put on for the date she was just on, which was really just her having to suffer through pretending to enjoy whatever it was that they did. She was dressed in simple pajamas, just a shirt and shorts, and even then she looked perfect. Her oblivious husband was asleep now as well, and she took it as her chance to go back to your unconscious state. Walking gingerly to the side of the bed that you were on, she turned on the light on your nightstand and stared at your body again, thinking about taking off your pants like earlier. This time she did do it. Her hands went to the top of them, tugging them down with barely any force. Now leaving with you in only your undergarments, she found herself immersed in your entire being, her hand trailing down your body.

“Fuck, what am I doing…” Wanda whispered to herself as she bit the inside of her cheek in nervousness. You shifted in response to her touch, still in deep sleep as you unknowingly made her lose her composure. A soft groan left her mouth as you turned onto your side and had your back face her, exposing your ass. Looking back at the door and you, Wanda came to the conclusion that neither you or your father would be waking up anytime soon, so she crawled into bed with you on the other side, going under the cold sheets.

She’s never interacted with you with touch before, maybe just a couple hugs and light touches to your lower back, but never more as she didn’t really want to risk and indulge in anything. But seeing you now, your unconscious body, which wouldn’t know what’s about to happen, made her yearn for more.

Her hand made its way back to your face, cupping your cheek that’s faced up unlike the other which was adorably squished against the pillow. She leaned down placing a feather light kiss to your forehead to test you and to see if you really were heavily asleep. And you were. Receiving the green light to go further, her lips went father down to your nose, then to your mouth. Not caring if you were unconscious and intoxicated, she gently pushed her lips against yours, letting out a soft moan as she finally got to kiss you like she’s dreamt of from so many nights where she’d wake up with a mess in between her legs. Her hand went down to your waist, and squeezed it just a bit, but the action made you squirm and part from the kiss, once again turning and facing your back to Wanda.

Disappointed to not see your face, she breathed out. She still kept her hands on you though, wrapping an arm around your midsection and pulling you toward her body. She put her face into your neck, taking in your scent that remained besides the alcohol. “God, I need you so bad baby,” Wanda mumbled behind your ear. Her fingers from her other hand came up to unclip your bra, freeing your chest and allowing her to grope your breasts, still lightly as she wanted you to stay asleep. Her perverted actions were so different compared to how she’d usually behave around you.

Your body responded to her many ways as she touched you. You pushed your ass against her front, your panties being the only thing separating her from touching your father down. She groaned again at this, as if your body subconsciously wanted her to fuck you. And once a small and barely audible whimper escaped from your lips, she lost it. Her head spun from the way you acted, forcing her to find ways to control herself from just pinning you down and having her way with you. She bit down on your lower neck, making you once again let out another noise of disturbance.

“So needy even when you’re sleeping… fuck, I can’t stand you,” she said quietly against your skin, biting her lip and moving her hand down your tummy and further to your center. Her fingers reached the band of your underwear, causing her to huff out in annoyance of it being there still. Being a little less gentle, she tugged it down and immediately cupped your cunt. It was kinda rough as she desperately wanted to feel you. Her fingers went through your folds, collecting your wetness. Then, she reached up to her lips to taste you as she put them in her mouth, sucking your arousal off. She moaned, and already in love with how you tasted she wanted more of it.

Her body moved down, removing the sheets off of you and her. The soft yellow glow from the light on your body mesmerized her as she positioned herself between your legs. Parting them, she bent down and put her arm underneath your thighs before having them in a tight hold with her hands gripping the smooth flesh there. Wanda looked up at your sleeping self, admiring your beauty as her lip quivered from need with your pussy just centimeters away from her mouth. She stuck her tongue out, gently licking up and between your folds, up your clit. Your body quickly began to stir, and your eyes were forced shut as you turned your head. Wanda stopped momentarily, waiting for you to settle.

Once you stopped moving, she started to move her tongue against you again. Switching between licking around your sensitive nub and entering your cunt with her tongue, she moaned at how sweet you were, making her hold on you tighter to the point where light bruises were to form. Another small whimper mixed with a moan left your mouth as Wanda hit a particular spot within you. Your hips jerked up, and this only caused her to move roughly against and in your pussy. “Mm, waited so long to make you mine…”

Now that she was lost in pleasuring you and herself, you began to wake up from the slight aggressive movements. Your eyes opened, squinting from the bright light beaming beside your face. Confused, you closed your eyes again before recognizing a feeling between your thighs. Wanda noticed you waking up, no longer caring and actually glad you were. As you looked down you saw her face covered in your wetness mixed with her own saliva. Your jaw dropped from both shock and pleasure as she continued moving her tongue in and out of your increasingly soaked center. “W-Wanda..?” You shakily spoke, reaching down to her head, only to be stopped as her hands took yours and pinned them down beside your thighs.

“Shh… just let mommy take you, okay?” She said, noticing the way your hips bucked up against her face from the name she used for herself. “You’ve been so bad, you know that? You know how upset you made me, leaving a mess outside… and hanging out with all your dumb little friends…” she said lowly against your pussy, the vibrations of her voice making you moan and tilt your head back. Her mind shifted back to previous days at the mention of your friends. “So fucking annoying, coming home with all those marks on you and from who huh? Do they fuck you better than me baby?”

The constant questions and use of cuss words turned you on further as you never had nor expected Wanda to talk to you like this. Your mind was still hazy too, from just waking up and the after effects of drinking too much. “No… no m-mommy no,” you gasped, dumbly shaking your head. Wanda moaned, hearing you say her preferred term and getting drunk off your sounds. Her grip on your hands were now even tighter matching yours as you got closer to your orgasm.

Your moaning got louder as well, somewhat worrying Wanda as she didn’t want this time with you ruined by your dad waking up. So letting go of one of your hands, she reached up and covered your mouth, the pressure being harsh. Your noises were only muffled sounds of pleasure, still arousing to hear to Wanda. “Shut up sweetie, you don’t want your father to hear you, do you?” She questions, smirking slightly as you shook your head no. She loved the way you looked down at her, your eyebrows furrowed with a look of desperation and slight fear for bringing up that fact that he was in the other room down the hall.

As you were on the edge of cumming, your free hand went down to Wanda’s hair, grasping the soft locks of brown hair like you’ve always wanted. Her tongue kept going and swirled around the clit once again, really pushing you towards releasing all over her face and specifically in her mouth. You whined against her palm, signaling to her that you needed to let go. “You gonna cum, princess? Cum all over mommy’s tongue?” She asks in a condescending tone, smiling to herself as you tried to respond under her hand. She let her hand fall for you to speak and beg her for permission.

“P-Please mommy, please I wanna cum,” you begged, whimpering as you tried to hold back before she said yes. The hold on her hair got tighter, causing her groan again. Tears grew at the corners of your eyes and Wanda couldn’t help but get more aroused at the sight.

“Mhm, go ahead baby…” Wanda replied, going at a faster and rougher pace, battling against the tiring and numb feeling in her muscle. You let go the second you hear her, moving and grinding your cunt against her to ride out the orgasm that’s making your entire body tremble. Louder and higher pitched sounds from your mouth escaped, causing Wanda to instead move back up your body and shut you up by kissing you, shoving her tongue in your mouth and making you taste your own arousal.

“Uh-huh, good girl… so good for me,” she whispered, parting form the kiss and settling beside you in the bed, pulling you in her arms in a tight comforting hold laying down. The praise made you weaker, and with her pampering you by wiping your tears away while gently petting your head, it made you lost in your mind. You panted against her chest and held onto her hand still securely. She waited for you to calm down a bit before speaking again.

“Shhhh… it’s ok, just go back to sleep dear,” Wanda said softly and moving her arms to wrap around you. She figured you were still tired, from both the orgasm and the alcohol. She right of course, and you found yourself becoming drowsy in her arms.

“Wanda…” you suddenly said sleepily, catching her attention with your stable voice. She looked down at you, still comfortingly rubbing your side. The tired look on your face showing absolutely no signs of a single thought in your head was adorable to her and she smiled while responding to you with a small “hm?”

“I’m sorry for being bad,” you mumbled timidly, looking away for a moment as there was a permanent blush. Wanda laughed softly at you, her hands now to your cheek to make you look at her.

“You’re so cute… just make it up to me tomorrow okay, and then maybe we can do something like this again,” She responded, a loving grin on her face with a light pink tint on her cheeks. You nodded slowly and smiled at her. Wanda then kissed your head, shushing you to sleep. And you listened, saying a small goodnight before quickly beginning to snore softly into her neck once you shut your heavy eyelids just for a couple seconds in her warm embrace.

Part 2(Getting Closer)

[cordeliawhohung]

In Limbo [Chapter 6]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist

mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

no good deed ever goes unpunished

cw: minor depictions of violence, shady activities, non-con touching/groping, non-con kissing, a lot of hurt, no comfort, playfully shitting on people from Birmingham.

wc: 5k

Small chunks of salt stick to the tips of Simon’s fingers, dusting them like fresh snow. You were right; a simple order of chips really isn’t enough to keep him going throughout the night. 

If anything, the saltiness makes him hungrier. It pummels his stomach until it’s grumbling at an annoying frequency, and it doesn’t do much to help the dryness in his mouth, either. He would have tried to order something if it wasn’t damn near impossible to get anyone to deliver to the club, and god forbid Price actually install a proper kitchen. But there would be no use for any sort of kitchen in a place like that, as it’s not good food that makes people swarm to the club like brainwashed zombies. It’s the booze. The music. A quickie in the stall. 

Shady activities in an alleyway. 

Simon huffs as he tosses the empty chip container in the small bin that sits in the corner of the surveillance room. Monitors upon monitors line the wall on the far side of the room, illuminating the concrete floor with a grey glow as faint music pulses through the air. He hates this room. Small, stuffy, and overheating with the computers and servers; he’d rather be out in the bitter November winter right about now. He’s out of luck tonight, because after nearly two weeks, Johnny’s research has finally bore fruit. 

About time, too. All Simon has been able to think about for the last few days has been you. Sometimes when he closes his eyes, he can still see the outline of your body that’s ingrained in his mind. Your limp, exhausted form as you rested in the conversation pit — too overwhelmed to keep conscious. He doesn’t know why you haunt him so terribly. Perhaps Mrs. Price is to blame; she knows how he never likes leaving a job half done. 

Or maybe it’s because you’re so… peculiar. For a woman he could only describe as being a skittish cat, you’ve suddenly melted into some other version of yourself. Your dislike of his proximity to you was obvious. Short words, awkward exchanges, yet the impulsive need to constantly get even with him, like you were trying to sweep up the breadcrumbs that lead to your door so he couldn’t follow you home. 

However, when he visited you a few days ago to check on your hands — as promised — you seemed to be a whole new person. Well, not entirely. If you were the world’s most skittish cat before, you had now become the feral stray that would maybe eat out of the palm of his hand if he didn’t look at you while you did it. He would ask you questions and you would respond with something more than simple words or an uneasy, anxiety induced joke. 

I’m just… glad you’re not doing it just for me.

He still wonders what you meant by that.

“Hey, you paying attention?” Johnny quips.

Simon blinks the glaze out of his eyes — one which still carries a now greenish-yellow hue around his cheekbone — and pushes the thoughts of you out of his mind as his attention fully settles on the monitors in front of him. A chair squeaks as Johnny settles back against worn, faux leather. He’s already got everything loaded up for whatever presentation he’s about to give. 

“Waitin’ on you, Johnny,” Simon playfully retorts. 

“Right,” he replies, rubbing his hands together, “so I’ve been trying to do some research on your dance partner here, and he’s a slippery fucker. Whoever he is, he’s good at covering his tracks up. At least through the methods I use to find people. Nothin’ on the media or anythin’ like that. Might as well not exist at all in the tech world.” 

A hum rumbles in Simon’s throat as he crosses his arms. “You drag me in here just to tell me you found nothing?” 

Johnny’s neck cranes to the side where he then looks up at him with a smirk. “Come on, Riley, when have I ever wasted your time?” 

Both men turn their attention back to the monitor as Johnny begins to wind and rewind through footage from a few days ago. Everything happens fast; speedy bodies darting across view, and the comedic speed up of light snow falling on the ground, but not sticking. Static streaks across the screen as the footage warps, before it suddenly pauses again. 

“Since I wasn’t able to find anything on this guy, I decided to sleuth through this video again, and I found something a little odd about this bloke here,” Johnny explains as he points to a male figure. Whoever it is, they’re faced away from the camera with their hands shoved deep into their pockets to stave off the cold. “He enters the alley before your pal does…”

The video plays at normal speed, and the faceless man vanishes behind the brick corner of the building a few meters down, just as Johnny described. He fast forwards, and everything plays at triple speed. Simon’s seen it all before. The man who accosted you enters the alleyway, and then you unfortunately come across him a bit later, but then something happens that he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to before. 

The man Johnny pointed out leaves the alley, this time facing the camera. He’s fiddling with something in his hands, and upon closer inspection, Simon’s able to tell it’s a wad of cash. It’s quickly stowed away in his pocket, and that’s when Johnny pauses the video. 

“He leaves as soon as Chip arrives, shovin’ cash into his pocket like he struck a deal,” he concludes. 

Tense fingers grip the back of the office chair as Simon leans over Johnny’s shoulder, squinting at the face on the screen. He scrutinizes every detail possible through the fuzzy footage, and his jaw flexes as he huffs. Square jaw, visible stubble, and eyes just as shifty as his character. 

“He looks familiar,” Simon mutters. 

“He outta. Fucker works here,” Johnny drops. 

A rancid, sour taste floods the back of Simon’s throat at that revelation, and his fingers tense to the point the imitation leather of the chair threatens to crack beneath his grip. Fury rises in the dark irises of his eyes as he leans back and grumbles. It seems like such a simple detail to miss. Something that he should have caught on to the other night, even in his sleep deprived state. If he had, he would have been several leaps closer to the real issue ages ago. 

“Who is he?” Simon demands. 

“Marcel Wylder,” Johnny answers as he twists in his chair to face him. “Works part time as one of the bartenders in the VIP lounge. Only really works on weekends, and according to the floor manager, he’s a good kid. Only twenty three years old. Always shows up on time, things of that sort.”

“Good kids don’t meddle with men who like to scare women in alleyways,” Simon retorts. 

Johnny shrugs. “Guess we all have our dark sides… some more dark than others.” 

It takes a few more moments for Simon to finally get himself to look away from the screen, and his eyes land on Johnny with a malice not meant for him. He’s not quite sure why this revelation angers him so. The sting of failure pricks at his skin too violently for him to ignore it. 

“He here tonight?” he then asks. 

“Yeah, he’s working on the second floor right now. Or, at least that’s where he was last, according to the cameras,” Johnny answers. He pauses to lick his lips and tilt his head at Simon. “You’re brewing something up in that head of yours. None of it looks too cheerful.” 

Swarthy eyes glare back at the monitor as Simon commits this new face and name to memory. Marcel Wylder. Twenty three. Square jaw. Stubble. Thin eyes. 

“Thanks for the intel, Johnny,” is all Simon says as he turns on his heels and walks towards the exit. 

A high pitched squeak echoes off the dull white walls of the room as Johnny spins in his chair to watch him leave. All he can make out are straight set shoulders, clenched fists, and an aura that demands blood. 

“Go easy on the kid!” Johnny calls after him, his voice too saccharine to truly mean it. 

There are very rare times when Simon Riley feels like a savior, but he can’t deny the fact that he feels like Moses when he’s walking through John’s club. All it takes is a single glance or a firm hand on someone’s shoulder, and the mass of pulsing bodies splits for him like the Red Sea. 

This trend continues as he jogs up the wrought iron spiral staircase that leads up to the second floor, and his path to Marcel is highlighted by the mob of patrons crowding the bar. He looks nicer tonight than he did the other night, and his square jaw almost appears defined now that he’s shaved that fuzz off of his face. Pristine dress clothes mark him as a perfect employee as he quickly fills orders and stuffs tips in his pocket all with a thankful smile. Doesn’t look like he’s doing half bad for himself, considering there’s a near topless woman serving booze next to him.

“Marcel!”

Simon’s voice booms louder than the bass of the music, and is so sharp all other sounds nearly seem to cease for a moment. That pathetic sod glances up from his work like a schoolboy being scolded, and his face grows pallid. All it takes is a simple gesture of his fore and middle fingers to get the man to slip from behind the bar and join him in the crowd. Smart kid. Everyone knows not to mess with Riley. 

He leads the boy out behind the building like a lamb to slaughter. Just like a good offering, he’s quiet. Hardly questions anything besides an is everything alright? to which Simon doesn’t respond. Frigid wind attempts to cut through the formidable fabric of Simon’s clothes, but it seems to really do a number on Marcel. Hardly even ten seconds out the door and the poor boy is wrapping his arms around himself and trying hard not to shiver lest he look pathetic in front of the head of security. 

A flickering security light is the only source of illumination in the shady alley, and even in the bleakness of the winter the garbage spoils and festers with a stomach-churning odor. Marcel stands cornered with his back to the wall, and he watches with trepidation as Simon’s hand dives into his pocket. Relief doesn’t fill his face until he realizes it was only a pack of cigarettes he was searching for, and not something nefarious. 

The cancer-stick sits at home between Simon’s lips as he lights it and puffs out a steady stream of smoke until it’s well lit. A gentle breeze whisks it away into the air where it quickly dissipates among the smog smothered stars. Once he’s satisfied, he holds the pack out toward Marcel. 

“You smoke?” he asks. 

“Yes sir,” Marcel answers. 

Simon shakes the pack, and a smile pulls at the boy’s lips.

“Cheers.” 

As Marcel’s trembling hands work on igniting the lighter, Simon takes a better look at him. There’s hardly a single scar on him, and his hands are much too soft to truly be a part of any violent syndicate. Still, anyone can be a mole, even if they’re a smoothed face kid. Besides, he’s got a Brummie accent, and Simon fucking hates Birmingham. 

“What d’ya do outside of workin’ here?” Simon asks. It’s kind enough. Simple, polite conversation — but there’s nothing civil about the look in his eyes as he chews on the filter of his cigarette. 

“School, mostly,” Marcel replies. 

Simon hums. “Uni?”

“Greenwich.”

“Smart.” 

Another exhale of smoke dances between Simon’s lips as he huffs, dark eyes still trained on Marcel. He’s damn near shivering out of his skin as the black fabric of his uniform is designed to whisk away sweat and keep you cool in warm, humid temperatures. No matter, the boy can warm up soon enough — Simon intends for this interaction to be quick. 

“Since you’re a smart kid, you’ll do well to be truthful with me then, yeah?” Simon prompts as he flicks a bit of ash onto the ground. “That bloke you met up with the other night? Who is he?”

Trembling muscles suddenly freeze, and the cigarette seems stuck against Marcel’s lips. There’s no exhale of smoke, or the embers brightening at the tip to show he’s inhaling; there’s nothing. 

“Bloke?” he repeats. 

“The fucker you met up with in the alley a week or two ago,” Simon snaps, already impatient. 

Marcel jumps and the cigarette falls free from between his lips and fingers. It sputters and whines on the ground, where the boy quickly puts it out of its misery by stomping on the embers until they’re no longer glowing. 

“Right, erm, Andrei I think it was.”

“And what did he want?” Simon presses. 

“Well, he had this picture of someone. Some bitch he didn’t want hanging around here I suppose. Was asking me questions about her and stuff,” Marcel replies earnestly. 

A bright pink dusts the tips of Simon’s ears, but it’s impossible to tell if it’s from the cold biting his skin, or the rage boiling through his veins. “What did she look like?” 

“She was dressed mostly in black, kind of similar to our serving uniforms. It looked like it was taken through the window of some restaurant, but I don’t know which one, I swear.” 

Sapori. Teeth nearly cut through the filter of the cigarette as Simon’s jaw clenches, and he rips the thing out of his mouth to toss it on the ground, not even bothering to stomp it out. This man — this Andrei — is getting too close to you for comfort. He thinks back to the way you reacted in the alley; how petrified you were. A terrible thought plagues his mind as he wonders what else has been done to you to get you to fear someone so terribly. 

Simon doesn’t like where his mind is wandering. 

“What questions did he ask about her?” Simon continues.

“Dunno, just regular stuff? I suppose? Like when she was here and who she was with. Things like that,” Marcel answers.

Simon raises an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I told him the truth. About how she was here on Halloween. I mean, I didn’t see much of her so there wasn’t a lot I could tell him. Honest. I think he was mostly looking for confirmation that she was here at all. He didn’t ask for anything else after that and sent me on my way.” 

Acid eats away at Simon’s stomach as the chips he ate before this seem to have a hard time settling with the heavy ire disrupting his mood. Dense feet scrape against the ground as he takes a few steps closer to Marcel, who puts his hands up in defense as if that’s going to do anything against the raging storm barreling straight for him.

“That’s it, that’s everything, honest! I swear!” he pleads. 

