#I started reading with House of X/Powers of X

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

the pro

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.8K

Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex

Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.

He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.

That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.

It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby. 

You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—

I don’t want you to get bored. 

It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days. 

Art Donaldson. 

You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage. 

“You ever played tennis before?” He asks. 

You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine. 

“We’ll start with the basics.” 

-- 

Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go. 

Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.” 

On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him. 

You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you. 

But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace. 

-- 

“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.” 

Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days. 

“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?” 

“No.” 

“Then how do you know?” 

You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches. 

“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?” 

He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something. 

“What do you wanna know?” 

“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?” 

He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit. 

“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.” 

“Lily?” 

A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.” 

“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.  

“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.” 

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?” 

“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?” 

“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.” 

“...He seems to be pretty busy.” 

“He is.” 

“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?” 

“Play tennis.”

He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound. 

“It shows, you know,” He says. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.” 

You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.

“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm. 

“Just good?” He plies. 

“The best. A real pro.” 

His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little. 

The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat. 

“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?” 

“She’s killing it.” 

You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it. 

“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes. 

“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.” 

“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds. 

“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—

“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.” 

“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.” 

You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.

“Maybe.” 

--  

You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him. 

His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw. 

When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap. 

-- 

Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch. 

Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies. 

He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud. 

It spurs you to lunge a little too far. 

The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side. 

“What hurts?” 

“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left. 

“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.” 

For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. 

When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand. 

You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?” 

“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort. 

“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”

“I'm still going, don't worry about that."

“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns. 

“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.” 

Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips. 

“Of course.” 

-- 

“How’s the ankle?” 

It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again. 

You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks. 

“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.” 

“Good enough to walk on?” 

Hardly. 

“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.

“I have,” You insist, “All day.” 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Yes.” 

“You can tell him no, you know.”

Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again? 

You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up. 

-- 

I invited Art. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all. 

Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days. 

It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely. 

You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room. 

“Almost ready in here?” He asks. 

“All set!” 

-- 

He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile. 

You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.

The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds. 

You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—

Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests. 

You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself. 

“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves. 

“Wanted to come say hi.” 

“Well. Hi.” 

You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet. 

“Thanks for the invite.” 

“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you. 

“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. 

“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours. 

“He isn’t taking care of you.” 

“My ankle is fine.” 

“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down. 

Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.

“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—” 

He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh. 

You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip. 

“Condom?” He asks. 

“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.

“Art.” 

“Sssh.” 

“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip. 

“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—” 

“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.” 

“Art—” 

“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?” 

“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm. 

“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”

Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties. 

“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from his still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room. 

--  

“Can I see you?” 

It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.

“You just saw me,” You remind him. 

“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies. 

“Where?” 

“I’ll send an address.” 

You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk. 

“...You regret it?” He asks. 

“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.

“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do. 

--  

You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck. 

“Is this Lily?” You ask. 

“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.” 

“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.” 

Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.

“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully. 

“Art?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why am I here?” 

He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer. 

“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.” 

Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”

“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.” 

-- 

When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up. 

And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.

--

"What time is he home tonight?"

You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.

But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.

"I don't know," You admit. "Late."

"...Could stay."

"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."

Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.

"This isn't going to be easy, is it."

"What?"

"Letting you go every day."

"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."

He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"

You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.

"Not when I want it, too."

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#Art Donaldson x Reader #Art Donaldson x You #Art Donaldson/Reader #Art Donaldson/You #Art Donaldson fic #Art Donaldson imagine #the pro

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 6

Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore

Word Count: 5550

Notes: This took me a bit longer to write than I anticipated but I wanted to make sure not to forget any details. Hope you enjoy!

Part 5

The sun was already shining high in the sky when you finally stepped out of the dungeon. Feyre had arrived with Cassian and Amren a few minutes earlier, ordering her mate, you and Azriel to go and get some rest while they took over for a few hours. Rhysand could only use his daemati powers for so long and the strain was starting to become visible on his face, so she likely could feel his fatigue through their mating bond. His efforts were starting to be in vain anyway, you needed to wear Norris down a lot more physically before his mental walls would start giving in.

You didn't want to leave at first, completely unwilling to take your eyes off Norris for even a second, but both you and Azriel had been forced to go take a bath and eat something, maybe even get some sleep and only come back later in the day. Logically this made perfect sense, but you'd rather stay with him until he told you everything you wanted to know. You believe them all to be more than capable of handling this but you also know Norris, if anyone could find a way to escape from the Night Court's dungeons it would be him.

Still, you knew it was going to take a lot longer than a few hours to crack Norris so you needed to keep your strength, you wouldn't be any help at all if you exhausted yourself. Apparently the same wards around your memories were also present in Norris' mind, meaning Rhysand was only able to knock him out in the forest but not read through his thoughts, the same way he wasn't able to reach your memories before. This meant he was the one in control of said wards, both his and yours. Amren was quick to explain that since they had been done with the help of a witch's tool, he had to have it with him to keep up his wards since it wasn't his own magic that was keeping them in place.

It also explains why he risked becoming your handler even though letting you know him could lead to this exact outcome. He needed to strengthen your wards every once in a while to make sure no memory slipped through them. Unfortunately, even without his checkups the wards were strong enough that simply time wouldn't give your memories back in full, at best only letting you see some fragments. There was also no way of knowing what they could do to your mind when left unattended so your only option was to keep pushing him until he told you everything you needed to know.

The tool he used couldn't be far, he either had it on his person or hid it somewhere close before meeting you in the forest. You've searched through his belongings more than once, as did everyone present in the cell, including Azriel's shadows, but came up empty. He likely had a powerful glamour cast on it, one you had to make him break. Getting your hands on that tool meant you could break both the wards around his mind, which would grant Rhysand access to any and every piece of information he wanted, and the wards keeping your memories hidden inside you. One simple object could set you free.

Azriel winnowed you to the middle of the mountains surrounding Velaris, right behind the House of Wind, making sure no one in the city could see your bodies drenched in blood but unable to winnow you straight home. Having a house protected by wards that didn't allow for any winnowing, even by its inhabitants, was really good in theory, you've never seen a safer place really, but in practice having to fly up every time was more than annoying, especially when you don't have wings of your own.

The air was strangely awkward around the two of you since you hadn't spoken a word to each other after the short argument in the forest. Most of your annoyance had worn off at this point, got redirected at your smug handler chained up in the dungeon, but you still wanted him to be the one to come to you and explain himself. His attitude earlier had seemed completely different from everything you'd experienced until then, you know there's a reason for it but you're too prideful to ask him about it.

The only plausible reason you could think of is that he's been using you to get to an assassin with a higher up position in the guild, but something told you immediately that wasn't the case, it seems like a part of you balked at the thought that he'd betray you like this. Even putting your annoying phantom feelings aside, it didn't make sense considering the High Lord has followed his word on letting you help in interrogating Norris. Your mind was fresh out of ideas, and much too tired to analyze that small argument. He'll tell you what happened eventually, and if he doesn't… Well, then it's a good thing you didn't get your hopes up even more.

“I'll fly you up to the House,” his voice was scratchy from not being used in so long, making it deeper as he almost whispered beside you, not wanting to disturb the quietness in the mountain. Azriel had done most of the cutting and breaking but he hadn't even asked Norris any questions, content in letting you and Rhysand take over the interrogation while he carved out Norris' skin. You can't be sure if it was because of your fight or just the grueling last few hours but he didn't seem to be in the best mood anyway.

You nod up at him, simply walking closer and letting him pick you up into his warm embrace, strong hands careful as they handle your body. You've only flown once - from what you can remember at least, you can't imagine a version of yourself who wouldn't ask her husband to take her flying regularly if he had wings - and, given the circumstances, you didn't really have the chance to stop and truly enjoy the moment. It would be the same now, even worse given the fact that you'd rather not deal with the shadowsinger, but the breeze hitting against your tired body sounded heavenly, and so did the big bathtub and soft mattress waiting for you up in your room. There was also no energy left in your body to even try to argue with him, if there was you would have been using it on your handler.

His body relaxes slightly when you simply slip your arms around his neck, his wings stretching and flapping a couple of times as he got ready to take flight. He looked like he was expecting you to refuse, as if there was any other way to the House besides flying and he wasn't the only Illyrian here.

The actual flight doesn't take long, within a few moments Azriel is gently setting you down back on your feet at the top of the stairs, hands lingering on your body as if moving on their own, a habit he can't quite break himself out of. You meet his eyes, briefly wondering if you should say something, debating if you have enough patience in yourself to extend a small olive branch to the male who is covered in the blood of your enemy.

He beats you to it, looking down before speaking as if he couldn't hold your gaze for top long - yet another way he's acting out of character. “You're free to do what you want. I'll meet you in your room and fly you back to the dungeon when it's time. I won't bother you before that.” The professional, detached tone in his voice makes your annoyance want to rise up but you swallow it down, realizing how tired you really were as soon as you had stepped foot inside the house.

“Alright,” you tell him before turning around and walking straight to your room, never looking back to see his reaction or the way regret flashes in his eyes as he watches your every step away from him.

Azriel stayed true to his word, only coming to check in on you right before it was time to return. You can't even be sure if he stayed in his room the whole time, if he truly spent these few hours resting as he was ordered since there was no sound coming from his room or around the house at all. Curiosity had gotten the best of you a couple of hours ago, when you woke up from your nap feeling strangely alone, like a piece of you was begging to go find him. This feeling was clutching at your heart for long enough that you actually considered going to find Azriel, but held on since you didn't fully know your way around the house and you had no idea where he could be. You didn't really know what to say either.

Luckily it wasn't long until you heard his footsteps getting closer to your room before a soft knock sounded at the door. He always does this, makes sure to let himself be heard before knocking. Sitting up at the edge of the mattress, you call out to him, wondering if he'll tell you anything now or simply fly you back to the cells.

As soon as his form comes into view you can tell he hasn't slept much if anything at all, dark circles prominent under his eyes. He's at least taken a bath, the sullied leathers were now replaced with new ones, the stench of blood not clinging to him anymore. You're wearing some yourself, your old ones as you've been told. Your clothes were ruined and putting them back on would defeat the purpose of the bath you took earlier, but it feels weird to wear a version of what you always see Azriel and his family in. He takes notice of this as well, hazel eyes raking over your form, lingering around your waist long enough for you to start feeling self conscious, standing up and taking a step closer to him almost involuntarily.

“Is anything wrong? I thought you left them for me to wear.” Since he had given you the leathers along with your old belongings you had assumed you were allowed to wear them, but, at this point, these clothes were more his than yours. Maybe he was scared you'd ruin them and he'd lose his memories of you.

“No, that's not it. They're yours,” he assures quickly, eyes widening slightly before a conflicted expression takes over his face. “The buckles are done wrong,” his observation makes you look down at yourself, there were more straps and buckles than necessary for any piece of garment and you'd taken a bit longer to figure it out than you cared to admit, apparently you should have taken even longer.

Your fingers reach for the straps around your waist, tugging at the leather before he continues, “I can help you with them. They can be hard to put on if you're not used to it.” When you look up from the confusing clothes and your eyes move to meet his, you find him watching your hands hesitantly, his own flexing at his sides. You end up agreeing without even thinking it through, something you almost regret when he walks closer to you and suddenly all you can see and smell is Azriel.

He looks into your eyes before reaching out to the buckles around your waist slowly, giving you a chance to push him away, almost expecting you to. You drop your hands at your sides awkwardly, not knowing what to do with them or yourself when he starts working on your leathers. Expert fingers undo the buckle before pulling on the straps, unexpectedly tightening your armor in the process which pulls a startled gasp out of you. His hands move to grab your waist, surprised by your reaction. Wide hazel eyes meet yours at the sound, a heat spreading within them the longer he holds your gaze, hands frozen around your waist.

All your senses are overwhelmed with him so close, staring down at you like that. The only thing you can think of is the kiss you shared a few nights ago, your entire body begging to repeat the action as he looks down at you with the same passionate look he had worn then. He seems to be reminded of the same, perhaps of similar moments from your previous life, even more scandalous ones surely.

Thankfully, some of your common sense finds you before you could do something stupid like pull him down to you and taste him again, the thought making you look away from him and clear your throat, hoping he breaks from the spell and lets you pretend it didn't happen. This prompts him to keep buckling the leathers, with an urgency he didn't have before, and you look down with him, following his movements even though your mind isn't actually registering any of them as you try to calm your breathing and not think of the way his hands feel around your waist. You'll likely need his help fastening everything tomorrow as well.

“These are meant to cross so the leathers are molded to your body and there are no openings,” he tries to explain as he finishes and moves back, but you can tell he's as affected by your little moment as you were.

You nod at him, “There were a lot of straps, I wasn't sure which ones belonged where. Some of them don't even look like they have a purpose,” you finish as you play with the straps around your wrists, the ones you really couldn't figure out.

“Those are for your gloves,” he explains, a somewhat endeared look crossing his face. “I didn't think you'd need them but you can put them on. Though I'm not sure how they will behave with your powers now.”

“Did I not have these powers before?” You hadn't thought of the possibility but if the spell could erase your memories maybe Norris could have found a way to give or take powers. Just the thought of it brings a chill down your spine.

“You did, but you've gotten a lot stronger,” there was a hint of pride in his words, though the somber meaning hung between you. No matter how hard you practiced and how well they could have trained you here, the results wouldn't be as fast or maybe as clean as the ones resulting from the guild's harsh training. The guild had no problem pushing you past your limits, you either adapted and got stronger or you'd die and be replaced. You suppose you never had to use your powers to torture people before either.

“When this all ends we could spar together,” you sound hesitant even to your own ears, “Maybe I'm even stronger than you by now.” You haven't talked about what will happen after all of this, you can't know for sure what you'll want to do when you recover your memories. You also keenly aware you had just been telling yourself you wouldn't make it easy on him, but ended up seconds away from kissing him and inviting him to spar with you as soon as you saw him.

“I'd like that,” he nods, a reddish tint rushing to his ears. He makes it unbearably hard to even remember why you were upset with him in the first place. It takes everything in you not to lean into his genuineness and forget it ever happened. You bite your lip and give him a small nod of your own, “Are you ready then? We should go.”

“I wanted to talk to you before we left,” his voice takes on a serious tone, regret peeking through every word.

“Maybe this is not the right time. They're probably waiting for us,” you offered, not really sure how to go about having this conversation after what had just happened, even if the curiosity was killing you. It was clear you couldn't keep a level head when it came to Azriel.

“No, I can't…” he cuts himself off, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, a heavy sound coming from deep in his chest as if he’s been pushing it down for a long time. He looks scared somehow, his wings pulling in tighter to his body and his shadows crawling up his shoulders as if comforting, or even encouraging him. You let him find his composure, find the right words to explain the situation. This feels bigger than a silly argument when adrenaline was pumping through both your veins and that gnawing feeling in your chest comes back, getting stronger with every breath, making you think this might be something he's carried on from the time you were still married.

Azriel opens his eyes after a few moments, the emotions swirling in them enough to make you breathless, and reaches his hand out to yours, waiting for you to accept it and then squeezing it tight as if he needs the reminder that you're real.

“I need you to know I wasn't trying to keep any secrets from you or order you around as you said,” he starts lowly, shiny hazel eyes alternating between watching your hands clasped together and staring deep into your eyes, “We've had this conversation many times before. I know you don't remember but I need you to know I never meant to make you think I want to have any sort of power over you.” He brings your hand up to his chest then, spreading your palm right over his beating heart as he continues, eyes never straying from yours, “I know you can handle yourself, and I know you want to be there when Norris tells you everything. I wasn't trying to keep you away from the dungeon because I didn't think you could handle it.”

“Then why?” Your voice is but a whisper, not wanting to disturb the vulnerable moment.

“I never let you see me down there before, know the monster I have to become. You tried, many times, but I never allowed it. I've always been too afraid of what your reaction would be,” he presses his hand down on yours a little harder as his heart beat picks up, “It would kill me if you were ever scared of me, if you couldn't love me anymore after learning who I am. I was so scared of losing you. Scared that you would ever look at me with fear in your eyes instead of love.”

You let your gaze fall to the way he presses his and your hand to his chest, letting his heartbeat lead yours. It takes a moment for you to process his admission. From what he told you before you thought you had been open with each other throughout your marriage, but it seems there were parts of him he kept hidden even from you, especially from you.

Moments like these always leave you in a weird position. You can't speak for the old version of you, as much as you want to believe that you wouldn't leave him, would never feel scared of him, when your love for him transcended your memories as if it was written down into your bones, the truth is you don't remember her at all. Maybe she would have been scared, maybe his worries hadn't been completely unwarranted then. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

You turn your hand around, your palm no longer pressed against his chest in favor of holding onto his hand, your other hand joining in as you massage the rough skin and let them fall between you two, needing something familiar to ground yourself while you think of what to say. You twist his wedding ring around his finger once, closing your eyes at the tremble that runs through him at the motion, the way even his wings droop to the floor. The fact that he lets you touch him like this makes things so much harder sometimes.

“I've seen a lot of monsters. You're not one of them, Azriel. Far from it,” you start carefully, “and… I'm not sure how I was like before, if seeing you down there would have really been too much for me to handle but if I truly loved you like I think I did, then I know it wouldn't have mattered. There's nothing about you I see as unlovable.”

“Loved,” a broken mumble between you, not a question. This makes you look up at him. You want to deny it, tell him you still love him, but you can't make sense of the feelings inside you, can't say for sure what will happen to them when you regain your memories. Most of all, you don't want to hurt him, give him hope when he already lost so much, when you already hurt him so much.

You drop his hand, taking a small step back. “I'm not the same person you used to know, and recovering my memories might not bring her back either. Most of what's left is just my body.”

“It doesn't matter,” he says so matter-of-factly it almost makes you want to believe him.

“Azriel-”

“No,” he brings both of his hands to hold onto your face gently, giving you no option but to look into his eyes, “I love you. That didn't change when you died or over the century that followed, when I didn't think I would ever see you again. It didn't change when I saw you in the townhouse or even when you stabbed me. And it won't change whether you get your memories back or not, if you choose to stay or not.”

“I don't love you,” the words stumble out desperately, tears gathering in your eyes, “I don't even remember you, Azriel.”

“That doesn't change it either,” he smiles, thumb caressing your cheek softly. You know he means it then, know there's no way to change his mind even if for his own good. You can only pray to the Mother that your memories don't give you any unpleasant surprises. You're trying so hard to keep his heart safe, why must he keep offering to rip it out of his chest for you?

His expression changes abruptly as you're lost in thought and soon after you feel a presence in your mind before Rhysand's voice comes through. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Azriel's hands drop from your face then, a scowl overcoming his features. You can only imagine the words he's throwing at his brother in his mind, but Rhysand's voice returns, noticeably more amused, Our break is over. It's time to meet them back at the dungeon. I take it you'll fly our captive back? The answering growl that comes from the shadowsinger actually makes you hide a chuckle behind your hand. His gaze softening once again when he notices the gesture.

Despite the timing and the way he insisted on addressing you as “captive” to rile Azriel up, you could actually thank Rhysand for breaking you away from the moment. He's right, you've rested more than enough and it's now time to go back and finish what you started. You only have the luxury of dealing with your marriage after Norris is gone and you could actually remember your husband.

The flight to the dungeon is a lot easier this time as your prior annoyance was replaced with strangely welcomed awkwardness and a tinge of bashfulness. As much as you tried to deny it, you can't pretend Azriel's admission hadn't made your heart want to leap out of your chest. You don't think anyone could have remained impartial to such a confession, especially coming from a male like Azriel, but as soon as you step into the dungeon, you feel yourself morph back into the cold assassin. You could even feel Azriel's mask fall over his face as well, ready to resume what you'd started before.

This same routine is repeated for a few days, slowly but surely wearing the formidable assassin down. It wouldn't be long until Rhysand or Feyre could read through his mind completely even if he didn't willingly tell you anything. This sentiment was felt among all of you, it's like you could all taste how close he was to breaking.

You came back from one of your mandatory breaks to see Cassian leaning by the cell door, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at your prisoner as Amren stood in the middle of the cell covered in blood, a wicked grin on her face as Norris looked the most unsettled you'd ever seen him. She was told to hold back in the first days but since Norris insists on resisting, Rhysand had allowed her to toy with him. You truly hope you never cross her, just the thought of the things she could do makes every hair on your body stand.

Everyone stays in the room this time, knowing it's only a matter of time. Azriel takes over once more, every slash of his knife meant to give Norris unimaginable pain, completely focused on making the short remaining of his life as miserable as he can.

The difference between the male who had confessed his undying love to you, held your hand as if you were the most precious thing in this world, and the one expertly carving out your former handler's body was almost unbelievable. Azriel's face showed nothing but anger, and even then you knew it wasn't even a quarter of the seething fury burning inside of him. This wasn't your doting husband, this was the Spymaster.

You feel Rhysand's dramatic show of power before you see him walk into the cell, hands in pockets as if he was walking into his kitchen instead of a seedy dungeon reeking of blood and sweat. He passes by you and joins Azriel in tormenting Norris, letting sharp black talons run across the mental walls he's been so desperate to maintain. The smirk on his mate's face, who leans against the table calmly by your side, tells you they might even be teaming up on him.

Fatigue was starting to eat away at everyone the longer you spent inside the windowless cell, but, as Norris smirks lessened and his bared teeth stopped being enough to hide the obvious grunts of pain, his skin paling considerably as his blood pooled at his feet, it was clear that you were on the right track, only needed to keep pushing.

Your handler had started answering more questions too, if only to keep you distracted and away from any blades long enough. It's hard to believe that the male you've been frightened of for a century is the same one chained in front of you. If it weren't for the stubbornness and the pride he's managed to keep somehow, you wouldn't have believed it at all.

“This whole mission was a gamble. We couldn't know for sure if they'd written you off their wards even if they thought you were dead. When you walked in so easily I thought it would be a piece of cake from there. Seems I was wrong.” You had guessed as much. At the time, being sent to an unknown place on such short notice seemed strange and sloppy for how usually crafted the guild's plans were, but knowing what you do now, it makes sense. Not only were you written into the wards as he said, but if it hadn't been for the strange nostalgic feelings inside you, Azriel would have let you escape, you would have even killed him to do so.

“The spell should have sealed your memories and feelings tight,” Norris continues as if sensing your thoughts, “I'm not sure what is trying so hard to claw its way out from behind those walls.” He tilts his head to the side and pauses as if he found the answer and that self-assured smirk reappears on his lips. The sight makes your skin crawl, your powers reacting with you and sending an icy chill into the room. Temperature dropping as his smirk only widens even more and Azriel looks at you with a worried expression before catching himself. “Maybe I just messed up the spell,” he dismisses.

“What do you mean?”

“It is a tricky spell,” he shrugs nonchalantly, knowing that's not what you asked. Azriel moves before you, Truth Teller slashing across his skin for the millionth time, but Norris seems intent on keeping at least this last piece of information to himself. There's more to this, you know there is, but the interrogation moves on to matters of the guild. Rhysand is still worried that they will come for you now that you've deserted, and that they will bring harm to his beloved court.

Within the next few hours, Norris' healing stops being able to keep up with his injuries, even his voice losing strength. It seems like he was focusing the remaining of his energy on keeping his mental walls safe, but it's not long until you see Rhysand's smirk grow, a satisfied wicked thing on his face.

You watch as Norris' head goes limp, unfocused eyes dropping to the ground as the High Lord searches through his mind, probably making it as unpleasant as he possibly can. Your heart starts beating faster in your chest, anxiety building up at the thought that this could have all been for nothing, that Norris might not have the answer after all. You feel a hand on your shoulder but don't even have the mind to look back and check who is trying to comfort you.

When he finally steps back, he simply gives you a nod and a breath of relief escapes you as you stare back into Norris' eyes. You watch Azriel and Rhysand share a look in the corner of your eye, never daring to look away from Norris' defeated face. Within moments everyone starts clearing out of the cell in silence, leaving you and your shadowsinger standing over the prisoner.

It's only when Azriel's hand reaches for yours, tugging on it to get your attention that you look away. His eyes don't give away much and he doesn't say the words, but as he places Truth Teller in the palm of your hand, you know exactly what he means. He nods at you once and drops your hand, taking a step back and giving you space.

You look down at the dagger in your hands, the same one you had held to wound the male who now handed it to you, the one you'll now use to set yourself free. Describing the feeling running through your body is impossible, you always thought you'd die in the guild, as an assassin. Never even dared to think you could be more, never thought it would be possible to get out alive and find a life for yourself. You thought you'd be scared at the prospect but you can only feel excitement and relief.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you walk to Norris and pull on his hair to lift your face to his, so he can see all the hate and anger in your gaze before you stab the knife through his right eye slowly, making sure to get it through his brain, deep enough that no amount of healing or any trick he might have had up his sleeve would be able to save him, and twisting it around. You don't move for a few moments, listening for his heartbeat and paying attention to the blood seeping out of the wound. It's only when you're sure he's dead, that his heart is completely quiet and enough blood has poured out, that you pull the knife out with a squelching sound, flicking it down to get rid of most of the blood and any pieces of flesh stuck to it.

You hesitate for a moment before turning back, meeting Azriel's eyes. As much as you'd told him there was no need for him to worry of your opinion of him changing after witnessing what he did to Norris, of ever being afraid of him, you had hypocritically been scared of letting him see you like this, of seeing the cold blooded killer you had become, so far detached from the wife in his memories.

All your worries are proven baseless however. The only thing you can distinguish in his eyes is relief, at having the answer to getting your memories back and having the person responsible for your pain killed. You can't help the smile growing on your face, not caring for how it must look against the blood covering most of your body, and wrap your arms around Azriel's neck, pulling him down into a hug as a sigh of relief escapes you, tears rising to your eyes and flowing down your cheeks. His arms come around you immediately, tightening his grip on you and burying his face in your neck, tears of his own wetting your skin.

You're finally free.

taglist: @thisblogisaboutabook @chessebookgirl @going-through-shit @starcrossedsan @macimads @janebirkln @dr4g0ngirl @harrystyles2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @queensl1234 @lisanna2000 @starryhiraeth @shadowsaz @sakurafrost3-blog @evergreenlark @sisterjuliennes @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @historygeekqueen @writingcroissant @abysshaven @pablopascal @that-girl-reading @naturakaashi @tenshis-cake @sharknutz @isa1b2h3 @thehighlordishere @tarathia @sfhsgrad-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @starsandnightmares @cuethedepession @emryb @mybestfriendmademe @fxckmiup @adharanotfound @b0xerdancer @ervotica @aria-chikage @serendipityx150 @fanboyluvr @rogersbarnesxx @that-one-little-soybean @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @saltedcoffeescotch @astarlitsoul @just-a-social-casualty-1 @sundayysunshine

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #azriel angst

[ashleyslothlife]

Can someone help a new comic fan out? How much does Madelyn Pryor look like Jean? Sinister talks about it being hard to perfectly clone Jean Grey and I'm trying to give Scott the benefit of the doubt that he married a woman that looked slightly like his dead ex, but if she is identical and he never questioned it . . .

#scott summers #jean grey #madelyn pryor #x-men #I started reading with House of X/Powers of X

[decolonize-the-left]

This is not a drill

This is IMPORTANT especially if you live in the USA or use the internet REGULATED by the USA!!!!

Do not scroll. Signal boost. Reblog.

Reblog WITHOUT reading if you really can't right now, I promise all the links and proof are here. People NEED to know this.