“I know. I believe you,” Simon says through gritted teeth. 

Worn knuckles crash into the tense flesh just underneath Marcel’s sternum, stealing the very breath from his lungs. He sputters miserably as his back crashes against the brick wall behind him, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t breathe. A deep purple hue stains his face as his body begins to jolt and spasm uncontrollably. It’s impossible to keep himself upright with the wind knocked out of him, and he slowly slides onto the ground with his hands over his stomach like he’s trying to stop blood flowing through a wound. 

“You’re a smart boy, so listen close,” Simon says as he crouches to Marcel’s new height. “Be careful who you call a bitch ‘round here, because if I hear you refer to a woman like that again, I’ll knock your goddamn teeth out, ya hear?” 

Still sputtering and heaving, Marcel nods.

“Good. Now, that woman Andrei showed you? Forget her. She doesn’t exist to you. If he comes ‘round here again askin’ about it, you tell him you haven’t seen her, because you won’t. You’ve got nothin’ for him, yeah? Nod,” Simon continues, and Marcel complies. “If anyone ever starts askin’ about any of our patrons or workers, you bring that shit right to me. Don’t you ever go ‘round behind my fuckin’ back again. You think there’s anything that happens here that I don’t know about? Huh?” 

After an eternity of struggle, Marcel is finally able to get a good gasp in, and a few subsequent breaths after that. That bright purple begins to fade from the paleness of his face, and he quivers and shakes his head. 

“N-No sir,” he stutters. “Sor-ry…” 

“Good, and don’t fuckin’ forget that.” 

Simon pushes himself up to his feet and looks down at Marcel as he writhes and chokes on his achy diaphragm. He haphazardly digs around his pocket for his pack before he retrieves a single cigarette and tosses it toward the pathetic lump of a man at his feet. It bounces on the slimy ground before rolling to a stop with specks of dirt sticking to the filter — a shitty attempt at an apology.

“Take a breather, then get back to work,” he orders while he turns to leave, but Simon only gets a few steps away before he pauses. A stiff finger points at Marcel as his attention is quickly brought back to the boy. “Keep in mind, that’s not even half of what I’ve got.” 

Marcel’s pathetic response is drowned out by the uproar of music that fills Simon’s ears as he returns back inside of the club. A thick wall of heat melts the frost off of his skin as his brooding figure cuts through the crowd like a hot knife through butter. His blood continues to boil with clenched fists and heavy breaths. It’s all consuming. Swallowing him whole. Simon doesn’t like being angry. He feels too much like his late father, and sometimes he fears that he looks like him, too. 

Violent, angry, sinister — his intimidating build and threatening demeanor have always been something he’s tried to fight against. A stereotype he’s been trying to break. Yet now that he’s gotten one step closer to uncovering the monsters hiding in your shadows, he’s grateful for it. For once, it’s a tool he can use to his advantage. 

Something he can use to help you. 

Except while Simon is busy taking baby steps through this web of lies, you’re already in the maw of the beast. Frayed string tangles around your fingers as trembling hands attempt to keep themselves busy with a solo game of Cat’s Cradle. It’s already the 25th again, and just like every other month, you’re in perfect position. Sitting properly on a bench with a wad of cash tucked neatly into the envelope that sits inconspicuously on your lap. This is a dance you know well. A dance you don’t think you’ll ever be free from.

Washers and dryers hum around you and clash terribly with the ringing of your ears and the violent pounding of your heart. Trepidation plagues you worse than it usually does on your payment days because you don’t know how Marco is going to react about what Simon did to Andrei. You keep going through possibilities in your mind. Things you need to say to keep him off of Simon’s trail. Ways to apologize to keep him from getting upset. You’ve gone through every option your mind can come up with, yet it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. There’s something you’re still missing. 

But you’ve run out of time. 

Frosty air slices through the warmth of the laundromat and you try your best not to shiver even though you’re already shaking. Marco's cologne drifts along the air, mixing in dissonance with the fragrance of soap and fabric softener. Green eyes scan the small room as he takes note of the single mom folding clothes in the back of the building as her young son watches videos on her phone. It should be comforting to know that you’re not alone — but you’ve learned that you’re never safe, not even when all the cameras in the city are trained on you. 

Your attention stays firmly on your hands as Marco waltzes up and makes himself at home next to you on the bench. The scent of him scorches your nose as his arm wraps around your shoulders. You try not to jump as he involuntarily pulls you closer to him, and you find your fingers clamping down hard on the string in your hands. 

“Long time, no see,” he greets. 

He’s friendlier than he normally is, and that terrifies you. His thumb rubs at your arm through the fabric of your jumper and you feel your heart leap up into your throat. He knows. He knows, and you’re about to pay for it. 

“Did you hear about our good friend, Andrei? Got scuffed up pretty bad the other night,” Marco then prompts.

You swallow your heart down your throat and back into your chest. “Is he alright?” 

“Define alright,” he hums. Long legs spread apart and bump into your thigh, crowding you further like he’s trying to lock you in a cage of flesh. “Busted lip, broken nose. Face is so goddamn swollen he sounds like he’s got a cold.” 

Images of Andrei’s face from the other night sear your mind. Bright red blood trickling down his lips, an appalled expression on his face as if he had never met anyone able to put him in his place before. You should have known then that you wouldn’t walk away unscathed from something like that. You never do.

“What were you even doing there, anyway? At that club?” Marco then asks. 

“I was delivering food,” you answer truthfully. 

“You a delivery driver now? Thought you were a waitress,” he digs. 

“Hostess…” you correct. 

“Who were you delivering to?”

“My friend… her husband owns the club and she was hungry… so… I, well…” you lie. 

Firm fingers dig into your arm as Marco pulls you closer, and you try to keep your bottom lip from trembling. “Ah, right. John fucking Price.”

Shocked, you finally bring yourself to look at him. There’s faint amusement on his face as he stares at the washers in front of him. A mixture of soapy water and colorful clothes dance around in the machine as it gently spins and agitates the fabric. 

“You know him?” you venture to ask. 

A smirk pulls on his lips as he turns his attention to you, and your blood screams at how close his face is to yours. “Don’t worry about that, babe.” 

His eyes capture yours in a way that makes it impossible to look away, like you’re an unfortunate deer caught in the headlights of a car. He wanders down. Down, down, down until he catches sight of the unmarked envelope on your thighs. He grabs it and isn’t at all courteous about where his fingers brush in the process. 

“How did that guy even know you were in that alley? The man who fought with Andrei?” Marco asks.

As he waits for your response, he hits the envelope against the top of your thigh as if he’s bored. Tap, tap, tap. Each time it touches you, you feel your stomach twist. 

“I, uhm, asked the same thing. Said he heard us. Thought I needed help. Guess he was the bouncer outside the VIP entrance during that time. M-My friend said he’s the head of security,” you reply, weaving truth and lies seamlessly together. 

“Yeah, I know who the bastard is,” Marco mutters in reply. 

Something in you wants to press him for an explanation of what he means, but you keep your lips sealed as he folds up the envelope and shoves it into the pocket of his jeans. Your gaze finally breaks away from him as you glance down at your hands. They’re almost fully healed — nothing but faint scars and scabs. You untangle the string from your fingers as you begin to wind it up, hopeful that he’ll leave soon. 

“Well, it doesn't matter. I’m sure it was all one big misunderstanding. No use in getting worked up over it, pet,” he sighs. A pause follows his words, one that’s interrupted by quiet giggling of the child still playing on his mothers phone as she folds clothes somewhere to your right. “Still, some damage was done. Andrei’s been an annoying fuck ever since the altercation. As much as I would love to let you get off easy, it doesn’t really look too good if I’m letting some sweet, pretty thing walk all over me, now does it?” 

Your eyes flutter shut as he speaks, and you attempt to mentally prepare yourself for whatever blow he’s about to deal to you. Of course it was naive to think you’d get out of this easily. In fact, you had planned to be hurt in some type of way. All you wanted to do was throw Marco off of Simon’s trail, and though it feels like you’ve succeeded for now, you’re not quite sure if you even accomplished that much. 

“It doesn’t,” you pitifully agree. 

Marco smirks. “Because of that, your monthly payments will be increased by five hundred starting next month.” 

The very blood coursing through your veins turns to ice, and tears blur your vision when you open your eyes. Five hundred. A brutal panic wreaks havoc in your chest. You want to sob, and scream, and thrash but his hand is still on your arm, keeping you chained to him. Gluttonous fingers stain your skin and his leg is still pressed against yours and you can feel the disgusting warmth of his body and you can’t. You can’t. You want to rage, but you’re cornered and trapped, and there’s nothing you can do about it. 

“B-But that’s… that’s fifteen hundred a month, I… I’ve hardly- I can’t make that.”

You’re crying now, and you hate it. Hate how weak and pathetic you are. White hot tears cook your cheeks as they travel down your face, and you’re trying your best not to hiccup. Suddenly, you’re a kid all over again. Fawning, trying not to flinch as his hand reaches for your jaw to turn your face to him. His breath smells minty as it fans across the wet streaks on your face — he’s so close you can almost taste the menthol. There’s a small frown on his lips, something that almost looks sincere, but his eyes are too hungry for it to be real. 

“Look at you,” he shushes. His hand moves up to cup your cheek as his arm keeps steady and firm around your shoulders.“Getting all upset over this? If it means that much to you, we can always negotiate lower, babe.” 

It takes an eternity for his lips to meet yours, and once they do, everything freezes. The only thing you can comprehend is the ringing in your ears and warm shame on your skin. It’s degrading. Humiliating. A terrible reminder that you’ve never really belonged to yourself. Never really belonged to anyone or anything but him.

Things get worse when his tongue pushes past your lips. Everything becomes ten times louder — the washers and dryers, the video on that damn phone, Marco’s slight moan against your skin. You make a pitiful attempt to fight back by pressing your hands on his chest, but he only pulls you closer, holding you tight like a coiling snake. 

Something in you demands blood. You feel obligated to bite down, to sink your teeth into his tongue until the mint in your mouth is replaced with iron and copper. When you were a kid, your dad taught you how to throw a punch. You wonder what he would think if he saw you now, too afraid to fight back. 

Once he’s had his fill of your fear, Marco pulls away, but you still can’t breathe. Using his thumb, he wipes a stray tear from your face, and you can tell by his slick snicker that he savors the feeling. 

“For that, we’ll drop it down to three fifty,” he whispers. He places another kiss against your lips — something chaste and quick — before he releases you and stands to his feet. “See you next month, pet.” 

Marco leaves just how he arrived — with a gust of bitter, frigid wind. He’s taken something from you that you won’t get back, and it’s left you feeling empty on that bench. So void, so barren of anything, that you can’t even bring yourself to move. All you can do is sit there and curse yourself for being just as worthless as the day you were when you first got yourself stuck in this mess. 

Shuffling sounds on your right, and you nearly jump out of your skin and look up at the source of the sound. It’s that lady and her son. You’d nearly forgotten about them. A small basket of neatly folded clothes sits on her hip as she’s holding the boy's hand to lead him out of the laundromat. There’s a look of disgust on her face, like she can smell every single sin that’s ever been forced upon you. As if you are at fault for the grotesque display of affection you were made to endure. 

As she exits, you try not to think about why she didn’t help you. If anything, you’re grateful for it. No more favors. No random acts of kindness. It never turns out well. No good deed ever goes unpunished. Instead, you rise to your feet a few minutes after she leaves, wiping your face clean before you brave the cold streets of London to make your way back home. You promise yourself that once you get home, you’ll wash your mouth out with soap, and then call Sapori to see if you can pick up an extra shift for tonight. 

No matter what, you can’t take Marco’s offer — that terrible promise he made you all those years ago. Maybe one day you won’t have a choice, but for now, you’re content on working until your hands bleed.

[miniwheat77]

Alone with you. (141 x Reader.)

!smut, p in v sex, double penetration, gang bang, overstimulation, non con, proceed with caution, NO MINORS!

This was supposed to be my bday fic but I’ve had writers block, hope you enjoy!

"So this is the culprit hm?" Laswell lifts up the bottle of pheromone perfume.

"Looks like it." You mumble. "Wonder how good it actually works. Might spice up my sex life." You joke. Soap laughs. "What sex life?" he snorts. Seeing Laswell roll her eyes at the both of you. "Exactly my point. Asshole." You mumble under your breath.

When Soap leaves the room, Laswell smirks at you. "I'm sure in super small doses it couldn't hurt." She winks. You catch the tiny vial in your hand that she had just thrown at you. You smile at her. "And that's why you're my favorite, Laswell." You laugh, following her out of her office. Tucking the vial into your back pocket. "Alright. I'm heading out. Graves said he has some leads in North America so I'll be over there for a couple weeks. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone." She smiles. "No promises. As always, safe travels Laswell. Ring when you get to where you're going." You call to her. She nods her head, waving at you. You disappear down the corridor, going to your room.

———

Later that same night, you make your way into the mess hall, cup in hand. It's got water in it. You haven't had the chance to eat yet. You sit down for just a second and a gasp leaves your lips when you hear a small pop come from your back pocket. "Shit." You mumble. You hear the others coming and choose to stay put, only turning to look at your backside when they're distracted. You notice that there's no liquid anymore. Had it absorbed that quickly?

You quickly head back to your room, trying to clean all of the glass out of your pocket. You change into some other leggings that you have since it's almost time for bed anyway it's not like anyone will care.

You make your way back out into the mess hall and take your seat once more. Seeing that Soap has set up across from you at the table. It's silent for the most part, until Soap starts to shuffle awkwardly. He clears his throat a couple of times, finally looking up at you. Only now does he suddenly feel very attracted to you. He was before of course but now, something is different. He clears his throat again and adjusts the way he's sitting. You glance around the room to see each of them stealing glances at you.

Is it the pheromone perfume doing this?

No… it couldn’t be. It was only a tiny vial.

You stand up to get rid of your tray and move to sit back down. “Y/N. Can I speak with you?” Your Captain grasps your attention. You nod your head, following him out to the hallways. “Did Laswell give you the pheromone perfume?” He crosses his arms. “Yeah, I was supposed to throw it away for her but I forgot about it and it broke open in my pocket.” He shakes his head. “Listen, the scent you’re giving off is way too much. Go lock yourself in your room and stay there until it’s worn off.” He finishes his sentence and then grits his teeth, like he’s holding something back. “Go on.” He breathes. You can’t help but notice the beads of sweat on his forehead. You nod your head. As you start walking down the corridor, you hear him.

“No, Johnny wait!” You turn back to see Soap trying to push passed him. Very clearly trying to get to you.

You hurry down the hallway and open the door to your room, closing the door behind you. “Jesus fuck.” You mumble to yourself. Is this stuff really this strong?

You take a deep breath, sitting at the edge of your bed.

For a couple hours, you hear nothing but silence. And it’s a bit deafening. It’s eerie like there’s something off. You lay down, trying to distract yourself but you end up falling asleep.

In your sleep, you feel someone moving next to you, dipping the edge of your bed down. You stir awake when you feel their hands on you. When you realize what’s going on, that someone is actually touching you, your eyes open completely. You jump away from them, seeing that it’s Soap. But he’s not there right now. His eyes are dark. “Johnny… what are you doing?” You breathe. “You smell so good lass. Can smell how fucking bad you want this…” he smirks. He moves off of your bed, circling around it to try to corner you. You make a split second decision and bolt for the door, sprinting down the hallway. You can hear his heavy footsteps chasing after you. You turn the corner, eyes widening and your feet skidding to a stop as you see your Captain and Gaz. They’re both standing there. Clearly blocking you from going this direction. “Nowhere to run, darling.” Gaz smirks. You breathe out.

This has to be some kind of sick joke.

Soap closes in behind you, they make slow steps toward you.

You take off through the mess hall. Seeing a window that opens and hurrying up to it, you pry it open and climb through it. Sliding out of their grasp just barely. You take off running, seeing the watch tower. Perfect.

You make your way up, slowly and quietly. You don’t know if they’re on watch since they’re not thinking right.

You move up inside, closing the door behind you. Breathing. You dig your phone out of your pocket, dialing Laswell immediately. “Y/N, I haven’t got to base just yet, I’m driving.” She mumbles. “I know- it’s not that.” You breathe, hands shaking. “The vial you gave me broke open in my pocket and my body absorbed all of it, now I’m in a freaking wild goose chase Laswell.” You pant. “What? It’s that bad?” She asks. “Yes! They’re like.. freaking zombies Laswell. They’re not even there.” You breathe. “You’ll just have to wait it out Y/N.” She mumbles. “Yeah.. Yeah I know.” You mumble. “Thanks Laswell.” You sigh.

You hear creaking, fear coursing through you. Just as you turn to look at the door, a hand snakes its way around your waist, tugging you into them, another hand clamping around your mouth. “Gotcha.” He whispers. His voice is deep and it comes out almost as a growl.

It’s Ghost.

He moves his other hand from your waist and grasps your phone, pressing the button to hang up. Lowering the phone down onto the countertop. “Didn’t lock the door sweetheart. Almost like you wanted this to happen hm?” He breathes, his warm breath right over your ear. “You know we’re not gonna hurt ya.” He brushes your hair out of your face. “Ghost, please-“ you whine. “You smell so good. Drives me crazy. I almost didn’t want to tell them you were up here.” He chuckles. Your eyes widen.

Just then, you can hear multiple footsteps coming up the metal staircase. Like everything is deafened around you and that’s all you can hear.

What are they going to do to you?

Ghost spins you around. You see the other three creeping into the room, Soap makes sure to lock the door behind himself. “Nowhere to run now, Dove. It’s just you and us now.” Gaz mumbles, stepping closer. You step back. But know it’s no use. You’re stuck, and whatever is going to happen, it’s happening now. “What are you going to do?” You swallow hard. Johnny chuckles. “Nothing you won’t like, darling. How about we get these clothes off of you, hm?”

“I- I don’t-“

“That wasn’t a question. It was an order.” Captain Price’s voice booms in your ears. His sternness always was intimidating. “Y-yes sir.” You breathe. You hope that as you reach for the hem of your shirt, they’ll start laughing. That this will be some kind of sick joke. But they don’t.

You tug your shirt over your head. Breathing out. You clench your eyes shut as they reach for their belts. Still dressed in their military uniforms. “Y/N. Look at me.” You tilt your head up, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you look at Johnny. “Nothing to be scared about. Just relax.” He chuckles. You nod your head. He reaches out, grasping hold of your upper arm and pulling you into him with ease. How easy it is for him to move you makes you realize just how powerful these men are. He forces you up against the small table in the watch tower. It’s old and you’re not sure if it’ll hold you.

You swallow hard, wincing as the table begins to dig into your pelvis. He makes you rest your hands on it. “Be a good girl.” He breathes. His voice sends chills down your spine. He reaches for your pants, tugging them down your legs. He holds them down with his foot, having you step out of them. “Good girl. Now listen.” He breathes. He raises his hands up, unclasping your bra and letting it fall over your shoulders and onto the floor. “Nobody will hear you, so you can be as loud as you want to. Alright? You’re going to like this, because you’re a naughty little thing. Promise.” He mumbles. He pushes you back down, forcing you over the table. A gasp leaves your lips as he pushes apart your legs.

He frees his cock from its confines and you can see the others standing off to the side. You clench your eyes shut once more, whining as he presses the fat tip of his cock at your entrance. You suck in a sharp breath as he pushes himself past your entrance, sliding in and bottoming out into you. You lurch forward with a hiss at the intrusion. “Oh- f-fuck!” You cry. Raising up slightly with a cry. He only forces you back down. “Shhh. It’s okay.” His attempt at soothing you is pathetic and half-assed. If you weren’t in this particular position, you might laugh at him.

But you don’t think you’ll ever be able to look at them the same ever again.

You rest your head on the table, breathing out. Take a deep breath, try not to lose control.

That’s hard to do, keeping yourself together around them when they’re as attractive as they are. And the way they’re touching you.

Just as soon as you’re full, he’s pulling out of you again. He lifts you up, shoving the flimsy table out of the way and kneeling on the ground with you. Ghost steps toward you and you look up at him, he’s still got his mask on. You can’t see his smile. “Look good from this position, darling.” He smirks. You swallow hard, he moves his jeans to the side and tugs his boxers down, revealing his length to you. He’s big. You swallow hard, looking down. “No need to be nervous now. Look at me.” He breathes. You tilt your head up again, feeling Johnny kneel behind you, moving his length up the expanse of your ass. You shudder as Simon steps forward. “Open your mouth.” He breathes. You’re trying to stay focused on Simon but the feeling of Johnny’s length pushing into you from behind has you wincing again. “Relax. Look up at me.” He lifts your chin forcefully. Pushing the tip of his cock past your lips. You take him down as far as you can, swallowing around his shaft. Hearing him gasp.

“Johnny touch her clit.” He breathes.

Johnny does it, listening to his LT.

He glides his hand over your hip and stomach. Calloused hands rough on your skin but his fingertips on your clit has your thighs ready to give out. He draws his hips back, thrusting back into your ass. Hearing you choke on Simon’s cock. You draw back, taking a deep breath. You rest your hands on his thighs, pulling him closer to you so that you can take him further down. “There.. see.” He breathes. “All you had to do was make her horny.” His laugh is deep and taunting. He tilts his head back, groaning out. You focus on the tip of his cock, knowing it’s got the most nerve endings. Being gentle but still sucking hard. It only takes a couple of minutes before his thighs are shaking.

“Fuck-“ he draws back away from you. “Wanna be in that pussy.” He breathes. “Gonna make me cum too fast.” He breathes.

He kneels down in front of you. Wiping your lips of saliva and clearing them. Johnny’s hard thrusts into you keep you wet, and you whine when he pulls his hand away from your clit. “It’s alright. Gonna get you nice and full lass.” Soap chuckles. You probably look fucking pathetic in front of them. Fucked out and desperate. You knew you needed to get laid but this…

This is too far. But it’s something you didn’t know you needed.

They raise you up, wrapping your legs around Simon’s waist. Johnny slides himself back inside of your ass, feeling you tense up. Simon glides his tip up between your folds, pushing past them. You whine out, starting to squirm. “S’alright.” He breathes. His voice is low. Only you can hear it. When they’re both bottoming out in you, your breath is gone. Lungs are empty and burning. You’re trying to catch your breath but it feels impossible. A sob gets caught in your throat and you clench your eyes shut as they start to fuck you. “Fuck- not gonna last-“ Johnny hisses. Ghost holds you still, both of them moving in unison as they thrust into you. You shake and cry, overstimulated and you haven’t even cum yet.

“Fuck!” Johnny slides out of you, pumping himself with his hand. He bucks his hips into you, resting his forehead on your back as he finishes. Simon doesn’t stop his thrusts, keeping up his bruising pace.

Johnny moves away from you, he’s been selfish thus far. It’s someone else’s turn.

Gaz takes his place. Desperate to feel you. He inches closer, spitting into his hand and gliding it over the tip of his cock. He slides into you again. Feeling you gasp out. Lurching foward into Simon. He laughs. “You’re doing good. Keeping up.” Ghost mumbles.

Gaz grips your hips and tries to hold you still as he and Simon fill you. You can feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. Shivering as it inches closer and closer.

Chills start at your toes and work their way up your body.

“I- oh god-“ you whine.

You clench your eyes shut, letting it take over your body. You’re sure it’ll be the hardest you’ll ever cum. They don’t stop, riding out your orgasm as it washes over you. You know they’re not going to stop.

You relax, trying to pace yourself despite being overstimulated. You raise your hand up and rest it on Simon’s shoulder. Hearing Gaz chuckle behind you at your fucked out state. Simon’s breathing is getting a little heavier. He lowers his head, lips right by your ear. “So tight baby… getting me so close.” He grits his teeth. He starts to pant, cock throbbing and twitching inside of you. He groans out, sliding out of you. He grits his teeth and tries to contain himself as he cums.

He takes a second, panting. His head is buried into the crook of your neck as he comes down. He finally pulls away from you. Standing up and adjusting his pants.

Captain Price is quick to take his place. You’re ready to tap out but it’s clear that they’re not going to let you. Gaz grasps your chin, tilting your head back. “You’re doing good. Just a bit more.” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours. You can feel your captain’s hands on you, groping your breasts in his hands as he lines himself up with your entrance. “You still smell so good.” He growls. Gaz lets go of you and you finally get a good look at John. His eyes are dark, like the others. Their pupils are dilated, they look dark. Empty. Like there’s nothing there, only lust.

What the hell is this stuff and who made it?

You whine again as he slides into you. Tears filling your eyes. You clench your eyes shut and brace yourself for what they’re going to do to you. You rest your head on John’s chest as they start fucking into you mercilessly, John is desperate. He’s been waiting the longest. He’s eager and horny and the way he fucks you shows it. You’re sobbing into his chest in just minutes, overstimulated and overwhelmed. Your body shakes and you can feel the warmth pooling in your lower abdomen again. You can’t stay quiet. Moans spill from your lips uncontrollably and tears stream from your eyes. You’ve never been so overwhelmed in your life. “Do you feel good? Hm?”

“Yes!” You cry. “Tell me how good you feel.” He breathes. Forcing you to look up at him. “Tell me how good all of us have made you feel. And it better be good honey. Let everyone know how good they’ve fucked you today.” He forces your face up again by your jaw. “It feels so good- so so good- you’re fucking me so good.” A gasp leaves your lips as they thrust together at the exact same time. “Now what do you say hm? It was kind of us to fuck you.”

“Thank you!” You cry, head falling again. You chant it as they thrust into you. “That’s a good girl.” He chuckles.

They last another few minutes, but this time, neither of them pull out. Filling both of your holes up.

They ride out their highs before halting, cocks buried up inside of you still. You’re panting hard, clit throbbing. You don’t know how you’ve taken it or kept up with them to this point.

It’s Soap who lifts you up and carries you to your room. Your thighs shake uncontrollably and he helps you get cleaned up before putting you to bed. He makes sure you’re comfortable. And even when he leaves you alone, he’s still got that same dark look in his eyes.

Maybe you wouldn’t wake up alone.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Lovefool [dark!Konig x fem!Reader]

Konig gets to secure a little trophy from the battlefield. Hope you're in for a ride.

!TW! Kidnapping, Yandere themes, Dub-con, dark!Konig

Tags: Yandere, Dark Romance, colonel!Konig, dark!Konig, Size kink, Age gap(Konig in his thirties and Reader is in her twenties), Stockholm syndrome speedrun, Konig is a huge pervert, submissive Reader

You never knew who he was before he attacked.

Your teammates did – whisperers about KorTac getting on their tails, stories about their crazy psycho commander who could barely pass a word to his subordinates while smacking heads off trained men in full armor. Spooky tails for the recruits who refuse to train in their free time – something about “If you aren’t getting in shape by the end of the month, König is going to get you”.

You never knew who he was – you barely knew the organization you worked in.

Cyber security, lowly private military. They are hiring based on CV alone and didn’t ask for a fancy college and a few degrees in hacking that you could never get. They wanted experience, and you had at least a bit of it – you passed through basic training, never serving in the military before, but fine with promises of never actually going out in the field since you would be giving them intel and cyber support from the sidelines.

Well, they never told you that “the sidelines” would be 100 meters away from the actual battlefield.

You don’t even remember what the mission was about – something important, you guess, because they asked you to be here, on sight, computer in hand, and your comrades, with whom you barely talked outside of work, alongside you. Something about weapon smuggling, though you never actually understood if you were stopping it or doing it. Working in the middle of the European Union pays a lot, and it sort of counts as free travel – you’re somewhere in Germany, maybe on the border with Poland or Austria or Czech Republic. Nothing but fields of grass and occasional mountains. They gave you a riffle, a sidearm, and instructions to try not to get too wounded since they wouldn’t be dragging your body out of the field. S[read sheet with intel opened on your computer – you’re not their secretary, but at least they don’t want you to hack the Pentagon.

You heard screams from your tent: “KorTac”, “Compromised”

“König”

What was the weirdest thing – he was alone. A single man shouldn’t be able to take on a team of trained mercs, even as lowly as your company was. You all had weapons, armor, and means of at least taking him down as a group – and you were like a bunch of babies with toy guns on the playground when a pitbull came in.

Your leader fell first – you saw his head explode with a perfect shot right between his eyes. no one screamed sniper, but you still ducked under the field table, hoping that it would save you a few minutes of peace before you’d manage to delete all of the important files from your laptop. This was the protocol – if you are in the middle of dying, you need to first make sure that the enemy won’t get a hold of precious company correspondence and deeply personal photos of your cat.

You leaned forward to see what was happening on the field – you heard screams, you heard gunshots, you heard…

Laugh.

Deep, loud, the laugh that sounded both malicious and cheerful at the same time. It sounded like the man had a field day of breaking necks and stabbing his teammates. You've never seen so much blood on someone. You wish you never had.

Your teammates are falling like porcelain dolls when the elephant hits the kitchen, and you are trying your best to be a good little hacker and not let your company down before your inevitable demise. Turning on your laptop, waiting for whatever ancient version of Windows you had since the budget was mostly going into flashy guns and cool night vision headsets, you are getting ready to format all the disks when….

“The Windows update is in the process. Please, wait approximately 9 hours to complete”

Oh, hell no. You are not going to wait another 9 hours, you could barely survive for the next 9 minutes! Of course, naturally, obviously, you can just turn off the computer and get it off work because the files will get fried up and it won’t turn on again, ever. Which would still complete your goals, so…

— Come on, please…f-fuck, please, just let me…

“As a method of complete data loss prevention, Windows has disabled the ability to manually turn off your computer. Please, wait approximately 9 hours to complete”

— Found you, Maus.

Something – a hand, big, covered in the type of protection you never saw on your fellow soldiers – yanked your ankle, dragging you from under the table you were hiding under. The air stinks of blood and you involuntarily whimper, hands are going to grab the laptop. You need to smash it, destroy it, maybe just drop it hard enough on the floor, push it against the wall, and try your best to kick it enough to damage the disk and prevent KorTac from accessing the files.

The guy steps on your hand, taking the laptop away. You swear to god you hear a crack – you prayed that he would accidentally smash the laptop, but it was your hand under his boot.

— Hurts? Good.

You whimper as he carefully puts the laptop away, checking if it’s still working. He then returns to you – laying on the floor, fingers still shaking in pain, and attempts to grasp for the computer that was snatched away. There is nothing you can do – you have a gun, yes, and he has at least three guns and deadly man-bear hands, so even if you were fast enough to draw a gun before he would, he can just kick you like a puppy.

König – it’s him, it must be him, your teammates were screaming his callsign and talking about a devil who wears a sniper hood and has the height of a not very small tree – kicks you in the ribs, turning you from the side to your back, facing him. If you were stronger, you would do something cool – bite his ankles, for example. Or spit in his face as the last remaining tip of your dignity, before he would kill you or torture you or feast on your flesh.

— Verdammte Feiglinge, can’t even face your death like a man. Look at me, ja?

Crying isn’t a shameful thing to do. So, you cry. Soft little whimpers, sniffles, you are probably looking wet and disgusting, but you hurt, scared, and fucking tired and you want out of here, and you never actually wanted to be a soldier, and they all lied to you while promising to keep you out of the field, and this uniform is horrible, and you feel your tears soaking the half of bandana you were using as a face mask and…

He snatches the mask from your face. Look you in the eyes for long enough to make your whimpers even more audible. You can swear to god that his pupils were dilated. That his hands were shaking. You could see his eyes getting scrunched in that particular way that their owner is smiling – sincerely, openly, from the bottom of his heart.

— Please…p-please, be fast, I don’t know anything, I will…I won’t, I…

Rough, calloused hand goes to cup your face. The material of his glove is tough and soaked in blood as he smears it on your cheek, your fingers are going to wipe away the tears – you don’t understand what’s happening and you are even more scared, and your mouth is twitching in a terrified grimace. He pushes the tip of his finger into your mouth, making you suck on the blood and dirt of the fabric. You think you are going to throw up.

— Quiet.

You don’t understand why he didn’t kill you yet. He is touching your face, slowly, his one hand is enough to cover your entire head and you’re sure that if he’d want to just squish your brain like a rotten cabbage, he could just fine. He pushes his finger even deeper in your mouth and you lick it involuntarily because this is an intrusion and you have the brain of a two-year-old who sees the world through their ability to devour things, and his pupils dilate even more. He looks at your frown, your tears, and your lips wrapped around his finger.

He yanks you on your feet embarrassingly easy.

— You’re a hacker?

You blink a few times. Now, the protocol is that no, you can’t state who you are, If he knows that you are a hacker, he can take you away for interrogation, maybe torture you for passwords and the intel on your company, and being tortured isn’t something on your monthly calendar. Now, the protocol also states that you have to be able to die for your company, and…

He grabs your neck, lifting you – surprisingly gently, softly even, a hand supports your waist so you won’t be able to either kick him or get choked to death because of his grip.

— Answer me, Maus. I might have a reason to let you live.

You do want to live. Maybe not long, definitely not until you’re 100 years old with dozens of grandchildren, but being able to live past the next few hours and then days and then weeks does sound incredible.

— Y…yes. I’m a cyber security specialist.

He squeezes your neck more. Pushes you up, making you cough in your grip. You never experienced anything like this before – never had a guy strong enough to handle you like this. It would look cool from the side, probably – like something from a videogame. It would look hot in the porn, probably, if it was consensual and happening between two passionate lovers.

But you are his enemy, and he is yours – cold blue eyes peering right into yours. He is looking at you like a piece of meat, and not even in the lustful, hungry way. He looks like a butcher in front of a very good beef cut, thinking about where should he sink his knife to get the best steaks. A hunter standing over the wounded deer, thinking if he wants your head above his fireplace or taxidermy your whole body as a wicked trophy.

— Didn’t know they’d allowed someone so fucking small in the field.

You can swear to god that you saw him smile, under this hood. You can’t see his face, obviously, only the blood-soaked fabric and his eyes, but something still tells you that he is smiling. Enjoying your attempts to escape, maybe – you tried to kick him a few times, producing a deep, amused chuckle from his lips. He holds you so easily like you are nothing but a sweet little kitten. You might not be as big as him, but he still shouldn’t be able to lift a grown woman in full gear with just one hand. Right?

— I’m not…not s-small.

You don’t have much fight left in you. You are on the verge of just asking him to kill you, to be honest, your neck hurts and the pain spreading from your fingers pulsates and transforms. You hope they are not broken – even though you understand that your chances to live past these few minutes are very slim. Even your usual snark is lost, forbidden in the hands of a giant who likes to play with his food.

You do feel like a mouse – in a way that you would die under his boot very soon.

He – König, monster, colonel, fucking deadly mercenary – chuckles again. You can get used to this sound. Melodic almost, in a way that most alarms are melodic while telling you about inevitable catastrophe.

— Kleine verfickte Maus. Ich wette, dass du auch ganz eng bist.

He is laughing, again. Laughing and chuckling and you can’t take it anymore because he is so obviously stronger than you, it’s not fair. You want to put your foot on the ground and tap it like a spoiled brat, like a baby on the playground whining for their mom to take them home because other kids don’t want to play by their rules. The difference in skill is so obvious, that you aren’t even able to put on some sort of fight.

— Wh…I don’t speak German.

Your other hand – the one that didn’t get squished under his boot – goes to scratch his arm. Maybe put up enough struggle that he would accidentally let you fall right from his grasp. He doesn’t react and you feel hopeless. Weak, useless, you remember all the times you decided to miss training so you could just chill in the lounge with other rookies or do something on your computer.

— You will, Maus.

Then, there is only darkness.

***

You woke up…somewhere.

Come to think of it, it wasn’t the first time you woke up. You remember opening your eyes, feeling the vibrations under your cheek, hearing the noises of a car or other vehicle moving fast. Too fast for your already spinning head and stomach – you don’t remember if you were coughing or vomiting, but the movement wasn’t stopping to ever let you breathe. You were being transported somewhere, without a chance of knowing where you were heading. At least now, when you get to the final, as you think at least, destination, you’re clean.

As much as someone tied up to a chair somewhere that reminds you of a basement can be.

You’re stripped of your weapons obviously – not like you had a chance to use them anyway. Your hands are tied behind your back, your legs are bound to a chair, and your tragic lack of clothes is…more evident than you wanted it to be. At least you still have your underwear on – it still didn’t make the situation better. He saw you naked, completely, and he might do god knows what with you now.

Although you have some feelings about what he can do with a weak enemy hacker, half-naked and tied up in a secure place.

You would panic, but it requires energy. A resource that you don’t have right now.

— You woke up. Gut. Started to think I went too much again.

His accent is weird, you think. The thought only occurs to you now, when you can hear him more clearly while not being that afraid of getting out of this alive. His voice is weirdly calm for someone of his size – you want to think of gentle giants but this man is far from gentle and is almost too big to even be called a giant. A colossus, you want to say.

— Again?

Your voice is raspy, both from your sleep and from lack of water. When was the last time you drank anything? Probably more than a few hours – your throat is dry as sandpaper, and your head is dizzy from both your trauma – he either strangled you to unconsciousness or beat you hard enough – and the dehydration. You don’t want to spend another minute in this basement – you think this is a basement, at least, the high humidity on the walls and some garbage tossed to the corner is fairly evident. It’s large, too – you never saw anything like this. It might be a KorTac prison, but the remains of a bike and a few shelves of canned foods tossed to the other side of the room tell otherwise.

— We’re allowed to take trophies home. Sometimes I get…impatient.

You’re in his house? Does a monster like him even need a house?

“A trophy”

Funny how you don’t even feel that dehumanized. He didn’t kill you, you don’t feel the evidence of violation on your body – you are clean, neat even, your stomach and private parts aren’t hurting, and, as much as you hate to say this while tied up to a chair, you are as comfortable as a person in your position can be.

— What are you going to do with me?

You shake like a leaf. He finally steps closer to you, coming from the ladder – you can hear the lock and a heavy door being closed, setting your hopes of escape. Not like you could, in your position – the bruises already forming on your legs and hands, a numbed pain in your head and fingers. You feel shitty and comfortable at the same time, trying to tune off the discomfort and just concentrate on talking to him.

He didn’t kill you – this is good, you can work with this.

He left you alive – this is bad, he is going to torture you, he is going to do a million terrible things with you and you are not a part of a regular army, You didn’t get the torture resistance training. Maybe, if it was some of your friends, other girls in the group who got through military school and never missed gym to sit on their computers, they would have survived. You never felt so weak before – not even on the battlefield.

God, you’re scared.

— Your computer. My employer needs the info you had on it.

Oh.

It’s not personal, at least. He is here for the information, not to take advantage of your weak, fragile body. It made you almost feel at peace, almost made you forget about your lack of clothing and the damp basement you’re being put in.

— What sort of info do you need?

You slowly start to wiggle your hands in your binds – he used plastic locks, those stupid unremovable things that are slowly cutting the soft flesh of your wrists. You can’t untie them, but you can try at least tear them on the metal of your chair. You can try to, just to say that you did, and not feel bad about not resisting him at all.

— Your last mission. You were trying to smuggle weapons into the EU border.

— We were trying to stop the smuggling of weapons.

At least, you think you were – your head hurts, your memories are dizzy, and they never actually told you what kind of job you had. Come to think of it, actually, you never asked whether you were the good guys or the bad guys – it was always about money, paychecks, getting your job done and not dying from lack of nutrition because most tech-jokey jobs are already filled with uninspired chatbots and graduates from fancy colleges with a dick between their legs. Not reserved for tired women like you – so you turn to, ironically, paramilitary organizations. How the tables have turned.

— That’s not what our intel says, Maus. Do you want to lie to me?

You don’t. You just don’t know if you are telling the truth or lying because you are too fucking tired to even think straight.

He comes closer, and you whimper involuntarily. His breath hitches.

— Scheisse…they knew who to hire.

He grabs you by the neck again, and you can finally see him fully – towering over you, cold blue eyes staring right into you. You sob, not able to handle your emotions because, oh god, he is going to rape you, torture you, and then put a giant burning stick right in your ass because everyone knows that this is the best way to hack a computer – you just need to find the person who put the password in the first place.

— Can’t you just hack the computer yourself?

He chuckles – you’re getting tired of that sound. You hate that you found his voice attractive, you hate the fact he is keeping you down here. You want to destroy that part of your body that likes the attention – how his eyes are only kept on you. Never had a guy kidnapping you before, and you fight the feeling of disappointment that strikes you when you remember that he is here because he needs the intel. Not because he wants you.

— It wasn’t a…conventional operation. Can’t waste manpower on breaking the walls you installed.

His hand goes to cup your face again – you frown, breathing stops because he is so close and he takes off his gloves, allowing his rough, calloused fingers to linger on your cheeks. He squeezes your face in an almost adorable manner and steps back again. You lick your dry lips again, trying hard to keep at least one part of your body moisturized, and his breath hitches again.

He goes behind you, ruffles through shelves – you can hear something falling, his awkward grunt as he had to pick it up. He is more clumsy than you though – more nervous also, hands are jittering and fingers twitching every time you look at him. Adorable, really, how this huge mess of a man can look so innocent and almost nervous in front of you.

König returns after a minute or two, holding…a water bottle. Closed, lid still on, little plastic wrapping in place. You have half a mind about just drinking it, even though he doesn’t offer it to you. Not like you could open it yourself, with how your hands are still tied up behind your back.

— You don’t speak German.

It’s not a question – it’s a statement. you watch him opening the bottle with ease, large hands are working on something so fragile and delicate. You can’t remember the last time you had sex, not with how fast your head is spinning and memories still foggy, but you think it was a long time ago – because you feel your cheeks heated from the simple actions of his large fingers ripping through soft plastic.