( I tried to make this accessible but you can't cater to EVERYONE so please just try your best to get through this or do your own research 🙏)

TLDR: Homeland Security has been tying our social media to our IPs, licenses, posts, emails, selfies, cloud, apps, location, etc through our phones without a warrant using Babel X and will hold that information gathered for 75 years. Certain aspects of it were hushed because law enforcement will/does/has used it and it would give away confidential information about ongoing operations.

This gets renewed in September.

Between this, Agincourt (a VR simulator for cops Directly related to this project), cop city, and widespread demonization of abortions, sex workers, & queer people mixed with qanon/Trumpism, and fascism in Florida, and the return of child labor, & removed abortion rights fresh on our tails it's time for alarms to be raised and it's time for everyone to stop calling us paranoid and start showing up to protest and mutual aid groups.

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

These are the same feds who want to build cop city and recreate civilian houses en masse and use facial recognition. The same feds that want cop city to also be a training ground for police across the country. Cop city where they will build civilian neighborhoods to train in.

Widespread mass surveillance against us.

Now let's cut to some parts of the article. May 17th from Vice:

Customs and Border Protection (CBP) is using an invasive, AI-powered monitoring tool to screen travelers, including U.S. citizens, refugees, and people seeking asylum, which can in some cases link their social media posts to their Social Security number and location data, according to an internal CBP document obtained by Motherboard.

Called Babel X, the system lets a user input a piece of information about a target—their name, email address, or telephone number—and receive a bevy of data in return, according to the document. Results can include their social media posts, linked IP address, employment history, and unique advertising identifiers associated with their mobile phone. The monitoring can apply to U.S. persons, including citizens and permanent residents, as well as refugees and asylum seekers, according to the document.

“Babel data will be used/captured/stored in support of CBP targeting, vetting, operations and analysis,” the document reads. Babel X will be used to “identify potential derogatory and confirmatory information” associated with travelers, persons of interest, and “persons seeking benefits.” The document then says results from Babel X will be stored in other CBP operated systems for 75 years.

"The U.S. government’s ever-expanding social media dragnet is certain to chill people from engaging in protected speech and association online. And CBP’s use of this social media surveillance technology is especially concerning in connection with existing rules requiring millions of visa applicants each year to register their social media handles with the government. As we’ve argued in a related lawsuit, the government simply has no legitimate interest in collecting and retaining such sensitive information on this immense scale,” Carrie DeCell, senior staff attorney at the Knight First Amendment Institute, told Motherboard in an email.

The full list of information that Babel X may provide to CBP analysts is a target’s name, date of birth, address, usernames, email address, phone number, social media content, images, IP address, Social Security number, driver’s license number, employment history, and location data based on geolocation tags in public posts.

Bennett Cyphers, a special advisor to activist

organization the Electronic Frontier Foundation, told Motherboard in an online chat “the data isn’t limited to public posts made under someone’s real name on Facebook or Twitter.”

The document says CBP also has access to AdID information through an add-on called Locate X, which includes smartphone location data. AdID information is data such as a device’s unique advertising ID, which can act as an useful identifier for tracking a phone and, by extension, a person’s movements. Babel Street obtains location information from a long supply chain of data. Ordinary apps installed on peoples’ smartphones provide data to a company called Gravy Analytics, which repackages that location data and sells it to law enforcement agencies via its related company Venntel. But Babel Street also repackages Venntel’s data for its own Locate X product."

The PTA obtained by Motherboard says that Locate X is covered by a separate “commercial telemetry” PTA. CBP denied Motherboard’s FOIA request for a copy of this document, claiming it “would disclose techniques and/or procedures for law enforcement investigations or prosecutions”.

A former Babel Street employee previously told Motherboard how users of Locate X can draw a shape on a map known as a geofence, see all devices Babel Street has data on for that location, and then follow a specific device to see where else it has been.

Cyphers from the EFF added “most of the people whose location data is collected in this way likely have no idea it’s happening.”

CBP has been purchasing access to location data without a warrant, a practice that critics say violates the Fourth Amendment. Under a ruling from the Supreme Court, law enforcement agencies need court approval before accessing location data generated by a cell phone tower; those critics believe this applies to location data generated by smartphone apps too.

“Homeland Security needs to come clean to the American people about how it believes it can legally purchase and use U.S. location data without any kind of court order. Americans' privacy shouldn't depend on whether the government uses a court order or credit card,” Senator Ron Wyden told Motherboard in a statement. “DHS should stop violating Americans' rights, and Congress should pass my bipartisan legislation to prohibit the government's purchase of Americans' data." CBP has refused to tell Congress what legal authority it is following when using commercially bought smartphone location data to track Americans without a warrant.

Neither CBP or Babel Street responded to a request for comment. Motherboard visited the Babel X section of Babel Street’s website on Tuesday. On Wednesday before publication, that product page was replaced with a message that said “page not found.”

Do you know anything else about how Babel X is being used by government or private clients? Do you work for Babel Street? We'd love to hear from you. Using a non-work phone or computer, you can contact Joseph Cox securely on Signal on [phone], Wickr on josephcox, or email [email protected].

Wow that sounds bad right.

Be a shame if it got worse.

.

.

It does.

The software (previously Agincourt Solutions) is sold by AI data company Babel Street, was led by Jeffrey Chapman, a former Treasury Department official,, Navy retiree & Earlier in his career a White House aide and intelligence officer at the Department of Defense, according to LinkedIn.

🙃

So what's Agincourt Solutions then right now?

SO FUCKING SUS IN RELATION TO THIS, THATS WHAT

In essence, synthetic BATTLEVR training is a mixture of all three realities – virtual, augmented and physical. It is flexible enough to allow for mission rehearsals of most types and be intuitive enough to make training effective.

Anyway the new CEO of Babel Street (Babel X) as of April is a guy named Michael Southworth and I couldn't find much more on him than that tbh, it's all very vague and missing. That's the most detail I've seen on him.

And the detail says he has a history of tech startups that scanned paperwork and sent it elsewhere, good with numbers, and has a lot of knowledge about cell networks probably.

Every inch more of this I learn as I continue to Google the names and companies popping up... It gets worse.

Monitor phone use. Quit photobombing and filming strangers and for the love of fucking God quit sending apps photos of your actual legal ID to prove your age. Just don't use that site, you'll be fine I swear. And quit posting your private info online. For activists/leftists NO personally identifiable info at least AND DEFINITELY leave your phone at home to Work™!!!

#current events #capitalism #USA #politics #facism #public surveillance #anarchists #democrats #lgbt #direct action #leftist #ndn #indigenous #lesbian #gay #trans #bisexual #neurodivergent #Feminism #privacy rights #human rights #internet #tumblr #signal boost #desantis #florida #queer #refugees #immigration #threads

[sexbot300]

telling them they have a small dick!

pairing: toji x reader, gojo x reader (separate)

⤷ 18+, MDNI

tw: man-handling, p in v, unprotected sex, power play, cunnilingus, falsetto, huge dick (come on now), mentions of creampie, orgasms, degrading/dirty talk, slight size kink if you squint, text format for gojoe.

a/n: this was so funny to write i cant stop laughing. this was longer than i expected, i will be making a part two with choso, geto, and nanami if asked for. originally it was meant to include them but this is a bit tew long. I actually like this more than anything i’ve ever written before :’) comments r more than welcome thank uuuuu. luv u all xoxo (felt things while writing this, it’s funny that I think it’s my best work)

═════════════════════

Toji ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Reading your diary

Toji Fushiguro pissed you off. There were no ifs and buts or any way around it. As much as you adored being friends with Megumi and spending time near the stoic guy, coming by his house felt entirely dreadful. Mutual friends frequently visited his abode, leaving and visiting often without a sliver of complaint leaving their diction. ‘Maybe I was truly the problem.’ A thought had snuck up in the crevices of your brain until the mental image of why you didn’t come over as often decided to grace you with his presence. A shiver traveled up north of your spine, straightening yourself out mentally and physically. ‘Nah. That doesn’t sound right. I am NOT the problem.’ 

Toji was everything Megumi was not; cocky, arrogant, and trying to start anything with anyone if they remotely looked in his direction the wrong way. Was he hot? Of course. Would you ever admit it to the bastard? Of course, you wouldn’t. This is why what unfolds before you felt as if some cruel divine punishment, curated by the highest demon in the belly that cradled hell, deciding today would be the day to toy with you.

Closing your phone with a little, ��Ding!’ Megumi had sent a text earlier entailing that something of your belonging had been left behind. Strangely enough, even he didn’t know what it was, which left a question of perplexity. All he knew was that his dad found it and to alert you about it. 

A sigh that had built up in the depths of your chest left, as you stood behind the mahogany-colored door. Praying that Megumi would just give the item so a beeline can be made as far as legs can sprint. Bringing a hand to the door, tapping with a fist, “Megumi? It’s me.”

With a shuffling heard from inside the house, the sound of the door unlocked and a slow swing revealed no one behind it. Stepping inside carefully and scooping out the area, an eyebrow raised as the familiar setting had no one in eyesight. Closing and locking the door behind, your voice even more confused, “Megumi? Hello? I thought you’d be here.” 

In plain eye view, coming around a corner stood the looming presence of a man that was hard to ignore. Leaning up against the counter behind, a protein shake in hand as his body seems depleted from a workout session. Glistening in sweat, he stood there devastatingly handsome. A simple white tank top clung onto his pectorals, highlighting the ridges of his stone-hard abs while the pump of his presumed workout caused his already massive biceps to look the size of planets. His gray sweats hung low off his slim core. He eyed you up and down as if inspecting every single thing about you.

“Oh yeah. My son's little friend was expecting you here.” He spoke in a casual tone, eyes met yours for a split second before eyeing you down in a carnal way.

Standing in place, mentally making note of killing Megumi for not being the one to give you what was missing from his home. Only leaving you to deal with his father.

He gripped something behind him his fingers grazing what seemed to be a bit lightweight. A light thud of a journal hit the island counter that stood between the pair. Eyes glancing down on what was thrown carelessly, the journal looked all too familiar.

My diary– fuck. All forms of color had drained from the hue of your face, replaced with a crimson flush. Frantically blinking up at the journal, your thoughts blared. ‘There’s no way he could’ve read it right?’ Almost sprinting at the piece of media, fingertips yanked it off the island forcibly gluing it to your chest almost to shield it from eyes it doesn’t belong to. 

Eyes darting back and forth frantically searching for relief in such a predicament, in a measly voice, “T-Thank you Mr. Fushiguro, it was very kind of you to give it back. I-I’ll be leaving now.”

He had only watched amused, but it wasn’t stated within his facial expression. If anything his demeanor was calm– his body leaned back at the counter behind him, legs crossed over one another while he wore what seemed to be a completely uninterested face.

“Smart girl. Probably read a lot, huh?” 

Clutching the diary tighter to your chest, almost impossibly close, furrowed eyebrows and a snap of a neck towards his direction. A low, barely audible, “H-huh?” 

“My favorite passage is where the narrator states that, ‘Toji is probably compensating his small dick for huge muscles.’” He chuckled deeply, taking a swing of his protein shake before setting it to the side.

Frozen in place, eyes widened, simply just going quiet. I mean– what could be said? For a moment so intense, all that ran through your mind was complete blankness.

“Kinda find it endearing how the narrator only uses vibrators on her clit because the idea of penetration ‘arouses’ yet ‘scares’ her.”

“Mr. Fushiguro did you r-rea-“ stated in an incredibly shaky voice. Embarrassed, wishing that the ground would do you good bidding and swallow you whole with no hesitation. He still looked calm, ridiculing every aspect of you, his eyes had darkened a bit due to pupil dilation.

Everything felt tense, hot, incredibly warm, a moment of heat transpiring between the two of you as eyes met one another. Except both eyes said a different story. His; was full of something that could only be described that an animal gets knowing that they had successfully captured their prey right where they were needed. Yours; full of complete self-pity, begging to be freed under the gaze of something that will eat you alive and leave no bones.

“Do you think that Toji's character might appreciate the narrator calling him ‘hot but probably hotter with his mouth shut?’” His large arms bulged, and crossed over his chest, enjoying every minute that left you squirming under his condescending gaze. You looked like something had caught your throat and any form of attitude seemed to exist on the lines written in the diary. 

Tilting his head, on cue his hair moved as well, his expression seeming bleak. “Aw, wish I could meet this narrator, express to her how far off she is from the truth. Seems the type to talk a lot but get quiet when confronted.”

With a croak of your throat you managed to speak in a weak voice, “Mr. Fushiguro I am so sor-”

A silky voice met your ears, “Megumi taught me a bit about books. You know what’s funny about narrators sometimes?”

“W-what?” Your voice croaked.

“They’re unreliable.”

“Want to know something else funny?”

Body shifting off the ledge of the counter his bulky body slowly walked, emerald eyes glancing down while you stared up with the most innocent expression. ‘Cute,’ he thought. Staring down, a waft of his natural musky scent hit your nasal passages. He towered right in front of you. His long finger gripped a loose strand of your hair, twirling it mockingly.

He juxtaposed the flustered expression drawn on your face, a grin that stretched from ear to ear, a sly expression painting a look of hunger. “Yeah,” his tongue swiped at his bottom lip, voice dropping a few octaves, “it’s tiny even.”

-

On the checklist of things you hated about Toji, you mentally jotted down that he was a liar. He was a complete liar. 

Knees blown out, nose buried deep into his neatly trimmed pubic hair, lips trying to adhere to a girth that wasn’t friendly to take down, saliva coating your chin and seeping through the cracks of the side of your lips, and mascara smeared down the sides of your cheek. 

Toji was anything but tiny. A huge hand gripped the back of your skull, yanking at the follicles of your hair bouncing your head back and forth on his dick. He had to be 8 inches at least.

Gagging and whimpers filled the air, as you pathetically took down all the length he forced down. Your eyes beaming with tears, while he looked down at yours mockingly. Eyebrows slightly furrowed at the feeling of your tight throat clinging onto his cock like a vice. He smirked staring you down as you struggle to take him in, light pants escaped from his throat as spit slowly exited his mouth, meeting the exposed part of his dick and a part of your face.

“Slow down sweetheart, shit,” a condescending laugh, “I’m not going anywhere.” He hissed in a bit feeling your tongue desperately lap up and down his cock as you took the initiative to get completely lost in the feeling. 

It was all too lewd– he had stopped guiding you by bobbing your head, but kept a firm hold; all you did was suck him as if your life depended on it. His hefty cock felt divine to the tastebuds, weighing heavy down your throat and around your tongue. Frantically allowing your tongue to brush over the large veins running throughout his shaft, your hands jerking off what you could, letting the room fill up with the wet squelches. Moaning onto his cock the vibrations cued a grunt from Toji, sucking his massive tip with a ‘pop!’ He pulled you away, noticing the whine in your face when separated from his dick. He laid it on your face, grin sprawled out. 

“You suck dick good for a girl who only gets off to filthy fantasies about a man who she hates.” 

Panting, studying him while feeling incredibly small under his stare, catching your breath. So perfect, you looked so perfect to him.

“Fuck- I could just cum looking at your face like this,” gripping your hair earning a mewl from your throat, he held onto his dick tapping the tip of your tongue repeatedly, he grinned wider noticing how you desperately leaned into every tap. “Heh, want more huh? Coulda came from your throat, rather fuck it in your little pussy instead. I could tell you were a cock-deprived whore from the start.”

All you could do was blink up at him, gulping at everything he was saying, a new wave of arousal crashing down in your panties. Eyebrows furrowed, keeping steady eye contact with him, he noticed your fucked out expression. 

“Aw? No back-talk? Seem to have a lot to run your mouth about in that little diary, girl. Do you even remember your name? Already trained you well without stretching you out? Or does it make you feel ashamed to be this wet in the house of a man you hate so much? Do you have no shame?”

“I-I’m,” you cleared your hoarse voice swallowing any bit of saliva that didn’t engulf his cock, “not wet.”

He blankly stared down at your face before a loud chuckle eroded from his body, shaking him slightly, “Darling, you’re practically dripping on my kitchen floors. You think I can’t see you clenching your thighs f’me?”

“I-it’s not for y-you, Mr. Fushiguro-“

“Cut the shit, it’s Toji. Stand up.”

Pushing your knees off the position they were in for the longest time, you whined and stumbled while Toji watched amused. Standing on your feet, wobbling, he did the honors of throwing you over his shoulder eliciting a loud gasp as your torso made contact and leaned into his broad shoulders. His fingers lightly grazed your wet folds that leaked through your leggings, causing a slight gasp.

He only chuckled again, walking to his master bedroom. “Not wet, my ass.”

-

You’re not sure what round this was, but being thrown like a rag-doll by a man who easily overpowered every aspect of you was not how you expected this visit to go. He did the honors of prepping you for hours long– edging you and making sure you were on the brink of insanity so taking his cock in would feel much more manageable. At first, you winced taking him in, but the pain subsided once the overwhelming bliss of pleasure overtook all feelings of discomfort.

Toji started by fucking his tip in, rocking back and forth to let you become accustomed slightly. He quickly learned that you were nothing more than a cock-deprived whore.

“T-toji, y-you’re, ah! Breakin’ me!”

“Good.” His face had a wild expression, grinning ear to ear, his long onyx hair clinging to parts of his forehead from sweat while the rest dangled in your face. This man just found his new favorite plaything, he’d be damned to stop this. 

Toji had you mangled in a mating press, feet planted firmly into his mattress, feeling every last bit of dick he could give. Holding your thighs back with large hands, he drilled into your poor cunt, legs hanging off his broad shoulders, the sounds of skin-on-skin vibrating in the room alongside his pants, and your loud moans.

“T-toji, ah! I-I’m sorry, t-too,” a deeper thrust sent a harsh quiver from your lips while his lips dropped low to your ear, “Too! Big! Cant!”

Grunting into your ear, the same smirk plastered on his face. He angled himself even deeper, never stopping the rhythm, slamming his inches into you. All you could do was take it and moan desperately. Head thrown back while eyes rolled back into your skull. 

“Don’t” thrust, “care.” He stated casually in your ear while his voice grew huskier, “Gonna fuck my cum into this lil’ ah, fuck, pussy. Make sure it only learns how to take me in.” He chuckled while he never stopped drilling, he pulled all the way out, leaving only the tip in. Causing you to pant rapidly at the loss of dick, hating how empty yet incredibly full you felt just from his tip alone.

“P-Please, please Toji, please,” fingers dug into his biceps in a fucked out voice, “don’t stop.”

“Aw,” he placed his forehead atop yours, mockingly cooing at the mess you’ve become. “Why should I let you cum?” He whispered now, lips ghosting over your own, “Had a lot to say about me being tiny but your greedy little cunt is both clinging onto me and stretching out. Disgusting girl” 

“I’m so so so so sorry, Toji I promise I’ll be good, I’ll be so good.” Frantically scanning over his face, your body still throbbing from the positions he put you in. Meanwhile, he felt just as warm to the touch, the feeling of sex coated him entirely his composure not faltering.

Wrapping a strong hand around your throat he tightened his grip as he pummeled right into you at once, body jerking forward at the sudden stretch. A loud gasp and moan abruptly left your mouth. Before he could continue pumping into you, his lips still hovering over yours, he had a cocky smile still etched onto his face.

“Sent Megumi off with his little friends, they’re having a sleepover.” His smirk deepened, “Oh don’t worry, you’ll be proving to me how good of a whore you’ll be for me all night.” He scoffed, “Maybe then in your little diary you can write about how good I fuck you.” He pulled out yet again, suddenly feeling his body weight push off your body entirely, making you whine at the loss of sensation in your cunt and body. In an instant, he flipped you over.

Back arched completely, chest pressed down into the sprawled-out duvet, legs spread out ready for him to obliterate all self-dignity you had left, his knee pushed into the bed behind you. Placing his socked foot in the back of your head, he gripped his cockhead dragging it along your puffy folds. Moaning slightly at the feeling of contact as he circled his massive tip around your clit, your eyes fluttered shut again. Drool seeped through the sides of your mouth not caring that this man had stolen all sense of respect you once held for yourself.

“Now,” his voice husky again grunting as his cock slowly teased at your entrance before shoving it in at a tantalizing pace. Staring in awe at your hole as it glistened, hearing your cunt squelch around his thick width, “Hear her for me?” Physically tightening at the words he just said, he let out a slight grunt.

“Mhm,” you let out a mangled noise which caused him to chuckle, feeling his foot press deeper onto the back of your head while your fingers desperately gripped at the sheets below. 

“Maybe,” he pushed himself in, a wild smile on his face while he heard you whimper below, thrashing around still not used to a length this immense. “You should listen to her more often than that dumb little brain of yours princess.” 

Swiftly gripping your wrist, he firmly pinned it back at the small of your back, while rapidly thrusting in and out all at once. “Ah! Ah! T-Toji… So! Hnghhh, G-Good,” moans incredibly muffled as they were pushed into the sheets, cunt gripping onto him every time he moved in and out.

Grunting at the view of your ass clapping back at his pelvic region every time he drilled inside, your walls trying their hardest to take him. He only cackled before whistling, harshly slamming a hand down on your ass letting it recoil with a red mark left behind.

“Should’ve told you I read that stupid diary ages ago…”

═════════════════════

Gojo ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Failed date

“Ding! New message from ‘toruu.’” The robotic voice announced in your headphones, breaking you from wallowing in your sorrowful haze.

Shuffling in your bed, trying to forget the events that unfolded earlier today, your hand reached out to your nightstand fidgeting around to find your phone. You thought maybe lying down with sad music blaring in your ears would help, but spoiler; it did not. Groaning slightly while your eyes try to adjust to the phone's brightness. A failed date equated to a failed day, lo and behold, your eccentric friend was at your side ready to wipe away any discomfort. 

Shifting your body upwards, a smile couldn’t help but be formed at his words. At the end of the day, the guy was just that, a guy. There was nothing to stress over. Was there a slight skip in a heartbeat hearing Satoru speak fondly upon you? Yes. But that’s all that there was. Risking a friendship with him wasn’t worth it in the grand scheme. He was appealing in all senses, there was no surprise that girls and boys alike flocked to him like candy. Getting laid wasn’t exactly the objective, but hanging onto things that weren’t feasible was. 

Joking with Satoru came second nature, but having him become defensive over a harmless joke startled you a bit. ‘There’s no way he’s acting like this.’ Nibbling at your bottom lip staring at him laughing in all caps. Is he being defensive? Eyes moving back and forth on the screen questioning what to say next, the conversation continued.

Snickering to yourself, ‘Oh, so he IS being defensive.’ The thought danced around in your head, rolling eyes at every other thing he texted. “There is no way he is serious,” mumbling to yourself like a madman in the dead of night alone while speaking to nothing but the screen at hand. 

A light ping indicated that your message was sent, as you glanced at the dots that appeared from his end. Breath slightly hitching at what he stated next.

Eyes widening, breath caught in throat quickly throwing the phone down face first as your face burnt. Breathing shallow breaths to catch up, time felt a bit still before shaking hands gripped the phone, and slowly brought it into your line of sight. 

My God was Satoru Gojo, huge.

His tip was a light dusty pink, almost made to be kissed, forming a beautiful head that had a bead of translucent precum decorating the slit. The shaft was thick, matching his milky pale tone and fading into an ombre ending right where the tip started. His veins were many, mapped out all around his shaft, up and down, a prominent one stood at the center. It looked heavy, he appeared to be standing up in the picture. A white-happy trail formed alongside the end of his abs and faded around into his neatly groomed bush. You blinked slowly, taking in the image of your best friend’s fat cock. He wasn’t lying. At all. He had to be pushing 8 inches and more. This was the image alone, thumb hovering slightly over the video attachment. Feeling your cunt pulsate slightly and clit growing a bit hard, shuffling some more. 

‘I can't be getting wet over my friend. This is so wrong, he’s probably joking too right? Guys do this all the time with their guy friends. Except, I’m not a guy…’

Biting the bullet and taking the initiative, clicking the video attachment was a wrong, wrong idea. Still, in the same position, his gray sweat pushed down his mid-thigh, the flash was strong in the video. In your ears, everything was heard. Still standing erect, you could hear him lightly chuckle, almost as if he was taunting you in the same room. For some reason, the slick heat flooded more, He brought his large veiny hand, placing it side by side with his cock, holy shit, it was larger than his hand. He spoke your name in a sultry voice one that sent waves crashing down your pussy, a voice that you’ve never heard before. 

“You already know how big my hand is, I mean you’ve held it before. Do with that information what you will.” You could hear the smirk in his voice before plopping on the bed before him, a soft grunt echoed in your ears. So his dick was heavy, it flopped straight on his abs which elicited a laugh on his end. 

“Sorry, I couldn't send you it while lying down. It’s a bit too heavy.” With that, the video ended. Gulping and staring dumbfounded, your fingers anxiously wrote whatever they could, trying to keep any semblance of a friendly demeanor. 

Sighing while rolling your eyes at his behavior, mentally sighing that he's back acting like the immature soul he’s always been. Guess, it’s time to rely on the good ol’ vibrator to solve this problem. Knowing him he’d probably hang this compliment over your head for eternity and that was that with this conversation, which is why what he stated startled you a bit.

Staring at the screen once more, feeling a bit anxious about his response. All that could be thought of is if the wrong thing was said to him. He’d be over the moon hearing that his cock is big as fuck, right? Sighing while dropping your shoulders and clicking the side button to shut the phone off, eyes closing once more while the back of your head met the soft headboard. 

“Ding! New message from: ‘toruu.’”

Eyes widening, the heat still pooling in your lace panties, thanking yourself for another failed date. Within ten minutes the phone was chucked out of hand, racing to get ready for his arrival even though it wasn’t the typical hangout.

Slipping on a lacy, cerulean bra and throwing it on, keeping the same undies on having a feeling that the slick wetness would be favored for you both, fixing your hair, spritzing a gourmand perfume, applying a bubble-gum colored lip gloss, and pulling on a light blue hoodie, tight black spandex shorts, with black house sandals. It wasn’t long before a certain man rang the doorbell.

Rushing to the door while maintaining some form of composure and unlocking it to be met with piercing eyes and a shit-eating grin towering over you. He wore the same sweats in the video and a black hoodie that did very little to hide his massive frame.

“Hi,” he stated in his typical voice, eyes looking over his glasses down at your face, as he put one strong arm over the doorframe. “Hello, ‘Toru…” audibly speaking so only he heard, while a light blush scattered across your face.

“Heard your date got canceled or whatever, what a bummerrrrrrr.” He rolled his eyes exaggerating his disdain due to unexpected plans. “Gonna let me in?” His voice stated in a whisper while studying the curves of your body. 

Slightly nodding, shifting to the side to let the tall figure in, a waft of his cologne hit all senses and shot straight to your core. 

While he walked in, your hand pressed against the doorframe closing it and locking it before a large hand turned you around. Gasping at the sudden feel of his hand around your waist, while the rest of your body was pushed against the door. Staring up at his face, not recognizing the look displayed on his usual happy-go-lucky face, painted a darkened expression of desire. Satoru pressed your chest against the front of his body, pushing you closer by the hand on the back of your waist. Caging you in his embrace, the other hand laid flat behind the door.

Smelling his sweet breath from the various candies he indulged in, the air hit the tip of your nose while his lips were merely inches away from your own. 

“No offense,” his voice silky, smooth, and deeper than usual, “Kinda glad this asshole bailed on you. Wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like you anyways.” His smile deepened while you responded by cupping his soft face in both hands. 

Breath a bit higher than a whisper, lips almost touching his while his grip on your waist felt stronger, “Oh, yeah ‘Toru, and you know what to do?” 

Feeling a vibration from his chest against your frame, as a laugh erupted from him, he stared into your eyes intensely. “Let me kiss your lips and show you. I think you know by now my words match up with my actions.”