God, you don’t really remember what was happening before you got here, not in detail, but you know that you needed to get laid like, a year ago.

— No.

— You will.

— Wh…what do you mean?

Is he going to make you install Duolingo? Is this what it all was about? Some elaborate prank, a marketing campaign, a tough lesson for silly girls who think that knowing just your native language is enough to live your life and…

— When you want something, Maus, you have to say “bitte”.

If you were a strong and cool soldier, you would use this moment to jump from your chair, using the weight of your body to fall on him and make him lose balance, and then spit in his face as your last remaining blast of human dignity.

But you aren’t a cool and strong soldier, and you really need to drink.

— B…bitte. What does this mean?

— Please.

He is almost whispering, the water bottle tanging in his hands in front of you. You take your time, considering the possibilities – you can play like a good little prisoner and allow him to take your pride and just toss it aside. You can play like an obedient hostage and ask him nicely, hoping that it would be enough.

You don’t know what to do – appearing too shy and soft can give him…ideas. And you don’t want this crazed giant who is keeping you bound in his basement to get ideas. You can…you probably can spend more time without water. Or food. Or shower and change of position.

You take your time answering, and his demeanor seems almost…anxious. His eyes are darting between the water bottle and your face, between his hands and your body – like he can barely keep a calm facade and not force you into doing something nasty. Like he is almost afraid that you are not going to cooperate and he would really have to hurt you in a meaningful way.

— Can I have water, bitte?

— Gutes Kätzchen. Drink, you’ll need it.

In the end, you broke down first. Not because you are this weak, but because being a brat won’t save you in a situation like this. You don’t want to die over something as trivial as your pride.

König seems…at ease. He takes off the bottle cap and brings water to your lips, allowing you to drink as much as you want. You lick the remaining drops from your lips and he puts a half-empty bottle aside.

— I won’t tell you the password.

You mumble under your breath, barely audible. He chuckles.

— I count on it, liebe.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 36 || The Holiday Surprises

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & hella fluff.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.4k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——DURING THE BREAK, you spent every day with Shoko just as you promised to before Christmas week. You went to see movies with her, went on a lovely shopping spree, and even got to meet one of her other friends, Utahime.

It was a wonderful week. You actually got to know Utahime very well and Shoko told you that she disliked Gojo just as much as you did, which is exactly what you and Utahime bonded over. It was girl's night after girl's night, an unstressful time spent with people you were fond of.

The whole thing was perfect and you loved it, cherishing every giggle, smile, and hug dearly within your heart. What more could you have wanted? Both women made your life feel at peace and you nearly forgot what it was like to have a female to conversate with.

You’d spent the semester distracted by Gojo and all the other guys that you forgot this feeling-- that warm fuzziness you get when they understand your troubles and support your silly delusions. You even told them about Choso, to which they both encouraged you to try speaking to him during the break.

Even Shoko, who is definitely rooting moreso for you and Gojo, was adamant on getting you to contact Choso. Utahime was a bit more skeptical about it, telling you that maybe you shouldn’t contact him if you’re not sure what you want.

Either way, you loved the fact that you had them to help you sort through your thoughts. Of course, you didn’t actually contact Choso but, talking to them about him felt like taking a weight off your shoulders.

Part of you wanted to tell them about Gojo and how he’s confessed to you but, you knew Shoko would be hellbent on convincing you to pick him over Choso. Or at least, that’s how she would’ve been before Christmas. After that day, you’re pretty sure the woman was just as conflicted about who you should choose as you.

However, she still doesn’t know that Gojo’s blackmailing you, which is something you have to keep reminding yourself about every time you weigh the pros and cons of each man.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Christmas week.

You went home to your family as scheduled and freed your mind of all (almost) all stress. Of course, your parents gave you their usual hell about not coming home often enough and not calling enough and etcetera. Even so, you still felt at peace at home.

Sometimes you Facetimed Shoko in your free time but most of your time at home was spent in tranquility.

You loved every second of it and it was full of joyful events that led up to Christmas day.

After a night of last-minute gift wrapping, you had woken up early in the morning and received a few expensive gifts from various family members. Most of it was gift cards, perfume, and from some people just straight cash. All of it was gratefully accepted and cherished though and you had a smile plastered all over your face the entire day.

In the afternoon, you decided to head home to Shoko, parting ways with your family with lots of don’t forget to call and make good choices being thrown at you before you left.

Before you knew it, you were right back in your apartment but Shoko wasn’t there. You stopped there to change your clothes as Shoko had earlier texted you and said that she was at Geto and Gojo’s place. So, once you were all dressed in comfortable sweats, you made your way there.

You don’t know why but, you were nervous about it. This would be your first time hanging out with the trio. You’d spent time with each of them individually of course but, never all three at the same time. This made you nervous for some reason.

Shoko doesn’t know about the list and you don’t want her to find out about it either. What happens if Gojo or Geto open their mouths about it? What happens if Geto brings up the fact that you had sex with him? Would Shoko view you as a slut for sleeping with both men at one point?

Would she not want to be your friend anymore? Would sh-

You huff out a heavy sigh and shake your thoughts away. It was Christmas day, there was no need to be overthinking like this. You were standing outside of the men’s apartment, holding a small, last-minute bag filled with a few gifts. After a gentle knock, the door swung open, and standing in front of you was Geto Suguru.

His dark locks of hair were loose, flowing down past his shoulders messily over the big sweater he wore. He looked really snug in his clothes. A sly smile spread across his handsome face as he took in your appearance, “Hey gorgeous, Merry Christmas.” He purred out in that soothing voice of his.

You couldn’t help but smile at the nickname never dropping, stepping into the apartment and moving to give him a hug, “Merry Christmas, Sugu.”

His arms wrap around your body in a tight hug and as the two of you part from each other, the smell of cookies fills your nose. When you turn around, Gojo’s standing not too far away, clearly not privy to you joining them for Christmas.

The two of you are frozen for a moment, simply staring at one another before a push is made to your lower back. You turn back to Geto for a split second, sending him a glare as you stumble toward Gojo. The raven-haired male chuckles and then turns to head toward his kitchen, leaving you and Gojo alone.

You look up at the tall man, his hair a fluffy mess almost as if he’d been lying down, and his eyes refusing to leave yours. After a slight sigh, you shuffle your feet closer to him before you’re barely an inch away from him.

Gojo’s breath hitches when your arms go up and around his neck as you hug him tenderly. His brain stutters to render the fact that you’re hugging him and it took him a second to wrap his arms around your waist. His face drops to the crook of your neck and he squeezes you in his arms.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Gojo whispers.

You’re smiling like crazy, his loving tone giving you butterflies, “Merry Christmas, Satoru.”

He pulls away, only slightly, turning his head to meet your eyes. The two of you were so close that to another person, it’d appear as though you were about to kiss. “I didn’t know you were coming.” He tells you.

You chuckle, “Maybe Shoko wanted to surprise you.”

“Best surprise ever.” Gojo comments, “You’re so beautiful…”

Heat rushes to your face and you ease your arms down from around his neck, “Thank you-”

The sound of your name being called by Shoko makes both of you flinch as if you were caught doing something you had no business doing. Both of you shuffle off of each other and try to act inconspicuous.

Shoko bursts out laughing dramatically, having seen the entire thing and finding it hilarious how the two of you try to act like you weren’t a few inches away from making out. “You guys are so cute, I can’t.” Shoko giggles.

She then approaches the two of you and in the blink of your eye, Gojo is shoved out of the way, stumbling into a nearby wall. Shoko’s arms go out and up a little and you smile at her before jumping into her arms dramatically.

She hugs you tighter and harder than either of the guys did, even going as far as lifting you and spinning you around-- all of which is done because she’s happy to see you again after a week of separation. The two of you are laughing and giggling in each other’s arms and Gojo has a frown on his face at the way he got shoved to the side.

When the two of you stop, Shoko moves to grab your hands as she speaks to you, “Merry Christmas roomie! I got you the best gift!”

You chuckle at her enthusiasm, she’s usually more relaxed than this so it’s nice to see her express so much emotion. “Merry Christmas,” Your smile widens, “What’d you get me?”

“You’ll see in a few minutes,” She says releasing your hands and nodding her head toward the living room, “We already opened a few but there’s still more.”

“Did you guys wait for me?” You ask as you begin following behind her.

Both of you continue your small talk, completely forgetting about Gojo who's shocked you’re even here. He grumbles to himself at the fact that Shoko came and stole you from him so swiftly.

The three of you end up in the living room, Geto is heard in the kitchen baking away as he hums to whatever Christmas songs were playing. You and Shoko are talking and giggling about the things she’s gotten so far and she complains about how Geto bought her a pack of cigarettes.

You laugh with her, knowing that she’s definitely grateful for the gift based on the unwavering smile plastered on her face the entire time she catches you up on what’s happened while you weren’t there.

“Oh, and I also know what the albino got you,” Shoko exclaims, a bigger smile growing on her face as she speaks about it.

Your eyebrows raise and you glance over to Gojo, who is sitting on one of the nearby couches scrolling through his phone, “What’d he get me?” You ask, turning your head back to Shoko.

She leans closer to you to whisper, “He got you a-”

“Shoko if you tell her, I’m cutting your hair off and flushing all your cigs’.” Gojo interrupts as a pillow goes flying across the room, landing right into the woman’s face.

She fumes, jokingly, and snatches the pillow up before launching it back to the man, “I dare you,” She shouts at the man, making him laugh as the pillow smacks him in the face.

The two start bickering back and forth and you’re laughing at the display of them partaking in a quick pillow war, instead of a pillow fight-- launching and smacking each other with any nearby pillows. As they do that, you take that as your chance to slip out and check on Geto.

Making your way out of the living room, you quickly head to the kitchen and catch the man pulling cookies out of the oven with a silly apron on. You’ve got a bag in your hands that holds his gift, seeing now as a perfect time to give it to him since Shoko told you there’s no set time on when gifts needed to be exchanged.

Geto notices you as he places the tray of cookies on the counter, flashing you a smile as you approach him, “Sounds like they’re destroying the living room again,” He comments.

You chuckle, “Again?”

“They had a play fight last night over gift wrap,” Geto hums, moving to rid his hands of the oven mitts he wore.

“Why am I not surprised?” You laugh, coming to a stop beside the male, your eyes scanning over the mouth-watering sugar cookies lying on a decorative tray, “Ouu these look good.”

“They should be,” Geto hums, turning his head to look at you instead of the cookies. His eyes drop to the bag in your hands, “S’that for me?”

You turn and look at him, smiling, “Yeah but, it’s more like a last-minute gift. It’s nothing amazing, just something silly.”

He appears to be intrigued, “Silly? My best friend is Gojo Satoru, I’m used to these kinda’ gifts.” Geto says with a casual shrug.

The bag in your hands is extended out to the man and he takes it from you gratefully, quickly moving to open it. Your smile grows and grows, mischief embedded into your eyes as you watch him take out what you got for him.

As the item comes out of the box, Geto stares in disbelief for a second and then laughs. “Oh hell no. If you think I’m putting this on, you’re going to be very disappointed.”

“Oh c’monnnnn Suguruuu, you have long hair.” You say, trying to convince him, “Just wear one? For me? Pleeease?”

“No.” Geto declines, dropping the item back into the bag.

You pout, “That’s not nice, Sugu. I went out of my way to pick that out just for you.”

He looks up from the bag and to your pleading eyes, “Did you?”

“Yes,” You sigh, moving to reach into the bag and drag the item out, “I can even put it on for you.”

Geto scoffs, “Yeah, no.”

The man then tries turning away from you but you extend a handout and grab ahold of his sweater, tugging him back toward you.

“Pretty please?” You beg, making him sigh loudly.

His back is to you now but he peers down at you over his shoulder, “I don’t like you.”

You beam, “Is that a yes?!”

“You’re just as annoying as Satoru, y’know that right?” Geto groans, turning his head to face forward, “Fine.”

Your eyes light up and the man hands a hair tie back to you. You giggle as you take it from him and then raise your hands up to do his hair. Slowly, you both walk a bit out of the kitchen and then you continue your actions.

Tying half of his hair up, like he usually does, instead of putting it into a bun, you leave it loose and then place your gift into his hair. The man grits his teeth as he feels you do so, already disliking his agreeance to this.

“Aaaand, done. It’s so pretty, Suguru!” You say happily.

“I’m taking it out in an hour.” He says grumpily.

“You didn’t even see how it looks yet!” You happily point out as you move to get a picture of the sight with your phone. His back is still to you and he doesn’t actually care if you take a picture.

He rolls his eyes, “You put a pink bow in my hair, I think I can picture what it looks like just fine.”

His words make you laugh excessively. You love how grumpy he sounds about it, “This is what you get for stealing my things.”

Geto pouts, “I was gonna give them back…”

“Yeah? When?” You ask, not believing him in the slightest.

“Today,” He tells you.

Your expression sinks, “Don’t tell me that was my Christmas gift…”

The man smirks, “It was.”

“You are such a pervert.”

“Howww?” He starts laughing, “I’m returning your things. Don’t worry, it’s all clean.”

“Y’know what, just for that,” Your hands go to his shoulders and you force him to turn around, pushing him toward the living room, “Everyone’s gonna see the pretty bow I just put in your hair.”

“Holy shit,” He chuckles and tries resisting your pushing, “W-Wait I-”

The man’s face goes bright red as he’s shoved into the living room. Shoko and Gojo were mid-pillow attacks when they both froze and looked over to the raven-haired male. For only a second, everyone’s still and quiet.

“G-God damnit,” Geto mutters, bringing a hand to his face and turning to the side.

Shoko bursts out in laughter, chuckling so hard that she falls over and has to hold her stomach to catch her breath.

Gojo’s snickering as he looks at his friend, “Suguru… Is…” He chuckles, “Is that a bow in your hair?”

“I hate all of you.” Geto groans, rolling his eyes at Shoko and Gojo’s obnoxious laughter filling the air.

Then there’s you giggling behind him, “It’s cute!”

“Shut up.” The male muttered before dragging his feet toward a nearby couch to plop down.

You join him and the other two, all of you beginning to tease Geto about the pretty pink bow in his hair. The man is so embarrassed about it but at some point he smiles, giving in to the humor in it all.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

As the laughter died down, all four of you chatted for a while-- giggling and smiling about some more silly gifts that were exchanged.

Shoko got Gojo this huge Christmas hat and then teased him about being Santa’s long-lost brother or something. Aside from that, the rest of the gifts were pretty normal but the four of you still had fun through it all.

You got Shoko a gift card, which she cherished as if it was the best thing she received all day. The woman hugged you and snuggled up into your body for a while, telling you how you were the best roommate she could’ve ever asked for. You gushed at her words and the two of you would laugh and laugh-- the men feeling left out as they watched you both.

They’d even dramatically roll their eyes at the display of affection but truthfully, Gojo adored seeing you so happy and Geto loved having his friends all in one place like this. Everything was so perfect.

And it only got better.

Because later on, after Geto privately found a moment to give you your gift, the four of you were still in the living room and all of you had eaten cookies and watched a Christmas movie together.

Gojo saved his gift for you until the movie was over and by that time, it was slowly fading into nighttime.

With a slight huff, Gojo stood up from the couch and headed to his room for a moment. Shoko was resting her head on your shoulder, her eyes blindly staring at whatever auto-played on the TV ahead. Meanwhile, Geto picked up his phone and began to scroll through it.

After a few minutes, Gojo returns to the three of you and you and him make eye contact. He’s got a bag in his hand and is careful to make his way toward you.

When he does, he doesn’t realize he’s standing in front of Shoko until she says something, “Dude, you’re not made of glass.” She hums, ignoring the fact that he was clearly only standing there for you.

You chuckle and angle your head up a bit, seeing that Gojo doesn’t budge and instead holds the bag out for you to take. You shake your head at how he ignores Shoko and then sit up, causing her to slip off your shoulder.

The woman groans and then shifts to sit herself up properly, “You’re both annoying,” She says harmlessly before moving to her feet and going to sit on another couch.

Gojo smiles victoriously and then plops down right where Shoko had been, “Got somethin’ for ya’, sweetheart.” He says to you.

You carefully take the bag from his hands, trying not to smile already even though you don’t know what it is. “What is it?” You ask.

“Open it and find out,” Gojo hums.

He shifts so that his body is facing yours, bringing one leg up onto the couch and then moving his arm to the back of the couch so that he can rest his head against his knuckles. With a sigh, you place the bag in your lap and then reach into it.

You weren’t sure what to expect. He said he didn’t even know you were coming so he couldn’t have gotten you anything too thoughtful, right? It’s probably some cash or something along that line…

Geto had placed his phone down and turned his head to the two of you, somewhat excited to see your reaction. And, you didn’t know it but, Shoko was also watching with just as much excitement.

Out of the box, you pulled a pretty red jewelry box out. A hand quickly came up to your mouth as you gasped. It was a rather large box and it was so obvious that there was a necklace inside.

“Satoru… You didn’t…” You whisper in shock.

He smirks, his eyes all over you, “I did. C’mon, open it already, love.”

Your heart skipped a beat due to the nickname and you took a deep breath before opening the jewelry box. Revealed to you was a simple yet dazzling necklace.

Your jaw dropped a little as you looked at the item. There was a pretty white silver chain that led to a small, clearly diamond-encrusted pendant that had a slight sparkle under the lighting. It wasn’t too extravagant or anything but the gift itself struck your heart just right.

You were tearing up for some unknown reason as you stared at it, “I… S-Satoru is this real?” You whispered in disbelief, slowly turning to the man.

Gojo looked at ease, nodding his head slightly, “Of course it’s real.”

“This is…” You turn and look back down at the item, almost too scared to touch it.

He leans closer to you, only a little, “Want’ me to put it on for you?” He offers thoughtfully.

Too stunned to speak, you just nod your head. Gojo moved carefully as he reached for the necklace and you moved around to turn your back to him once he had it. As you did so, you found yourself facing Geto who watched the two of you contently.

You felt Gojo’s fingers against your hair, slipping your hair out of the way, if any, and then shifting the jewelry around you. The slight coldness of the metal hitting your skin made you flinch slightly but as you felt Gojo’s fingertips graze your neck, your nerves steadily died down.

He then shamelessly leaned forward and placed a kiss on the nape of your neck as the piece of jewelry was clasped around you.

Geto winks at you, “It looks good on you,” He compliments.

You’re smiling nonstop, “Thank you.”

Gojo pulls away from your neck and hums out a simple, “Done.”

You turn your body around to face him and see Shoko smiling in the corner of your eye. She was going to say something but she stopped herself as she watched the way your arms flew around Gojo’s neck as you hugged him.

The embrace was so strong and forward that Gojo fell back onto the couch with you landing right on top of him. Your body lay against his muscular one, his legs spread as yours positioned in between them. Even though he fell, you didn’t care, squeezing onto the man tightly as a thanks.

Gojo chuckled and you could feel his heart pounding against his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Thank you, Satoru,” You whisper, unconsciously nuzzling into the man, “It’s beautiful, I love it.”

He swallows hard at your words, his heart fluttering in his chest as he chuckles. “I’m glad you like it, sweets.” Gojo hums, shifting his head so that he can whisper in your ear, “I love you.”

The words make your eyes widen and you suddenly move to lift yourself up. You don’t get off of him, simply placing your hands at the side of his head and hovering over the male. His face is completely red at the sight of you over him and you see his breathing grow a bit heavier.

Both of you glance down at each other’s lips at the same time and you both are actually about to kiss, regardless of Shoko or Geto being right there in the room with the two of you. You never wanted to kiss Gojo so bad. There was this sudden desire to just plaster his face with kisses as a thank you for the beautiful piece of jewelry he’d gifted you with.

Getting lost in the moment, you even started to lean down to the man and he looked like he had no plans on stopping you.

Unfortunately, the sudden buzzing of your phone in your pocket stopped you and the two of you finched out of your little daze. You blinked out of your ridiculous thoughts and pushed yourself all the way up, moving off of Gojo and giving him space. You sat back on your heels and he sat up, raising a brow at what it was that ruined the moment.

You stuff your hand into your pocket to find out, pulling your cell out and glancing at the screen. Your eyes went completely wide and your jaw dropped for a second time that night.

You slap a hand over your mouth, “Oh my god.” You murmured, moving to shoot up to your feet.

Geto raised a brow, Gojo batted his eyelashes at you, and Shoko sent you a confused look.

You only made eye contact with Shoko, “It’s him.” You whispered in disbelief.

Her eyes light up and she sits up a little from her slouched position, “Him, as in…?” She raised a brow, sending you a you know who look.

You nodded frantically, your hand shaking a little. You then glanced down at Gojo, who surprisingly had a smile on his face.

The man nudged your leg, “Go on, go talk to him, sweetheart.” Gojo encouraged.

With another shocked bat of your eyelashes, you nod briefly and then rush out of the living room while raising your phone to your ear. Your heart was pounding, throbbing even as you shakily held up the phone.

“H-Hello?” You stammered as you walked into the kitchen.

You could hear everything. The parting of those plush lips of his, the sharp inhale he takes, and even the faint shake in his deep voice as he spoke.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Choso uttered with that sweet voice of his.

Folded. In half. Literally. You had to bring another hand over your mouth to cover the way his voice, the nickname, and the entire interaction made you all giggly and flustered in a matter of seconds.

Crouching down slightly, you almost didn’t reply as you replayed his voice in your mind over and over. God you missed it more than you realized you did.

“F-Fuck,” You curse softly, chuckling afterward, “Merry Christmas, Cho.”

You couldn’t see it but, he smiled happily at the sound of your voice-- the two of you having an equal effect on each other. He too had to cover his mouth for a second, as if that would stop the gushing smile on his face.

“Shit,” Choso hums, “I uh…” His brain stammers to figure out what to say, “A-Are uhm… Are you free right now by any chance?”

You just barely glance over toward the direction of the living room, “Not exactly but, t-that can probably change. Why?”

The man bites his lower lip for a moment in thought. Choso releases his lip and then holds back his smile as he voices his next words calmly, “I wanna see you.”

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[kitty-tea]

Like father, like son

Welcome to the third and final part of the story!

Here’s part one and part two

(Link to masterlist)

Summary: James finally gets what he wants.

A/n: thank you to everyone who’s read the story so far! Sorry this is so long and full of filthy, smutty goodness :)

Pairing: dilf!James Potter x reader

NSFW 18+ only!

Word count: 5.4k

Tags/warnings: dilf!James Potter, super long, unprotected sex, age gap, low-key unhinged, almost-somnophilia, pet names, extremely filthy smut, NSFW, oral sex, p in v sex, teasing, reader is of age, dub-con (depends on how you look at it)

Hey, how have you been? It’s been a while since we’ve spoken to each other. I know you’ve been busy with the Auror Recruitment Programme. Dad and I are really happy for you. We both miss you very much, and it would mean a lot to me if you would come to our house for my 18th birthday. We know you’re very busy, so it’ll just be dinner with the three of us and we’ll let you leave the next morning. We’ll even let you sleep on the pull-out couch just like old times.

-Your friend, Harry

You stared at the letter in your hand that Hedwig had dropped onto your kitchen counter after you let her in. The words “we both miss you very much” stuck out to you. You were reminded of how fast time passed since Lily’s death. The first month after it happened, the three of you were a complete mess. James had gotten a letter from Professor McGonagall saying that Harry’s grades were starting to slip, and he was in danger of having to repeat sixth year on top of getting kicked off the Quidditch team (something that upset both you and James as former players for the same team) if something wasn’t done about it. With you out of school and unable to spend as much time with him, there was nothing you could do for him other than to keep sending him letters of encouragement. Luckily for him, his supportive group of friends were more than willing to help him get back to his feet and help keep him on track to graduating. You still understood that neither James nor his son would ever get over Lily’s death because you never got over your parent’s deaths. You understood each other’s pain. You’d never be that type of person to tell someone to get over a loved one’s death no matter how long ago it was.

You scribbled your response to Harry’s letter promising him that you’ll be at his house, and tied the parchment around Hedwig’s ankle before sending her off.

You sat still on your chair with a dreamy feeling inside of you. If you were a cartoon character, there would be hearts in place of your eyes. That dreamy feeling only swelled within you more by each day until it was the day for you to see James.

James felt selfish for using his son’s birthday as an excuse to see you. He was the one who brought you up during dinner, casually mentioning that you hadn’t spoken with them in a long time. He then mentioned that with Harry’s birthday coming up, it would be the perfect opportunity for you to spend time together.

That’s how he found himself answering the door at six in the evening. His heart somersaulted into his stomach at the sight of you.

“Oh, hi James.” His eyes didn’t overlook the way your cheeks turned as pink as the sunset or the same shy smile you started giving him all those years ago.

“Come in, Harry’s inside setting the table.” He stepped aside as you walked in with your overnight bag slung onto your shoulder.

James didn’t care if you caught his eyes hungrily exploring your body. Actually, he wanted you to catch him, so he could see how you’d react. Would you blush an even deeper shade of red and turn away? Or would you boldly hold his stare?

And what the hell were you wearing? You were (definitely) trying to seduce him with the tiny skirt that almost showed the plump skin of your ass and that white blouse that was high enough to show your belly button and exposed your shoulders. There was no way you were wearing a bra with the way your nipples were showing through the soft fabric, just tempting James to reach his thumb out and rub it over the hard peaks.

He then realized he couldn’t remember how long it’d been since he let his mind wander to you as he’d pleasure himself in the privacy of his own room.

He really needed to get himself together. He was not about to let his inappropriate thoughts about you slip out in front of his son.

“Happy birthday!” Your voice snapped James out of his thoughts as he saw you run over to Harry and give him a hug.

“I’m glad you could make it!” He returned your hug. “Come on, let’s eat. Aren’t you starving?”

“I know you are.” You rolled your eyes and laughed, only to abruptly stop with a blush when your eyes did indeed catch James looking at your body, specifically at your thighs that he saw you rubbing together. “Oh… yeah, what’s for dinner?” Your voice stumbled.

“My favorite, obviously because I’m the birthday boy.” Harry said in a joking snobbish way.

Throughout dinner, James sat back during most discussions you and Harry were having, enjoying the peaceful quietness without having to worry about the chaos that had been happening in the rest of the Wizarding World.

James didn’t know or care what time it was when his eyes opened to the sight of the still darkened sky outside his bedroom window and the dry, raw feeling inside his throat. He needed water which meant he’d have to go past the living room where you were sleeping in order to get to the kitchen.

Being careful not to make too much noise as he stepped past Harry’s bedroom door, he made his way down the stairs.

If the word temptation was a person, James was sure it would be you. His eyes gravitated up your exposed legs before landing on the hem of the short, pink satin robe you were wearing, your sleeping form undisturbed by his presence.

A more sinister part of his mind was begging him to walk over to you and untie your robe. One little peek wouldn’t hurt right? It told him, but he screamed at that part of him to shut up and that Lily would’ve been furious enough to come out of her grave to give him some sort of a spiritual beating and an earful if he did something that devious to you. It was just a thought. Not everything he thought needed to be acted out.

He wasn’t married anymore. He didn’t have to feel guilty about his dirty thoughts about you, right?

James found that his previous thirst for water was replaced by something else. He sat on the armchair next to the pull-out couch as he reminded himself about what he’d been taught: that men are allowed to look but not touch. But he wanted to touch you. His fingers twitched around the armrest as he imagined tracing them along your exposed inner thighs before dipping below the hem. Would his fingers feel a warm slickness or a piece of fabric? Were you wearing any underwear at all? It was hard to tell with your legs closed.

James couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t care anymore that his conscience had no control over his body as he got up from his chair and the backs of his fingers found themselves brushing a strand of hair out of your face and down your neck. He made up this pathetic excuse in his mind that he had to check your pulse to make sure you were alive.

That excuse was so pathetic that James instantly snatched his hand back and mentally scolded himself before swiftly retreating to his bedroom.

Stepping out of the bathroom with your toothbrush bag, you adjusted your robe. You heard sounds coming from the kitchen which you deduced was James cooking something. You were right, for you spotted him behind the island where he was balancing a mixing bowl in one hand and holding a whisk in the other as you poked your head into the kitchen. You also noticed instantly that he was shirtless. And his muscles were on full display.

Although you’ve imagined what he’d look like without a shirt countless times, nothing could compare to the real view.

“Good morning. I didn’t see you there. I’m making pancakes.” You didn’t know what sounded more delicious: the pancakes, or the sound of his raspy morning voice.

You forced yourself to move your entire body into the kitchen.

You couldn’t remember how to speak as you felt your cheeks flame up and your eyes glue itself to his abs.

“Would you like to help?” Oh, you wanted to help him with something, alright. Just not the type of help he was implying.

You nodded and James gave you a smile as you made it to the kitchen island and set your toothbrush bag down. It was more like a smirk.

“What’s so funny?” You cringed at how your voice sounded like an angry little kid.

“It was like you were hiding from me.” Your heart fluttered even more inside your chest at the sound of his laughter. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”

When you hadn’t broken out of your trance, James brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright?” He asked. You weren’t paying attention to what he was saying. You were busy staring at every body part of his from his eyes down to the V-line of his abs that extended below the waistband of his sweats.

You also weren’t paying attention to how you were squeezing your legs together to soothe the ache that was starting to form there.

“Hey, relax. You’re all tensed up.” You gasped at the feeling of his cold hand on the heated skin of your bare thigh. You bit your lip to suppress a whimper as you felt his thumb gently rub circles in an upwards direction.

If what James was already doing to you felt this good, you thought the pleasure he would bring to you if he touched you in other places would be beyond anything you felt in your life.

“I don’t like what you’ve been doing to me, babydoll.” James murmured into your ear, his voice making you melt. “What were you thinking? Tempting me last night in that short skirt and your tits practically on display? In front of my own son? Everyone else thinks you’re such a good girl, but I see right through you.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked in your confused and dizzy state.

James scoffed. “Even a Muggle would be able to read you. You’re just as terrible at Occlumency as you are talented at Legilimency.”

So he did know about your crush on him… the question was how long had he known?

“Oh, I’ve known for a while…” James smirked, answering your mind. “Since I was married, actually. And I’ve seen your little sex dreams. They’re even better than those cheap porno films. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“James… you’re scaring me.” Your lower lip quivered. How on earth did things escalate this fast? You were beyond horrified that he could see things in your mind that even you tried hiding from yourself. There was no going back now. No more lying to yourself that you only saw James as a father figure.

“Father figure?” James asked incredulously. “Quite frankly, I’m flabbergasted that with all the magic you have, you never once saw the things I’ve thought while I was around you. If you would’ve used Legilimency on me at all, you would’ve seen all those filthy thoughts I’ve had about you that no father should have.”

“James!” You gasped as his hand disappeared below your robe and landed on your hip bone.

You were clenching your thighs so hard that you could feel some of the stickiness from your cunt leaking onto them.

“Open your legs. I want to know how filthy my little girl is.” He whispered and you obeyed. You sucked in a breath as you felt his long index finger venture into the crease of your thigh before using it to collect your warm slick and spread it up and down your pussy. You moaned and instinctively grinded against his fingers.

“Have you always been this wet in front of me?” He whispered.

You shamefully looked down. You didn’t want to answer him, why should you when he already knew?

“Dad? Are you in there? Where’s-” You heard Harry’s voice from inside the living room.

“Yeah, she’s right here in the kitchen with me! Don’t come in yet! We’re both making a surprise breakfast for you!” James hurriedly interrupted him.

Really? You thought as you rolled your eyes. If things were to get more out of control, you’d be on your way to making a surprise baby.

You bit your lip as James slid his finger inside and curled them upwards hitting that deep spot within you that you couldn’t reach as well with your own shorter fingers. With his thumb, he rubbed tight circles around your clit, making your legs want to give out from underneath you. You didn’t know which of those two spots he was touching you felt better.

“Okay. Should I go wait in my room?” You almost forgot Harry was still there. What kind of game was James playing with you, talking to his son so casually as if he wasn’t doing something dirty with you?

“Yeah, we’ll call you over when we’re done!” James shouted. You let out an exhale as you heard Harry’s footsteps rush upstairs.

“Just look at you. My sweet, perfect little doll.” James’ eyes followed the fingers on his hand that weren’t buried in your cunt up and down your body. “Can I look at these?” He softly cupped his other hand under your breast making sure to give them a gentle squeeze.

You breathlessly nodded and tensed under his touch as he used his index finger to slide the robe off both of your shoulders. You felt your nipples harden into peaks at both the sudden air and James’ hungry gaze on them.

Your eyes slid shut as his lips left a trail of kisses that started from between your breasts and ended at the side of your neck where he started sucking on the sensitive skin. The harder James was sucking on that one area, the harder it became for you to hide your whimpers. With each pump of his fingers inside of you combined with the pleasure he was giving you on your neck, you felt your body getting closer towards the edge of something until you couldn’t hold on anymore. You couldn’t control your hips as they thrust themselves onto his hand. Your panting was shaking your body just as violently as did your orgasm.

“Oh, James.” You quietly whimpered into his ear as your hands found their way to his messy hair.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” His soft voice replied back.

“Feels so… good.” You pushed the sentence out of you as the last remaining trembles from your orgasm left your body along with James’ fingers.

“James!” You suddenly exclaimed, remembering. “Breakfast!”

“I know, I didn’t forget.” A smile broke out on his face.

He continued to look at you like you were the most perfect thing he’d seen as he helped put your robe back onto your shoulders and clean you up with a towel.

You were still blushing and avoiding eye contact with him while you were helping him in the kitchen, but that didn’t stop him from gently caressing any part of your body he could from behind you every few minutes.

You gasped every time his face would find the crook of your neck or his hands that would wrap around your waist.

Soon, James left to go knock on Harry’s bedroom door to let him know breakfast was ready while you stayed behind to get the table ready.

James came back (with a shirt on unfortunately) with Harry running like a little kid in front of him, dressed in jeans and a hoodie.

“I’m starving!” Harry shouted excitedly, eyeing his plate. You laughed at him, glad to see his energetic old self that you missed.

You and Harry mostly spent the rest of breakfast catching up some more, before he told you he’d leave soon to go to the Weasleys’ for the actual party they were throwing him where the rest of his friends would be.

James sat across from you while you sat next to Harry at the table like how it used to be.

“What happened to your neck?” You and James froze upon seeing Harry point to the bruise that was the same color as the jelly on his plate.

“I…tripped.” You promptly used your hair to cover up the area so that Harry wouldn’t have enough time to inspect it.

“You need to be more careful next time. The corners of the tables can be quite sharp.” James chided you gently as if he wasn’t the one that caused this.

“Oh. Funny how I didn’t hear you screaming earlier.” Harry shrugged. “You should put some ice on it.”

“Well you know she’s in Auror training and she’s been learning how to keep quiet.” James said with emphasis on the last two words with a sly look in your direction. He then got up to walk to the freezer.

He returned a moment later with an ice cube wrapped around a paper towel. You felt a spark where your fingers touched his as he handed it over to you, almost convincing you to put it over your reddening cheeks instead.

After the three of you had finished breakfast and Harry had disapparated out of the living room, it was you and James alone.

“Do you need me to help you wash dishes?” You asked awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I can stay here and help. I got the day off today.”

“Or you could wait for me in my bedroom.” James murmured as he sneakily slid his thumbs up your thighs. “You could help me in there.”

“Deal.” You got on your tiptoes and gave his cheek a quick kiss before departing for his bedroom.

As you came up in front of the door to James’ bedroom, your hands started to shake as you pushed it open. In all the time you spent there, this was the only room in the house you had never stepped foot in. You were starting to feel awkward, knowing this used to be Lily’s room too, and the bed that was in the middle of the room was most likely the same bed that she shared with James too.

You started to feel anxious with all these thoughts that popped in your mind like, “What if James is just using me as a distraction to help him get over Lily?” “Does James want me to replace her?��� “Would I be insulting Lily’s memory if I slept with her husband on the same bed as her after everything she’s done for me?”

As for what you thought about James, you didn’t want to use him as someone to just sleep around with. You didn’t ever want to replace Lily. She was a completely different person from you. That was it. She was a person with thoughts and feelings, not some object with mass-produced replicas. You didn’t know how to answer that last question you asked yourself internally.

You walked over to the bed, taking the time to run your fingers over the soft blanket that covered the bed. You then took in the rest of the room. You watched the tree in front of the window shade the room from the full sunlight, giving the white walls and floor the illusion of a blue-ish gray undertone. You noticed that unlike the rest of the house, there was an absence of pictures. You assumed it was so that James wouldn’t be reminded of the pain of losing his wife as he was trying to go to sleep. Besides the bed, the only furniture there was were the drawers, a vanity, and a desk with a chair. The only two doors besides the entrance were what looked to be the master bathroom and the closet.

Although you and James had known each other for years, you didn’t feel right to go and snoop around his stuff. But he did snoop around your mind. Is that any different? That still wasn’t a good enough excuse for you to go through his physical stuff.

You instead elected to take a seat on the foot of the bed with your legs crossed, your mind spacing out over to the tree by the window.

“I hope someone didn’t start without me.” James’ voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He was leaning on the doorframe, his glasses and side-smile leaning with him.

You shyly turned away as he took a seat next to you on the bed.

“You’re so pretty.” James said as he twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “What’s wrong?”

He gently cupped your face with his other hand, turning you towards his direction. You nervously looked down to where your lips were nearly touching.

“Do you actually want to do this with me? Am I just a distraction for you?” You whispered the last sentence. You couldn’t bring yourself to mention Lily directly.

“No, Sweetheart. You’re so much better than that.” James brought one of your hands to his lips and kissed the back of it.

At that moment, James wanted you all to himself. He knew there would be consequences later if that happened. He could give you a choice to either sneak around with you behind his son’s back or go public with everyone else about your relationship and face the risk of shame. That was if you wanted it as much as he did, which he knew you did, but were you willing to give in and go that far? Would you change your mind?

And Harry? So what if he had a crush on you? You weren’t ever going to go for him anyways. James was the one who got what he wanted, not him. Not everyone gets what they want in life. Damn, he was thinking selfishly, so unlike how a father should.

No matter how happy or sad you looked, James couldn’t stop thinking of how gorgeous everything about you was, your eyes, your soft lips, the way your hair fell and framed your face, the blush on your cheeks that was as potent as the flame in his heart, it was like you were pulling him in without trying as his lips automatically found its way to yours.

As he got a taste of you, he knew he was instantly addicted. Just the taste of your lips wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hold your body close to him, so he wrapped his arm around you and grabbed one of your legs and put it over him, making you sit on his lap, facing him.

If he hadn’t required air to be alive, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to let go of you. The both of you were left panting as you got a look at each other.

“Take this off.” He pleaded, tugging at the string of your robe.

As soon as you took your satin robe off, he wasted no time in flipping you over onto your back, making your hair spill out below you and knocking the air out of you.

“I can finally have this beautiful body all to myself.” You mewled as his thumb flicked over the hardened bud on your breast.

“Aren’t you just deliciously adorable?” James let a filthy smirk grow on his face as he squeezed your breast and attached his mouth to your nipple, sucking on it. “I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”

You started to squirm more and more under him with each lick on your nipple until you couldn’t control your whimpering.

“It’s okay, Baby. You don’t need to hold back.” James cooed.

He got up from where he was above you. He yanked his white t-shirt over his head before he pulled down his sweatpants, revealing the outline of his erection in his boxers to you.

“Do you want to feel it?” James took a hold of your smaller hand. Sitting up, you bit your lip and nodded.

“It’s so…big.” The way your voice sounded so innocent like you were discovering something fascinating only made the hardness of his erection more painful. James sucked in a breath as your hand gave him a gentle squeeze.

“Fuck, open your legs.” He commanded urgently.

When you were too distracted by studying the dimensions of his cock to respond, James took matters into his own hands by jamming both hands between your knees to pry them apart.

The sight of your glistening arousal in front of him was a reward in itself. But he couldn’t stop there.

“I already made you cum today and you’re still wet for more. You’re such a greedy little slut.” James purred deeply. “How about this? You use those pretty lips to suck me off while you touch yourself.”

Your big doe eyes only widened at him as your mouth hung open. Just that look on your face only made James want to cum even more.

“Come on, Babydoll,” He reveled in how nervous and tiny he was making you feel. “Don’t be shy. I know you touch yourself while thinking about me. And now, I’m right here.”

He took your hand off his cock. He could feel your eyes studying his movements as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pulled it down, making his dick spring out in front of your face.

“Get on your knees.” He easily pulled your smaller body off the bed and onto the floor, while he took his seat where you were.

There you were, naked in front of him, on your knees, staring up at his cock, like you were worshiping it.

James could feel your hesitation as your fingers reached out over the tip.

“You wanna taste it?” James brushed his fingers through your hair, attempting to relax you. You nodded. “Why don’t you ask?”

“C-Can I taste it, please?” How could he ever deny you, especially with you asking him so innocently and politely?

“Of course.” He couldn’t take his eyes off yours as you continued looking up at him while letting his cock slip past your lips. You then reached your hand down between your legs, touching yourself just as he had instructed.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing with his eyes. You were there, really sucking his cock, making the dirty fantasies that had been manifesting inside him come true.

“Fuck, that’s it Baby.” James grunted as he pushed your head down on his cock. “You’re doing so well. You’re so perfect.”

When your wet tongue hit the vein on the underside, James let a string of curses erupt out of him. That seemed to encourage you to keep going as you wrapped your free hand around the base and pumped it in sync with your mouth.

A little while later, James could feel himself getting closer to cumming when his body tensed up.