Almost on command, both of you smashed your lips into one another savoring the feeling of tasting what you wanted for so long. Mutually moaning slightly upon the impact, Satoru quickly moved his large hands to caress all over your tinier frame. Ass, waist, thighs, hair, neck, his long slender fingers were everywhere, anywhere, every chance he could get to press you impossibly close to him.

Mouth agape, he took it as an opportunity to slip his tongue in, slithering it around your mouth while your tongue circled his own. Hands entangled in his hair, tilting your head, and on cue, he did the same. Tongues squelching and roaming each other's mouths as if you’ve been thirsty and the only cure was one another. His hands finally stop at your ass, giving a light squeeze before carrying you up, wrapping your legs around his torso.

Breaking away faces mimicking a blush on both faces, a string of saliva connecting your lips. Slightly panting as your forehead meets his, he stares deeply into your eyes. “Cute and all,” he says still in a haze, “but those weren’t the lips I was talking about.”

-

Hovering over his torso, while your mouth was stuffed with his huge cock. Hungrily lapping up his dick with your tongue, your hand wrapped around his base in a circular motion going up and down while your mouth struggled slightly to take the entirety of him in. Moans sent vibrations across his huge shaft, he was so big, so so so big. You loved every minute of it, it was evident with the sticky residue of cum that formed on his thighs and pubic hair from the previous rounds you’d gone. Saliva pooled on his dick, to rest on his balls and underneath his thighs. 

It was a mess, “Mhm!” You panted, separating yourself from having his cock buried down your throat but quickly attaching your lips at the head, smearing precum on like a lip product. Lapping the precum up and down the slit, before indulging his length back in. “Sa-Satoru- Ah! S-Stop!” Lips making a ‘pop!’ noise after pulling his dick from your throat, hands still echoing a wet sound as they both rapidly jerked him off.

Gojo laid on his back his face stuffed in your cunt, “Cant, ahhhh, too good,” His voice sounding hoarse. Bringing his head up even further into your slick heat, he licked long strips with his tongue from clit, hole, and ass. Both of his large hands spread your cheeks apart, your discharge soaking the bottom half of his face. He dove in head first, nose pressed directly in your pussy while his mouth harshly sucked at your clit, twirling it around his tongue effortlessly. Years of sucking on candy couldn’t compare to this. Pulling away both hands from your ass, he placed them on the front of your thighs, forcing you to sit on his face with a welp that broke away the string of moans.

Continuing to jerk him off, your eyes crossed while spitting down his length, feeling him twitch slightly under your motion. You mewled, “Mhpmh! Satoruuuuuuu!”

Harshly sucking on it before pulling away, he kissed your clit before dragging his head around in a circular motion licking all around like a madman. He closed his eyes and buried his tongue deep in your walls that tightened and contracted around him. Bobbing his head back and forth, tongue fucking your tiny hole, thumb diligently working in circles on your swollen clit. Slowly feeling your high soon approaching in waves and feeling him twitch even more violently underneath you. 

He moaned deep into your cunt while high-pitched yells escaped your throat, “Oh! Oh! Oooooh! Oh, Satoru! I’m c-cumm- ah!” Soon enough, Satoru’s face was full of liquid when your orgasm arrived. Sticking a tongue out noticing him jerk in your hands, closing your eyes, while cum painting your tongue and face. Swallowing him all while quivering from the impact of cumming all over his face.

For once in your life, this was the most quiet Satoru has ever been. 

Breaking away from your cunt, Satoru took a deep breath, laughing to himself shakily.

“Fuck, I should pay men more often not to date you.”

#jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo smut #gojo x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x you #gojo scenario #toji scenarios #gojo satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #toji x y/n #jujustsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[girlygirl14534]

Body Heat - Bucky x Reader

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Cock Warming, Snowed In, Only One Bed

Length: 3.7k

Summary: A blizzard knocks out the power in the safehouse where you and Bucky are sharing a bed. Can Bucky keep you warm through the cold night?

Author’s Note: It has been so cold where I live lately and there’s nobody better than Bucky to warm me up. I’m entering this work into @targaryenvampireslayer Blind Date Writing Challenge. I don’t participate in a lot of fandom events, so this was really fun! I used the Only One Bed trope and the Dialogue Prompts “Take your clothes off. Right now,” and “Are you holding back? Don’t.” Happy reading and stay warm! Divider via @firefly-graphics

Read this work on AO3

“You didn’t even want to get egg rolls,” Bucky whined as you grabbed one off of his plate.

You grinned as you bit into it. He smiled back at you, but his shoulders shifted ever so slightly, tipping you off to his next move. His chopsticks swooped onto your plate in retaliation, but you were ready for him, blocking his attempt on your orange chicken.

He glared at you and you relented. He popped the chicken into his mouth with a satisfied smirk. You rolled your eyes at him and took a sip of your beer. It was a local brew. A little hoppy but not too bitter, with a surprisingly crisp taste. You loved trying beers at every new little town you ended up at. Nothing beat a cold beer after a long mission, even if it was 20 degrees and dropping outside.

It was warm and cozy inside the little cabin. This safe house was cuter than most. It had a little wood stove and lace tablecloth—definitely grandmother-approved. The place was small, but you’d stayed at smaller ones. Although most had at least a few twin size cots. The bed here looked comfortable, but there was only one.

“It’s picking up out there,” Bucky nodded at the window. Outside you could see the snow swirling in the wind.

“The Winter Soldier scared of a little snow?” you teased.

“Oh, shut up. You wouldn’t last ten seconds out there. Remember Helsinki?”

“That is so unfair! I fell into a frozen pond!”

“I told you not to walk on that patch of ice!”

“You were being a know-it-all.”

“That’s because I actually know it all.”

You threw your half-eaten egg roll at him.

“You didn’t even eat it?!”

You shrugged and he glared at you as he finished it. After dinner, you got ready for bed. It had been a long day. When Bucky came out of the shower, you were already under the paisley-printed covers.

He grinned at you. “That’s my favorite bonnet,” he said, nodding at the silky cap on your head.

“You have favorite bonnets of mine?”

He shrugged. “I’ve seen you in enough of them. I love the one with rhinestones on the headband. You look like a queen. The Kirby one is really cute, too.”

“Nice try, Bucky.” You threw a pillow at him. “You’re still sleeping on the floor.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

You knew he was going to jump on the bed a second before he did it, but you didn’t stop him. He looked so satisfied with himself.

“Time for bed,” you said as you started stacking pillows on the bed between you.

“Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off of me?” he teased.

“Don’t think I forgot how you hogged the couch in Bangladesh.”

“I maintain that you rolled off of the couch by yourself.”

“Well then consider it protection from me rolling you off the bed.”

He laughed as you finished the wall of pillows, marking your territory. You were just grateful that the bed was big enough to have your own space and that there were enough blankets that you wouldn’t have to share. You loved Bucky, but in your friendship you were more likely to trade insults than share the covers. Was there something more behind the words you traded? Maybe. Sometimes it felt obvious that he felt the same and other times you were certain that he just saw you as a friend.

If you were just friends, you were friends that lived and worked in very close quarters. You’d had a lot of hands-on moments working the mission with him today. If you had a little more privacy, you’d probably be touching yourself right now thinking about the weight of him on top of you as he tackled you to the ground to protect you, his hair tickling your face as he whispered a new tactical plan into your ear. Instead you were stuck here, close but not close enough. You sighed in frustration.

“Need a bedtime story?” Bucky asked.

“Once upon a time, a former assassin wouldn’t shut up while his teammate tried to sleep.”

“Teammate? That’s all I am to you?” he asked. The hurt and offense in his voice almost sounded real.

“What do you want to be described as?” you asked.

“Just get some sleep, princess.”

You chuckled and rolled over, soon falling asleep. You dreamt of him, of course. Of his hands on you. One warm, one cold. And then it was just his left hand. It was so cold. You let him keep touching you, of course. You didn’t care if you got frostbite. You just wanted him to keep touching you.

You were pissed when you woke up before you could climax. But you quickly realized it wasn’t just cold in your dream. Your teeth were chattering in real life.

“Fuck. It’s freezing,” you said.

“Power’s out,” Bucky said. “Must be the storm.”

“Can we make a fire?”

“I checked. The stove is electric.”

“Are you sure? That thing looks older than you.”

Bucky laughed. “I think I saw a few candles in the cupboard.” He got up and rummaged around in the kitchen. He lit them and placed them around the room.

“Bring one here. Maybe I can warm my hands.”

He laughed as he flopped back onto his side of the bed. “I know it’s cold in here. With the blizzard, there’s no way we’ll make it down the mountain. In the morning, we can—”

“I’m not gonna make it to morning! Feel my fingers!”

Bucky outstretched his right hand toward you, smiling in amusement at what he assumed was exaggeration. When you touched him, his expression changed to one of concern. Maybe things were worse than you thought. Maybe it really was frostbite. Bucky started taking down the pillow barrier.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“You’re right,” he said as he threw pillows over his shoulder and onto the floor.

“Oooh, say that again.”

He laughed. “It’s too cold in here. You need body heat.”

You rolled your eyes but he kept moving pillows. “You’re serious?”

He nodded as he got rid of the last pillow. He awkwardly opened his arms. You scooted closer to him. This wasn’t how you wanted his arms around you, but you were too cold to deny him. He wrapped his big, strong arms around you. You relaxed into his embrace, and not just because of the warmth. He held you tight to him and you would’ve stayed just like forever, but you were still shivering. It felt like the chill had settled into your bones. The extra warmth from Bucky was only making it more obvious just how cold it was in the tiny cabin.

“We need skin to skin,” Bucky said.

You laughed but he didn’t.

“Take your clothes off. Right now,” he said.

Maybe the frigid air was impacting your decision-making, because instead of denying him, you complied. Tried to, anyway. Your fingers were so numb from the cold that you fumbled with the hem of your shirt. He gently nudged your fingers aside and helped you out of your shirt. You’d imagined the first time he took your clothes off a little differently, but you couldn’t care about that now. Once your shirt was off, he took his off too.

He hugged you again then. Your bare skin felt electrified where it touched his. He held your hands to his chest to warm them. With his hardened pecs beneath your fingers, it took all of your willpower not to squeeze.

“Is that better?” he asked.

You nodded. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. You stayed like that for a few minutes, afraid to move. Afraid that at some point he’d decide that you were warm enough. You weren’t warm enough. In any sense. You needed him closer for survival, but it became increasingly difficult to tell if you needed him because you were cold or because you were horny.

“You’re not warm enough,” he said finally. You didn’t argue.

When he pulled away, the sudden loss of warmth made your body tense up. He immediately placed his arms around you again.

“I won’t let go of you anymore, okay?”

You hated how pathetic your voice sounded when you responded, “Okay.”

His arm reached between your bodies to pull his pants down. You told yourself that you weren’t going to look, but your eyes had a mind of their own. You watched his fingers grip his waistband and tug down his boxers and his pants. Suddenly he was naked. Even in the dim lighting, you could see how big he was. His eyes went straight to yours to check in, but he found no objection. You looked away to be polite, but felt too awkward to look into his eyes. You turned around so that your back was to his chest. You were grateful that he couldn’t see your face when he started to pull your pants down. If he was hesitant about this plan, his movements didn’t show it. He was smooth and deliberate, quickly ridding you of your pajamas and underwear. When you were both undressed, he pulled you close. When you felt his cock against your ass, you shivered, and it wasn’t because of the freezing temperatures.

“That’s it,” he said. “Turn over.”

He didn’t wait for you to move, effortlessly pulling you onto your back and laying on top of you. Bucky was naked. You were naked. And he was on top of you. You were short of breath just thinking about it.

“Don’t tell me I’m taking your breath away,” he teased.

“You’re heavy,” you retorted. “I think you may need to start laying off the eggrolls.”

As you laughed together, you became hyper aware of how close your bodies were, of just how much physical contact you had. The laughing stopped abruptly.

“Why didn’t you take off my bra?” you whispered. “Afraid that once you see these you’ll be ruined for all other boobs?”

“Yes,” he nodded as he reached under you, large hands rubbing your back and unhooking the clasp. He slowly slid your straps down your arms. He looked into your eyes as he pulled your bra from between your bodies and threw it onto the floor.

Here you were, caged in his warmth, looking deep into his eyes like in one of your fantasies. And yet your instinct was to make a stupid joke, find some way to make this feel less serious. But you couldn’t think straight with his dick resting on your stomach and his warm breath on your face.

“Better?” he asked.

“Eh. Still a little chilly,” you joked breathlessly.

“I can get you warmer,” he said seriously.

You laughed. “I don’t think we could physically be any closer than we are right now.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Well, technically we could be a little closer.”

“Barnes, if I go outside in the morning and find out that you cut the powerlines…”

“I can’t have you dying of hypothermia on my watch. I don’t have to move or anything. Just to keep you warm.”

You wanted to roll your eyes and hit him on the arm, but his sincerity caught you off guard.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I’m not a fan of the cold either. I’ve spent too much of my life frozen already. We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought…”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “And don’t worry, when I tell Nat this story, I won’t even mention the shrinkage.”

He laughed with you and then shook his head at you.

“What am I gonna do with you?” he asked.

“Stick your dick in me, apparently.”

He swallowed nervously. “Are you…? Are you ready?” he asked.

You nodded, hoping he wouldn’t question how wet you were already. You certainly weren’t going to bring up the fact that you had felt his length slowly hardening against you for the last few minutes.

“I, uh, just gotta…” He reached down to pump himself a few times, looking anywhere but you. You wanted to change that.

“You can look at me, Bucky.”

His eyes found yours. You’d never seen this expression on his face before. He was never this easy to read. Even though he’d beaten the Winter Soldier programming, he usually always kept a part of himself closed off. Those defenses were gone now. In their place was yearning. A desire so deep it was overwhelming. The way he looked at you was the same way you felt about him.

You arched your back, drawing attention to your chest. “You can also look here, if it helps.”

He looked at your breasts for the first time. His mouth fell open in awe. You hoped you really were ruining him for other women. You hoped he would never look at anyone else like this for as long as he lived. His eyes went from your chest back to your face as he shifted between your legs. You bit your lip when you felt the head of his cock prod your entrance. It would take everything in your power not to moan. This was probably a very bad idea. But still you let your legs fall open wider to give him easier access.

When he first pushed in, you drew a shaky breath. He stopped moving, eyes anxiously searching yours. He was terrified you’d ask him to stop. Quite the contrary.

“That all you got?” you asked.

He smirked at you before resuming his progress. Despite your earlier joke, you felt your walls stretch around him as he pushed further into you. You felt every single inch, but it was torture not being able to wrap your legs around his hips or claw at his back like you wanted to.

When he was fully seated, he stilled. You took a few deep breaths. It was dizzying, being this close to him, this full of him. It was his turn to tell you, “You can look at me, ya know.”

You looked at him in the flickering candlelight. His hair obscured your view of his face. You reached up and tucked it behind his ear. He nuzzled his face against your hand. Your heart skipped a beat. You could feel his warm cock throbbing inside of you. He was looking at you so romantically that you forgot where you were for a moment. Your body did, too. Your pussy clenched around him. You didn’t get a chance to wonder if he’d felt it. You heard him groan. Right before you felt him thrust.

His eyes darted to you, panicked. You’d seen him panic once before, as he pulled you out of the ice in Finland. That day he’d warmed you up by the fire with plenty of hot drinks and some light teasing. You preferred the current method of warming you up. Which is why you let him hear you. You moaned for him. If you’d been less desperate for him to fuck you, you would’ve been embarassed by how needy you sounded. It was nothing compared to the strangled cry Bucky let out with his second thrust. You expected him to keep moving, but he stopped again. He leaned in, eyes urgent.

“The first time I saw you,” he panted, “I knew you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever—”

Your heart fluttered, but you couldn’t have him saying things he didn’t mean. “You don’t have to flatter me, Buck—”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true. And you are so beautiful.”

You placed your hands behind his head and pulled him in for a kiss. You weren’t sure what it was going to be like, your first kiss with Bucky. Especially since that first kiss was occurring after he was already inside of you. When your lips touched, you both sighed with relief. His lips were soft. You weren’t expecting that. His tongue probed your lips gently, and you gladly gave it access. He kissed you slowly, like he was savoring every second. He cupped your breast with his right hand, softly stroking it. His touches were almost reverent. It would’ve been romantic if you weren’t so needy. There’d be time for slow and steady. You hoped so, anyway. Right now you needed fire. You needed his touch to chase away the cold.

“Are you holding back on me, Barnes? Don’t.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He bent his head and attached his lips to your neck. He pulled the delicate flesh between his teeth as the hand on your breast eagerly squeezed. His metal hand tightened its grip on your hip. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d have a bruise in the shape of his handprint tomorrow. Proof that this had actually happened. Proof it wasn’t just the best dream of your life.

Maybe you wanted to mark him, too. Maybe that’s why you tangled your fingers in his hair while you raked the nails of the other hand down his back. He grunted as he drove into you with renewed force, the headboard rattling against the wall.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re so wet. So tight. So perfect. Even better than I—” he stopped himself.

“Better than you imagined?” you suggested.

He nodded.

“You imagine me?” you asked, breathless.

“Every day,” he confessed.

You moved your hips in time with his next stroke, taking him deeper than ever. You both cursed. With each thrust, you knew things would never be the same. With each thrust, you got more and more desperate for him to ruin you. You writhed desperately under him and he only gripped you tighter, forcing you to stay still and accept your pleasure like a good girl. He angled his hips so that he was massaging your g-spot with every thrust. The head of his cock dragged against your center of pleasure over and over again in a relentless pursuit for your climax. You wanted to beg him to fuck you harder and faster but you didn’t want this to end yet. Not until he was as ruined as you were.

You took your hands away from him and brought them to your chest. You gripped your breasts tightly and moaned. He was mesmerized. You pinched your nipples and rolled your hips, putting on a show for him. You needed to know that he would never forget this. That he would never forget you. You tugged on your nipples and cried his name.

“That’s my job,” he said. You smirked at him.

You put your fingers in his open mouth and brought them to your clit and started rubbing slow circles. You watched his eyes darken. He grabbed your hand and brought it to his mouth again, closing his eyes in pleasure as he licked your fingers clean. Instead of putting your hand back where he found it, he brought his metal fingers to your clit instead, taking over your ministrations there. The cold, hard metal rhythmically massaged the sensitive bundle of nerves until his name was the only word in your vocabulary.

You wouldn’t last much longer. You’d see to it that neither would he. You attached your lips to his neck and sucked a bruise into the skin. His fingers on your clit went from slow circles to frantic figure 8s. Your back arched in pleasure as you felt your walls tighten around Bucky’s cock. His hips stuttered as he flooded you with warmth. Your legs shook when you felt him fill you. You whimpered his name. He whispered yours. Before you could even catch your breath, it happened.

You both knew the second the power turned back on. The hum of the fridge, the rattle of the old radiator, the red “Off” light on the coffee pot. It was like a bomb going off in the bubble you’d built. You looked at each other, startled, as if you were just realizing the extent of what you had done. For a split second, you considered pulling away from him and getting dressed, pretending none of this had ever happened. But you didn’t want that, not while his cum was still warm inside you and aftershocks of your orgasm were still rocking your core. You two spoke at the same time.

“It’ll probably take a while before you’re warm eno—”

“The power could go off again at any mo—”

“Sorry—”

“What were you saying—”

You both chuckled self-consciously.

“You love being inside me, don’t you, Barnes?” you teased with no taunting in your voice. You felt his dick twitch. You rolled your hips. “Is that a yes?”

He bit his lip and looked at you with more than lust. It was devotion.

“Yes,” he said finally.

“Good. Because you’re the only one that can keep me warm.”

“What about me?” he asked.

You looked at him, perplexed.

“I get cold, too.”

“What can I warm up for you, Bucky?”

“My ears are kinda cold,” he said.

Oh. Not exactly what you were thinking about warming up, but ok. You reached out to stroke the side of his face. He smiled and blushed, but nuzzled into your hand.

“Your thighs should be pretty warm now…”

Oh. Your thighs could keep his ears warm. You would happily straddle his face in the name of reciprocity. It was the least you could do, right?

…

The next morning, you woke up wrapped in Bucky’s arms. The heat hadn’t gone out again during the night, but you still felt like you needed Bucky’s warmth.

“I didn’t tamper with the generator,” Bucky said. “But I should have. I should’ve warmed you up like that when you fell into the lake.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Would you have let me?”

You nodded.

“You would have?!”

“I bought the Kirby bonnet for you,” you confessed.

“What?”

“I know how much you like playing Mario Kart with Sam. I thought you’d like it. I thought maybe it’d make you like me.”

He scoffed. “Are you kidding? By that point, I was already in lo—I mean, I, uh. I really do love Mario Kart, you’re right.”

“Nice save.”

“Let me take you out on a proper date.”

“One condition.”

“Anything.”

“Has to be somewhere warm.”

You shared a laugh.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he smirked.

Want to read more of my writing? Check out my ongoing Stucky x Reader series.

#bucky x reader #avenger!reader #black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel x reader #suzsblinddatewritingchallenge #suzsblinddatechallenge

[austinbutlerslovers]

Feyd Fantasy 3

Kill or Be Killed

Label Mature 18+

Summary

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen is being eyed by the Emperor to replace the current Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. After proving his worth in the gladiatorial arena it shows the Baron just how much the people of Giedi Prime adore Feyd Rautha.

The Baron knows his time is coming to an end when the Emperors right hand Count Fenring comes to observe Feyd in action.

The only thing the Baron feels will cripple Feyds greatness, is you his defiant new Baroness. You soften Feyds resolve and lower his brutality one kind word and gesture at a time. You encourage his free will as a natural born leader against his tyrannical uncle.

When the Baron takes drastic measure and separates Feyd from his beloved Baroness he sealed his fate. The Baron assumed the infatuation would end with time apart and an unending supply of pleasure slaves. He miscalculated poorly and now Feyd is coming to collect his Baroness and exact revenge on his tormenting uncle.

Starts blood /fights/ politics Ends hot dark romance smut 🫠

⚠️Hard Core Smut⚠️

Public edging• fingering under a table•coercion• light fem dom •restraint kink•cock rings•size kink•Feyd in heat•Sub Feyd•pain kink•nipple clamps •sexual stimulant• oral sex on Feyd•oral from Feyd• Feyd masturbating• Feyd ejaculate•semi public sex in a pool• rough sex •spankings•orgasms •creampies

🫦Smut Consultant @burnthheparaphilia

⚔️ Feyd Fantasy Series ⚔️

Part 1•Part 2•Part 3•Part 4•Part 5•Part 6•Part 7

⏳Extreme Dune Inaccuracies⌛️ Based on events from Dune part 2 film+ novel:Feyd story line change 💝Not for my softies 🆕 Skip to Cat Daddy ➡️

I thought this would be done in 48 hrs… until I started writing the first fight scene of my life 🥴 I’m also so appreciative I’m entertaining you 👌🏼😭 im working my a** off love you guys.

⚔️ Multiple requests combined ⚔️ -Semi public fingering -Feyd Immediate need for gratification in public. -Feyd in heat -Even more graphic s*x… -Feyd very rough but reader needs it. -Sub Feyd (restrained and dominated). -Feyd kneeling to earn s*x. -Feyd pxssy drunk for the baroness -Sex in a ‘Dune style’ pool? -Feyd obsessed with Baroness to his own detriment. -Feyd giving an unhealthy amount of spankings *blushing from these ☺️ thank you for the requests

Kill or Be Killed

It is the morning of the Gladiatorial Fights on Geidi Prime. The war like sound of horns and drums resound the capitol. Every pillar and building is hung with banners reading: ‘The 100th Kill of Na Baron Feyd Rautha on the Celebration of his Nativity’. It has been made into a global holiday, the people of the planet flock to the event.

The triangular arena is so large it can be seen from space. The black stadium is in the center of the capital of Giedi Prime. It is an architectural marvel thirty stories high. The hundreds of thousands cheering in the audience can be heard for miles.

All the great houses are in attendance. Dozens of high end viewing rooms and balconies are filled with several hundred interplanetary leaders and dignitaries. The rest of the stadium is filled to the brim with the populous of Geidi Prime.

All in attendance pay homage to the birthday of the Barons nephew Na Baron Feyd Rautha. After the fall of House Atreides the Harkonnens have become the most powerful family dynasty. They amass the most wealth and the farthest reaching army in the galaxy. The other houses bow to their will.

The Barons viewing room is the highest and most luxurious in the arena. It is a twenty story tower that connects to the stadium floor. There is a an elevation room to quickly ascend and descend him for the momentous occasion.

The Barons is beaming on this day as he speaks to dignitary’s just outside of his luxury viewing section. He is seated in his hover chair not needing to move a muscle, just sit back and bask in the glory his nephews display of power this day.

He is interrupted by his Lord in Waiting who informs him two important guests wish to join him in his viewing section. When the Baron sees it is the Emperors right hand man he lets out a deep laugh “What a special occasion this must be” the Baron says as Count Fenring and his wife Lady Margot approach.

They are visiting observers from the Imperial Court. “Welcome my Count and Lady it is a pleasure to see you” The Baron says acting surprised, yet he has been expecting them all along. Count and Lady Fenring bow with polite smiles. Though they have more serious matters to discuss.

They are seated in the luxury sky box above the triangular arena. Horns blaring below, they are tiers above the other sections. Some in the lower tiers are looking up waving chanting for the Baron. He waves answering the call and they cheers.

"My dear Baron" the Count says leaning to the Barons ear “I wish to discuss the reason why I am here today. The Emperor wishes me to report on whether you’ve chosen a worthy successor. There’s nothing like the arena to expose the persons true valor beneath, eh?" He elbows the Baron taunting him.He knows about his habit of drugging Feyds opponents.

The Baron is wise to his game. He has given his nephew a worthy opponent on his birthday, a healthy and alert Atreides soldier just as Feyd requested. What once worried the Baron now seems a brilliant request by Feyd to prove his honor. “Oh Feyd-Rautha will show you his true Valor” the Baron says with confidence. They hear a final horn as the onlookers stare down into the arena.

Feyd Rautha emerges into the fighting pit. A long knife in his right hand, a short knife in his left.

The greeting cheers lift from all the galleries. Feyd Rautha pauses to accept it, looking up and scanning the faces to find the one he wants to see the most but there are so many.

Feyd Rautha holds up his knives to the sun, and salutes the three corners of the arena in the ancient manner.

The adjustment of his body shield takes only a moment. He clicks on the device at his waist. It covers him entirely in a transparent blue color. It will withstand fast attacks, slower ones can penetrate the field giving him time to defend. His uncle insisted for this fight especially he never turns off his sheild. It is his only guarantee against death if all else fails.

The crowd lowers to a murmur with everyone waiting in suspense.

Feyd steps back and faces his uncles tower. He places his right fist over his chest and kneels "I dedicate this victory to... " And he pauses, knowing his uncle forbade him from dedicating the most honorable fight of his life to you. His uncle leans forward in his seat. He will have him mercilessly flogged if he dedicates this to his Baroness.

"... to Na Baroness Harkonnen!" Feyd shouts. The crowd erupts into cheers of elation. His uncle scowls in disgust. Feyd has dedicated his wins to his uncle for over a decade.

The Baron lets out a sigh Feyd did honor the pledge he made on his wedding day to the populous, he said he would dedicate his victory to his Baroness. Maybe he will have you flogged in-front of Feyd instead, his obvious weakness. The crowd erupts into cheers chanting for Feyd.