“Keep going, Baby! Good job!” He kept praising you breathlessly as he stroked your cheek.

He finally felt his cum spill into your mouth as you swallowed it, some of it still spilling down your chin.

“Fuck,” James sighed as he gathered his cum that was on your chin with his thumb and pushed it into your mouth. He felt his gaze darken as you greedily sucked and licked the entire thing. “You’ve been such a good girl. Let me make it up to you.”

James pulled you off the floor and into his body, holding you close to him as he inhaled the scent of your perfume.

As you let the heat of James’ body wrap around you, he flipped you over so that you were on your back again. Glasses or no glasses, he was the most handsome man you’d seen in your life. You no longer gave a damn that he was almost old enough to be your father. Maybe you did have a type. He had made you feel like you were the most special girl in the entire world, and you never wanted to stop feeling that way.

“Hold onto me, okay? I’m going to make you feel good. Don’t you want that?” James asked as he kissed you under your jaw, making you whimper at the pleasure he was imposing on the sensitive area.

“Yeah I want your cock deep in my pussy.” James seemed surprised at the uncharacteristic filth that came out of you to which he raised his eyebrows.

“Fuck, I didn’t think you had such a filthy mouth to go with that innocent face.” James said as he brought his lips onto yours.

As he did so, you felt something against your entrance, presumably the tip of James’ cock. He wiggled around some more until he had finally coated his cock in the slickness of your walls.

“Are you alright?” James rubbed his thumb against the apple of your cheek.

You nodded as you bit your lip. You just needed a little time to adjust to him. His cock was longer and wider than anything you ever inserted into yourself. But he filled you up in the best way possible better than your fingers or even the handle of your hairbrush could.

“It feels so good James.” You were panting as you grabbed a hold of his shoulders. Another scream left you as James’ finger rubbed your clit, adding more pleasure to your cunt.

“I want you to cum for me, Beautiful.” James grunted as he continued to thrust his cock deep into you, making you whimper and moan under him.

You were now getting addicted to the full feeling of James’ cock inside you along with the stimulation on your clit. Your head was starting to feel like it was floating on clouds. In your cock-drunk state, you kept moaning James’ name and telling him how good he was making you feel, just how you did in your countless sex dreams about him.

You couldn’t believe this was real, and it was happening to you.

“James! James! Fuck! I’m so… so close.” You sobbed into his shoulder.

“I got you Baby.” He cooed.

“Feels so big and good…” You continued moaning sentences until it turned into incoherent mumbles.

The full feeling of James’ cock combined with the intense tingling on your clit had your walls squeezing around him soon. You started screaming James’ name again through your orgasm that flooded through you.

“Fucking hell!” He suddenly grabbed your hips, and looked at you as if something came over him.

He then pulled his cock out in the middle of your orgasm. He was kneeling above your spent body with his hard cock in his hand that was still coated in your juices.

With a couple strokes, you felt the warm liquid drip down onto your tits and your stomach. You were now painted with James’ cum, and he was the artist admiring his work.

Both of you took deep breaths as you looked at each other while coming down from your highs.

As soon as James had recovered, he got up and ran his hands through his messy hair. You were too tired to sit up, so you could only watch as he put on his boxers before he went into the master bathroom. You heard the water running, and not long after, James had returned with a towel in his hand.

“How do you feel?” He asked gently as he wiped the towel across where his cum was on your body.

“A little tired.” You sighed. James rubbed the towel in circular motions on your breasts, effectively massaging them. After he cleaned you up, he discarded the towel onto the nightstand.

“Come over here, Beautiful.” James opened his arms up and you rolled into his embrace. You closed your eyes as he pressed faint kisses on the back of your naked shoulder, making you shiver.

You were scared, but also excited to see what your future would look like with James.

Tags

@xcinnamonmalfoyx

[tonightsyanderes]

Yandere Beastman

•Tiger Beastman•

TW: death(not reader), non-con, stalking, I am basing this off of the actual mating habits of a tiger. blood. injury to reader.

Don't like it or if these trigger you please don't read and take care of your mental health. I do NOT support or want anyone in this kind of relationship they are highly toxic and unsafe. I write the stories for entertainment purposes only.

There are not a lot of "Yandere tendencies" in this fic. Just a lot of fucked up stuff.....

Please Enjoy~

The hectic life you had before would be calm compared to the life you have now. Trying to keep yourself level-headed while the world changes around you is hard and mentally draining.

‘Note to self never trust someone that promises it’s a time machine that you’re stepping into. Even if they are… were your best friend.’ You mumble to yourself bitterly about how unfair it was to be stuck somewhere or when with nothing to help you. You heard a rustling of leaves behind you. The wind blew green leaves in your face as the rustling got louder.

You could hear the thud of hooves drawing closer to you. You quickly wiped your face clean and moved behind a tree to hide from whatever was coming. Heartbeat ringing in your ears you try to calm down by breathing in through your nose and out of your mouth. You try not to hold your breath until it gets closer. The thudding grew louder, shaking the ground. A figure ran past you, too quick to see what it was. Two more things ran by the tree you hid behind, you covered your mouth with your hand to muffle your breathing. One of them had antlers… with ears like a deer. Their legs were like a deer too… and with hooves! Where the hell are you?!?

You heard a deep growl in front of the tree. A shrill scream followed by a loud crunch was mere feet from you. Your body couldn’t move. You tried to back away, tried to uncover your mouth, tried anything! But your body refused to listen… The crunching sound was like breaking celery, a crisp crack/crunch. It stopped and you could hear the chewing of something wet and tough. One of those things must have been caught. Whatever caught it could find you too… would it eat you too? You could imagine the way it would tear into you, it would eat you alive. It ate whatever that thing was alive so you could only imagine what you would see as it tears into your stomach as the life drained away from you. The last thing you would remember would be that horrifying scene.

‘I need to get out of here… quietly’ You looked around trying to make less noise than the eating sounds. You tried to turn around when the wind picked up again. Except this time you were upwind from the beast. The sound stopped… not just the eating sounds, all the sounds around you… the birds let long ago, the wind stopped whistling, the river stopped bubbling, and the far-off thudding of hooves was no longer heard. The beating of your heart quicked, it hurt your chest. The chest that you were sure would be ripped open in mere seconds. 

Another growl and you couldn't move again. ‘Not this shit again! I need out of here!!’ Your eyes were restless and you looked around wildly. You can’t hear the soft thuds headed to the tree you hid behind. The way the beast made slow, calculating movements was a sign that it was an apex predator. Nothing scared it. A claw of a tiger stepped out from the other side. It was massive, about the size of your head. You imagined it slicing through your stomach. 

Its head followed soon after, traces of its meal all over its face. It looks almost… human. It, no He turned towards you, and you backed away as his whole body came into view. His face and torso were more human but the rest was like a tiger. His arms and legs were tiger limbs. He had an orange and black tail. Tiger ears on top of his head. He had no clothes on. Blood was caked on him everywhere. The fur on his body became clumped together and dyed red. He continued to growl at you. His teeth were long and the tips were sharp. You backed away from him as much as you could. He glared at you and stepped closer. 

“Get back! I taste bad I promise!” You shout out of fear. In your right mind, you would not be saying something like that. He stopped growling and stayed still. Just looking at you, it was worse than him moving. Staying still made him unpredictable. You crawled away quickly. He didn’t move just stared at you. You stood up slowly and continued to walk backward until you had a few trees between you and him. You sprinted away from the area and towards the sound of the river. 

 You made a small shelter out of fallen branches that leaned against a tree. The river is a small walk from the shelter, fishing got easier with time and practice. You had no idea how to start a fire without a lighter so you go cold most nights. You have seen a few… bloody leftovers of other beasts that left you berries or other foods around your little camp. 

You were trying to catch some fish with your makeshift net. A long-sleeved t-shirt with a stick in the shape of a Y can only do so much. You were so busy focusing on fishing that you didn’t hear the noises behind you. Suddenly you were pushed face-first into the ground. A growl from whatever was holding you made you freeze. It sounded so familiar… so overly terrifying. 

This was it you are going to die… you’re going to be eaten alive by that man-beast thing! A bite on the back of your neck sent pain down your spine. A scream erupted from your mouth as you kicked and grabbed at it from behind you. You heard a chuckle behind you. The claws on the massive paws tore through your clothes with ease. The teeth on the back of your neck never let up. Something wet, slime-y, and hard was pressed into your thighs. He used one hand to bring your hips up, the claws dug into your skin and drew blood. His penis was barbed on one side and painful when he entered you with no preparation. Another scream erupted from you, you tried to fight back even more. Nothing worked as he kept going until he filled you to the brim with his cum. You cried until you passed out, you’d rather be asleep when you die than awake. 

You woke up in a den with the tiger beast beside you. A dead deer beast was in front of him, he was already eating it. You whimpered and he looked over at you. He tore off a leg and tried to hand it to you. You gagged as the limb dripped blood all over the ground. He huffed and walked over to you wagging it in your face. You shook your head and started to kick at him when he came too close. He smirked and showed off his phallus it was hard and pink. 

“No! Not again! Fuck you!” You shouted as he got even closer not bothered by your attempts to hurt him. He opened his mouth his teeth on full display.

“Again! You!” He mimicked your voice almost perfectly. ‘What the hell… how the fuck…’ You couldn’t believe this…

“Mine… mate… season… you fight… you mate now.” He said in broken words. “Kill… others… need… me not… them.” He growled as he walked towards you. Your vision goes black as you pass out from fear. ‘Will I see the light of day again?...’

[little-emerald-snake]

Blackmail - Ominis Gaunt X F!MC

🔥 NSFW 🔞 MDNI

scene is f!mc during the shadow of friendship quest where she needs to talk Ominis out of telling on Sebastian to be committed to Azkaban BUT instead of the soft reaction we get in-game what if Ominis has actually harbored deep desires for the mc until now and since he's aware that she has feelings for Sebastian instead, uses this opportunity to "blackmail" the mc into convincing him to not put Sebastian away. so really a non-con scene of dark!ominis x f!mc if you will requested by @moongurl95 via dms

Genuinely so sorry this took me like three weeks but my life is in shambles literally setting this up to post while sheltering from a tornado 💀 but don’t worry I’m fine. Anyway I hope this is what you’re looking for 🫶🏻

Warnings: blackmail, threats, dirty talk, non-con, Dominis, stolen virginity, unprotected sex, creampie

2.4k words

She stood beside Sebastian who paced the stone floor beside his blonde companion. The air in the undercroft hung heavier than ever around them. Ominis was being brutally honest, telling Sebastian that his twin, Anne, couldn’t bear the thought of turning him in. Sebastian was a bit shocked, pacing back and forth while trying to defend himself before Ominis finally gave a sigh, saying he’d give Sebastian some time to think.

As he walked away Sebastian resumed his nervous pacing and she approached him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t believe he’s gone. How did things go so wrong? I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to-“ He shook his head in dismay. “Oh Anne. I was only trying to help. I can’t leave now. Anne needs me more than ever.”

She nodded, her head felt full of confusion and worry but she’d grown to care for Sebastian and couldn’t imagine that he’d truly wanted to hurt anyone. She knew the lengths he was willing to go for Anne. That kind of love and devotion spoke to her. “Don't worry Sebastian. I shall speak with Ominis.”

Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. You’re a real friend, truly. No matter what happens from here, I’m glad we met.” With that he turned and walked to the exit of the Undercroft. She waited till the doors chimed and she heard him exit before she turned with a sigh toward Ominis.

She could practically sense the dark cloud looming over the other side of the undercroft and a sort of unease rolled over her. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. Ominis had sensed her approach and decided to tell her what had happened after they’d spoken last. He’d run back to Hogwarts and before he’d been able to speak to the headmaster Anne had contacted him. He’d rushed to Feldcroft and found Anne with Solomon’s body. How deeply stricken with grief she was. “I don’t want to lose Sebastian but I don’t think we have a choice.”

She chewed her bottom lip with a worried expression. “Ominis…we do have a choice. What good would it do now to turn him in? He clearly regrets everything. He’s not going to do anything like this again.”

Ominis’ eyes darkened. “What makes you so sure? You’ve said that about nearly everything else thus far? You said letting him into the scriptorium wasn’t going to end badly yet he casted Crucio on you without a moment's hesitation. You promised the relic wouldn't cause harm yet he was ready to throw our entire friendship away just to take it with him.”

She looked down. He was right. Everything he’d said had been true. Yet she had grown fond of Sebastian both as a friend and maybe more over the span of their year. “Ominis I know how this seems but Sebastian isn’t like this. He made a mistake…it was for Anne’s life.”

Ominis’ tone turned angry, the same scowl that first day she’d come from the Undercroft painted his features as he took a step toward her. “He’s got you wrapped around his finger…he used you…and you don’t even seem to care?! You’d rather blindly ignore the damage he’d caused to make him the hero in your book because you’ve begun to harbor feelings for him haven’t you?”

She was about to deny it but what was the point? Ominis had so clearly seen through everything and while she hated to admit it, he wasn’t wrong. “I…suppose I have. I just want the best for him and Anne…it makes no sense to send him away now when Anne will be needing her brother the most.”

Ominis’ scowl darkened. “I see. So are you willing to accept the punishment for his actions? You’re an accomplice to murder if you choose to continue down this path. If he continues on the way he is I will not hesitate to turn you both in for these crimes.”

She blinked, honestly shocked about what he’d said. But she truly believed that Sebastian was good deep down. He just let this get away from him. “Yes. I understand. I promise. He won’t cause anymore trouble. Just don’t take him from Anne.”

He agreed begrudgingly, taking another step forward. She backed up a step, bumping into a stack of crates with a gasp. His voice came out dark and low. “So you are the kind of girl who falls for the villain then?”

Her eyes widened in surprise as her head whipped back around, his tone dark and a bit husky. His palm came up to rest on the crate right beside her face, his body pushing closer. “What are you willing to give up to ensure I don’t turn you and Sebastian in? What price would you pay for a life that’s already been stained in blood?”

The knot in her throat solidified and it felt like she had mouthfuls of sawdust she had to swallow in order to form words. “Ominis, w-what are you talking about…we don’t have to give up anything…we just don’t tell anyone…”

Ominis chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “I’m well aware darling. I asked what you were willing to give up in order to keep me quiet. This deal has nothing in it for me. You and Sebastian get away with murder and I’m stuck holding the truth for nothing while you both run off and fall in love. Hardly fair if you ask me.”

Her eyes widened and she suddenly understood what was happening. She moved to run but his hand, much stronger than she’d imagined, came up to hold her wrist, wrenching and pinning it above her head, shortly joined by her other. “Now now, no running away from your problems anymore. You need to come up with a solution I’ll accept or you won’t be leaving here. You better get thinking before I decide for you.”

Her mind reeled over what she could offer him. What did he want? She thought and thought but nothing came to mind. He grinned darkly. “My choice then. I can work with that.”

He moved quickly, spinning her and bending her over a crate. She gasped, surprised by the suddenness as the wood bit into her hip bones. His surprisingly strong body pinned her down with ease, one hand holding her wrists above her head while the other worked at pulling up her school skirts. “Tell me darling, are you currently taking contraceptive potions?”

Her heart pounded in her chest. Her body had the choice of fight or flight and for some bloody reason it had chosen to freeze. “I-I no…why would I-?”

He’d laughed, cutting her off while pulling her underwear to the side. “Well you better start my dear. Because if you manage to conceive I’ll ruin your pathetic life. As a Gaunt I refuse to carry forward the bloodline.”

She listened to the sound of his belt being undone and blood whooshed in her ears. She knew the time to speak up was now but she was still at a loss for words. She couldn’t very well deny him after he’d made the threat to turn her and Sebastian in. She had to stay quiet and take it, if not for herself and Sebastian’s innocence than for Anne still having a relative to care for her.

She pressed her face to the crate, tears welling in her eyes. “O-okay. I-I won’t let that happen.” She listened to him as he hummed in satisfaction and she listened to the shuffle of his pants as he pushed them down. She felt the blunt tip of him at her opening and she sniffled, stiffening up with nerves wound tight.

Ominis huffed, trying to push forward but her tense body wouldn’t allow his entrance. “For Merlin’s sake you need to relax. Just imagine it’s Sebastian like always and it’ll be over before you know it.”

She sniffled again as he released her hands and they immediately went to the edge of the crate, gripping so tightly her knuckles turned white. “S-Sebastian has never…I’ve never…”

His eyes widened in recognition and he pulled back, voice coming a bit softer this time. “You’ve never…not once?”

She nodded and his hand came to swipe away the tears, his other hand coming to slide her hair behind her ear. “It feels good after the initial bit you know…if you could survive the pain of Crucio you can make it through this and it’ll start to feel good. You don’t even have to imagine it’s me...”

She sniffled and nodded carefully, he brushed her cheek and his other hand dipped between them to rub the blunt tip up and down between her slit. The sensations were all new but the feel of him stimulating that bundle of nerves between her legs had small spikes of pleasure shooting up through her. She hated it.

She tried to fight it, her body may be wanting this but he was good at pushing the right buttons. She didn’t want Ominis. She was still stuck, she had to do this for Anne and Sebastian to be a family. She sucked in a shaky breath that turned into a whimper as he slid over her clit again.

His warm breath ghosted over her neck. His chest, which was pressed against her back, rumbled. “That’s right dear. Relax and let your body take over. Turn that brilliant brain off for a bit and put yourself somewhere happy. It’ll be over soon.”

He notched himself at her entrance and she let another few tears slip, rolling down her cheeks. She tried to imagine that this was Sebastian above her, that it was after the ball and he’d asked her to go somewhere private. Just then, slim fingers slid between her folds and rubbed small circles around that bundle of nerves.

She moaned out softly and his hips slid forward, his tip kissing that barrier within her that she knew would end this pleasure. She pushed the thought away, trying to imagine those fingers a bit thicker and rougher against her body. She tried to imagine what breathy sounds he’d make or what encouragement he’d whisper against her skin.

A moan from between her lips and Ominis’ body sank forward, pushing past that barrier and sending spikes of discomfort through her body. But as quickly as the discomfort started his fingers redoubled with the pleasurable circles and she was arching into it and whimpering in pleasure. His breath came gently across the back of her neck as he slid her hair out of the way. “That’s right Darling, just like that.”

She moaned low as he praised her, his hips slowly moving back and forth inside of her but he focused most of his intentions on her clit. She was at the very least thankful he didn’t want her to be in pain.

She tried to force herself to think about Sebastian again but the way Ominis’ breathing picked up and his slender body slid against hers as he began to thrust deeper dragged her out of the daydream. She hated how her body reacted, her stomach flipping and swirling and tightening as she listened to the small puffs of air and panting that left his lips.

The pinching discomfort between her legs slowly morphed into hot pleasure that rippled through her in waves. She gripped the crate tighter and his thrusts grew longer and deeper. “Great Merlin you’re so fucking tight, I’ve never had a witch who was a sweet little virgin. I don’t think I can go back after this. Or if this is all just you we may have to convince Sebastian to share your brilliant little body.”

His words sent shocks of pleasure through her and she moaned, pushing her hips back. This felt so good, she struggled to maintain her fantasy of Sebastian ravaging her when Ominis was the one here making her feel so incredible. Pleasure swirled deep in her stomach and she tightened, forcing him to groan behind her. “You better be careful squeezing around me like that. Might just get the idea you actually like this with me or something.”

She whimpered, unable to hold another ripple of pleasure from surging through her. His fingers moved faster, making her arch into his touch for more. “Fuck yes, darling. That’s it. Make me cum, pretty girl.”

His hips slammed deeper till their bodies had no space between, his thrusts growing faster. Her poor hips were going to be bruised and sore from being slammed forward into the crate. The head of him nudged against a spot inside of her that had her seeing stars. She hadn’t even realized how loudly she’d cried out.

He chuckled darkly, angling her hips so he’d hit that spot with every single thrust. “That’s it, come on love, you know you want to cum all over my cock after I took your sweet innocence.”

She made a pitiful sound, the pleasure was too much and the emotions swirling inside of her caused tears to form in the corner of her eyes. His fingers rolling deft circles and him nudging into that spot was all too much for her.

She heard him groan in what sounded like sweet agony as her body stilled, her traitorous body tightening around him. He tensed, holding onto her hips for deer life as he pumped into her. She grew slick and sticky between her legs and she pressed her forehead against the crate, letting her tears fall as she composed her breathing.

Instead of staying to comfort her, he pulled out, casting a cleansing charm on himself before tucking himself away and fixing his attire. She stayed there, quietly crying as his seed and her blood mixed and dripped down her thighs.

He cleared his throat and she finally stood up, not bothering with a cleaning charm and just righting her clothing. She wouldn’t feel clean till she soaked in a boiling hot bath for several hours. But she turned to find him standing there as if nothing had ever happened. “I’ll take this into consideration when I talk to Anne about how best to break the news to the Headmaster. For now you can tell Sebastian I’ve chosen not to turn you both in. But this only lasts as long as you both stay away from the Dark Arts. Understood?”