Your twelve Bene Gesserit sisters applaud you. They begin letting out the ancient calls of a successful mating from your home world making you laugh. The thirteen of you are crowded together on the luxury balcony. You are far across the opposite end of the arena from the Baron.

Your sisters have been kind, the first to fully acknowledge and appreciate your pregnancy. They press their fingers on your womb and bow in reverence sending messages to the unborn. They constantly speak to you of your home world and brought you many luxurious gifts.

They see your anxiety increasing when you can’t stop looking over at Feyd as they speak with you. Placing their calming hands on you and your unborn they relax you. Once your mind is free from fear you are no longer apprehensive about Feyd during the fights. You join them to observe him.

“So this is the young man the Reverend Mother meant, this is the a bloodline we must preserve. The father of the future Kwisatz Haderach” They murmur collectively.

You stare through your binoculars at his striking form. He looks very powerful in his black armor wielding his blades. As if he can feel your gaze he finally turns over his shoulder looking for you behind him. He can not find you but you see his eyes, cold calculating and empty. You can not wait to restore life to him again.

Feyd refocuses, his uncle said no distractions. He nods to his nine barb-men checking their equipment with a measuring stare. They swing their barbs, hooks glistening signaling they are prepared.

Feyd turns facing the big red door across from him which the special Atreidies soldier will emerge.

Instead a low humming arises from the two black doors on his left .

As they slide open a large sluggish gladiator emerges from the first door. He sheilds his eyes from the sunlight and walks with a stupor. A second gladiator drags his feet as he exits the other door. His dazed out eyes lock on Feyd and he snarls as he lifts his heavy sword prepared to fight.

Feyd clicks his tongue enraged his uncle has gone back on his plan and not given him a fight with a warrior.

The larger gladiator slave approaches him first, yelling as he raises his sword swinging down with a slow blow Feyd easily dodges.

His feet glide across the sand stopping right behind the second gladiator slicing him across the back of the legs severing his tendons behind his knees. The gladiator falls forward to the ground. Feyd kicks him over and stabs him in the chest blood prays from the dying gladiators mouth as he locks eyes with him in death.

He retrieves his swords just as the first gladiator lunges, weapon raised high over his head. Feyd pivots and stabs him through the torso until it meets the handle. The gladiator sword drops behind him. Feyd presses his foot to the dying gladiators stomach kicking him off of his blade spraying drops of blood into the air.

The crowd erupts into cheers. Feyd paces waiting for the next door to open in the arena.

In the Barons skybox Count and Lady Fenring are not impressed looking through their binoculars. It was too easy for Feyd there was no challenge. The gladiators were obviously kept as slaves, malnourished and heavily drugged. They begin whispering angrily to each other over the Harkonnens deceitful ways within earshot of the Baron.

The Baron hovers forward in his chair staring at the large red door about to open.”Happy birthday my dearest nephew” he says aloud making the Lady and Count look back into the arena.

Feyd focuses all his awareness on the red door hearing it gear up.

The red door slams open.

Out charges a tall, muscular man. His head is shaved and he as dark pitted eyes. His skin is bronzed he wears a black loincloth with a small sword tucked in his waist belt. He holds his long sword, tilted slightly outward in the stance of an expert fighter. He advances into the arena, with his sheild turning its side toward Feyd Rautha and his group of men.

"I like not the look of this one” says one of Feyds barb-men. "Are you sure he’s drugged, m’Lord?"

“Stand ready” Feyd says with a grin. He revels in the thrill his blood is coursing knowing his life is at risk.

“He stands like a true fighter," his other barb-men says.

Feyd Rautha advanced two steps onto the sand, and studies the man.

It is not a soldier it is one of Duke Leto Atreides best sword fighters! A chill runs through Feyd exciting him. He remembers how his uncle prized this warrior as a trophy when he was captured on Arrakis.

Another of Feyds barb-men speaks up "m’Lord have the men set a barb or two in his knife arm to try him."

"I’ll set my own barbs!" Feyd snaps he’s been craving combat.

Feyd advances another five paces into the arena, playing out the moment, studying the swordsman.

Already, he knows, the experts in the stands above him are aware that something is wrong.

“We should stop the fight this one is not drugged” says the Barons Lord in waiting

"See how he stands. He should be agitated and attacking. See how he conserves his strength, how he waits! He should not wait!" The Lord in waiting continues to panic.

“Don’t ruin my nephews birthday” the Baron shrugs him off and brings up his binoculars

"Hai, Harkonnen!" the man calls. "Are you prepared to die?"

Feyd feels the excitement rising in his chest as he grips his long blade.

Deathly stillness grips the arena. Captured fighters have never issued a challenge to Na Baron.

A tight smile spreads across Feyds lips.

"Hai! Hai!" the man challenges him again and creeps forward two steps.

Feyd aims his sword almost in a greeting.

The swordsman pounces

A timed side blow misses severing the tendons of Feyds left leg by the fraction of an inch.

One of Feyds barb-men instantly hooks the man leaving a barbed shaft in his right forearm pulling back his second attack on Feyd. The hook completely buries in his flesh where the man can not withdraw it.

Feyd yells at his barb-men “GET BACK!” The nine of them encircling Feyd to protect him look to each other in confusion.

You see Feyds anger rising as you watch from the balcony. He wants to fight and prove his valor but his uncle has so many safe guards installed. One by one he is stripping them away.

The swordsman backs up, lashing the barbed shaft to his arm with his weapon. "I do not feel your little needle Harkonnen!" he shouts. He creeps forward. ”And I too can hide behind my sheild” he mocks Feyd as he bends his body backward to give it the greatest surface of protection from his half-shield.

After several challenges from the swordsman Feyd decide to give the audience a show they have never seen before. He reaches his hand to his waist and clicks off his sheild. The action does not escape the crowd everyone is stunned as they gasp.

“DAMN YOU FEYD!” The Baron shouts. He slams his fist on his chair knocking over his drink in his booth. It was the most important thing he said to him, wear the sheild to protect your life. He almost trembles knowing his future Baron is risking his life to prove himself.

Feyds barb-men know this is a mistake and call out to him begging to help.

He waves them back

Swiftly, Feyd Rautha moves to the center of the arena where all can clearly see. He crouches and waits for the advancing swordsmen.

"I do not fear you, Harkonnen swine I’ll have you dead beside me!" The swordsman yells

Feyd-Rautha grins so far the swordsman taunts are the only things that have landed.

The swordsman lunges and they dodge each before clanging sword to knife. The swordsman is on the defense. Feyd begins slicing his knife and sword together trying to gut the mans torso. The man keeps pace retreating backwards defending Feyds onslaught.

The swordsman locks his stance and stabs his sword upward at the advancing Feyd who leans back avoiding a stab through his chin. The swordsman sees Feyd off kilter and goes for another slice.

Feyd sees his movements and goes for the short stab. The swordsman shifts and quickly grabs Feyds blade handle before he can pierce his ribs. Both men struggle for power holding the handle of Feyds short blade.

Feyd aims the blade to the man neck going for the kill beginning to struggle from exhaustion. At that instant the strength of the swordsman tips the knife back at Feyd.

Feyd watches as the blade shakily inches closer and closer directly for his left eye "You will DIE, Harkonnen!" The soldier yells. Feyd lets out a maniacal laugh experiencing one of the best thrills of his life, he locks eyes with the tip of the blade and then the swordsman as he faces his certain death. “JUST DIE!" The swordsman shouts exerting all of his strength.

Feyd regains the knife and plunges the blade into the swordsman throat . He holds him close by the back of his head sword still imbedded “You fought well Atreides” Feyd whispers. He pulls out his blade and lets the man suffocates on his own blood.

He steps back a space between them sufficient enough for his long blade. Feyd heavily slashes down the soldiers chest with all his strength. He draws a deep gash severing his pectoral muscles. The agony is instant for the swords man. He drops his blade to the ground.

The man disengages himself, staggering backwards

Feyd Rautha stands in silence tilting his head to the side with a cold eeriness. His eyes watch the slowed motions of the man.

Feyd stands tall and inhales enjoying the man’s slow suffering. There is a look on the swordsman’s face now for every watcher to recognize. Death was written there.

The man staggers forward one dragging step at a time reaching for Feyd while clutching his throat.

Feyd draws back at each step to give death its space.

Sadness contorts his mouth. He slumps, then stiffens and falls face down at Feyd Rauthas feet.

Feyd advances in the silent arena, he puts his boot under the swordsman torso and rolls him onto his back to give the galleries a clear view.

There is an eruption of noise from the stands and galleries around him. They are cheering with wild abandonment.

Feyd-Rautha turns, looking up to them and raises his knife triumphantly in the air. He keeps his arm out stretched as he walks the length of the arena declaring his victory.

All are cheering in adulation except the Baron. He sits with hands to his chin in deep contemplation on Feyds defiance. The Count and his lady, both stare down at Feyd, their faces impressed with smiles to tell the good news to the Emperor. Feyd-Rautha is a worthy successor, a skilled fighter with valor, admired by his people.

Your sisters are thrilled by his skill and stunned by his brutality. As you witness hundred of thousand chanting his name and screaming for him as he walks through the arena you understand how much of an influence a Feyd has over the entire populous of Giedi Prime, they adore him.

His birthday is a holiday, his family controls the largest army in the galaxy and he is rich beyond all measure. He can take over and rule any time he wants.

Na Baron Feyd Rauthas Birthday Celebration

You and your twelve Bene Gesserit sisters walk down the long dark main halls of the Harkonnen fortress. All beautifully dressed in gowns. It is night fall and fireworks explode flickering light around the halls through the glass ceiling. The entire city is lit up in celebration of Na Baron Feyd Rauthas birthday.

You are wearing the black dress Feyd personally had designed for you. The hooded gown is sleeveless and backless with a high thigh split. A special snap seam installed to protected your modesty. The fabric of the gown swishes as you walk in heels. Your excitement growing as you are about to see Feyd again.

You arrive at the glass dome. It is an enormous structure with a 360 degree view of the city skyline. As the doors open you are greeted with the sound of Giedi Prime music the large dome is decorated with banners honoring Feyd Rautha. There is a decorated platform stage and six long tables arranged in rows to seat several hundred to dine and be entertained for the evening.

The Baron ordered you to be brought at latest moment possible to minimize your time and contact with Feyd on his birthday. You are to be sent directly back to your quarters after his ascension ceremony. Feyd is cunning and calculated he has already planned for this.

The dome is filled with dignitaries, nobles and the Harkonnen inner circle. They nod or bow as you enter depending on their status. Your Bene Gesserit sisters are gestured to a separate table. You are taken to sit with Feyd. As you reach the center of the dome you take a glance at him.

He stands from his seat at the head of the table. Wearing all black. He is dressed high collar with a regal cape that crosses his chest. He has a silver medallion of his family crest pinned to the left side at his shoulder. He looks like a very handsome dark prince.

Feyd sees you and already he wants you. So stunning in the dress he had made for you his heart rate increases. He misses you by his side, it’s been days. It’s at that moment he realizes he will be Baron and proudly rule with you at his side.

As you approach him your doe yes meet with his hunters gaze. You have to catch your breath as you are standing next to him the heat is practically radiating from him. The servant pulls out your chair and seats you at the head of the table beside Feyd.

His eyes never leave your profile, finally you take a glance over at him and smile. His hands caresses your shoulder. You lean in and give him a chaste kiss. His lips linger he needs to be inside of you again. He can’t live any other way.

“It was an honor to dedicate my 100th win to you today my Baroness” he confesses. You smile at him adoring the affectionate name. It is the first time he hasn’t called you his pet. You appreciatively plant another kiss on his lips as a reward this one is slower.

He gets riled more with each kiss you give him, the longer you sit next to him the more he has an urge to breed you. He fidgets with his signet ring on his pinky trying to channel down his sexual craving for you. He hopes the ceremony is over soon so he can reclaim you. He traces his finger over your neck your love marks from him have completely faded.

His eyes never look away from you. He trails his fingers down your back, down your shoulder, he can’t keep his hands off you. Unable to contain himself any longer he reaches beneath the table places his hand on your thigh at the slit. His fingers caress and feel your soft skin there. You let out a breath as he pulls one leg away from the other. You feel his fingers inch between your thighs as you start to go weak.

“Feyd…” he cuts you off leaning in close to your ear. He pushes his hand between your legs resting at your pussy “I had this dress made especially for my birthday” he says smiling against your ear “Because I knew..” he pops one snap of your seam “ I was going to have you..” he pops the second one “sitting right next to me” his finger slides open the third seam. You are completely exposed.

He is so calculated and sensual your core pulls tight as your breathing increases from his touch. You want him. “Take me to your chamber” you plead in a whisper to him “It’s a ceremony in my honor we’ll have to wait”’ he smirks giving you a kiss on the shell of your ear. “But I want to enjoy a little gift first” he says glancing between your legs.

He presses his fingers onto your folds finding your clit, as he pinches it and you let out a breath. Your thoughts are cut short as you grip the chair. He’s found your entrance and begins pushing his fingers inside of you. He nuzzles his nose against your ear and plants soft kisses on your jaw. When he fully inserts his fingers deeply inside your tight walls you begin falling apart. Your mind goes fuzzy as you try to remain composed.

Feyd rests his head against yours and peeks up through his lashes. He notices Count Fenring and Lady Margot watching him intently at the table. He smirks and turns you to face to him.

Your cheeks are flushed your eyes are pleading. You are drawing too much attention. He places two fingers under your chin pulling you into a kiss. Even though everyone in the vicinity knows what he’s doing at the head of the table no one dares to intervene. They avert their eyes, Feyd Rautha reigns supreme in the Harkonnen fortress especially on his birthday.

You feel overwhelmed with passion as he slowly thrusts his fingers curling them into you. His eyes search yours, he knows you are going to cum you’ve been without him too long. He fingers you faster and your walls begin to throb. As he kisses you he collects your first small moan in his mouth.

You begin to panic realizing he’s going to make you silently cum in front of all the most important people in the galaxy it makes your core even tighter. He rests his left arm around you and gently guides your lips to his neck holding you against to him.

As your lips press on his sensitive flesh you begin to suck and bite his neck to keep yourself quiet. His fingers move deeply inside of you and rub against a certain spot that makes your wall begin to rhythmically flutter. When the feeling becomes too pleasurable you instantly cum for him and bite his neck to stifle your moans.

His throat tenses and releases as your walls clench on his fingers. He holds your face to his neck wanting you to bite him once more. You sink your teeth into his neck even harder the second time as you come down leaving a mark. You hear him groan and feel a chill run through his body as you release your bite.

You quickly whisper “Did I hurt you?” He whispers back in your ear “ Yes…I want more.” He brings your hand to his cock and you feel you how hard he is from your bite. So many ideas form in your mind recently discovering his kink cabinet. You give him a soft kiss on his neck over the bite mark. You know what your birthday gift to him will be.

His name is suddenly called by his uncle.

“Na Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen!” His uncle calls him to the stage Feyd quickly slips his fingers and lips from you. He whispers in your ear “After I receive my award make an excuse to leave and find my Page he will sneak you to my quarters” he instructs. You give him a quick kiss and he heads up to the stage. He discreetly sucks his fingers enjoying your taste as he walks up the upstairs.

Feyd approaches his uncle standing tall and reluctantly kneels in front of him. The Baron places around his neck the ancient Prime Giedi stone necklace signifying he has reached his ascension.

As the audience erupts in applause he stands back up staring down at his obese weak uncle. The only thing in his way of having you and becoming Baron is this detestable old man too evil to die.

Feyd smiles to himself, ruling Giedi Prime as Baron with his Baroness is his first goal. Becoming Emperor with you as his Empress is next.

“Feyd come speak with me in my chambers I have something I’d like to tell you in private. It’ll only take a moment” His uncle requests. Feyd looks to the table seeing you are gone. His frustration sets in wanting to be with you.

Normally he would enjoy escaping his birth day festivities but this time he wanted to be with you instead. Every second being taken from being with you infuriates him.

Once Feyd is at the Barons chambers he is stopped by the guards. Feyd waits several minutes until he is allowed to enter. His uncle as always using power plays to make him wait.

The guards open the door to his personal spa room. The Baron sits in his tub smoking hookah, two pleasure slaves on his right.

Feyd has been waiting for an opportune moment to set his plan in motion and this just might be it.

He smirks to himself at the brilliant idea he formed the day his uncle removed you from him. The day he swore he’d kill him. He will drug one of his uncles pleasure slaves with a slow acting toxin in the blood stream. One that will kill the Baron from prolonged contact. The Baron Vladimir Harkonnen will die a slow and painful death. Leaving the throne to his already appointed successor. Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen.

Feyd stands up taller breaking the long silence “You summoned me uncle?” He asks growing impatient. “Yes Feyd it’s about your Baroness. You've refused every pleasure slave sent to you and I understand now you’re going to save your cock for her …forever.”

He swishes his hand through the air as if trying wipe away the idea “What a waste, do you know how much your pleasure slaves beg for you? What does your wife have a cunt made of gold? ”He asks off handedly. “If you keep talking about my wife’s cunt I’m going to down you in that tub” Feyd says with his hidden rage seeping through.

His uncle chokes out a laugh “Dont be hasty, you’ll rule Giedi Prime soon enough. But I need you to show her who you really are, why you haven’t terrified her yet I don’t understand. I saw your blood lust in the arena today how much longer do you think she’ll allow that hmm?

You must dominate her and break her. If you do that, if I see you break the spirit in her defiant eyes then I’ll know you have absolute control of her. I will grant you my blessing to become Baron.” He takes a drag from his hookah pipe “But know this Feyd,I will never have a woman rule my people with my nephew as a puppet.”

Feyd knows no matter what he does his uncle will find another excuse to deny him of having you. He will use you as his weakness just as he does now. There is no pleasing the man he is a bottomless pit.

There is one way Feyd can change his fate. He points to his pleasure slaves “Uncle how can you discern which is your favorite?” He asks. “Oh they have no names or faces they are an object of satisfaction” he chuckles smoking on his pipe. Hmmm Feyd thinks, to himself, so I will have to poison them both.

Pleasurable Pain

The Page unlocks the door to Feyds room handing you the key and bows leaving your presence. You smile as you enter remembering his room all over again. As you remove your heels you already know how want to surprise him tonight.

On his birthday you are going to use his own kinks on him. You quickly take his display case keys and unlock the kink cabinet door. You pull aside several items and blend them on the sex toy table at the foot of his bed. A few cock rings, the glowing liquid, black nipple clamps, and four restraints. You will start with what you know.

You lift the blanket from his bed and lock a chained cuff to each post replacing the blanket hiding them in plain sight. You are quite pleased with yourself.

When Feyd enters the chamber looking stressed you almost change your mind to make love to him instead. You rush to him “What is it what happened?” You hold his face he looks even more stunning in the low lighting of his chamber. He immediately begins kissing you cradling your head in his hands. He pulls your hood down revealing your hair.

“I’ve done something that will secure our future. I didn’t realize the things I would do to get you back until you were taken away from me” he admits. You search his eyes “Your ascension?“ you ask trying to narrow down what he means. “Yes it will be sooner than expected, no one will be able to separate you from me again” he says tracing his thumb down the side of your face.

“I dreamt of you every night you weren’t with me“ he says softly kissing you lips “In my dreams I would fuck you” he whispers as he kisses you neck “I would fuck you until my cum spilled out of you” he says as he stops to look you in the eyes “and when I woke up I wanted you even more” he confesses. You begin slowly kissing each other lost in a passionate reunion.

You softly break the kiss looking into his eyes.

“Come with me “ you say and take his hand leading him to the bed. You sit on the edge and he begins to take his place on top of you but you stop him placing your foot at his waist keeping him at a bay. He smirks looking down at your dainty foot holding him back and then up into your eyes meeting your heated gaze.

“Take off all your clothing for me” you request. He immediately unclasps his cape letting it fall to the floor. You bite you lip watching how quickly he undresses for you.

You realize he listens and will do everything you say. Your eyes light up once he’s completely naked.

“Kneel”you point it the space infront of you. Feyd drops down on his knees infront of you

After witnessing the power and strength he has over an entire planet seeing him completely naked kneeling at your feet is surreal. You test your limits “Play with your cock Feyd-Rautha” you command.

When you see him grab his shaft in his fist and begin to pump his cock you immediately get wet. Chills cover the expanse of your body as he keeps going never breaking eye contact with you

” Feyd.. stop..” you say voice faltering from arousal. You spread your legs open in your gown. He can already see you glistening folds. “Come please me” your voice is just above a whisper due to your passion for him.

He places his hands at your waist and you rest your palms back on the bed. He tilts your hips in his hands to aim upward to his face. He grabs your legs one at a time placing them over his pale muscular shoulders. He scoops one hand around your hips pulling your pussy toward his face, sliding between your thighs on his shoulders. You let out a moan as his mouth connects between your legs.

You immediately place your hand on his head holding him close. “Feyd you feel so good” you praise him as he licks you with his warm tongue making your clit begins to pulse. He’s becoming your weakness.

You look up in then mirror on the ceiling and see he’s stroking his cock in his other hand. He’s overwhelmed with arousal as he eats your pussy. It drives you insane. You moan from the sight you need to please him.

“Feyd lay on the bed” you request breathlessly. He removes his mouth from you licking his lips. You stand as he climbs to rest in the middle. You look at his musclular pale body laying on the black sheets. His cock is already hard from eating you out and playing with himself. You lose your focus but quickly recover with your plan.

You climb on the bed and straddle his abs. You completely dressed with him naked. He places one hand on your hip and the other under your clit. You pull his hands away and his eyes look surprised.

You take his right hand and stretch his arm to lay flat on the bed. You lift the sheet and bring out the hidden leather restraint wrapping it around his wrist pulling the buckle tight. He has a wicked smile as he stares at you realizing your cleverness.

With one hand already strapped he willingly lays the other one down. You wrap and pull tight his second wrist restraint. His eyes flash with excitement from your surprise. You climb off of him and he spreads his legs letting you strap both ankles.

You stand back and admire your work, the physically dominating Feyd Rautha restrained on a bed for your pleasure. It exhilarates you beyond compare. The fact that he can’t move excites you even more you trail your hand from his ankle to his thigh.

You reach his chest and lightly scratch your nails down to his rock hard abs “If I hurt you will you tell me?” You ask sweetly. His cock twitches “Yes Baroness” he answers. The way he says your title makes your core hot “What will you say so I know if it hurts too much?”you ask innocently. You can’t help yourself as you slide your fingertip along his stiff cock.

“Red door” he says with an already established phrase. “Have you ever used ‘red door’ before?” You ask curiously. He has a devious smile as he tilts his head back reminiscing. He quickly meets your gaze again “No” he says confidently.

You are not the pain inflicting type but you see how he enjoys it so you will try for him.

You take your dress off until you are completely bare. He stares, eyes looking at your face and then your body. His heart rate increases finally seeing you exposed to him after being without you for days.

You go to the sex toy table and pick up a thick rubber ring to fit around his girth. You climb on the bed kneeling between his thighs. His cock is so large the way it towers between his thighs makes you overcome with arousal.

You regain your focus and bring the cock ring to place on him. He stops you “I want the tighter one the purple one” he requests. You smile at his boldness and exchange the rings at the table.

Before you climb on the bed he directs you further “In my night stand get the vial with the shimmering liquid inside of it.” he adds “What is it?” You ask finding the vial. “it’s lubricant..and it’s sweet“ he says with a grin that makes you blush.

You bring it with you and kneel between his legs. You glide the lube all over his already hard cock. It feels good to him as you coat his shaft up to his tip. His chest begins rising and falling as he stares at you enamored.

You take your hands and place the purple ring above his tip he watches intently. You glide the tight ring slowly all the way down his cock. He exhales sharply feeling it roll as you settle it at the base.

You watch as his tip becomes pinker and then his shaft as his tip turns red. His veins begin to show prominently pulsing. The urge to suck him or ride him is overwhelming but you also know he wants to be tortured.

You need his touch to continue, crawling up to him you begin kissing his lips. He kisses you back so needy for you. It’s been days he doesn’t want to let you go. You break the kiss and look him in his eyes “You’ll cum on my command” you say it just the way you remember him saying it to you “Yes Baroness “He says it so obediently you smile and kiss him one more time.

As you climb over his chest he stares up at your pussy inches from his face. He opens his mouth begging to taste you. But you flip around. Your face inches over his cock your pussy directly in his face.

He begins groaning as he feels you suck on him, tasting his cock sweet from the lubricant drives you insane with lust. Your pussy is spread in his face as you kneel and suck him. He yanks his wrist against the right restraint to touch you forgetting it’s chained.

He tilts his head back and watches you in the mirror on his ceiling. Your beautiful waist and back, your head slowly bobbing in his cock, he swallows thickly. He fights to stop his hips from thrusting in your mouth as you suck him so deeply. He knows you are enjoying the sweet lubricant on his cock.

He tilts his head down to see your folds are glistening more just from sucking him. When he sees your delicate fingers slide Into your pussy he loses all his resolve “ free me” he begs. You ignore him and slide your fingers in and out of your entrance sweetly moaning on his cock. He tosses his head back against the pillows chest heaving you are pleasurably torturing him.

Suddenly you stop sucking him and get up. You slowly run your finger through your slit collecting your wetness for him “Is this what you crave?” You ask bringing your fingers to his mouth. He readily sucks the arousal from you. When his eyelids flutter you quickly remove your finger from with mouth. “More ” he demands. His voice is deeper full of unbridled lust.

You reach and pinch his nipple hard instead watching his reaction. “Harder!” he commands. His voice rising from sexual frustration. He’s getting so aggressive it’s making you go timid.

You see the deep rooted insanity in his eyes wanting to feel pain. You know what he needs and go to the sex toy table returning with black nipple clamps. You kneel on the bed beside him.

His cock twitches and he tilts his hips from the bed almost unable to contain his excitement as he sees you dangle the black chain over his chest. These are different, inside the black metal clamps there are tiny needle spikes to inflict even more pain.

You clamp one nipple and then the other. You squeeze the clamps making the spikes pinch even harder into his delicate skin. You finally get a groan from him. He opens his mouth taking deep breaths as his eyes go wide feeling the arousal forming in his groin from the pain.

You gently take the chain and hold it in your fist. You pull the chain up and his nipples begin slowly stretching being pierced by the spikes. An agonizing scream finally rips from his throat as his body goes rigid, he breathes like he can’t get air to his lungs. You feel so tormented that he likes this.

You lean over and kiss him in his greatest moment of pain shocking his body rendering him senseless. His cock gets harder and begins to twitch. You release him from the kiss and pull the chain tighter.

He lets out a choked off moan as he cums without you even touching him. His cock spasms as he releases rope of after rope. His sperm covers his abs and his thighs. You release your hold on the chain and his breathing finally returns to normal. He rests his head back trying to process what happened.

You lean close to him again caressing his forehead with your hand. You shake your head in mock disappointment “I didn’t say you could cum” you say with a smile. You unclamp his nipples one at a time. The tiny piercings made from the spikes left pin pricks of blood on his nipples.

He has a wicked grin as he stares at you then he throws his head back and lets out a maniacal laugh. He realizes you are doing everything he did to you on the first night. “Let me kiss you” he says in appreciation. He is heavily panting enjoying your game his mind at ease now that the clamps are off. You shake your head no “let me kiss where you need it the most” he begs looking at the wetness between your thighs “no reward for you yet” you say sweetly.

You leave him tied and dab the blood from his nipples and clean him up wiping all the cum from him.

When he played this game before he was usually being flogged choked and humiliated by his pleasure slaves, lots of spit swapping and pain. It would take him over an hour to finally cum and they would fight over who drank it.