She nodded, quickly feeling like an idiot before giving him a shaky verbal response. She wouldn’t let her sacrifice be for nothing. She’d make sure the fluffy haired brunette would stay in line no matter the cost.

[aprils2ndhandshop]

hi i love your blog, your writing is so good! may i request what type of arguments the ‘03 boys would have with their s/o? like what would the argument be about? are they upset for a long or short amt of time? how do they make up with their s/o? hopefully that makes sense, thank you!

Arguments w/the boys ‘03

All 4!

Summary: what I think the boys are like during arguments with their favorite girl.

Hi friend! Thank you for your request and the super sweet words! Sorry for the long wait, love you!

Michelangelo;

Mikey definitely isn’t one to start or enjoy fighting with you… with his brothers, duh! But not with you.

The fights he starts -if one could even call them fights, are small, light-hearted and innocent. He is essentially just pulling your leg and trying to be a pain.

“Y/n! You can’t just walk past the t.v mid play! You made me lose the game!”

“I think you lost the game because you chose to focus on throwing pillows at me instead of playing your stupid game!”

Those fights don’t last long as the moment he thinks it’s actually stressing you out, he stops.

“I’m kidding angel! I’m kidding!”

He makes up for it every time with a kiss on the cheek too.

Generally, you’re the one who has to start the fights with him - even if he’s the one with a problem.

And trust me, he may not flat out say he has a problem with you but he sure can’t hide it.

Que the slight pouting and undeniable tension on his part. He can’t fake his feelings ever.

And don’t forget all the passive aggressive, smart ass remarks he makes under his breath when he’s annoyed.

Fights with Mikey are rare but when they do happen there is a common theme, a need for your attention.

Remember, Mikey is a needy boyfriend. It has pros and cons.

Pros - he’s doting, always makes sure you know just how much he cares, always makes time for you, remembers important dates and puts in all the effort a boyfriend should.

Cons - a bit too clingy.

“I feel like you don’t ever want to see me anymore, like you just come around to make me happy.”

“Why do you even think that, Mikey?”

“Because! I wish you wanted to see me as much as I want to see you!”

Fights with him never last long, ever! He’s the kinda guy that refuses to go to bed knowing you’re sad.

He also spoils you rotten after :) Gifts, food, foot rubs, everything!

Raphael;

Raph is a nightmare to fight with and we all know on some level, he loves to fight. More with Leo than anyone but still.

In regards to arguing with you, it definitely lies in a strange grey zone for him. He hates making you upset but also has a bad habit of enjoying a good conflict.

He hates that about himself.

Not to mention how bad he is at holding his tongue.

“I’m pissed, okay? I’m mad and I need to get away from you before I say stuff I don’t mean!”

“I don’t want you to go out there and get hurt!”

“You don’t get it! I’m not like you! I’ve been fighting my whole life and it’s hard for me to just stop!”

In the midst or after every fight, he disappears for a couple of hours. Cooling off is essential for you two to figure out the problem.

Surprisingly, fights between you and Raph are rare. Partially because he’s working on anger management but mostly because he tends to lock his emotions inside before having a massive blow up.

Once he’s calmed down, he always goes straight to you, full of shame.

“Hey baby.”

“Hey.”

One of the best parts about Raph as a boyfriend is how self perceptive he is, he always apologizes for what he did wrong and fully understands why it was wrong.

“I promise I’ll be better to you, and that I learned from my fuck ups, y/n/n.”

After fights, he’s a lot more affectionate with you and uncharacteristically, even keeps that energy in front of his brother.

Donatello;

Donnie and fighting really doesn’t mix well, it’s rare but when it does happen it’s always over dumb stuff.

The arguments start more like debates, his nerdy side comes straight to the forefront as he feels the need to correct you on everything.

“Y/n! I’m proofreading the piece you wrote and look! Are you sure this is really the angle you wanna argue your point from, beautiful?”

Now that sounds pretty innocent but if Don is one thing, it’s a little bit condescending - not on purpose or with malicious intent but nonetheless, condescending he can be.

Things that may seem like no big deal can turn into tension and fighting for hours very quickly.

Typically, you are the one that starts the fight but usually because Don accidentally did something to start the fight.

“I feel like you’re nitpicking to make yourself feel so much better than me, Don. It’s so frustrating!”

“Look doll, I’m just trying to make sure your don’t come off a little bit… foolish.”

Donnie is definitely book smart, but emotionally smart, not so much.

He has a bad habit of saying mean stuff he doesn’t think is mean that ends up hurting your feelings.

And sometimes it takes awhile for him to notice.

“Y/n?… y/n?… hellooo y/n! Are you giving me the silent treatment? Why?!”

He is kinda clueless about this stuff.

But when he does catch on, he’ll do the most mature thing and approach you to hear you out.

He’ll be engaged and ask all the important questions so he knows how he hurt your feelings and can properly apologize.

“You’re the smartest girl I know! I misspoke, I just wanted to be useful to you, sweet girl.”

Leonardo;

Okay hear me out on this one!! And don’t ever make any assumptions about thee Leonardo.

This man is whipped and it pretty much makes him incapable of starting a fight with you ever.

He will let you get away with just about anything and approaches any and all rough topics with you so gently.

“You don’t seem entirely like yourself, angel. Are you feeling okay?”

Even if your response is snappy, he is always gentle in his language and tone.

“Can I do something to help you, y/n/n?”

Fights between the two of you need to be started by you but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll fight back much.

Everything you would expect to happen, expect the opposite.

You give him the silent treatment, he’ll give you some space and come around later to talk it out.

You full on snap and scream at him, he’ll let you take out all your anger on him and tell you he understands why you are mad.

Complete princess treatment with him.

But don’t think he’ll always agree with you, absolutely not. He’s just patient and explains his point of view rationally.

“I really do love and understand you, y/n, but you have to learn to express yourself with me better. I don’t want to fight with you, because baby, I’m always on your side anyway.”

Sometimes fights with Leo can last pretty long, at least in comparison to Mikey and Don - but only because he backs off and gives you space.

When the arguments finally subside, Leo continues his princess treatment for you.

He just becomes even more affectionate than he usually is.

Missed you guys, hope you are all good!

[pinguwrites]

Hey idk if your requests are still open, if not then please disregard this, but can I request a dark fic where older dilf cillian is tied to a chair and the reader uses his dick (noncon) to “milk him of his babies” to get themselves pregnant, and he is like nono please don’t get pregnant but he can’t do anything about it? Thank you 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻😫😫😫😮‍💨

i creamed my pants reading this

Drabble: You milk Cillian of his babies

Pairing -> sub!cillian murphy x dark!reader

Warnings: NON-CON, DARK!, sub!cillian, breeding kink, dark!reader, age-gap (cillian's early fourties, reader's early twenties), next door neighbor!cillian, drugging, implied they met when reader was underage, use of little girl and good boy, slapping, hair pulling, biting

Disclaimer: This is not a reflection of Cillian Murphy's actual life. This is completely separate and is not intended to harm him or his family in any way. DNI if you're a Yvonne hater. This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Cillian Murphy didn't think that you were capable of this—his sweet next door neighbor, that innocent little girl who used to cling to him like a shadow, the one that asked for help with homework, the one that had now drugged and tied him to a chair, hands and legs bound, as you rode him to no end.

"You're getting older," you mused as Cillian cried. "Gotta do it now."

The sensation was too much for him to handle. He’d thought about it before, much to his shame, but not like this. Not you stealing orgasm after orgasm out of him, biting his neck and pulling his hair, with a wicked smile that made him feel like he was being tortured by the devil herself.

“Please,” Cillian whined, trying to squirm away from the pain and pleasure. “Please don’t do this, I can’t get you pregnant—fuck!—you’re too young.”

He could feel another orgasm coming. He was secretly hoping that you were on birth control this entire time, that this was all a cruel prank, but he knew deep down that you were serious.

You were raping him. You wanted him to breed you.

"I only did it cause you want it," you snapped, giving Cillian a light slap. “Mmm,” you tossed your head back as you bounced, “saw the way you looked at me. Dirty old man. Wonder what people will think when they see me carrying your child.”

Cillian shook his head. “No, no, no. You have to get off. I can’t. I can’t.”

“You can. I’m probably pregnant already.”

“Then stop,” he begged. “Stop it. Take—take the ropes off. I won’t be mad, I promise.”

“We’re not done yet,” you moaned. “Oh, Cilly! Need’a take your cum, every last fucking drop.”

"P-please, I can't take it anymore.” He felt like he was about to collapse. He couldn’t keep up with your stamina. “Jus' a little break,” he pleaded.

“Tired?” you teased.

“Yes.”

“I guess I’m too much for you.” You laughed. “You better get used to this.”

Your face fell once you noticed tears streaming down his cheeks. “No, don’t cry.” You wiped them away. “Don’t you love me?”

Cillian felt like he was backed into a corner. Why was he still feeling soft towards you? He should be angry—livid, even. But he couldn’t, not towards his little girl.

“I do.”

“And you’ll be there for our child? You’ll marry me, right?”

"Yeah," Cillian whimpered, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. "You know I will. I'll always take care of you.” Even as you hurt him, took advantage of him, he couldn’t help his feelings.

"Good boy,” you said, a pleased look on your face. “I’m so lucky you’re mine. Now—stay still, stop wiggling, and let me milk your cock.”

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

@meetmeatyourworst

@mrkdvidal1989

[in1-nutshell]

Hello! Another of TFA Request

(Fem or GN ) Bot Buddy as Wasp's twin sibling who takes his place

Wasp And his twin are similar to each other, having the same paintjob, body-type, alt mode and others. But also differebt yet they're very close twins

You can tell who is who by watching how they act, Wasp is pompous while Buddy is quiet and known for being mute around everyone who isn't Wasp.

Buddy has an opposite personality, like being quiet and good-hearted. She known for being mute (which's not true and only Wasp knows about it). They sometimes good at mimicking Wasp, his voice and attitude.

(You can also put small romance with Bumblebee or Bulkhead, or other bot/con)

(you can also change this if you like) When they're at the boot camp, and there's someone trying out the traitor. When Buddy trying to tell Wasp about this he thought twin just being anxious or other, so Buddy only thought and to do is to pretend his twin, whether they tell Wasp, the truth or not, like 'let's pretend to be each other for one day like the old times', something alike

Eventually Bumblebee found evidence incriminating Wasp as a spy, but this is not Wasp, it's actually Buddy who acts as Wasp, while Wasp(Buddy) was wheeling away, (pretend to) protesting their innocence (and didn't swore on revenge), while Wasp, who pretend to be Buddy, stands there, he internally almost swear to revenge but remembers the small troubles he did and with his twin promise to Wasp, that he'll be a good bot, that helps others and never let revenge took over him, or something alike.

Wasp, who's now live as Buddy, being quiet and mute, and he's in repair crew with Bumblebee, or other, it's up to you

I'm gonna cut the request here cuz this become longer. I'll thinking doing another of this if that's okay

Oh!

Oh...

Back with more twin Buddy!

Hope you enjoy!

Wasp's twin taking his place as the spy

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

TFA

In their early years, it felt like it was Buddy and Wasp against the world.

Before they got their names at least.

He was the loud and borderline mean one.

Then there was his twin.

The extremely quiet one that couldn’t hurt a turbo fox if she tried.

He was extremely protective of his twin vowing to protect her from the harmful things of the world.

His way of doing that was hurting and mistreating others before they did it first.

“Can you please refrain from calling everyone a coward?”

“No.”

“Please? I’ve already had several mech’s yell at me about how ‘I’ called them a coward and had some oil spilled down my back side.”

“SO that’s why you’re wet.”

“…”

He swings his arm around them.

“Listen, no one’s going to bother us when we become a part of the Elite Guard. And everyone will remember us.”

“Hmm…”

“Have I ever steered you wrong?”

They raise and optic.

“You want that list alphabetically, numerically or color coded?”

She are about to get in the line when they see their twin start messing with some other recruits.

One of them looked like he came from the same protoform mold as they did but yellow and the other was a rather large green mech.

Her twin was making some unnecessary quips at them.

“Hey, knock it off. That was uncalled for.”

Their twin just huffs and goes to hang out with some other mechs in the line.

The yellow one glares at them.

“What? Is it your turn now?”—Yellow mech

They raise their servos in surrender.

“I just wanted to help.”

“I didn’t need your help.”—Yellow mech

“But it did look like you needed a friend on your side.”

The mech softens a bit.

The green mech pats their back a bit.

“Thanks! Hey, you look a lot like the other mech that was just here.”—Green mech

“That’s my twin believe it or not.”

“Yeesh! Sorry about that.”—Yellow mech

They wave it off as the three of them get into the line.

“He’s not all that bad.”

Their bootcamp commander was Sentinel Prime.

She already didn’t like his tone but kept quiet about it.

She quietly cheered for their twin getting his name.

Wasp, it suited him.

Sentinel stopped shortly in front of her taking a double take at Wasp.

“Why are there two of you?”--Sentinel

“That’s my twin Sentinel Prime, sir! But obviously she's the lesser twin compared to me.”--Wasp

Bumblebee and Bulkhead glared at him.

“She's not—”--Bumblebee

“Bumblebee! Keep your mouth shut!”--Sentinel

Sentinel now looked hard at her, making her feel nervous.

“Hmm… maybe you are the lesser part of your twin.”--Sentinel

She froze a bit hearing it.

Bumblebee was finding it hard to keep his mouth shut hearing Wasp and Sentinel talk about her like that.

She have been nothing but nice since they’ve been here.

“Your name is W-2. A grateful gift, mind you. Second place to your twin.”--Sentinel

Sentinel moved on to the next bots in line.

Wasp found the new name funny, even annoyingly going on and on about the name.

She just tried ignoring him.

Lately he had become more and more of a pain trying to show off to his new friends.

But it wasn’t all bad.

She did make fast friends with Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and later Longarm.

She'd much rather spend their time with the three mechs than their twin on most days.

W-2, Bulkhead and Longarm look at a pedeless Bumblebee on one of the slabs.

“Bumblebee? Where’s your pedes?”—W-2

Bumblebee crossed his arms.

“Your twin and goons decided to put them on the high shelf.”--Bumblebee

She winced a bit looking at Longarm.

“Longarm could you…?”—W-2

“Of course.”--Longarm

He reached up and grabbed the pedes to give it to her.

She reached for their tool kit.

“…I’ve been thinking about leaving the guard.”—W-2

“You’re what?! Why?!”--Bulkhead

“I don’t belong here Bee. I’ve been asking Longarm to help me get into security branch since he has connections there.”—W-2

“But… what about us? You’ll be leaving me, Bulkhead and Longarm. Not to mention how much worse things are going to get with Wasp.”—Bumblebee

She put the kit on their lap for a minute.

“…Its still up for debate Bumblebee, but I’ll let you know when I finally get to my decision.”—W-2

When Bumblebee came up with his theory about Wasp beginning the rat, She were furious that he would even think such a thing.

Sure, Wasp was a selfish jerk sometimes, but he would never do that!

When She told Wasp about the accusations he just laughed in their face.

He wasn’t worried about some false rumor, and he wasn’t going to start now.

W-2 came in a bit late to see some other guardsmen trying to wheel Wasp out.

“Wait! What’s happening?!”—W-2

Sentinel looked at them.

“Your twin here has been found guilty of spying for the enemy. He’s going to be spending a lot of time in the stockade.”--Sentinel

She looked at their terrified twin’s optics.

She knew what they needed to do.

“You can’t send him to the stockades.”—W-2

“And why not?”--Sentinel

“…because I’m the spy.”—W-2

Everyone looked surprised at the claim.

“You?”—Sentinel

“I…I impersonated Wasp and tried to let him take the fall. I’m coming in clean. Take me, not him.”—W-2

W-2 raise her servos to Sentinel.

He wastes no time cuffing them.

“Release Wasp.”--Sentinel

Wasp gets let go and just stands to the side in shock as she get put in his former shackles.

Bumblebee and Bulkhead looked shocked and betrayed as she began to pass them.

she had the muzzle on their mouth, it didn’t let the others see the sad smile on their face.

W-2 took one last look at everyone as the ship’s doors slowly closed.

SHe let a couple stray tears go as darkness consumed her.

At least Wasp was safe.

[yeonjuns-beanie]

Halo Pt.2

warnings: less plot, but still plot, 18+, smut, unprotected sex, biting, light blood(play), light hair pulling, body worship, oral(f receiving), light degradation, yandere themes, dub-con, think that's it

summary: in your free time you do freelance writing, doing interviews with people most would consider strand and unusual. when you recognize that one of the regulars in your coffee shop only visits in the evening, you pose the question of where you can interview him, upon his agreement, you realize this is unlike any other interview

a/n: holy shit, i am alive actually. i feel kinda horrible that i last posted in september. life got kinda crazy, i was slammed with uni and work, and had intense writer's block. anyways, i hope those of you who enjoyed the first part enjoy this one even more! i'm not entirely sure how active i'll be this semester, but i'm not going to make any promises lol. as always, i hope you enjoy and have a great day! :D ~nero

word count: 5.4K

Vampire!Seonghwa x female reader

pt.1

Seonghwa looked off to the side, inhaling a calculated breath before he spoke. 

“The nightlife. Where I was before was too prosaic and mundane. It lacked character. But here? There’s a flame that ignites when the sun goes down.” 

You scribbled down his last sentence wanting to maybe use it as the title for the piece when you finished. Looking back up at him, you felt your body relax and suddenly everything felt easy. 

“Where were you before?” 

“Everywhere. I’m a bit of a nomad, you see? I can’t stay chained to one place for too long.” 

“Did you find your last locations to grow boring, or was it something else?” 

“Something else. Rather of my own doing, but needing to keep my needs satiated is a necessity.” 

You paused for a moment and glanced at your notebook littered with questions trying to find the next avenue you’d walk down. You hadn’t been faced with someone so careful in their speech. He was answering your questions, yes, but not in the full detail that you desired. He was making you work. 

“Being a nomad, you must have a flexible job. What do you do for work and what’s your haven for play?” 

A smirk formed on his face, like he knew he was stumping you. Running his fingers through his onyx locks, he went to lick his lips and you noticed the length of one of his canines peeking from behind his upper lip. 

“Ah, yes. For work, I was lucky enough to benefit from years of generational wealth, but I hated the fact of that being my only accolade. So I sought after art. I always rendered an interest in building things so I thought, why not extend that to an artistic field?” 

“What’s your medium?”

“Sculptures and charcoal portraits. I love capturing time in a piece. I don’t know how long this life will grant me so I enjoy partaking in affairs that allow me to immortalize that time. Remind me to show you some of my portraits.” 

Nodding, you remembered the busts you saw when you entered his home, the question crossed your mind if those were his art.

“Those busts that you have in your entryway, did you make those as well?”

“So you really were quite entranced. To answer you, yes, I did create those as well. They’re of my family who have since passed on. I don’t have many left in my life so it aids me in keeping the memory of them alive.” 

Moving your hair out of your face to look at him, you furrowed your brow feeling sorry for him as you processed his statement. 

“Are you all alone out here?”

The concerned look on your face quickly fell to anxiety as you feared you may be prying too much into his personal life. Getting ready to speak again, Seonghwa stopped you with the gentle raise of his hand and smiled. 

“You’re not overstepping any boundaries, my dove. When I agreed to sit with you, pen in hand with the recorder running, I alleviated all forms of privacy for you. You may ask me whatever you feel called to ask. I’m yours for the evening.” 

A soft smile pulled at your lips as you silently acknowledged him, and thanked him for being so tender with you. His velvet voice pulled you from your thoughts. 

“To answer your previous question though, yes, I am all alone. It was lonely at first, but after a while it became comfortable. Perhaps preferred. I did find that recently though, the exigent desire for a partner has been pulling at my heartstrings.” 

“With your interest in the nightlife here, surely it shouldn’t be too hard to find yourself a companion. Not to mention if you’re speaking romantically, I’m sure you’d find yourself plenty of options.” 

You regretted it as soon as it left your mouth, but it was already in the air now and you just had to hope and pray that he’d let it slide.

“What are implying?” 

Of course, he wouldn’t. 

“I’m just saying…that, you know, you are an attractive guy. It seems like you’d have a particularly easy time…weeding through people.” 

“You think I have a lot of suitors?” 

Seonghwa had his arms folded across his chest now, gaining pleasure from making you squirm. 

“I’m saying that I think you’d have a fair amount of people to choose from, not necessarily that they’d be worthy of your time.” 

You brought the pen up to your lips, feeling your anxiety swirl in your body as Seonghwa continued to hanker down on you. You glanced over at your notebook again, seeing what you could ask to divert the subject but before you had the chance to speak, Seonghwa was prying. 

“Worthy of my time?” 