Then he would tie and torture them not caring for their pleasure but enjoying the way they screamed like unhinged animals as he fucked them to the point of injury. Looking back it feels like an out of body experience. He can’t even trace back to when it began but he believes as an adolescent his uncle must’ve made the arrangements.

He is deep in thought as you settle between his legs again. This time you have the glowing arousal fluid he doesn’t take notice. You slip his cock ring off. You are going to coat his length and have him push the arousal fluid it inside of you.

Of all his sex things you love this liquid the most the orgasms are so intense you feel the pleasure in every space of your body like your are floating in ecstasy.

You watch his eyes widen but you’ve already slathered his cock tip. “This is for females its going to make me cum instantly “ he cries out. You immediately close the bottle you didn’t realize.

He begins to feel his cock tip pulsing he closes his eyes and grits his teeth as his face flushes. “What do I do!” You panic. He opens his eyes and stares at you he can’t even think his cock is hardening as all the blood rushes to his tip and begins pulsing. His pupils have gone so wide the only color showing is black “I’m going to cum” is all he manages to say.

You quickly climb on his lap and sink down on his length. You feel the pinch of stretching on his size too quickly as you both let out moans.

Feyd is going listless breathing through his teeth, he holds out with every fibre of his being wanting to give you an orgasm. He is grateful you didn’t coat his full cock.

You place your hands on his chest and begin to ride him. The arousal fluid spreads quickly hitting directly into your cervix.“ Feyd your cock feels so good” you moan out as you clench on him.

You begin riding up and down on him wanting the feeling to last forever. He bucks his hips back into you as you both make sounds of pleasure. The arousal fluid softens your walls so well you want more you want him harder and deeper.

You work so hard your pace begins to falter you can’t even ride him, the feeling is so intense you just moan with your hands on his abs. “free me” his voice brings you back to the planet.

You lock eyes with him and nod. You reach and unbuckle one of his hands and then the other. He rises up against you with his powerful chest and wraps you in his arms hugging you tightly.

With his ankles still in restraints he places one hand on the bed for leverage and hold you to him as he slams his cock up into you.

You scream he’s going so hard. You hug him around his neck feeling his abs contracting as he thrusts. He begins pounding into you. The arousal fluid working perfectly the harder he fucks the more pleasurable it feels for you. As you gasp for air he grunts against your ear fucking you to pieces.

He doesn’t slow down not once for anything his hips clap between your legs until you cum. Your clit pluses as your walls flutter and begin to milk his cock. You place your mouth on his moaning throat as you bite him as hard as you can. He deeply groans from the pain and bursts rope after rope inside of you filling you with his cum. You whimper on his neck the feeling is so euphoric.

He feels his cock empty inside of you as he holds you in his lap panting heavily in your ear. You release your teeth from his neck. You have clearly marked him. You see the deep red circle of your bite and plant a kiss. He hugs you closer and presses your head to rest on his shoulder. He strokes down your back and rests his head to yours enjoying the intimate moment.

You suddenly sit up remembering he’s still restrained. You turn to the side in his lap unbuckling one ankle and then the other. He pulls his knees up bringing you back to him in his lap. “You want to see some thing” he asks with a smile. “Of course” you say. “It’s something I do every year on my birthday.” He admits. You both get out of bed. He puts a black cloaked robe on you then he puts one on himself and you sneak out of his chambers.

Secret Celebration

He holds your hand and guides you through the fortress trying to remain unseen. There are still guests in the halls . When he peeks around a corner and sees a group of delegates he puts a finger to his lips signaling you to remain silent . He waits until they aren’t looking then takes your hand and you slip unseen into a darkened corridor. He finally brings you up a large flight of stairs to a pair of stone doors at the top.

As you enter everything is black marble it is a large space with a giant scale window as a back drop with a view of the Capitol. All the lights are off only the moonlight shines through the gigantic window.

From what you can tell it looks like a spa lobby. He takes you to a smaller corridor with several opaque glass doors. He stops at the sixth one and pushes it open.

There is a floor to ceiling window viewing the capital and a large indoor rock pool in the center of the room. Feyd pulls his robe off and gets in halfway. He waits for you to remove your cloak and holds his hand out to make sure you get in safely over the flat marble edge.

The water is warm and relaxing. You smile as you sink in to your neck and then submerge your head fully. You resurface and it is quite dark in the room aside from the city lights and the glowing moon shining in the window. You look over and see Feyd resting back against a marble edge. He gestures you to come.

You swim over to the shallow end and he pulls you next to him.

Feyd rests his head back against the marble ledge to stare at the city lights, you join him and do the same “Get ready” he says. Suddenly one by one fireworks begin to burst across the entire city until they expand the entire skyline. It lights up the entire room.

You sit up and stare at the white bursts for miles you hear the sound of horns and drums begin. The entire capitol is having an enormous celebration for him.

“Feyd aren’t you supposed to be at your party?” you suddenly realize in shock” he grabs you by the upper arm pulling you to straddle his lap in the water. “I’d rather be here with you ” he says with certainty.

You stare at his full lips and into his blue eyes you are falling madly for him your mind starts racing remembering all of your Bene Gesserit training your first loyalty is to the order. You try to look back at the fireworks to gather your mind but he quickly brings his hand out of the water guiding your face back to his.

Your breathing is labored as you stare into his eyes. He gazes into yours like you are his only object of affection in the entire universe, before you realize it you are kissing him.

It’s heavier and different it makes your heart ache from guilt. As you kiss him the guilt of your betrayal to the Bene Gesserits worries you less and less until not at all.

“I want to fuck you while we watch the fire works he says” he says. You look in his eyes and smile, he loves sex so much. He stands up holding you and you wrap your legs around his waist kissing him as he carries you through the water to the other ledge closer to the window. He grabs your slippery waist turning you over chest flat on the marble ledge.

He reaches his hand between your legs beneath the water. He checks your entrance the water sealed you tight you aren’t ready. He lifts your waist out of the water so your stomach and chest are on the marble ledge. Then he kneels as devours your pussy from behind.

Your moans echo the room not expecting it. As you begin to get wet he slides his finger in working you open. Your mind is going blank just taking everything he’s giving you. He rests one knee on the underwater ledge to be level with you. When presses his cock tip to your entrance and you gasp. Your heart is already pounding wildly in your chest.

His cock penetrates you hard stuffing you full. You let out a deep moan as you try to adjust to his size. This time he lets you. He pulls you back into the water so your knees rest on the ledge. He places one foot on the on the floor and the other on then ledge with you.

When he thrusts into you the water makes you move all around. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck and presses your chest flat on the marble for more leverage. As his thrusts get harder you whimper and moan trying to stay sane.

He loves the feeling of your cunt being stretched around his thick cock. He pulls you back to him and begins to whisper in your ear as he thrusts unable to contain his arousal for you “You enjoy being stretched around my cock don’t you, I love the sounds you make for me.” You can’t form words only deeper moans as you nod.

He presses himself fully inside of you smacking his hips into you as his cock pushes into your cervix “I can barely fit inside of you and still your pussy tries to suck me in” he says voice straining voice full of arousal as he thrusts harder. He feels you clench on him and he groans in pleasure. His cock twitches knowing his reward when he makes you cum. He gives your cheeks a nice smack for feeling too good.

He leans over you pressing your chest flat on the marble. He places his hands on top of yours intertwining his fingers locking you down.

He licks a long wide stripe up the middle of your back starting between your shoulder blades.

You begin letting out pleasurable moans. Your eyes close enjoying the feeling of his wet slick tongue exploring your body.

When he turns animalistic like this it sends chills up your spine triggering your climax. Your nipples harden as he settles his tongue at the crook of your neck. He licks and sucks there with such fervor your throat pulses as he creates the bruise, you rhythmically clench on his cock.

He bites his black teeth into the delicate skin of your throat and your walls begin throbbing as the tightness in your core intensifies. He takes one arms to wrap around your torso pulling you back to him and shortens his thrusts.

They begin to pierce through your tight walls as he sucks more loving bruises into your neck. You are moaning so loudly it’s edging him on. He begins to grunt against your neck feeling his cock swell tighter ready to cum.

Feyd suddenly stops his movements, holding you still. He hears voices from the lobby. You are both panting loudly as he covers your mouth.

He hears the hushed voice of one of his uncle’s his advisors “Yes he is here m’Lord however he’s in the throes of passion with his Baroness and it being his birthday I didn’t want to disturb him.” “The throes of passion?!“ his uncle angrily whispers

“Yes m’Lord it was louder before but if were quiet maybe you can still hear them.” They all fall silent to listen . Feyd remembers his uncles words about dominating you into submission and he smirks. “ To get them to leave I’m going to need you to scream like bloody murder for me” he whispers and you nod.

He pushes you down flat against the marble lifting your submerged half out of the water. He pins you down with his hand at the back of your neck as he begins to use you.

“Time to fill my tight little cunt up” he yells spanking you as he thrusts. The distraction sends shocks through your body and makes your clit pulse. He spanks you again and you let out a loud moan as your mind goes fuzzy.

His breaths get heavier as he plows his cock harder into you and your body goes listless. Your moans are unending as he fucks you onto the marble.

“Scream for me! “ he yells and he spanks you hard as you moan in pleasure. He spanks you again and again and again until it begins to hurt and your brain clicks you are supposed to pretend scream in pain. The sound rips from you throat so loudly it reverberates the walls. It sends a chill through Feyd.

The Baron and his men look to each other all too stunned to speak “The boy listens after all “ the Baron finally speaks up with an grin “He’s finally training that defiant wife of his, I just need to hear it a moment more and we can leave” the Baron listens as you scream “Feyd please…no …please…stop!” followed by a blood curdling scream .

A deep laugh reverberates in the Barons chest he loves the terrified screams of women. Especially being caused by a Harkonnen “She won’t be right for weeks, once the healers stitch her up she will no longer be a problem” the Baron chuckles to his men as they depart the spa.

Feyd hears the noises of his uncle and his advisors leaving the spa.

He pulls you back up against him and covers your mouth to make you orgasm without them hearing. He pinches your clit until it begins throbbing then he rubs it increasing in pressure until you are overwhelmed moaning into his hand.

He thrusts into you at his hardest. Pummeling into your body until he can no longer hold out. He releases his load into you as you both orgasm. You moan pleasurably as your walls milk him of his seed. His hips stutter as he groans emptying his cock into you. He releases your mouth and it takes you both several moments to recover.

The fireworks slowly begin to die down and you rest your head back against his shoulder. He always fucks you until you’re exhausted. “Feyd I’m tired” you admit. “Your chambers are closer let’s sleep there tonight” he decides. You collect your robes and sneak out together.

A Change of Fate

When you get to your chambers your handmaiden sleepily opens the door. When she sees Feyd-Rautha her eyes widen in fear “m’Lord, Na Baroness “she stutters as she bows ushering you inside . She dare not remind Feyd of his uncles rule of his visitation restriction for fear he will slit her throat.

Feyd looks around your sitting area at all the books you’ve collected from the library on your tables. He notices one stack in particular. Every spine on each book reads ‘Harkonnen’ his eyes widen in apprehension, you’ve been digging into his family history.

You open the doors to your chambers and he sees the room is full of color and life. Accustomed to the monotone grayscale of the fortress he is stunned. There are vibrant flowers , paintings, candles, decorative vases and sculptures through our your bed chamber. All of the linens are patterned in shimmering colors of gold and powder blue. A pillow of each color and shape matches the bedding.

There are gifts all over your room some even unopened. When he slowly realizes they are for your pregnancy he hesitates unable to say anything. You see the concerned look in his eyes and smile lovingly gesturing him to come to you.

He holds you close and you take your hand to his temple. Your fingers delicately caress him there to transfer him calming energy. After a moment his eyes soften and he feels the apprehension of fatherhood lifting and changing.

His fear is replaced with serenity. The female he cares for the most is carrying his heir and he will cherish her. Whether he can be a good father or not is a test of time. His mind begins expanding onto a new intrusive thought.

He can barely even remember his own father, he has only known the Baron. He struggles to recall a distorted memory . His uncle screaming at him that his father had betrayed the Harkonnen name and he would no longer be the alias Feyd-Rautha Rabban but now Harkonnen. It is a core memory he can stem his resentment from.

You grow weary and place your hand on his chest. You are barely able to keep your eyes open. His eyes refocus and realize it is very late. He locks his feelings deep inside of him self again. He needs to be prepared for another fateful event happening soon.

As you go to rinse your face and cleanse your mouth. He calls your hand maiden, “Find my Page have him bring my clothing and personal effects here I’m staying the night” she nods hesitantly and departs.

She finds his Page relaying Feyds message and ensures her reputation by reporting Feyds defiance to the Barons Lord in waiting. The Lord in waiting shoos her away something far more misfortunate has happened in the Barons chamber. He and two of his pleasure slaves are found naked and unresponsive. Their skin displaying a faint purple hue. Fearing disease or an airborne poison they seal the chamber until the healers can arrive.

You emerge from the basin room yawning as you disrobe and climb into bed. Feyd looks over you and smiles as he takes his robe off and climbs into bed next to you.

He stretches in the feeling of your silk sheets caressing him all over his body. He pulls you to him and brings your arm across his chest making you hug him. You press a kiss to the bite mark on his neck“ Happy Birthday Feyd” you say as you close your eyes. He smiles and pets your head. Slaying a warrior and getting his Baroness back have been his favorite gifts. Another secret joy fills his heart as you both drift off to sleep.

Early the next morning there is a banging at the door. Feyd sits up and gets dressed already rehearsed. The handmaiden opens the door and allows the visitors entry into the seating room. Once Feyd is dressed he kneels at the side of your bed as you sleep, he strokes his thumb down your jaw, if all goes according to plan he can have you forever. He stands up prepared for the onslaught of the day.

He emerges from the bed chamber into the entry sitting room . Three advisors and six guards are waiting. The lead advisor bows “Lord Feyd Rautha the Baron has fallen ill, your presence is requested at once” Feyd doesn’t respond he tightly presses his lips not to smile and gestures them to lead. He follows them out of the room to the medical bay of the fortress.

Word travels quickly through the fortress and into the populous during the early morning hours on Giedi Prime. The Baron Vladimir Harkonnen is dying.

To Be Continued…

Part 4 Madness & Mayhem Harkonnen Reunion |Feyds Depraved Kink |Long Live the Baron4

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[mypoisonedvine]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | angus tully x reader

sequel to 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲, won't really make much sense without reading that!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | holiday break can only last so long, but angus wants this to be more than a fling-- and you, as much as you want to deny it, already know it's more than a fling. the question remains if either one of you will admit it.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.3k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), age gap (not huge but angus is 18 and the reader is just out of college), semi-public sex, breeding kink, very inappropriate activities in a church, secret relationship, a wee bit of angst and fluff at the end!

part 3 coming soon!

“Fuck, I don’t wanna go back,” he groaned, dropping his head defeatedly into the crook of your neck.  “I never wanna go back to that horrible fucking school.”

“I guess you’ll just see me at Easter break then, huh?” you purred, grazing your teeth over his ear.

“You know, if sex with you keeps lining up with the Catholic calendar, it’s gonna give me a complex or something,” he noticed.

“Oh, I can do better than that,” you beamed.  “Next time you see me at Mass, I won’t be wearing any panties.  And you’ll be the only other one who knows.”

He perked up again, balancing himself over you with bent arms against the mattress.  “I swear, you’re a dream come true.  A really fucked up dream I had after seeing a porno mag or something.”

You laughed, but it was cut off with him pulling you into another kiss— sweet and slow, with both of you smiling against each other.  With your limbs tangled together under the sheets, you melted together into your bed; and no, none of it really seemed real yet.  Every time this happened, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you were hooking up with Angus Tully.  Frankly, you were sort of trying not to think about it, at least not too much.  If you really tried, you could look at his face and see the little kid you babysat all those years ago, and it just made you feel sort of awful about it… yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Your smile fell into a gasp when he started to kiss your neck, his hands guiding your back as it arched slightly.  When he pressed his body against yours, you felt him getting hard against your leg, and you groaned softly.

“Fuck, Angus, again?” you whined.  “We already went twice—”

“I’m leaving in two days,” he explained, “I need you as many times as I can get away with it.”

You wanted to protest, say something about how sore you were or about how he needed to leave and go back home before someone noticed he was gone— but his slender fingers were already diving between your legs and making you just moan instead.

“See?  You’re wet already,” he noticed with a playful mockery to his tone.  “I’ve gotta take care of you, baby…”

Oh, you couldn’t stand it when he talked like that— when he made you feel so vulnerable to him, so paradoxically submissive.  When this started a couple weeks back, it was the other way around: you were the cool, older woman with all the power.  You told him what you wanted and he was more than happy to oblige, never questioning you— he was obedient, basically.  But once you’d had a few more encounters, he realized that you wanted him just as badly… that he could make you desperate, if he wanted.  Once he’d had the smallest taste of control, he was suddenly a changed man; now, he loved to tease and taunt you, see how far he could push you, even once he made you beg— and you expected you’d never get to live that down. 

He watched your face with a mischievous smile as he slowly slid two fingers into you, watching the way you winced and then relaxed.  “I’ll be careful,” he promised, “I know you’re all sensitive still… thought you might wake up the whole house with that last one.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed, remembering how he’d had to cover your mouth with his hand when he made you come.  These were issues you hadn’t considered much before, since you spent most of the year living in a dorm where you didn’t really care if anyone heard what you were up to.  Staying in your parents’ house again— and secretly fucking their friends’ son in your childhood bedroom— posed new challenges to say the least.

You gasped when his fingers curled inside you, rubbing that spot that made everything clench for a moment.  “Mm,” he observed encouragingly, “like that?”

“Yes,” you hissed under your breath.  Just when you began to let your eyes fall shut, they shot open when he added a third finger inside you.  “Fuck!” 

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” he scolded, “you can fit three fingers just fine— my cock’s bigger than all that anyways.”

He twisted the fingers inside you as your hips rocked, shivers running over your skin.  “Yeah, but still— fuck, it’s a lot…”

“You take it just fine,” he assured.  “You take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Sh-shut up,” you whimpered, and he laughed softly.

“You’re so good for me,” he continued anyways, making you bite your lip in hopes he wouldn’t notice his effect on you.  Whenever he said stuff like that, you just wanted to ask him who the fuck he thought he was— it made you want to shove him off of you and pin him down, remind him of his place.  But you never did, because letting him take control always felt so damn good…

His head dipped down a bit under the covers— and his lips latched onto one of your nipples, making you gasp and grab his hair with one of your hands.  “Oh god— yes,” you praised, shuddering a bit as he suckled hard on the bud.

He moaned around it, his free hand holding the other breast and keeping you down even when your back longed to arch deeper.  “You get so wet when I do this,” he noticed as he pulled away briefly, moving to suck the other for a moment as his fingers gently pumped into you.  When he pushed them in all the way to the knuckle, at the same time that his tongue swirled around your nipple just right, your patience finally gave in.

“Just fuck me,” you begged, tugging harder on his curls as you felt him smile against your skin.  “God, I just— fuck—”

He pulled away from your breast with a pop and a grin.  “Just ask nicely, baby, and I’m all yours.”

“I know you want to, just fuck me,” you growled, but he shook his head and you clenched your jaw.

“You can say it,” he encouraged, “just use the magic word.”

You rolled your eyes, hating the juvenile way of describing it, but his fingers were still moving inside you and you just needed it too bad— “Please,” you breathed.  “Please fuck me.”

“There you go,” he praised, slowly pulling his drenched fingers out of you and moving his hips to line up with yours instead.  He was so hard; you were almost impressed with his resolve, though at the moment you were mostly just annoyed with it.  “Look up at me,” he demanded, making you meet his gaze before he pushed himself inside you.

It was almost too intense, looking right into his eyes as he thrust into you carefully— you bit your lip, watching the heavy sigh of relief leave him as he filled you.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes scanning all over your face and watching your expression change as he pressed his cock as deep as possible.  “You’re fucking perfect.”

You didn’t really believe that, but you at least would concede that this moment was perfect.

You held tighter onto him, legs wrapping around his hips, as he leaned in closer and moaned against your neck.  “How am I supposed to leave when you feel this fucking good?” he groaned lowly, and you felt yourself already beginning to pulse inside as you moved closer to the edge.  “I feel good too, right?”

Poor thing— if only he knew that it was his own fault you withheld praise, just because he sounded too precious when he asked you for reassurance like that.  He was really fucking talkative, way more than you expected; sometimes you thought if you didn’t say anything, he’d just go off on these wild tangents about how bad he needs you.  “You feel good,” you replied, trying to keep it a little vague so he’d ask for more.

“How good?” he asked with a grin, and you smiled, too, because he was wonderfully predictable sometimes.

“So good,” you cooed, “so fucking good that I’m gonna come way too fast.”

“Hey, that’s my thing,” he joked.  His stamina had definitely increased a lot in just a few encounters, but he still had a habit of coming quickly if you got him a bit too riled up.  Not that you really minded… it was still cute, after all, and he usually made it up to you one way or another.

He picked up his pace, letting out a low moan against your ear.  “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he ordered, panting with each quick thrust.

“Fuck, Angus, I want you come,” you replied, whispering against his ear.  “I want you to fill me—”

“Fuck…”

“And put all your come so deep in me—”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined again.  “I’m so fucking close.”

You whined, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling your chest get tighter as you moved closer to the edge.

“Tell me you want me to breed you,” he added; okay, so much for predictable…

“Wh-what?” you choked, feeling suddenly hot all over.  “Angus, I—”

“I know, you won’t,” he soothed, “it’s just, you know, pretend… just say you want it, please.”

You swallowed but nodded, holding on tighter to the back of his neck.  “I… I want you to get me pregnant.”

“God, yes,” he whined through his teeth, fucking you faster.

“I-I want you to fill me up so I can have a baby,” you continued in a whisper, and he moaned again as his grip on your hips tightened.  You could hardly believe what you were saying, nor that he had asked you to say it, and yet it made the most wonderfully bizarre feeling stir inside you— strangest of all, it was turning you on.  “F-fuck, Angus, I’m gonna come.”

“You’re gonna come with me?” he pressed, sighing when you nodded.  “Fuck, let’s do it— we’ll come together.  That’ll definitely get you pregnant.”

“Jesus, Angus,” you hissed, “what are you talking about?”

“It doesn’t get you hot, thinking about it?” he challenged.  “Thinking about us making a baby right now?  Imagining how good it would feel to let me breed you and make you a mommy?”

“Sh-shut the fuck up,” you grunted, but you were already trying to hold it back.

“God, you want it so bad,” he noticed— how was he only this perceptive in these sorts of situations?  “You want me to come in you and knock you up, I can tell.  You’re gonna come just thinking about it.”

Even though it wasn’t really just thinking about it— it was him fucking you deep and fast and hard after a whole night of making love— you were forced to bite your lip and nod.

“C’mon, baby, I wanna feel it again,” he purred.  “Feels so fucking perfect when you come around me— you’re mine, aren’t you?”

Your heart jumped and your eyes shut tight.  “God,” you groaned in frustration, but he just smiled and held you tighter.

“It’s okay,” he cooed, “nobody has to know, it’s just me— you’re mine, right?  Say it.  Say you’re mine.”

You whined when it hit you— and nothing had ever hit you quite like that.  Tensing up inside, pulsing uncontrollably, you felt the weight on your chest lift and you dug your nails into his shoulders as he fucked you through it.  “Fuck!  I-I’m yours!” you blurted out, unable to stop it when you were drowning in your ecstasy like that.

He swore against your ear, and gave you hardly one more thrust before falling over the edge himself, groaning weakly as his body sank down onto yours.

You hoped against all odds that he wouldn’t force you to address any of what you’d just said; he looked so exhausted that you almost wanted to let him fall asleep here if it meant avoiding that conversation.  But it was just like him to only give you about ten seconds of silence before running his mouth again.

He started by just sitting up enough to kiss you on the cheek, then the lips, then the side of your forehead when you turned away.  “That was so hot,” he announced, still catching his breath, as he grinned down at you.

“That was… different,” you admitted as you hoped your embarrassment wouldn’t show on your face.  “You weren’t serious, right?  I mean, you know I’m on the pill—”

“Yeah, of course,” he assured, “it’s just, I don’t know, a fantasy.”

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him.  “Respectfully, I thought it was more of a nightmare— you know, it’s kinda worst-case-scenario here.”

“No, no, I know— that’s why it’s fun,” he explained.  “‘Cause it’s, like, bad.  Well, not bad, but… scary.  In a good way!  Like a rollercoaster or something.”

“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed, “just like a rollercoaster.  That’s why the maternity ward at the hospital looks so much like Six Flags.”

“You know what I mean,” he laughed.  “It’s just… if it actually happened it would be a huge fucking deal… but just imagining it, just for fun I mean, it makes my heart race.  See?”

He picked up one of your hands and put it on his neck, pressing your fingers into his pulse so you could feel its rapidness.  “Fair enough,” you shrugged, “you sure scared the crap out of me for a second.”

“You liked it,” he cooed, kissing the tip of your nose.  “You like being mine, too.”

Even if you could’ve hid the reaction on your face somehow, the way your weak muscles still found the energy to clench around his softening cock gave you away; he purred as he smiled, kissing you more tenderly on the lips this time.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered to you.

“I probably look like a mess,” you laughed quietly, “I don’t even want to know what my hair looks like after a night like this.”

“Yeah, that’s how I like you, though— you look pretty all fucked up,” he explained.

You glanced over as he moved to bury his face in your neck again, only to see the slightest blue glow in the window: the early light just before dawn.  “Angus, it’s almost morning,” you noticed.  “You need to go.”

“Not yet,” he begged, hugging you tighter.  “I bet I can make you come again—”

“No,” you snapped, “if your parents find out you snuck out— and if anyone knows you came here—”

“Baby, c’mon,” he pouted, “I’ll be quick, nobody’s gonna know—”

“I swear to god, Angus—”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed, “then just kiss me before I go.”

He held your cheek and turned your face to his, and you kissed him; you hated these kisses, the ones that felt like goodbye.  They were amazing, of course, but they always broke your heart.

“I’ll see you later?” he assumed.

“You’ll see me on Sunday,” you replied.

“Nooo, I can’t wait that long,” he whined.

“Yes you can,” you breathed.  “Now get up, please, before I have to literally kick you out.”

“Fine,” he relented, climbing off of you and searching the floor for his boxers and t-shirt.

“I still can’t believe you ran here without even putting a coat on,” you remembered, “it’s below freezing out.”

“Whatever, it’s not even a block to my house,” he rolled his eyes.

“Mr. Lindy across the street takes out the trash insanely early in the morning— what if he sees you running back to your house in the snow without any fucking clothes on?!” 

“He was young once, right?  He’ll understand,” Angus laughed.

“I’m hoping he doesn’t understand,” you groaned, “‘cause if he figures it out and tells my parents—”

“I know,” he breathed, slipping on his shoes and leaning over the bed to kiss you quickly.  “It’ll be fine, okay?”

“Okay,” you smiled back.

There was a brief pause before Angus dropped his arms down against his sides, hitting his legs; “Well, I… guess I’ll see you at Mass,” he announced.

“That’s gotta be the weirdest thing to say after hooking up with somebody,” you decided.

“I couldn’t think of anything else!” he defended.  “I’m about to jump out your window, it’s already a pretty weird transition.”

“Okay, first of all, please don’t jump,” you replied, “but fair enough.  I’ll see you at Mass.”

He hesitated, suddenly giving you one more kiss— one that lingered a little more— before opening your window and beginning to climb out.

~

Mass was certainly a lot more interesting when you kept feeling Angus’ eyes on you.  His family had been just barely on time for the service, so you hadn’t been able to talk to him before it started; you could tell he was dying to know if you’d gone through with it.

You tugged on the bottom of your dress as you adjusted yourself in the pew; it was definitely a weird feeling, and you couldn’t stop worrying that someone, somehow, would see up your skirt and get an eyeful.  The anxiety of it was oddly arousing, though— it made you understand a bit better what Angus had said about the whole scary in a good way thing.

When you occasionally spared a glance at him, you noticed that Angus still looked a little underslept; you’d both been up all night just a couple days ago, but the difference was that your parents didn’t really mind if you spent most of the next day in your room, so you’d had a chance to catch up— Angus’ parents were more determined to make use of his time off from school, and had him doing all kinds of chores and activities on Saturday that prevented him from getting more than a quick nap here and there.

And they’d tugged him out of bed bright and early for church today, so he was probably still feeling the effects of an all-nighter.  That said, he certainly didn’t seem lacking in energy at the moment— he kept wringing his hands, constantly glancing at you, so noticeably that his mom lightly smacked him on the shoulder when she noticed it.

But you were looking across the aisle at him, too.  If for no other reason than how cute he looked in his shirt and tie.

After the service, as everyone mingled around coffee and donuts, Angus made a beeline towards you— you’d kind of hoped he would be a little more subtle.

“Hey,” he greeted, and you just nodded at him with a smirk.  “It’s been too long.”

He glanced at all the people passing by, stepping closer to you to let someone walk past but never moving back; he waited until no one was too close before he spoke again in a lower voice.

“Are you really not wearing any…?” he asked, an extra sparkle in his eye and a mischievous smile on his face.  His smile dropped a bit when you nodded, though, and his eyes raked over you in the most intoxicating, lascivious way.  You were sure you’d never had someone look at you like that, like they’d give anything to devour you right then— and with no panties to hold it, you felt your arousal slicken where your thighs rubbed together.

He cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one was looking over at him as he adjusted his corduroys awkwardly; you licked your lips, a little too flattered by the effect you had on him.

“That’s, um, that’s…” he mumbled, tripping over his words.  “That’s really… yeah.”

“Really what?” you challenged as you bit your lip briefly, moving closer to him and all but batting your eyes up at him.

“It’s really fucking sexy,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” you cooed.  “I think it’s sexy that you think it’s sexy.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about—” he began.

“I know,” you sighed, “me too.”

“I wasn’t even tired that day— I was wired, actually,” he laughed quietly.  “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart’s pace picked up a bit, and you glanced away briefly.  “I, um… I thought about you, too.

“There’s gotta be somewhere we can go,” he whispered.  “It’s a big place— everyone’s here, if we just… found an empty room—”

“Jesus, Angus— in a church?!” you hissed.

“Come on,” he begged, “I don’t know when we’ll get a chance again— and I’m leaving tomorrow— and I want you so bad—”

“Shh,” you warned him, making sure no one was nearby again.  “We’ll figure something out— just not here.  It’s too risky.”

“But I need you now,” he insisted, voice lower and darker as he stepped just a bit closer to you.  “It won’t take us long— I mean, it definitely won’t take me long, after spending the last two days thinking about you.”

You crossed your arms, looking down at the floor, and you felt him lean in over you.  “Please, baby?” he whispered under his breath.

Releting, you took a glance at the crowd and made sure nobody was looking in your direction.  “You go find an empty room in the east wing.  I’ll talk to a few people— so it doesn’t look like we’re going together— and I’ll come find you in a few minutes, okay?”

“Great,” he beamed.  “Uh, which way is east again?”

You pointed him in the right direction and watched him bound away, sighing to yourself as you re-entered the crowd.  You got a lot of questions about your plan now that you finished your degree— and you found yourself repeating the same stock answer about how your graduate program didn’t start until the fall so you had the spring and summer to stay home.  Even though you knew you needed to kill some time to look less suspicious, you found yourself glancing constantly towards the east wing, getting more and more impatient for your chance to slip away as unnoticed as possible.

As the crowd was clearing out and nearly everyone’s attention was turned onto somebody’s new baby, you took the opportunity to disappear into the dark hallway.  As you peered around the doors, you saw Angus peeking out at you through one of the little windows; the door opened, and you slipped into an abandoned Sunday school classroom, barely having time to gingerly shut the door behind you before you felt his lips on your neck and his hand sliding up your thigh.

“That took forever,” he complained, and before you could remind him it had hardly been five minutes, his fingers were exploring between your legs.  “Fuck, what’re you so wet for?” he teased, and you groaned as you pulled him closer by his pants and hopped up to sit on the low bookshelf nearby.

“Just hurry up,” you hissed, “we need to get this over with before somebody finds us here.”

He opened his fly quickly, but struggled slightly to free himself from the confines of his trousers; you hummed a bit when he got it out, pressing it against you right away as you moved your hips up.

Thrusting into you all at once, you both sighed slowly; you took hold of his shoulders, he grabbed onto your hips, and instantly he began to fuck into you impatiently.

“God, you’re so tight,” he hissed against your ear.  “Touch yourself— I want you to come, too.”

You reached between your bodies to put a few fingers on your clit, rubbing fast in hopes that you could catch up with him.

“Do you always do what you’re told?” he mocked playfully.

“I think the fact that we’re doing this right after church proves that I don’t,” you replied.

“Guess you only do what I tell you to,” he shrugged, which really made you want to talk back, but you couldn’t because you were trying not to moan too loudly.

He moved faster inside you, and something about the angle of sitting up on the shelf was making him hit just the right spot— or maybe you were sensitive from the exhilarating fear of getting caught.

“What if I got you pregnant here?” he purred, making you arch your back slightly.  “Wouldn’t that be funny?”

“You’ve got a weird sense of humor, Tully,” you breathed, struggling not to let your voice come out all whiny and weak.

“Knocked up at St. Mary’s… it’s what God would want, right?”

“Do you never shut up?” you hissed.

“No,” he smirked, “you’re cute when you’re ticked off at me.”

His eyes met yours, and you felt a strange emotion stir in your chest: you bit your lip, willing yourself to tear away from his gaze, but you found it impossible somehow.

One of his hands moved from your hip up to your chest, palming at you through your dress.  You tensed up inside, making him wince a bit, and you couldn’t believe how close you were already.

“Oh god, baby, m’gonna come,” you whimpered, moving your hand even faster over your clit; he groaned in approval, leaning in to kiss all along your neck.

“Come for me,” he pleaded, “I’m so fucking close— please come, fuck—”

“R-right there,” you gasped, gripping his shoulder tighter— actually, that wasn’t the only place you were gripping him tighter.  He was struggling to maintain the pace of his thrusts, in fact, with how hard your walls were bearing down on him.  “Yes, yes, yes—”

“Not too loud,” he warned you, and you bit hard on your own lip to suppress your moan: it stayed in your throat instead, and you heard him gasp as he heard and felt you reaching your peak.  He had to take his hand off your chest and put it on the bookshelf under you to help keep you upright, and he looked down between your bodies to watch himself give you a few final thrusts.

He stopped suddenly, whimpering slightly as he buried himself in you as deep as he could go; you sighed and laid back on the bookshelf again, having to tilt your head to avoid a figurine of some prophet or saint that you had absolutely no interest in identifying at the moment.

Angus took a moment to catch his breath, before looking back over his shoulder and through the door’s window to make sure no one was in the hallway.  He pulled his cock out of you carefully and did his best to fit it back into his pants.  As you felt a warm oozing feeling between your legs, your face began to heat up.

“Maybe I didn’t think this through,” you realized.

“What?” he mumbled.

“I’m gonna have to go out there with nothing on under my dress, with your come leaking out of me.”

He bit his lip.

“It’s not sexy, Angus!  It’s very inconvenient!” you frowned.

“It’s both,” he insisted.  “It’s very much both.”

~

Though you did get another chance to see Angus before he left, it wasn’t that sort of rendezvous, unfortunately.  Although, just sitting and talking with him was wonderful, too— in an entirely different way.  See, that was the thing that scared you most, even more than how badly you’d come to crave his touch: how happy you felt just being with him.

He was funny, and weird, and seemed to think your stories from college were fascinating; he was well-read, especially for a high school student, and you two could chat about your favorite books— a hobby most of your classmates in college found too nerdy to sympathize with.  

It probably looked totally wholesome from the outside: two childhood friends catching up while they were back home for a while.  And you, you probably looked normal and cool on the outside— you were trying to, at least.  But inside, you were terrified.  You wanted it to be like what Angus said— scary, in a good way, like a rollercoaster— but you were starting to just feel sick.  You know, like an actual rollercoaster would…

“Everyone there is so… dumb,” Angus decided as he leaned back, looking up at the ceiling.

“That can’t be true, it’s a good school,” you tried to encourage him.

“I mean, maybe they could be smart, but they act like morons,” he clarified.  “They hate me, too, and I don’t even really know why.”

“Probably because they can sense that you think they’re all morons,” you suggested; and he looked over at you, as if he’d genuinely never thought of that before.

But instead of addressing that, he sat up again and changed the subject.  “My parents probably want me to go back and, like, put my trunk in the car and stuff…”

“Right,” you nodded, “you should go.”

“Yeah— b-but, listen, um, before I do…” he trailed off, leaning a little closer to you on the couch.  “I wanted to, you know, talk.  About something.”

“We’ve been talking for half an hour,” you noticed.

“Right, uh— I meant something specific,” he explained, his cheeks seeming to get a little bit more pink.  “I… I won’t be back until spring break, you know…”

“Uh huh,” you nodded, raising an eyebrow as you wondered what he was getting at.

“And, you know, we’ve been having such a great time,” he went on, and your heart twisted.  You’d heard this spiel before: the things are so good now, why do we need to put a label on it? why can’t we just have fun talk.  The you’re great, but not good enough for more than this talk.  You decided to jump in and spare him before he said anything too… honest.

“I get it,” you promised, and he looked at you nervously.  “We’re gonna be too far apart for too long— and you shouldn’t, you know, feel like you’re tied down to anything.  It’s okay— I didn’t think I was, like, your girlfriend or anything.”

“R-right,” he coughed, looking away and putting his hand on the back of his neck.  “Yeah, that’s— that’s what I was gonna say.  I knew you’d understand.”

You smiled, wishing you weren’t always so goddamn understanding.  “But it was fun— a good way to kill time over the break, for sure.”

“Yeah,” he agreed alongside a thin laugh.  “I… I think I’ll always owe you, for being my first time and all.”

“Well, you’ve certainly spent your first two weeks of not being a virgin pretty well,” you snorted.  “I had a good time.  We’ll call it even.”

“And… when I come back?” he pressed.  “Maybe we can, I dunno… maybe we can do it again.”

You grinned and tilted your head.  “Yeah, I like that idea.”

“But can I still call you?” he asked nervously.

“Of course!” you beamed.  “You’ll have to tell me if you get any good books assigned this semester.”

“Yeah, I doubt it,” he scoffed, but his smile lifted just a bit.

“I can come see you off, if you want,” you offered, “but it might make your mom suspect something…”

“You’re probably right,” he admitted, “I wish you weren’t, but you are— but I’ll call first thing when I get there!”

You smiled, and he gave you a hug before he left; and he promised to call again, though you’d believed him the first time.  And the next time you stayed up all night with Angus, it was on the phone— he snuck out of bed with a bag of quarters, and told you the phone was free so you wouldn’t feel bad, and talked to you about everything he could possibly think of.

Except, you didn’t quite make it all night: you fell asleep at some point, while he was talking about his English paper… not that he could blame you.

And for some reason, one that even he himself couldn’t quite explain, he kept feeding the phone quarters and listening to you sleep; he didn’t hang up until it was nearly morning and he had to sneak back into his room.

[series masterlist here]

#angus tully x reader #angus tully smut

[leviathanspain]

hii 💌 can I request some angst with president!coryo & victor!reader, same plot line as tbosas basically, he was once her mentor & now she’s his first lady

except the quarter quell with former victors happens earlier & he deliberately leaves her name out but she ends up volunteering instead

his first lady

coriolanus snow x victor!reader

synopsis: after years of hiding from the public, ashamed of your past and your husband, you discover the only way to end this, is with you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

he had lost his mind.

in the five years since your games, you had married the man who had given dr. gaul the ideas and tools to continue with the annual hunger games. he had also been the man to mentor you, showing you to an audience to get them to love you, simultaneously he fell in love with you.

he was powerful, you knew you couldn’t reject his advances, not while you were stuck behind the bars of the capital zoo. so you held his hand, listened to everything he said, winning as he promised you would.

only then did you hope that his attention on you would end, and you would be free to return home to your district, to put this part of your life behind…

except it haunted you, every day, every waking moment.

you never returned home, you never saw your parents again after being reaped, he became president, and you became his wife; his first lady.

and now, president snow stood on that stage, smile blazing as he announced that the fifteenth annual hunger games would reap its tributes, from the existing pool of victors.

he had truly lost his mind.

you gripped tigris’ arm as you watched coryo on the screen. he had just announced the changes, and you were left shocked.

tigris gulped, “i doubt he would leave your name in there.” she comforted you, “he would never do that-“ she paused, and you knew it was hesitation.

you stared at the screen, watching as the symbol of panem graced the screen, and you knew he would be home soon.

you shook your head, still in disbelief. you didn’t know what to think, coriolanus’ morality scale had gotten worse as the years went by and more power came, you were unsure what he would do to anyone, let alone you.

he loved you, more than you loved him. you never forgave him for what he did to sejanus, and coriolanus knew that, but he had made it known that as long as you were alive, he would never divorce you. his little loose end.

this could be the means to an end. if coriolanus was as smart as he was told, he would leave your name in, hope for the possibility to send you to your death, tying his loose end completely.

tigris stared as you grabbed the tv clicker, clicking the buttons to turn off the awful song that blasted with the logo. it wasn’t working, tigris tried to help you with it but your frustration over the games led you to slam the clicker into the tv screen, promptly breaking the screen.

coriolanus came home to a dark house. all the lights had been shut off, and he could still smell tigris’ perfume, lingering in the living room.

he set his bag down, taking off his coat and laying it down on the couch. he could see light emanating from the bedroom, and he could hear your soft singing.

coryo smiled, slowly walking down the hall, pushing the half cracked door open, seeing you on the bed. your nightshirt hung off your shoulder slightly, and your hair was loose. you looked beautiful, in the dim candlelight.

“my lady.” he greeted softly, bed dipping as he sat on his side. you turned, closing the novel you had been reading. you smiled softly, “coriolanus.” he frowned slightly, going in to give you a kiss, but you turned around to put your book away, effectively dodging his kiss.

“you’re upset.” he knew it immediately, you never called him coriolanus, not unless you were mad at him. usually he was called coriolanus every hunger games, as long as each games lasted. he had known eventually it would start up again, but this was far too early.

you didn’t say anything, opting to shrug as you stood up, pulling the sheets up.

coriolanus watched you get into the bed, snuggling into the snow white sheets, trying to avoid the conversation all together.

coryo stood up, removing his shoes and tie, “you saw the announcement.” he deduced, having put it together from the faint scent of his cousin’s perfume. “i didn’t want you to see it, i wanted to tell you myself-“ he kept undressing, and you sat up abruptly, “you had all morning to tell me what you had planned, but you let me go on about my day, let me think of you fondly and for you to announce that?!” you couldn’t help the tone of voice that you took with him, sometimes he was just irrational that not even you could get through to him.

he laughed softly, “so you wouldn’t have thought of me fondly if i had told you before the rest of the country?” he pulled the sheets on his side of the bed up, pulling them up to his chest as he turned to face you.

your back was resting against the pillows, arms crossed as you continued, “why would you do that, coryo?” your voice cracked, and his expression softened. one of his only weaknesses’ was you crying, whether it was someone else’s fault or his, it was a wretched weakness. “the victors are victors for a reason, why do we have to fight for our lives, all over again? hmm, haven’t we done enough?” you felt tears on your cheek, and you sniffled slightly.

coriolanus shook his head, “y/n, i took your name out.” he grabbed your thigh, “you won’t even have the chance of being reaped. you’ll just stand pretty on stage and watch the others get reaped.”

the others.

“you mean the children that i mentored to fight to the death and win?” you couldn’t see him through the puddles of tears in your eyes. you could only keep crying.

coriolanus stared, watching you sniffle and dab your tears away. he didn’t know what to say. this was his country, but you were his wife.

“just stand there y/n, they’ll be room for tears later.” he spat, and you stared at him in disbelief. coriolanus had become cruel, shrewd in his ways. this was a perfect example of one of the many ways he had changed.

you hauled yourself out of the bed, staring at coriolanus as you stomped out of the room. you had plenty of extra rooms in the house, and decided to go into one, leaving coriolanus to sleep in the bed by himself. he called after you, but you ignored him as you locked the door behind you.

you hadn’t seen so many people gathered in a long time. they stood in rows, long rows that seem to never end from where you stood. you stood next to the other tributes from your district, younger than you, eyes full of pain and sorrow.

the bowls containing their names were placed in front, one for the girls, and another for the boys. you knew your name wasn’t in there, coryo had said, ‘nothings changed’.

you listened carefully as the female victor was announced. valora grove, the young girl who you had just mentored this last hunger games. you watched as she hesitated to step up, face stricken with fear, this was happening to her all over again.

“i volunteer!” you panted, stepping up as you held a hand out, blocking valora from walking any further, “i volunteer as tribute.” you repeated, chest falling heavily as you stared out into the crowd, their faces displaying plain shock.

president snow’s wife, the first lady, the tenth annual hunger games victor, had just volunteered.

coriolanus must’ve just heard the news, because as you stood forward, accepting of what was to come, you were promptly escorted from the stage by peacekeepers, thrown into a car and driven straight back to the capitol.

coriolanus was furious, you knew. you knew your husband better than anyone in the world, better than his own family. he knew you well too, but you knew this was something he hadn’t anticipated, a small crack in his plans.

“you better hope i die.” was the first thing you said to him as the car doors open, coriolanus angrily gripping onto the handle. he stood there, fuming, “why y/n? why would you do that, you know that i can’t-“

“what? stop the games? of course not, that would make you look bad, coriolanus. but that’s exactly why i did it. you have no choice.” one thing that coriolanus had forgotten about you, was that you were smart, and usually, always one step ahead of him.

“i’m still a loose end, president snow.” you reminded him, stuck staring at his piercing blue eyes as his expression warped.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coryo x reader #coryo snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow imagine

[redskyvenus]

NOBODY’S BUSINESS ⟡ CHOSO KAMO

content warnings: 18+ nsfw, non-curse AU, slight angst, bestfriend!choso x fem reader, cheating (reader gets cheated on/cheats back), choso is pussydrunk, consensual recording, creampie, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f receiving), pet names, praise, smut, squirting, toxic relationship, unprotected sex┊wc: 3k

notes: this is loosely based off of a very nsfw dream i had about choso a few months ago, oops┊tags: @manjibunny @rookie98writes @jabamin @satoruhour @kizoken @marimogf @screampied

masterlist

Never in a million years did you anticipate reading the nauseating words that adorned your screen.

It felt like pure agony, as if your heart had been shattered into a million fragments. The shock overwhelmed you, finding out through a mutual friend that your boyfriend got caught having sex with another girl at a party. Buried alive inside a nightmare, you were spiraling — as if the very foundation of the perfect world you lived in had crumbled beneath your feet.

Your relationship with Naoya had only begun four months ago. Initially seeming idyllic, until you slowly started to see a darker side of him. There were early warning signs when you first got together, but you brushed it off, viewing your relationship through rose-coloured glasses.

He had always taken you for granted, never buying you flowers or getting you any gifts for your monthly anniversaries. Making empty promises and getting your hopes up were his specialties, but you were blinded by his looks. Failing to see he was only using you for his own selfish desires.

Much like a ravenous crow, he always found himself looking for the next shiny, pretty girl he could get his hands on to manipulate and discard once boredom set in. A never ending hunt for a new prized possession — a twisted cycle that left behind a trail of endless heartache he showed no intention of breaking.

Blaming yourself for not seeing through his façade sooner, you were already trapped in his iron grip when it was too late.

He had an extremely flirtatious nature you hated, only worsening while talking to girls you couldn’t stand. It was like a sick power trip to him, letting his eyes wander a little too long on whoever piqued his interest, not even caring in the slightest that you were standing right next to him. But he knew you would never dare to leave, well aware of your devotion to him.

To Naoya you were just a mere object; his possession, devoid of thoughts and feelings. The polar opposite of how your best friend Choso treated you right from the beginning of your friendship. He regarded you as delicate and fragile — not wanting to cause you any harm, always being extremely protective of you.

His envy of Choso's genuine love for you only fueled his toxic possessiveness. Naoya didn’t truly care about you, he just didn’t want anyone to get close and steal you away from him. You hated how the fake affection he showed made you desperately cling on to the good parts of a relationship that was slowly falling apart. His love was like a drug, and you were addicted.

You could fix him. It was just a mistake, he didn’t want to lose you — he loved you.

With trembling fingers, you desperately scrolled through your contacts to call the one person who could mend your soul.

“C’mon…” Anxiously pacing around the living room, your body violently trembled as you attempted to suppress the intense nausea. “Answer the fucking phone, Choso…”

The phone rang a few times, each passing second feeling like an eternity, before a deep, honeyed voice finally filled your ears. A sigh of relief washed over you in the midst of your hellish heartache.

“Hello?”

Breathless and shaken up, you cried into the microphone. “Oh, thank god. You’re still awake.”

“What’s going on? Are you o-” Before he could finish his sentence, your soft, melancholic voice cut him off.

“Can you come over… like right now? I’m at Naoya’s house.”

“Of course. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Need you right now,” you sniffled, tears staining your screen.

“‘m coming. Just stay where you are; everything will be okay.” His calm aura always knew how to soothe you, even in the midst of utter despair. You clung to him, hoping that his presence would be a balm for the searing pain in your chest.

After ending the call, a mix of emotions swirled within you —anger, betrayal, and a longing for solace.

Rushing to the bathroom, you tried emptying your stomach but to no avail, tears streaming down instead. Kneeled on the tiled floor, your cries were interrupted by the loud ringing of the doorbell, prompting you to stand up. Shaky legs moved towards the entrance.

Slowly opening the front door, big, beautiful purple eyes met yours—a spark of electricity rushed through your veins. He had never looked this worried before.

”Hey.”

“Hey…” You greeted, looking up at him distraught, but his loving gaze never faltered. ”Thank you, Choso.”

“Of course, anything for you.”

He stepped inside, closing the door. Trying to hold back tears, you jumped into his big, strong arms. Inhaling his familiar scent to regulate your uneven breaths. He softly kissed the top of your head, gentle hands wiping away the mascara stains from your cheeks. “Let’s go get you some water first, and then we’ll talk.”

Choso walked into the kitchen, opening different cabinets to find a drinking glass, filling it with water before handing it to you.

“So, who dared to upset my girl?” You almost choked on the liquid, thinking you must have heard it wrong. Trying your hardest not to burst into tears again as the words of that damned text flooded your memory, you struggled to gather your words.

“I received a text from Yuki about half an hour ago. She told me Naoya cheated on me at Sukuna’s party,” you felt your heart aching again. Choso, in absolute disbelief, furrowed his brows, and his expression morphed from shock into anger. “He didn’t even care that he got caught.”

”What — he did what?” The rage inside of him fired up quickly, “I will beat the shit out of that blonde bitch. What the hell is wrong with him?”

“Don’t call him that.”

He scoffed, “Why not? He doesn’t give a fuck about you, so why would I care about him?”

“I don’t know. But just don’t, please.”

“I’m not letting him get away with it.”

You sighed deeply, leaning against the countertop. “I know, but I love him.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Choso knew you well enough to understand that you wouldn’t give up on Naoya, even if your relationship was on the verge of sinking like the Titanic.

”You’re honestly insane if you forgive him after pulling shit like this.”

“It was just a mistake, Choso.”

”Yeah, right—he accidentally slipped and fell into another girl’s pussy,”

“Fuck you,” you glanced at him, a hint of genuine anger laced in your voice.

”C’mon… Do you really think he won’t do it again? Be honest with yourself.”

”I don’t know how to break up with him.”

“You do know, you just don’t want to. That’s different.” Trying to mend fractured relationships and giving second chances to people who didn’t deserve your forgiveness. It was your best and worst characteristic simultaneously.

“Kinda sucks that he gets to have you, and I can’t. I could treat you way better — just sayin’,” Choso mumbled nonchalantly.

“What was that?” You raised an eyebrow, looking back up at him surprised. Your words hung in the air, a heavy silence enveloping the kitchen. His admission lingered between you, creating a palpable tension. You shifted uncomfortably, the chaos of emotions swirling within you making it difficult to find the right response.

”I can’t believe I’m actually saying this out loud,“ Choso repeated, his voice a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. “But I want you — I’ve wanted you since the day I first laid eyes on you. You deserve to be treated like the amazing woman that you are,” he spoke into your ear, before pressing a loving kiss on your right cheek.

His warm breath sent shivers down your spine, and the gentle kiss on your cheek left you confused. “C-Choso… d-don’t say that,” you stuttered.

He knew it was wrong to admit it, but he couldn’t help himself.

“It’s the truth,” he insisted, his gaze unwavering. He gently grabbed your chin, making you look up at him. “Listen to me, I’d let you break my heart, if that means I get to show you for one night what it means to actually be loved.”

The echoes of his confession lingered in the room, intertwining with the complex emotions weaving through your heart. The fragile state of your relationship with Naoya, coupled with his true feelings, left you feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Choso released his hold on your chin and took a step back. “I didn’t plan on saying any of that out loud. But I needed you to know.”

You closed your eyes, allowing your hazy mind to take over. ”Kiss me,” you breathed out loud, the words escaping before you could fully comprehend their weight.

His eyes widened in surprise, trying to process your words. ”W-What?”

”I said… Kiss me.”

Taken aback by your sudden request, he hesitated for a moment before closing the distance between you. His smoky scent enveloped you in a dizzying cloud.

He leaned in, letting his breath fan over your face before soft lips met yours in a tentative, passionate kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you embraced it, letting the warmth of Choso’s affection wash over you. The chaos of your emotions slowly subsiding. As the kiss deepened, his hands found a delicate place on your waist, pulling you closer. Your eager fingers got lost in his dark locks, making his hair fall down. The room filled with the rhythmic sound of your shared breaths.

Big hands sneaked under your oversized black shirt, exploring every inch of your soft body. His touches became more sinful, making you further sink into his embrace.

A little whimper escaped you as you felt his wandering hands everywhere. He broke the kiss to bury his face into your neck, planting hot, wet kisses along your jawline. He started to temptingly suck on the skin, your lewd moans growing loader. ”Mmphh, Choso — don’t stop,” he could feel his cock stir in his gray sweats.

Touches becoming more desperate, his muscular body pushed you against the wooden cabinets. The impact making a jar fall to the tiled floor, there was so much dizzying tension between you he thought he might actually faint.

Suddenly he halted his attack on your neck. You squealed as he lifted you up effortlessly, carrying you bridal style to Naoya’s bedroom.

”You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he shamelessly whispered in your ear. Laying you down on the soft pillows that covered the bed, his tall figure loomed over you. Quickly taking off his shirt before he lifted up yours slightly, uncovering your breasts. Choso grazed his lips along your chest, biting the skin before he soothed the bite marks with his tongue.

Trailing down kisses to your stomach, Choso pried your thighs open. He skilfully removed your already soaked pink panties, flinging them across the room. Your heart was beating so fast — never in your entire life did you want someone to touch you this badly. You couldn’t take your eyes off his broad, muscular back that was covered in a sheer layer of sweat.