“From first impressions, you seem…difficult to entertain. Not to be impressed by the bare minimum, which if considering this town, there is a lot of.”

Seonghwa leaned forward, smiling without showing his teeth. His aura radiated a slimy smugness that irritated you but also ignited a fire within you. 

“I’d beg to differ. There are a select few I’ve come across. I wouldn’t be so certain in your statement.” 

Your mind was swarmed with questions, most of them centering around who he was entertaining and if you even spared a shot with him. 

“Have you found a lover yet then?”

With Seonghwa still hovering over the desk, he looked so much larger than usual. He commanded even more attention and you couldn’t bear to tear your eyes away from his as he stared you down. When he spoke, he raked his eyes over your form and was begging whatever deity was out there that you’d pick up on his hints. 

“I’ve found who I want to be mine, she just doesn’t know it yet. I’ve been leaving her clues, paltry I know, but I beg that she pick up my scent soon.” 

“Like a secret admirer?”

“You can call it that, yes. What I feel for her though is more than what a secret admirer could possess.” 

You felt your heart drop, not even letting the delusion have time to manifest to let you think that this “she” was you. You nodded your head and looked toward your notebook again scanning over your questions to see where you wanted to take the interview next. As you went to look up at Seonghwa again, you noticed that unabated gloss cast over his eyes again. The other thing you noticed was that his eyes seemed to change color. It was hard to tell for sure in the dim lighting of the study, but you swore you were seeing flecks of red in his irises. 

As you inhaled to speak, you felt your body freeze and an indistinguishable tingle ran rampant through your limbs. Panic registered across your pupils as you tried to move but soon recognized that you were glued to the chair. Your limbs were attached to the wood of the desk as if your skin were made to melt into the surface. Suddenly as you looked at Seonghwa, you realized that you recognized this feeling, the energy that was emanating across from you. It was all too familiar.

It wasn’t sleep paralysis. It was him.

“Ahh, yes it was, my dove. I’m disheartened that it took you this long. Thought the journal would’ve been clue enough.” 

Feeling that static in your fingers trail up your arm and down through your body, you felt control over yourself again. You pressed your back flesh against the chair, a feeble attempt at creating space between you two. Your vision was unfocused for a moment and in the blur created, you understood that the man across you was the figure in the corner of your room last night. Your breath quickened with fear, but something else mixed in with your emotions that you couldn’t quite place yet. 

“Y-you we’re in my room last night?… Why?” 

Seonghwa stood up slowly, his hands planted firmly on the desk. His frame which was at first sleek and inviting was now imposing and ravening. His eyes were boring into you making you feel so minuscule under his gaze. His tone was low, almost near a whisper, but his next words sent a chill down your spine. 

“Because I can’t bear to leave you alone.”

Your eyes blew wide in panic, fear present in your features. You wondered how you could find a way out of this, a way to remedy the situation but you felt completely and utterly trapped. You looked behind you to the door of the study and defeat enveloped you as you came to the conclusion that any attempt you made to escape would prove to be fruitless. As you returned your gaze to Seonghwa, he was shaking his head, a grin cast on his face. 

“How could you even think about leaving so early when we haven’t finished the interview yet, y/n? I’ve looked forward to this all day, I’d hate for it to end so soon.” 

Seonghwa furrowed his features into a pout, persuading you to swallow your fear and sit forward. Maybe, if you indulged in him he’d let you leave. As Seonghwa sat back in his seat, a new wave of questions ran through your brain. Whether or not you’d include this in the posted interview, you needed closure for yourself. Asserting yourself in your spot, you sat taller, your gaze piercing his as he did to you moments before. Your voice carried a dominance that hadn’t been present all evening. 

“How long have you been following me?” 

“Fiesty are we?”

“Hwa, how long have you been on my tail?”

“My dove, I’m disappointed. How could you not realize all those rotten feelings you felt when you stepped out of your car were because of me?” 

His face was sickening, he was enjoying this. The smile that painted his face was sardonic and it made acrimony bubble within you. All those weeks where you felt like you were going brainsick were because of him. 

I can’t believe him right now

“Better start believing y/n. At least you have the comfort of knowing you’re not demented.” 

“Stop doing that!” 

It was freaking you out that nearly every thought you had about him he had a response to. He was inside your head and you couldn’t place how he was doing it. 

“Doing what, darling?” 

“That! Being in my head! How are you doing that?!” 

Your fear was making you hostile and agitated. You felt completely out of control and you hated every second of it. You were in a stranger’s house, agreeing to come based on the hopes that you’d get something out of this and now you were shackled in this room with a stalker. You stared down at your notebook trying to fit the pieces of all of this together. The thought finally dawned on you that he knew where you lived, and it was no mere coincidence that the journal you found at your front door perfectly matched the pen he gave you. Your eyes landed on a bookshelf behind you and you noticed a horrifying similarity between what was sitting on the shelves and what was resting underneath your hands.

“Ask me.” 

Your head whipped to Seonghwa’s voice, not daring to disrespect him for you were fearful of the consequences. 

“Ask you what?” 

“Ask me how I know your thoughts.”

You inhaled a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for the answer you were about to be given. Sighing you looked straight into his eyes, and that’s when you noticed the color of them changed. A deep carmine colored his irises now. Your eyes squinted, trying to understand his motive now. 

“How do you know what I’m thinking.” 

He inhaled a breath, mocking you. He smiled at you, something sickeningly sweet about it. 

“Vampirism. Vampirism is how I know. Vampirism is also how I’ve been able to stalk you without the thought of me ever crossing your mind. It’s the reason why I was in your bedroom, why I could never leave your thoughts, why you were entranced by me. By design, you were meant to be allured by me and you were. Which is why you’re sitting across from me.” 

You were stunned. You always entertained the idea of supernatural creatures, but never did you think that were actually real. Never in your lifetime did you think that you’d be face to face with a vampire and with that knowledge you were now more fearful of your situation. Your next words flew from your mouth without any chance to filter. 

“What do you feed on?” 

Seonghwa leaned forward and smiled, the tip of one of his fangs peeking out onto his bottom lip. 

“Whatever I can get my hands on. I have to say though, the more fear that exudes from my dinner makes the taste that much more delectable. And you, my sweet y/n, are absolutely intoxicating right now. Almost as sweet as last night. Gods, it took everything in me not to devour you then.” 

You held your composure, but something stirred in your lower stomach. Radiating heat between your thighs. 

Arousal. 

You were feeling aroused by his words, and you were ashamed by it. Here you were, at the mercy of a stranger and yet, you were aroused by the transparency of his truths. You tried to push the feeling to the back of your mind, but something was bringing your innermost fantasies about Seonghwa forward. His eyes were indulging in you in sheer gluttony, looking at you like prey and you couldn’t help but think that he was holding back on what his inner monologue consisted of. 

“What are you thinking about right now?” 

You leaned forward, asserting yourself now that a lustful wave crashed over your body. 

“So that’s what gets you off? Carnal urges, is it?” 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“While true, it is what I heard prior to you speaking.” 

Rolling your tongue across your teeth, you were through with the antics. 

“What’s on your mind now, Hwa?” 

He smiled flashing his teeth, his fangs on full display. 

“Truthfully, I’m running through all the ways I want to consume you. To make you mine. And it’s becoming quite painful to ignore.” 

You wanted to call his bluff, to catch him off guard even with the disadvantage of him invading the privacy of your mind. You stood up from the chair, the legs creating a painful scratching sound across the wood. You walked around the edge of the desk and positioned yourself in front of him, gently laying your hand on the table in front of his, your fingertips barely touching. Leaning down, you stared into his piercing garnet eyes damning yourself to cosset in the feelings that were licentious in nature. Wetting your bottom lip with the tip of your tongue, you felt your eyes blow in temptation and you knew he was aware of every second of it. 

“Then do something about it. Live up to this lavish vampiric character you’ve laid out for me.”

With the passing of a second, the roles of power drastically shifted. His body moved with a swiftness that you hadn’t experienced and before you had a chance to register what happened, you were caged underneath his frame with your hips nailed against the side of the desk. His slender hand snaked its way to your neck, wrapping his deft fingers around your face and forcing you to look at him. 

“Careful, pet. I don’t think you understand the gravity of your words.” 

Eyes darkening with lust, you smirked at him feeling a sense of power as you watched him lose control in front of you. Moving your body to sit on top of the desk, you rolled your neck, exposing your most vulnerable space of skin to him.

“You reek of luxuria, have you any shame?” 

“Not any more than you.” 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you trailed your hand up to the nape of his neck, goosebumps forming in its wake. You curled your fingers into the hair resting on his neck feeling fulfilled as you watched his body shiver in unabashed desire for you. His chest heaved heavy breaths as his lust for you was becoming harder to control. Seonghwa let his head fall into the conjunction of where your neck and shoulder met, his breath creating an intense humidity that only aided your arousal. 

Pulling at his hair, you positioned him to look at you head-on. His eyes were blown wide, the red of his irises nearly covered up by the black of his pupils. His breathing was still heavy and you could feel a small bulge prodding at your inner thigh. Rolling your hips into his, you watched his eyes roll to the back of his head, only the white of his sclera showing. As he breathed out, a small whimper was swallowed in his throat. Pulling at his hair, he opened his eyes to look at you. 

“Devour me, Seonghwa.” 

Any suppression of his feelings turned into a zealous carnal display of affection. His lips were on yours in a second, hot and impassioned. His hands roamed over the exposed flesh of your thighs, indenting the skin with his fingers each time he squeezed. Your head was squirming with floating ideas and wrestling with the plain fact that you were getting exactly what you wanted. 

As Seonghwa swiped your bottom lip, silently asking for permission, you parted your mouth just enough to grant your tongues the freedom to fight for dominance. With one roll of your tongue into his mouth, the side of your tongue was swiped by the point of his fang. It sent a chill down your spine but excited you even further. Feeling bold, you closed the space of your lips and bit down on his bottom lip, pulling away from him as you watched him with hooded eyes. 

Letting your hands snake down his torso, you hooked your fingers into his belt loops pulling him closer to your clothed center. Gently rolling your hips, you were thankful that you wore a skirt as your aching cunt ghosted over his jean covered cock. Looking up at him, your eyes were blown and you could feel the sexual adrenaline raging through your body. 

“I want you, Seonghwa. I want you to make me yours.” 

Seonghwa looked down at you, a knowing smirk painting his mouth as he gingerly put his finger under your chin. 

“Aww, how sweet. But darling, you were mine the moment I laid my eyes upon you, don’t you get that? I just needed that sweet invitation to fall from your pretty lips.” 

In the blink of an eye, Seonghwa’s hands found their way underneath the fabric of your shirt. His hands were like ice, but the contrasting temperature soothed the raging heat dancing across your skin. There was an uncontrollable need and you felt like you couldn’t get close enough to him. Your body kept rolling into his and you couldn’t quell the small moan that escaped your throat. 

“Excited, hmm?” 

Your eyes were pleading, needing to feel something other than his hands roaming your body. 

“Do something, please. I’m begging you.” 

Seonghwa brought his face to the side of yours so that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. He was breathing slowly, almost methodically and it made your heartbeat race. When he spoke, your eyebrows furrowed at his lower tone.

“Just something?”

You mewled at him, tired of the teasing, but what he did next was not what you expected. One of his fangs made contact with the sensitive skin of your neck and you moaned out as the tip of it impaled your skin. Seonghwa pulled away, his tongue swiping at the tiny drop of crimson staining his tooth. His eyes darkened as he smirked at you and indulged in your metallic taste. You felt him roll his hips into yours, his cock growing harder as he imagined how it would feel to feed off of your naked body. 

Growing impatient from the wanton ache that settled in your cunt, you pushed Seonghwa away from you and your body off of the desk. Making yourself as big as possible, you guided his body backward until his knees met the lip of the couch in the study. As his form gracefully plopped into the cushions, you tore your top off throwing it on the floor behind you. You straddled Seonghwa’s thighs, grinding your hips down into him as you made contact with his lap. You cupped his face as you let your body control your actions rather than your mind. Pulling him close, your lips danced a dangerous waltz of spit and tongue as he began to feel dizzy from the intensity.

Seonghwa was enjoying this obscene side of you, his nimble fingers gripping at your skin any chance he got. Pulling away from his lips, his mouth chased yours not ready for the kiss to end so soon. Placing your hands on his chest, you allowed yourself the time to admire his form. His perfectly sculpted body that was encased so delicately by the mesh he wore. You sucked your bottom lip behind your teeth as you gripped the fabric into your fist grinding down into his erection. 

His hips rolled up into yours and his breathing quickened as he devoured you with his eyes. 

“Enjoying yourself?” 

“More than you know.” You panted out

Seonghwa patted your thigh and nodded his chin behind you. 

“Up.”

You pushed yourself off of him, suddenly hyper-aware of your insecurities. They didn’t have long to manifest as his voice pulled you from your thoughts. He grabbed your hand leading you out of the study, down the hallway, and guided you into his bedroom. 

“Never. Think such dreadful things about yourself, my dove.”

Seonghwa gently placed you down on the edge of his opulent bed, his bedroom far too extravagant for you to fully appreciate right now. Nodding his head behind you, you understood his cue to scoot back and your eyes never left him as he crawled over your body. 

“It’s simply just, if I’m going to ravage you in the ways I’ve dreamt so vividly, it wasn’t going to happen on that vapid couch.” 

He placed gentle kisses on your jawline, nipping slightly at the skin near your earlobe. Seonghwa then dragged his nose down the valley of your breasts and stopped at the hemline of your skirt. The heat and your arousal turn near suffocating under the constraints of your panties. 

“You deserve to be tasted, worshipped. To be given a night of passion. And I, my sweet y/n, am going to give you all of that and more.” 

His voice turned more gruff the more his sentence trailed on. What you failed to realize was that due to the angle he was at, your arousal was like his personal parfum and it was dreadfully intoxicating. He acted with no haste as he dragged your skirt down your legs, taking your underwear with it. You felt embarrassment quickly wash over your body as you felt the stick of your arousal stretch between your needy lips and the ruined cotton. 

Now fully exposed to him, you had nowhere to hide and it excited you. He pressed his nose against your clit, the action sending a savage bolt of lust through your body. Your body shivered as he took a deep inhale of your scent, his tongue following soon behind with a flattened lick across your folds. The moan that left you was covetous and echoed off the walls of his bedroom. 

Seonghwa lapped at your folds like a ravenous dog and your sounds only egged him on. Your hips were riding his face, unable to get enough of him. When your hand found refuge in his inky locks, he moaned into your pussy, the vibrations bringing you to the precipice of your orgasm. With one hand gripping at his hair and the other fisting the sheets, you were moaning like a rapacious whore. 

“Hwa, fuck! Hwa I’m gonna cum!” 

Seonghwa gripped his hands tighter around your hips, shoving your cunt as close as possible to his mouth. Seonghwa focused on your clit, fluttering his tongue against your sensitive bud before sucking your orgasm right out of you. 

“Fuckfuckfuck!” 

Seonghwa didn’t give you a chance to ride out your first orgasm, instead, he continued sucking on your tender rosebud and let the aftershock of your second climax wash over you. Your body shook in intervals of vibrating lust. Chillis littering your body as you relished in the feeling he just bestowed upon you. Lifting himself from between your legs, he hovered over you with a satisfied smirk plastered on his lips. Soon his lips were on yours again and the tangy taste of yourself swept across your tastebuds. Pulling away from you, he began unbuttoning his shirt. 

“You taste even better than what I dreamt of.” 

You couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fact that he wanted you just as bad and your mouth moved quicker than your mind. 

“Y-you’ve dreamt of me?” 

An airy chuckle left his throat. 

“Darling, if you question my likening for you one more time tonight, I’m going to have to chain you to my bed and fuck any trace of doubt out of you.” 

Your hole squeezed around nothing and courage found itself in you again. Flipping your bodies over, you sat on top of his lap, your arousal spreading all over the top of his jeans. Undoing his belt, the sexual tension was fervid and it was as if you couldn’t move your hands fast enough. His cock was straining against the layers of fabric and you needed it straining against your walls. 

Pulling his jeans down his legs with his underwear, you knelt down, prepared to offer up all your oral skills known to man. Before you could ghost your lips over his tip, Seonghwa’s hand found your chin and titled you to look up at him. 

“There will be plenty of times for you to taste me, tonight though is about our collective ecstasy. To lose ourselves in one another.” 

His hand pulled you closer to him and you straddled your legs over his. His leaky and libertine cock teasing your entrance as you hovered over him. His hair lay disheveled across his face all thanks to your hands and he somehow looked even more desirable than before. With puffy lips and heavy eyes, you needed him in every way imaginable. 

Lowering yourself down onto his cock, you weren’t prepared for how big he’d feel as you took him in inch by inch. He thickened as you reached his base and made you feel so full. As you bottomed out on him, both of you moaned in harmonious synchrony that made you wish you could have it on repeat. 

“Hwa~! You’re so—so big.” 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you squeezed his length inside of your velvety walls. You placed your hands on his shoulders needing something to ground yourself on. Seonghwa’s hands purchased themselves on your hips awaiting your movements. 

“Call me that again.” 

You rolled your hips, your walls fluttering as you looked down at him. 

“Hwa~” 

You let your forehead rest against his as your body began to ride his perfect cock. Your moans creating the quintessential licentious atmosphere. 

“Hwa, baby…you feel so good.” 

Your mind was racing, not really paying attention to the words that left your mouth. But you wished you did. 

In seconds, the use of the pet name rendered you at his mercy. Only for a moment did his cock leave your seraphic cunt as your bodies were flipped once again. Seonghwa entered you with such a force that you could only describe as concupiscent and raw. Your nails immediately dug themselves into his back and the sounds that left him were more obscene. 

“Oh, God!”

“God is nowhere in this room, nor will he ever be, Pet.”

His moans were tantalizing, hypnotizing you even more so under his spell. His thrusts were deep and calculated, abusing your G-spot with every hit. If God wasn’t in this room, all that Seonghwa was making you feel definitely felt like it. You’d never felt euphoria like this before, it was sinful in every sense of the word and made it feel like there truly was a reason for Him to have died for our sins. Feeling a pool of heat begin to settle near the bottom of your stomach, you wrapped your legs around his waist caging him to you. 

“Y/nnn, I can’t hold myself back much longer.” 

As your walls fluttered around him one more time you shook your head, your voice coming out with more air than you anticipated. 

“Me n-neither.” 

You kissed him again, impassioned and frenzied. Panting against his lips, your nails found solace in his back again. His breath was creating humidity in your neck and you enjoyed every second of it. Looking into his eyes, there was more swimming in them than just lust. 

“I want all of you. I want to feel every part of you Hwa. I need you. I need you so bad, H~wa!” 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your nails dug deep crescents into his skin. As you begged him for all he had to give he did just that as his mouth snuck its way to your neck and his fangs sunk into your skin. 

The feeling of the puncture was just what you needed to peer over the horizon of your orgasm and crash into the sea of its entirety. Seonghwa was still pumping his hard cock into you and then you felt a familiar warmth flood your walls. Your body squirmed underneath him and slowly your vision began to blur. Before you had the chance to completely lose consciousness, you watched Seonghwa slice his tooth into his wrist and felt the crimson drain over your lips as he pressed his wrist to your mouth. 

“Drink, my sweet dove.” 

His voice was so sweet. Like a siren’s as you drifted into a slumber that was filled with nothing but pleasure. 

~*~

When you awoke, you were still lay in his massive bed, but your body was covered in a black silk nightgown and you smelled faintly of sandalwood and frankincense. You turned your head to the left and then to the right only to find that the bed was empty. 

Where did he go? 

You pushed yourself up to sit in the bed only to be met with the worst headache in your life. It felt like your entire body was pounding in pain and the drumming of it only kept getting louder. Wincing, you heard the handle click open on the bedroom door, revealing Seonghwa with an assortment of food, water, and a glass of red liquid. Wine maybe? 

“I could hear you worrying from across the house. Trust, I’ll never be far from you. Now—I know you’re probably in a decent amount of pain right now, but it’ll soon fade in the next few days. Your body can still take normal food just not in large quantities. Here.” 

His voice trailed off as he tore a piece of the croissant laying on one of the few small plates on the tray. Holding it up, he raised his eyebrows encouraging you to open your mouth. Obliging, you gently took the piece of bread from him, chewing slowly as you tried to make sense of your reality. 

“Did you…did you turn me?” 

“Yes.” 

You nodded. 

“So that means, I’ll be like this forever? Like you?…With you?” 

You saw something like fear flash in his eyes for a moment. Or maybe it was regret?

“Yes. And if you’d like to spend your days with me then it does seem that way my sweet dove. If you feel otherwise I will not hold you back. Although, I will admit I will have a hard time staying away from you.” 

He smiled, almost jokingly in a way that softened your heart. 

This must be who he is behind that mask

“Forever with you doesn’t sound so bad.” 

You blinked up at him, a smile spreading across your own face. 

“I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

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