His hot breath fanned over your cunt for just a few seconds, before he licked a long stripe up your puffy folds. His tongue traveled towards your clit, circling little figure-eights around it. He groaned contently licking and sucking every spot, “Fuck. This pretty pussy tastes so good… Just as I thought.” His praise ripped a lewd whine from your throat.

”Choso, please. Need more,” you whined, arching your back into the mattress.

“Shhh— I know,” he cooed, half-lidded purple eyes peering up at you, “Gotta make you cum first.” His deep, honeyed voice vibrating against your folds made you clench. He covered his digits in your slick, stuffing one finger inside your soaked hole. Hearing your moans grow louder, he quickly added another one.

His tongue and fingers made you feel like you were floating, pleasuring you like it was his last night on this earth. You gasped and trembled, repeating the words keep going like a broken record until the pressure in your lower abdomen almost exploded.

He satisfyingly hummed against your cunt, “Mhm. Cum for me, pretty girl. Give it to me.” Speeding up his tempo, your eyes rolled back in your head, crying out his name as you squirted all over his face.

Choso’s chin now covered in your juices, he smirked at you seductively, “Fuck. Could do this forever.”

Before you were able to blink, he had switched positions, your body now on top of his. Not satisfied yet and growing desperate to feel him, you started riding his abs. The rigidness of his muscles stimulated your sensitive clit again. “Chosoo—need you inside of me.”

“Patience, baby. Would never be able to forgive myself if I only made you cum once tonight.” His strong arms grabbed your hips, moving you back and forth on his abdomen. “So sweet and needy; lookin’ so pretty on top of me.” He pulled one of your hands up, tenderly kissing your fingers while you were riding him, before he placed them back on his chest.

His devotion to you made your brain short circuit, “‘’m close again.” Choso loved seeing your dazed expression as you inched closer to reaching nirvana once more — the moonlight illuminating your glistening body. Your ears were ringing as you came for the second time.

He grinned proudly, “There she is, my good girl.” Your shirt and his stomach now covered in your juices. You panted heavily as your soul returned to your body.

Choso lifted himself up and started kissing your neck again, and you were so eager to let him finally fill you up.

“Need to feel you inside now.”

”Mm? Say that again?”

”Please fuck me, Choso,” you whined. He removed his sweatpants and turned you around so you were positioned on all fours. Slick-covered cunt on display, almost making him cum at the beautiful sight. You wiggled your ass, turning your head to look up at him. His dick was so intimidatingly big, making you panic slightly.

He slowly sank himself inside of you, inch by inch, your walls hugging his cock as if your body was made for him. He grabbed his phone from his sweatpants and opened the camera, “Shit. Need to remember this moment forever, gonna put this as my lockscreen. Can I?”

You giggled, further arching your back for him, “Yeah. Don’t mind.” He pressed the record button and gripped your waist, “Oh baby — you feel so fucking good.” He moaned as he picked up the pace, dragging your walls so nicely, sounds of slapping skin filled up the room.

Mewling and whimpering as he moved the angle of his hips just right — making you see stars, mouth falling agape. “Mmpf. S-so deep,” You panted breathlessly, cunt gushing around him as he pushed you over the edge, coaxing your third orgasm from you. Choso ended the video and threw the phone on the bed. Following soon after, he stuffed you full of his cum before pulling out, staining your black shirt.

Both of your bodies collapsed onto the bed, and he gently kissed you again, “I meant everything I said earlier.” Your mind was too fucked out to respond, only humming in response.

You quickly took off your stained shirt, dropping it to the floor. Choso shook his head and smirked, caging you in his strong arms as you drifted off to sleep in your boyfriend’s bed.

Your boyfriend had arrived home unexpectedly in the middle of the night, drunk and disoriented before falling asleep on the couch. His alarm jolted him awake, prompting to navigate his way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Opening the door to his bedroom, Naoya grabbed the nearest shirt he could find from his bedroom floor and hastily put it on. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him, the realization of the situation slowly dawning on him. A venomous smirk curved his lips, and the storm in his brown eyes intensified.

His footsteps waking you up from your deep slumber, “What the fuck?” Naoya’s loud voice sliced through the charged silence, laden with accusation. "Is this what you do when I'm not around?" Anger dripped from his words, the air thick with tension.

Choso's expression remained stoic, but his gaze held a glaring intensity. Before you could respond, Naoya's eyes flicked to the tousled sheets of his bed, and the smirk on his face contorting into a sneer. "I see. You didn't waste any time," he spat, the words a volatile mix of rage and betrayal.

As you attempted to form a response, Naoya lunged forward, confronting him. "You think you can just walk into my house and touch my girlfr-"

Choso, unyielding, cut him off with a steely glare. "Maybe you should've thought about that before treating her like shit. She called me because you stuffed your dirty dick inside someone else.”

”I’m sorry, this was a mistake.” You sniffled, directing your gaze towards Naoya.

Choso, with a heavy sigh, gathered his belongings and headed for the door. "I'll give you two some space. Figure it out." His words were laden with a mix of anger and disappointment. “You’re wearing the shirt I fucked your girlfriend in last night, by the way.”

Naoya inspected every inch of his shirt until he saw the white stain, leaving him mortified. ”You need to get the fuck out, before I beat your ass.”

As the door slammed shut, the two of you stood frozen, the reality of the moment sinking in. Naoya's gaze softened, a flicker of realization in his eyes. The storm within him seemed to subside. "I... I messed up. I messed up big time. Please forgive me, I don’t want to lose you."

The conversation that ensued lasted for two hours, his manipulative tendencies resurfacing again — weaving their insidious charm to win you over once more. Trapped within the clutches of his vice-like grip, the toxic cycle persisted, weaving an intricate web around your emotions.

Several weeks later, you were randomly woken up by the chiming sound of your phone. The blinding light hurt your sensitive eyes, and your blood ran cold when you opened the message.

© 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐬𝐤𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 ⟡ do not copy, plagiarize or repost any of my works.┊network: @enchantedforest-network

#choso x reader #choso smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso kamo #jjk choso #jjk smut #jjk x you #kamo choso #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #choso x you #choso x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk drabbles #jjk recs #jjk x reader smut #anime smut #female reader #‘☁️ .𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐬𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (02) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 11.9k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii really touched with all the love for this story! I don’t know about you but this hits harder with all the boys away and we’re missing them so badly. But we’ve got this! 💕 But thank you thank you for all the messages (sorry I can’t get to each one!) and the interest and excitement. Hope you enjoy this one ☺️

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Despite hoping that he wouldn’t, Jungkook, in fact, pushes you further away on his second day on the job. 

To his defense, it was partly your fault. You smiled at him last night - perhaps due to your delicious dinner that you didn’t even know was from him - and it disarmed him. 

The words you uttered after just flew over his head and he just nodded, too out of it to confirm what you’d said. It probably had something to do about you not coming to his penthouse, because it’s Tuesday morning and you’re still not here. He’d expected that like yesterday, you'd prepare his breakfast, and after all that transpired, debrief after yesterday’s meetings and discuss the next steps. That was his routine with Lucas, and for all the things that you seemed to know and do right - from his room design, the doneness of his eggs, and his coffee - this was a miss. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be assisting me from the start of the day?” Jungkook says over the phone, his tone sounding annoyed. “I’ve been waiting for you since 6:30.”

Your heart drops at his words, the memory from last night of him agreeing to you sticking to the same schedule you had with Hoseok suddenly feeling like some made up scenario. You remember telling Jungkook that you go straight to the office the rest of the week; you’d only go to Hoseok’s house on Mondays to prepare his clothes and brief him because he’s able to manage from Tuesday onwards. Your new boss, for some reason, perhaps misheard your question. And now you’re the one in trouble. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bring yourself to say, your voice in a panic because regardless of who’s in the wrong, making him wait is not a good start to his day nor yours, and especially not to your already rocky relationship. “I can get a cab then head to you.”

“So you want me to wait for you some more?” He chides, his dry laugh making you want to throw your phone just so you won’t hear his voice anymore. “Just stay wherever you are, but I want the meeting minutes from yesterday ready when I get there since you’re not here to go over them with me.”

Jungkook hangs up and your head thumping on your desk is immediate. It’s barely the start of the day and you already want to go back home and probably never come back. 

You left the office at 9 last night, knowing you were too exhausted to continue working on the annotated documents, and then got soaked in the rain on your way home. You planned on coming to work early - given that your boss didn’t require you to go to his penthouse, a claim you stand by - so you can continue, but now he wants the meeting minutes in an hour, and that isn’t usually due until three days later. 

Neglecting the sandwich you planned on eating for breakfast, you work on your notes from the first meeting and then move on to the next. Every footstep you hear makes you anxious, and you breathe a sigh of relief every time you find out it’s not him. Every minute counts and you’re thankful for each one. Until, of course, you run out of it. 

“Send them to me now and meet me in my office,” his voice echoes through the hallway that leads to his room. 

Jungkook walks straight past you and doesn’t even give you a look.

“Yes, sir,” you squeak, quickly sending the email then scurrying to where he is. 

You find him seated on his chair, his leg crossed over the other one as he goes through the notes on his iPad, his furrowed eyebrows making you sweat in worry. He doesn’t seem pleased. But from what you’ve witnessed so far, you doubt there’s much that pleases him.

He encircles words and scribbles on the sides, mumbling “incomplete,” “what does this mean,” and “this is not what I said.”

Jungkook sets the device on his desk and groans. He turns to you with a hard glare, and you clearly see just how displeased he is. Not that you have any defense - it’s your job to do what he asked in a manner that’s up to his standards - but you already felt discouraged in the morning, and your meal skipping caused you to lose focus in the afternoon, resulting in your less than satisfactory documentation of the meeting.

“Ms. Cho, do you know the value of these documents? And why I require them to be comprehensive and done on time?”

“Uh, ye-yes, sir,” you drag out.

“Why?”

It’s too early for this, you think to yourself. Clearly you know why they’re important; you’re just too tired to articulate the reasons to him. But you try, as the words form in your head. You’re about to say them when he stands from his chair and walks towards his desk, leans on the edge and then intently looks at you, as if he’s judging even the way you’re breathing or standing. And you’d probably fail, given how your body seems to cower in his presence. 

“Because decisions are made through them,” he says, drowning out your thoughts with his stern voice. “I attend numerous meetings everyday. Decision points can be buried in the discussions unless they’re documented properly. And even when they are, they’re not actioned upon immediately unless I have access to them and unless they’ve been processed and verified. I don’t leave those conference rooms and forget about what took place. They stay in my head, that’s why I ask you to write them down, and that’s why I require you to meet me first thing in the morning so that I can process them with you, and let those points guide me for the rest of the week.”

His glare continues, so does his voice getting louder. “My job isn’t just to sit around and listen to people. I make decisions. And it’s your job to make sure I have all the correct information to make them.”

“I… I understand, sir. And I… I apologize for the oversight,” you stutter, still unable to look at him. “But about this morning, uh… you, uh last night, I—”

“Was there an explicit statement from me about not having you come in the morning?”

“No, sir.”

He lets the silence draw out, perhaps to let your own words sink in. He does have a point. You stand by your claim that you’d asked, and he nodded, but you should also know that such gestures aren’t clear responses, and that’s on you to make sure that you’re both on the same page. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say with conviction. “I made an assumption when I should have clarified. And even then, it’s your first week as Vice President. I should be assisting you in all the ways I can.”

Jungkook watches your form, hands clasped together with your nails sinking into your skin. Your head is bowed down, unable or unwilling to look at him this whole time. He knows he’s at fault, too, but he’d never admit it; he’s not exactly the type to do that. 

You stand there in submission and a part of him wants to apologize, but that’s not the type of weakness he wants to show, not when he needs to establish authority and more importantly, distance.

“I require Lucas to still come every morning because that’s the only time we can debrief about the previous day’s activities,” he says, making his voice calmer now. “We go through the minutes, clarify things, finalize them, and then disseminate so that people don’t forget. Teams collaborate effectively when there’s accountability and when timelines are adhered to. It’s my job to make sure they comply. And that means it’s your job, too. I don’t have to remind you of your roles now do I, Ms. Cho?”

“No, sir,” you respond, finding the strength in you to finally look at him, his hardened stare still unnerving you. 

He uncrosses his arms and walks back to his seat. “My cousin and I work very differently from each other. It’s on you to adjust.” 

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in acknowledgment. “I’ll be at your apartment at 6:30 every morning and I’ll do better with my documentation and preparation of all the files.”

Jungkook just hums then proceeds to work on something on his desktop, which you take as your cue to leave. You bow again and excuse yourself, but his voice stops you as you open the door.

“Push back this morning’s meeting to 9:00,” he says. “And make sure you have something to eat. I can’t have you be unfocused again like yesterday.”

You survive the rest of Tuesday. You eat snacks rather than proper meals, and you find that that helps you more with time and focus. The meetings for that day are less intense, but with you still figuring out exactly how Jungkook wants the documents prepared, you stay up after hours and work on them for the next day, with you constantly going over the recording to make sure that you documented everything correctly. 

You arrive at his penthouse at 6:30 every morning during the week. You make his breakfast while he takes a shower, which is really whatever’s in his fridge or pantry. He doesn’t seem to mind what you prepare for him, and you’re glad that he doesn’t find any more severe reasons to dislike you. There’s still the occasional correction of your minutes, but you chalk it up to him just being too particular. There are terms he uses that you’re not familiar with; he’s an architect by training after all.

Perhaps it’s why he’s as specific and detail-oriented as he is, and more visual than anything. Hoseok is a perfectionist like him, but the older man has everything organized in his head and then executes them, whereas Jungkook needs them all laid out before him. Whether it’s about a policy, a process, and especially a design, he makes sure they’re drawn out, and the way they all just make sense to him is immediate. 

You suppose that’s what he’s used to. Plans need representation beyond words; he doesn’t seem to be the type to use much of them, in fact, unless he’s correcting you. But that’s what you’ve noticed. At some points during the meeting, he’d draw something on his iPad and send it to you; you both discuss it the next morning, with you finding the words for it for proper documentation. 

But his mind doesn’t seem to stop, as you catch him on the way to work sometimes doodling some design on this leather notebook that he carries with him everywhere. Whether it’s the Arts Center or something else, you’re not sure, but you know that any moment he pulls it out, he’d spend a good amount of time on it before getting out of the car.

He remains distant and disengaged as you expect him to be. Unlike Hoseok who asks you how your evening went or how the trip to his house was, Jungkook doesn’t talk about anything that doesn’t concern work. And so when he isn’t talking about it, there’s just silence - whether in the car, in the elevator, or the walk to his room. There’s none of the laughter or the questions about how you’re coping with all your tasks, and there’s definitely nothing about his life that he shares. Not that you thought he would, but the difference with your old boss is striking, as you think of the times when Hoseok happily talked about the salsa studio he was at with A-yeong over the weekend or the movie they watched together the night before.

The comparisons remain in your head throughout the week. You try to focus on your responsibilities but you realize that you haven’t properly moved on from the culture and environment that you used to enjoy when Hoseok was still leading the team, and that has affected your work in obvious ways, and especially your approach to it. 

There’s anxiety with every task that Jungkook asks of you, even if they’re things you’ve done so many times in your three years as the VP’s assistant. You find yourself constantly clarifying his instructions, prompting him to question your ability to take them. You feel like he’ll be displeased regardless of what your output is, yet you still end up spending too much time going over files that you forget to eat or clock out too late. You don’t get proper sleep either, nervous about what the next day will bring. You second-guess yourself constantly, and all the confidence you built in all your time here doesn’t seem to have as strong of a foundation as you thought. 

So when you make another mistake the following Tuesday, whatever belief in yourself that you have left dissipates. 

“Ms. Cho, where is the folder?” Jungkook asks, his gaze hardening the longer you look at him without a word. 

You’re currently at a restaurant, given that your boss has a meeting with Mr. Hu, the owner of the company that produces quality materials that Jungkook wants for the Arts Center. This was scheduled just yesterday, which is also when he’d asked you to put together the rough draft plans and design that he worked on last weekend. The project is in its early stages but the plans are clear to Jungkook and he wants to secure this deal early on, especially with Mr. Hu leaving the country for a few weeks. 

You finalized this last night and left it on your desk along with the portfolios that Yoongi and the support team have been taking from your shelf. Given the week you’ve had - lack of sleep and frustration more than anything - you rushed to get ready and mistakenly took a portfolio and not the folder meant for this meeting.

“I… I’m so sorry, sir, but I seem to have taken the wrong files,” you stutter, eyes on the ground as you clutch the portfolio for support. “They… they were on my desk along with others and I left them in the office.”

There’s a long pause before Jungkook speaks, the irritation clear in his voice.

“Do you at least have a soft copy?”

“It’s on a USB, sir,” you reply, nervously raising your head. “I left it as well.”

You try your hardest not to look at him, even if it seems like he wants you to, just so you can see the burning way he does it. Because you feel him huffing, you can see how he’s clenching his fists as he controls what he’s feeling, which is definitely anger towards your stupid mistake. 

Jungkook clears his throat before turning back to the man seated across from him, his voice apologetic as he explains that you weren’t able to bring it. 

“Ah, what a shame,” Mr. Hu says, judgingly glancing at you. “I was really looking forward to seeing your plans, Jungkook. I could’ve advised my people to check on the materials you want this early.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook says. “Perhaps I can email them over to you?”

“Oh don’t bother, I’ll be chasing the Italian sun for the next three weeks,” the older man chuckles. “I’ll see you when I get back. By then, I hope you and your assistant have sorted things out and could give me actual information about what you want.”

“We will, I assure you,” Jungkook says, before saying goodbye to him.

He walks past you and you follow, with no words said as you both wait for the car and enter. 

You can hear him panting, and you know enough that's due to an extreme emotion he can’t express. He won’t look at or say anything to you, and that feels more terrifying. 

His phone rings, and not only does the person on the other line talk about what just happened, you happen to hear it, too.

“Hey, I heard what happened with the big boss,” the man says. “Did you really go to the meeting unprepared?”

“It wasn’t me, but yeah, what a mess,” Jungkook huffs, his head leaning back on the chair, his eyes closed as he calms himself down. “What did he say? Is he angry?”

“Nah. You’re a Jeon; he can’t be. He was just a bit annoyed because he was supposed to have a meeting with another client but he chose to see you.”

“Fuck. What an embarrassment,” Jungkook groans.

“Well, he does have high praises for your father.”

“And this is his first time working with me. My dad’s gonna hear about it and give me shit for it.”

“Just another normal day at the office, right?” The man laughs. “So, was it your assistant that screwed up?”

Jungkook hums his yes, knowing you’re two seats away from him, although he’s unsure if you can hear their conversation. For your sake, he hopes you can’t.

“See? This is why you should’ve taken Lucas! That guy was always two steps ahead of you.”

“That’s what I said, but when are my requests ever granted? Never. Another normal day at the office, huh?”

“If she’s pretty, maybe you can forgive them and just suffer through her incompetence,” the man laughs again. “I mean, she’s got to have some redeeming quality somehow. If she doesn’t, that just sucks for you.”

“You really enjoy making fun of my misfortunes, huh?” Jungkook huffs.

“Just sometimes. Not used to you not having your way, that’s all.”

“Well, nothing is going my way, that's for sure. But whatever, I’ll figure it out. Make sure Mr. Hu holds out for me, okay? I need you to help me this time.”

“Hey, I may laugh at your misfortunes but I always have your back,” the man says. “Good luck, VP. I’ll see you soon.”

Jungkook drops the call and you feel him glance at you but you remain stiff on your seat, unwilling to move nor look anywhere else that isn’t your lap. You’re glad that he decides to close his eyes for the rest of the ride, though, so you take your chance to shift towards the window and watch the buildings fly by, willing your tears not to fall.

You hold out until you arrive at the building. That is, until Jungkook heads straight to his room and asks you to follow. 

“Own up to your mistake and look at me,” he says, his voice seeping with disdain. 

You lift your head and meet his eyes, his gaze piercing right through you and you’re unable to move, to speak. But you try - a futile attempt, really - at appealing to the compassionate side of him, if it even exists. 

“I’m so, so sorry Mr. Jeon,” you plead for forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to forget the folder. It’s been a tough week and—”

“A tough week?” he mocks, his voice getting louder now. “As if you’re the only one who’s had one? I come here and find myself doing your job. I spent the weekend drafting the designs because I need that deal early only for you to screw it up! My father’s been on to me about this project and I need everything done right but I can’t seem to because my assistant, who’s supposed to be assisting me, can’t even get the most basic things done. All you had to do was bring the folder. You didn’t even have a contingency plan of having a soft copy. Were you not trained for this role?” 

You visibly shake but Jungkook doesn’t let up.

“Answer me.”

“I… I was, Mr. Jeon,” you tremble. “I know I’m not the smartest but I work hard and I—”

“You work hard?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In what?”

“In preparing your files and organizing everything for you and…” you try. 

A month ago, you’d be saying these things and more with so much conviction.  But all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to break you down and make you doubt every single skill you’ve developed and been praised for the past few years.

“And I can criticize each of those tasks in just this one week you’ve been my assistant.”

“I… I just needed guidance, sir, because it’s a new—”

“I need guidance. I need assisting,” he sneers. “My father wanted me to keep you because you apparently know how things are supposed to be done but you’re asking for guidance from me?”

There’s silence on your end and you’ve never felt as small as you do right now. The way Mrs. Byun abused her power over you and humiliated you during your first years here continues to be unmatched, but being treated this way by a man whose family you respect somehow hurts you more. 

You want to give up now. You’ll lose everything if you decide to just quit but it’s not like there’s much left of you to go by anyway, given the week that you’ve had. But if there’s anything your mother taught you is that the lowest you can go is when you don’t fight for yourself, so you gather what little dignity you have left and look him in the eyes. 

“You do things very differently from Mr. Jung like you said, and I admire your thoroughness,” you start, trying your hardest to calm the tone of your voice. “You’re adjusting to your new role with a new team and a new assistant that you didn’t choose but somehow you have to trust and that’s unnerving if you’re used to being in control of everything. With all due respect, however, perhaps if you let the people around you adjust as well, we would all find a way to work together effectively and respectfully. A little bit of compassion wouldn’t hurt, and it goes a long way.”

At his silence, you continue, digging your nails deeper into your skin to help you remain stable.

“I apologize for all the mistakes this past week. I know it has been unpleasant for you as well. I’ll do better, that I can promise. But if the way I work is not something that is up to your standard, then there’s only one thing to do. Me quitting would put you in a worse light; you can fire me if you think it is best,” you bravely state. “I can deal with the consequences.”

Jungkook continues to just look at you, unable to say anything this time. Perhaps he isn’t used to someone speaking to him like this. Maybe he’s finding the right words to hit you back and break you even more. The tiniest part of you wants to think you’ve softened him up a bit; hopefully he’ll be less angry at you the next time.

“Is there anything you need me to work on, Mr. Jeon?”

“No,” he answers. “Just hold off all calls for me for the next hour. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Understood, Mr. Jeon.” 

You bow and head out the door. 

Jungkook watches you leave, and the farther you become, the more he wishes you’d stay.

He’s unsure why. Perhaps it’s the way you spoke to him, similar to the way you did the first time you met over a week ago - with conviction and grace despite you putting him in his place. Maybe it’s him, trying to find the words to apologize without seeming weak, or to encourage you without being comfortable. The tiniest part of him just wants you around; he doesn’t know what it is about you but he finds himself feeling intense emotions because of you - frustration, fear, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness and regret. 

He returns to his seat and glances through the window, the angle of his chair allowing him to see you outside, although he’s unsure if you’re able to see him. Either way, it’s not like you’ve ever looked his way anyway, so he feels a little safe doing this now. 

You’re seated and turned away from the desk, with your fingers pressing over both your ears, as if you’re blocking out the sounds of the room; perhaps you’re blocking out his voice that’s probably still echoing in your head. He’d seen you do this last week, too, after you failed to show up at his penthouse in the morning. He thinks it’s your way of dealing with stress, a quiet one, in contrast to boxing like what he prefers to do. It’s the only time he’d ever allow himself to express anything, after all, other than getting mad at you apparently. 

You finally turn around, but it’s not long after when Do-hyun arrives and takes your place, leaving him to wonder where you’re off to. He focuses on his work like he meant to do, opting to read and send emails while he calms himself down. His eyes always turn to your desk, though, and when he sees that he’s halfway done but you’re still not back, he decides to head out.

“Mr. Jeon,” Do-hyun stands up and greets him. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Where’s Ms. Cho?”

“She had to go to the washroom so she asked me to cover for her first,” she responds. “But, uh… She’s been gone for half an hour. I… I’m not sure what she’s up to but I can—.”

It’s at that moment when you return, and the way that both Do-hyun and Jungkook look at you that you know they can tell. You can’t exactly cry for 20 minutes and then expect to ease the swelling of your eyes for the next 10. But you act like nothing’s amiss, so you dismiss the younger woman and turn to Jungkook.

“Was there something that you needed from me, Mr. Jeon?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Just, uh…” he stutters now, taken aback by the casual way you speak to him despite your glassy eyes. “I’m meeting the CEO and President tomorrow to discuss the Arts Center. Put the initial plans in presentation format and send it to me first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, returning to your seat and not sparing him another glance. 

You work on the presentation in between the other things you need to finish. You draft memos and letters for Jungkook’s approval, and it’s half past 4 when you enter his room to have them signed. 

“I’m heading out at 5 for dinner,” he says as he signs the documents. “I’ve added points on the shared file for the presentation. Make sure to include those.”

“I will, sir.”

There’s a brief moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.

You wish he’d offer an apology.

He wishes you’d say that you’re okay.

You want to tell him that the Arts Center already sounds amazing; you hope it turns out the way he imagines.

He wants to tell you that he won’t fire you, that despite how he’s been, he doesn’t want you to go anywhere.

But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and then head out the door. 

He leaves at exactly 5, merely nodding at you as he leaves. 

Jungkook sees you again that evening, four hours later as he drives home after having dinner with Seokjin and Taehyung, the brothers he’d grown up with. The office is on the way, and it’s near the bus stop where he spots you, trying to catch a cab that someone always gets to before you do. 

The rain has started to pour, and his anxiety builds; he was never fond of it, given the memory it holds. But it’s you in your thin coat that suspends that for a while. You’re clearly shivering, unable to get a ride, and getting wet from the downpour. You cross the street, seemingly just submitting to the weather, and you disappear amongst the crowd of people just trying to get home. 

He checks his phone as he gets a message and sees the email you sent 20 minutes ago - the presentation he’d asked you to submit in the morning. This is you, making up for today, he guesses. He’s why you’re braving the rain. If he’s being honest, he’s why you’re suffering at all, and he can’t help the way his heart stings at the thought. 

The convenience store is bright and dry unlike the streets outside, and that’s why there’s a substantial amount of people seeking shelter from the downpour that came out of nowhere. 

You welcome the rain. It served as a distraction when you were growing up and your mother’s ex-partner would yell nonstop. You’d hide in your room and cover your ears like your mother taught you to do. When she was able, she’d stay with you and cover your ears with her own hands and tell you that it’s gonna be okay, that even if you can’t stop the scary sounds, you can drown them out enough that they’ll stop bothering you. 

You didn’t think you’d ever do so again but you’ve done that twice in one week, and all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to lecture you about what your job entails. He didn’t yell, but his voice was still piercing, firm and low as if he reserves that intensity for instances of pure frustration. 

That kind of thing takes a lot out of someone. It’s different when a boss is out to abuse their power and take advantage of you. Mrs. Byun made you do her work so she could spend her lunches out and then take credit for outputs without acknowledging you. She sucked up to the directors to overcompensate for not knowing how to answer their questions. And then she had the guts to embarrass you and call you out in front of the team for not being able to do your primary tasks, which was only because you were doing hers. It took a while but her incompetence caught up to her and her departure felt like freedom. But the experience with her was constricting, suffocating, humiliating. It was dehumanizing, too, as you went home to an empty apartment every night, feeling less and less of yourself.

But the way Jungkook treats you hits differently. You’ve survived the worst and ended up in a good spot under Hoseok’s leadership where you built your confidence. During those years, you felt capable, like you were trusted; you felt that your hard work earned you respect. 

Now, you feel all that crumbling. You feel exposed, bare; as if you’re realizing you’re not that good after all. How you’ve been isn’t like you. You’re meticulous, analytical; you’ve sat in so many meetings as an observer and know how things work, how the directors think, and the kinds of outputs expected from you. But recently, you find yourself just lost, questioning everything all the time, and so incapable.

You let yourself feel the burden weigh you down as you eat a small cup of noodles and call it dinner. You walk down the aisles and pick out your favorite snacks, first eating the roasted almonds as you head out the door. 

The rain has let up, with but a drizzle left this late evening. You catch the bus and munch on pepero and chocopie this time. You’re in your neighborhood by the time you tear open the frosted mini donuts. You’ve been mindlessly eating the whole time, but once you get off your stop, you start walking towards the community center. The public library is closed but something about sitting outside the door gives you comfort, just like it used to when you were growing up.

Your mom couldn’t really afford daycare. She’d spend her lunch break picking you up from school then dropping you off at a library where her friend worked; that nice woman always looked after you until your mom came back to pick you up. Some days when she wanted to take you away from the mess that was her partner, she’d take you there, too. 

You read mostly picture books and colored on your coloring book and played with your paper dolls. Even as you grew up, you didn't really read; you just liked that the library was quiet, comfortable, that it made you feel safe. 

Your phone beeps and you see a photo that your mother has just sent of her dry living room floor. 

[From: Mom] it isn’t leaking anymore! 

You smile, imagining her sigh of relief and the way she’s probably humming about the house. You decide to call her; another bit of comfort would definitely help.

“Hi, darling,” she answers after the first ring. “Min-woo went to the hardware store when he arrived in the afternoon so he could fix the roof. What a relief.”

“That’s great, mom,” you reply, wishing you were back home with her. “You can have a good sleep tonight, then.”

“I will. What about you?”

“I hope so.”

“Have you had dinner?”

“Hmm, yeah,” you hum. 

“And where are you now?”

“Outside the library,” you say. 

There’s silence that comes after, a way in which you both say things without words sometimes. Your mom is good at that, and even if you can’t see her, you know there’s love in her eyes. And even if she can’t see you, she knows there’s sadness in yours. 

“So, work has been tough lately, am I right?”

Even without any confirmation, she already knows. She probably knew when you said that everything was fine after she asked how things were going during your visit over the weekend. She probably picked up the faintness of your smile and the way you fell asleep on her lap while you both watched TV and she combed your hair like she always did. 

“The new boss is quite hard on me,” you admit. “He expects too much, asks me to do too much… I’m trying but I keep making mistakes. I’m missing things I normally don’t. I’m not like this, mom. I… I’m better than this.”

“Oh, darling,” she sighs, wishing she’d hugged you a little tighter before you left. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Maybe you’re still adjusting. That’s valid, you know? It’s only been a week.”

“Yeah, but he acts like he’s the only one who needs to adjust and that I just magically know how to do things his way,” you groan. “It… it just makes me feel like I’m not good enough. That I… that I shouldn’t be here.”

“___, you didn’t suffer through your first few years there just so you would continue to doubt yourself,” she responds. “You deserve your role, regardless of what he thinks. You work hard and that means everything.”

“Not to him apparently. Even if I work hard, if it’s not up to his standards, it doesn’t mean anything. I can’t even do anything about it because he’s the CEO’s son.” 

“You can quit, you know?” She says after a beat of silence. “You don’t have to stay if it’s too much, and especially if it’s unfair. Just because you know you can handle it, doesn’t mean you should.”

The thought settles in your head. You did just tell Jungkook that you’d rather he fire you, which honestly terrifies you because much as he’s insufferable, you do need this job. Helping your mom over the weekend reminded you of that. From the health insurance to the salary, you don’t have to worry too much because you can finally repay her for all her hard work in raising you, in protecting you, in surviving for you. 

“I know,” you sigh. “Maybe I just let the tough first days get to me.”

“Whatever it is, you shouldn’t suffer. And you definitely shouldn’t suffer alone,” she advises. “I’m glad you came over during the weekend even if for unpleasant reasons. I got to hug you even if I didn’t know you needed it.”

“I always need it, mom,” you admit. “I don’t have to say it. It’s the only one I get anyway.”

“Well, it’s because it’s the only one you accept,” she points out. 

“True,” you laugh. “But I… I’ll do better. I’ll get my head straight tonight and treat tomorrow like my first day and you know, show him I’m capable.”

“That’s good. And you can come over again this weekend if you want. The storm should be gone by then. The girls want to go to the park. I know they’d love to hang out with you. If you don’t have plans of course.”

“You know I only ever have actual weekend plans when Jimin and Soomin visit me. But yes, I can take the trip on Saturday. If Jungkook wants me to do any work… screw him.”

Your mother laughs, only because she knows you don’t mean it. You know it, too. Regardless of how you think of your boss or your job, you know the value of your work, and you’re not one to sacrifice it for any reason. 

“Are you feeling better, darling?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “The rain’s stopped somehow. I needed to be here. And I… I needed to hear your voice.”

“Good. You know you can call whenever. I don’t have to summon you with photos of a roof or grilled makchang or something every time.”

“I know. And I will. I’ll see you soon.”

You drop the call and start walking back home. Talking with your mom is the strength you need to get through such a tough day. It doesn’t change your situation; maybe Jungkook will still be upset with you in the morning but you’ll handle it, just like you handled all the difficult times before. 

Your mother taught you something else - it was grace. You’d fight back if you need to, but you can always do it with gentleness; sometimes that works wonders, especially if you can’t afford to respond with rage. 

You’re quite nervous walking to Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning. 

Before he left last night, you were sporting glassy and swollen eyes, after all; it wouldn’t have taken much for him to know what you were up to by being away from your desk for half an hour. But you’d been too upset to think of what he would think about it, so you acted like it was nothing when you returned to your seat, took note of his instructions, and watched him walk out. No other words were spoken and quite frankly, you don’t know what either of you could have said after what transpired. It’s a new day, though, and like you told your mother, you’ll just focus on your work and try to get that old version of yourself back, the one you’d felt slipped away this past week.

You enter the front door - as he’d told you to just go in so you don’t disrupt his workout - and immediately hear the loud sounds of leather hitting leather. He seems to be aggressively punching the sandbag, with more evidence of it coming in the form of his deep and successive breaths that you can hear as you walk towards the kitchen. You stop on your tracks, though, as a pair of red laced underwear lays crumpled on the floor.

That definitely wasn’t there yesterday morning so it must’ve been from last night. You’re not one to judge; he did have a frustrating day that you caused and releasing all that stress in this way is understandable. You just wish he had the courtesy to clean up, knowing that his assistant would be coming but then again, you also don’t know if that’s too much to ask of him.

You don’t realize that you’ve been staring at the underwear until you hear him, his deep breaths in tandem with his steps. You walk towards the counter and set him a glass of water before he notices what’s got your attention, but he still does, as he stops at the spot where you were and lets out a grunt. 

From your periphery, you see him pick up the piece of lingerie then throw it in the trash. You turn to him and bow in greeting, and Jungkook merely nods, the slightest of head tilts to acknowledge your presence, seemingly avoiding your eyes, even as you ask what he prefers to eat this morning. You’d like to think that in the recesses of his bitter heart, there’s remorse over yesterday at least, if not over the past few days. But you’ll take it; his silence is better than anything at this moment. 

You follow him towards his bedroom, stopping briefly as you look around and make sure you’re not intruding. You’re unsure if the woman is still here, but he picks up on that.

“She’s gone,” he says, walking to his bathroom. “I never make them stay.”

It’s a part of his life that you’ve only heard of. The gossip that Do-hyun hears from the washrooms in the office may be true, considering his weeknight bang and the left-behind underwear on the kitchen floor. He still had some energy based on his morning workout though, and you don’t know why the thought of him fucking someone and then boxing in the morning is making you feel hot all over. 

You snap yourself out of it, knowing it’s inappropriate and definitely not what you should be worrying about. He’s a stressed, obviously attractive, and rich bachelor; you’re not surprised he’d have women at his beck-and-call and be nonchalant about it.

You walk inside his closet and choose the shoes and accessories he’ll wear today before heading back to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. He walks in 30 minutes later, and you approach him to fix his collar and his tie like you always do, now getting used to his natural scent with hints of jasmine and bergamot. Your eyes focus on the silk necktie, hoping you’re able to control your nervous breathing being this close to him. 

He may still be annoyed at you and you may be invading his space, and the realization makes you step away quickly, taking his plate from the counter and placing it on the dining table. You open your iPad and go through the presentation he asked you to do, surprised that he’s already added a few things.

“Is the presentation final, Mr. Jeon?” You ask. “I see you’ve already looked through it.”

“Sort of,” he responds. “I woke up at 5 and reviewed it before my workout. Let’s go over them now.”

He looks through his iPad as he eats, going over each slide with you as if he’s practicing. The more he speaks, the more you envision the Arts Center and how he wants it done. The way he puts together the ideas into a coherent design is impressive. You almost see it as he does, and much as you thoroughly dislike him right now, for the sake of all the good things that this center will do for people, you really want him to succeed. 

You remind him of a few more things before he finishes his meal, and it’s not long after when you’re in the car, the silence thickening the tension between the two of you once more. This continues until you reach the office, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the distance between the both of you now. 

While you do feel better, the anxiety remains. You don’t want to mess up. And as you enter his room to give him papers to sign and you see him going through his presentation while the leather notebook he was drawing on earlier lays open on the desk, you find yourself also just not wanting to disappoint him. He clearly works hard and despite his treatment of you, you want things to work out for him. 

It’s an hour later when you’re both walking towards the elevator to head to the conference room on the CEO’s floor. It’s just Jungkook with his father and cousin today where he’ll present the initial plans for their comments and their verbal endorsement of the draft budget. 

It’s a massive project that’s working within strict timelines and Jungkook is adamant on getting this ready by mid-next year. You can tell how much he wants to deliver this well - the board of directors would be his next audience and a boost of confidence would be much needed. 

You make him a cup of coffee the way he likes and sit next to him. The distance allows you to keep your eyes away from him; with the pressure he’s under, you don’t exactly want to be close to where you can easily trigger him. 

CEO Jeon and Hoseok arrive, greeting you with their bright smiles, a reprieve from the stoic looks and tight-lipped and furrowed brows you get from Jungkook everyday.

“Hi, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “A week has passed, huh? How has it been?”

“Challenging,” you say honestly, “but still good. I’m learning new things, Mr. Jeon.”

“That’s good,” he smiles, glancing at his son whose eyes are focused on his laptop. The elder seems unconvinced by your half smile but he nods, turning back to you. “By the way, I heard on the news that the typhoon hit your hometown pretty badly. How’s your mother and her family? Mr. Ri mentioned that there was an incident over the weekend. Is everything okay?”

You’re used to CEO Jeon asking things like this prior to meetings. He believes it’s a way to release certain feelings and not keep them hidden, and while you don’t really want to talk about it right now, you appreciate the concern. 

“She, uh. A large tree fell over our house last Saturday,” you say, to the surprise of both CEO and President. “I had to travel in the morning to help my mom. A portion of the roof was damaged and she had to call a company to fix it. Min-woo and the girls were away and mom didn’t want to deal with the workers since she was alone so I had to stay over the weekend.”

“That’s unfortunate,” the elder Jeon laments. “How is your house now? And your mom?”

“The roof is sealed. But she slipped on some debris and had to be assisted; she was being stubborn about it. She’s okay, though.”

“Ah, it must’ve been a tough few days. And for you, too,” Hoseok says. “I mean, given all the work and then having to be there for her. I’m sorry, ___.  But I’m glad she’s doing better. Tell her I send my regards, okay?”

“I will, thank you.”

Jungkook tries not to look affected as the older men ask you more details about what happened that he, of course, didn’t know about. There’s that guilt over how he treated you yesterday, learning now what you had to do over the weekend. You don’t seem the type to blame any oversight or mistake on something like that, but he would know that the tiredness and preoccupation could definitely affect things. Even more, he’d implied that you don’t work hard and that you’re being a burden to him, which is far from the truth. 

The conversation ends and he’s unable to look at you, as he stands from his seat to begin his presentation. Everything is set up, including a pointer and a marker and a glass of warm water on his side. He proceeds, presenting his design, the materials, the budget, and the timeline. 

You take note of all his answers to the questions and the ideas he comes up with on the spot, with him repeating things and stating how he wants certain points written down. You’re immersed in your own task, feeling like you’ve found your rhythm because you’ve done this so many times but the fear got ahead of you. This morning, it’s as if you’re in your element again, and there’s relief that fills you this time.  

The meeting is moved to a restaurant after the third hour. There’s an event that the CEO suggests that Jungkook’s team organize as a way to build linkages with the arts and culture networks, making sure that the younger Jeon becomes known in those fields as well. 

You have to go by memory as you listen and eat your meal, but the distance from Jungkook remains. You merely nod at his words and avoid looking at him unless you need to. It’s your way of getting over last night, you think. You still have his look of frustration etched in your mind and it’s still a bit fresh; you’d need at least another day before you can look at him normally again. You hope that other than Jungkook himself, no one notices. 

But you suppose you’ve underestimated Hoseok’s ability to pick up on your behavior; it’s one of his strengths as a leader, after all. He’s always been good at reading people, a skill that Jungkook clearly didn’t develop. 

“Hey.”

“Mr. Jung,” you greet, a wave of nostalgia hitting you because his smile is one you used to see everyday, regardless of how stressed he was. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, not really. It’s just been over a week but I’m still getting used to the bigger office and the new secretary but I just wanted to check in,” Hoseok says. “You and Jungkook have been very busy, I rarely catch either of you.”

“Well, he wanted to get all the introductions out of the way so he can focus on the Arts Center,” you reply. “There’s a lot happening with that one so he’s in meetings and calls all the time.”

“Ah, of course. It’s a good design and I’m sure it’ll boost the local arts scene. He got inspired during his travels in the Southeast Asia sites and has been talking about it for years. It’s good he has the freedom to work on this now.”

You merely nod, not having much to say about your boss’ passion project that’s just made him angry and frustrated. Quite frankly, you don’t know how he is when he isn’t working on such high-pressure matters, but you can already tell he isn’t someone you’d want to be around in any other context. 

“But how about you? Are you getting enough rest? All these meetings and then traveling home on the weekend is tiring, ___. I hope you’re looking out for your health.”

“I am,” you try to assure him. “I can handle it.”

You smile before shifting your eyes to your desktop screen, not wanting to look at him any longer because a second more and you’d probably burst into tears. Experiencing Hoseok’s kindness for these few minutes has just reminded you of what you constantly miss - that feeling of safety and care, of someone looking out for you and not holding you back. 

“I’m glad you are,” he smiles again, holding your gaze when you glance at him, and Hoseok hopes that in this short moment of calm, he’s able to give comfort that he just knows you need. “Anyway, I just wanted to drop by. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“I’ll see you, Hoseok.” And as if you knew why he came over in the first place, you add, “and thank you.”

Jungkook sighs in frustration as he watches your fading smile before returning to type away on your desktop. He was about to call you to ask for a project portfolio on the shelf but stopped once he saw you talking to his cousin. You seemed a tad bit lighter than usual; Jungkook could only assume it’s your natural state, even if all he’s seen of you is that of perpetual worry and stress. 

He thinks to himself that a part of that is because of him. Maybe a big part, he admits. He wouldn’t have known about your town in Daegu or that your mother resides there and that you had to go home over the weekend, hence, your oversight yesterday. He’s at least decent enough to acknowledge that he shouldn’t have been so harsh on you in the first place. He’s just not used to things not going his way; he wonders now what the people under him suffered through to make sure of that.

Not wanting to disturb you, he decides to get the portfolio himself, so he exits his room and leans on your desk, his eyebrows scrunched as he reads through the spine labels of the folders. He doesn’t notice you stand up and attempt to ask what he needs but he does find it, reaching over on the third shelf for it. 

“I could’ve gotten that for you,” you huff.

Jungkook spots a small pout as you utter the words, disarming him a little.

“It’s… it’s fine,” he mumbles, willing his mind to go back to what he was thinking about before you said something, which is the other project he wants to look at. 

But you pick up on his words. “Seongbuk, 2021,” you repeat. 

You look up and know exactly where the portfolio for that project is. You drag your stool with your foot and walk up the steps, carefully pulling out the folder and underestimating just how heavy it is. But before it can slip out of your fingers, Jungkook gets a hold of it, his right hand gripping the spine while his left palm supports your back. 

You stiffen when you realize just how close he is to you then step down the stool, somehow nervous to look at him.

“I, uh, sorry. You were about to fall.”

You stiffen again because he didn’t just apologize, did he? Your eyes are glued to the ground and you don’t see Jungkook’s surprised look.

Because he did just that. What felt more alarming than his apology was that it had been a reflex for him to have his hand behind you, his heart leaping a bit because you really were close to falling. An injured version of you isn’t something he wants to deal with, and he convinces himself that it’s because it would look absolutely terrible for his assistant to get hurt on the job, and especially in his presence. 

“Is that all you need, Mr. Jeon?”

“Uh, yes,” he responds. “Be, uh, be careful.”

He takes both folders and heads back to his room, his face buried in the pages as you sneak a glance at him from the window.

“So, how’s the second week as VP going?” Hoseok asks his cousin from across the table of their favorite Japanese restaurant during their Friday lunch. “Worse than the first?”

Jungkook, not keen on answering truthfully, merely shrugs. 

“Well, I can bet you though that ___ is definitely having it worse than last week.”

“Did she say anything? About me specifically?” Jungkook asks, his curious eyes telling Hoseok that it’s more of concern than anger. 

“Of course not. She’s there to protect you, Kook, not tell on you. Is there something to say? About you specifically?”

Jungkook knows how well his cousin can read people, especially him. They’d grown up together after all, and had gotten close because the older man always stayed next to him, knowing how shy little Jungkook used to be. So he narrates what happened - that he’d gotten angry, that he was being too strict, that he wasn’t leaving you room for adjustment. He’d of course excluded his own oversight and need to establish distance and authority, chalking it up to not having the familiarity and conveniences he’d been used to back in Singapore. 

“I feel like working with father even closer now, it’s like I’m under a microscope,” Jungkook continues. “I don’t wanna mess up. I just don’t wanna give him a reason to criticize or question me.”

“Well, if he learns about how it’s been with ___, he’ll do exactly those things,” Hoseok responds. “He cares about his people, you know? I’m sure that’s the one thing he wants you to do right.”

“Can’t say I’d know. It’s not like he’s any more compassionate than I am. We’re talking about a man who yells at the managers who can’t get things done right.”

“They were abusing their power, that’s why,” Hoseok explains. “And I’m not here to defend the man - I’ve been on the receiving end of his anger twice and saw how he’d push people to their near breaking point a few times but he’s not a terrible person. I’ve seen him be understanding and caring to his staff way more; you just haven’t been around that much.”

“It’s not what I saw growing up.”

“Well, we remember what we want, and forget the parts that don’t make sense to us.”

Jungkook stays silent as he munches on his steak.

“He wants to get closer to you, you know?” Hoseok continues. “He hopes that with you being around, he can mentor you, learn from you. All those years that you were home, you felt so far away from him, farther away than Jeong-sik who wasn’t even here, and he doesn’t know why.”

“He can’t expect to be a rich, ambitious businessman and be close to his son,” Jungkook huffs. “All he ever cared about when I was growing up was work. Sure, he had rare good moments, but we all know it was to compensate for always being too busy. He pressured me to do well at school then missed awarding ceremonies. He scheduled some family time then left me and my brother in some cabin in the woods by ourselves. He wants to work with me here then disallows my requests. What does he want from me?”

“Your time, I suppose. Maybe your understanding, too.”

“Did he give those to me when I was younger? He had so many chances these past 30 years and he wants those now?”

“People are complicated, Kook. Sometimes they lose sight of what’s important, of what’s in front of them… doesn’t mean they’re bad people,” Hoseok says. “And it doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a second chance. I mean, don’t we all want that? Don’t we all grow out of our bad habits and just yearn for something good?”

“Not everyone does that.”

“Maybe not, but your father has. And he just wants another chance. And whether or not it was her fault, I’m sure ___ wants that, too.”

“Did you really ask me to treat you to lunch only to advocate for the people I don’t really care much about?” Jungkook laughs bitterly. 

“No,” Hoseok chuckles. “I really wanted to try it here. But also, uncle took me out to drinks before you arrived and was all honest with me, which was a little weird but I guess he thought he could get some perspective from you through me. And ___ was my assistant and I think highly of her. It’s upsetting how things started for you both. I guess I just feel kind of caught in the middle between you and the people you actually care about. So yes, I deserve this free lunch.”

Jungkook doesn’t correct his cousin, more for the fact that Hoseok really does get caught in the middle - always has, even between him and his older brother whom Jungkook never really got along with; it definitely isn’t because he acknowledges that he cares about you. There’s no reason for him to feel that; you’re just his assistant, after all. 

Being beautiful and capable and hardworking doesn’t have anything to do with being cared about. 

“I… I admit being too hard on ___. I get that she’s good and stuff but maybe that fits with your leadership style more,” Jungkook tries to reason. “Maybe she just thrives in a team where she’s led by someone like you, someone who’s good with people and who’s process-oriented and I don’t know, someone who isn’t as tough or meticulous like me.”

“I’m sorry, Kook, but you sound stupid. You clearly don’t know anything about her. She’s experienced all the lows - the disrespect from the men, the abuse of power from the women, all the long hours and ridiculous deadlines, the loudest of yells and the craziest demands,” Hoseok exclaims. “She’s been here for just eight years but it feels more. Sometimes I don’t know why she stayed but I’m glad she did, selfishly, and that’s because she helped me so much. Are you… are you giving her reasons to leave so you can have Lucas with you?”

“No,” Jungkook dismisses the thought, although he does admit it entered his mind before he even started. “I’m just… not used to her. And the mishaps didn’t help. I just wanna be able to do my job and do it right.”

“And you will, if you just loosen up a bit and give her a chance to show you that she can help you. It’s just that I’m not seeing that same joy and energy in her eyes and her smile,” Hoseok explains. “I was thinking last Wednesday that maybe it was because of her mom but during the meeting this morning, it was the same. I’d hate to think that’s because of you. Because if it is and she’s thinking of resigning, I won’t stop her. I might even suggest it to her. “

The thought of you being gone causes a lump in Jungkook’s throat. It’s selfish, really, because despite how he treats you, he still wants you here. It’s just as silly, and stupid, and something he doesn’t have a clear reason for. But other than his cousin not trusting that he could treat you fairly, it’s the possibility that you might just quit yourself, something you seem to be capable and willing to do. And that voluntary departure is something he doesn’t want to deal with. Once you leave, you’ll just be gone; he won’t have a reason to seek you. 

“I’ll do better,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll stop being such a pain in the ass and be… kinder, I guess.”

“She’ll probably see right through you if you fake it,” Hoseok laughs. “Just be fair. Trust me, that’s what she’d want, too. Correct her if you need to, but do it constructively. And please, try to smile every once in a while. It won’t hurt you. Nor would it ruin whatever tough guy image you have.”

Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes but he lets out a chuckle. His cousin won’t ever let go of the fact that 18-year old Jungkook had his first tattoo because he wanted to look tough. 

“I still have to establish authority, Hoseok. I can’t do it like you do.”

“Well, you’re missing out. Smiling always makes you feel a hundred times better.”

“She’ll probably see right through me if I fake it,” Jungkook repeats his cousin’s words almost mockingly. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows I’m not… cheerful. It’s like, how I’m compared to you.”

The two start walking back and Hoseok takes a jab at the younger man. “Actually, I heard that I’m the handsome one, too, and the stable guy, the family man, the man you’d take home to meet your parents…”

Jungkook laughs along. He agrees, and while it was not Hoseok’s intention at all, it does make Jungkook wonder even hours later - given all the things that characterize him, which are nothing like the older man’s - who would want him? Who would even take a chance on him? Who would even think it’s worth it to be with him?

Chaerin did, and then he self-sabotaged and lost her. Maybe the women he meets at clubs and takes home, but then all they want is a good time anyway, just like him. Maybe it’s someone he’s never met, but he also doesn't know how to be someone that someone else would love. 

Maybe there isn’t any. And maybe that isn’t so bad. Perhaps he’d have to start getting used to that fact; it’s easier than realizing he’s not meant to be with someone after all. 

He pauses the thought and decides that’s for the weekend version of him to lament over. This Friday afternoon, he’s focused on firming up the project details with the design and logistics teams. He’d just finished his meeting with them, with you barely looking his way just like you’ve done throughout the week - which he can’t fault you for because he was doing the same - and he’s back in his room to coordinate with other units. 

You, on the other hand, seem to be fixated on the quarterly reports that you’ll be handing over to him. It’s past 5 and he knows you’ll be staying up late again, given that he’d ordered you at the start of the week to finish the reviews by Friday. He’s given you too much to do, and after everything he’s done, letting you off early is a way for him to apologize without actually apologizing. 

He picks up the phone and calls you.

“How many reports do you have left to review?” He asks.

“Three more, Mr. Jeon,” you answer. “I’ll finish them tonight, please just give me another hour and a half.”

“Are you going home to see your mother tomorrow?” 

“Uh, yes, sir. I leave in the morning,” you say, curious at the question that you never thought he’d ask.

“You should clock out now, then.”

“Oh, but the reports, sir. I—”

“It’s okay,” he says, surprising you. “I’ll be busy with Arts Center details this weekend so I won’t have time to sign off on the reports anyway so you can continue them on Monday.”

You’re too shocked to speak that it doesn’t register that you’re indeed not saying anything.

“Ms. Cho?” Jungkook repeats your name.

“Oh, uh, yes, as long as it’s okay, Mr. Jeon.”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

“That’s, uh, thank you,” you mumble, turning on your roller chair to retrieve your bag and start packing, only to look up and see through the window that Jungkook can see you right now, smiling like a giddy child. There’s this movie that’ll show on your favorite local channel and you’re glad that you’ll be able to catch it tonight. 

You’re unsure what Jungkook’s eaten to be dismissing you this early. Maybe it was the lunch he had with Hoseok earlier; maybe it was the older man knocking some sense into him. You don’t have the energy to think about it, given that you now also have time to cook yourself proper dinner and enjoy eating it while watching and curling under your comfy blanket on your tiny couch, just like how you used to enjoy your Fridays. 

You’ll deal with the unreviewed reports and Jungkook returning to his normal, grumpy self on Monday. Tonight is all about you, and the weekend version of you is about being with your mother, her partner, and your stepsisters. There’s nothing like being with the people who make you feel safe; you’ll deal with the stress when a new week rolls by.

Jungkook watches you excitedly leave your desk. He can’t imagine the relief you’re feeling of being relieved this early and then spending your Friday evening the way you want, however that is. He lets himself wonder for a bit how you would spend time by yourself. Yoongi did say your friends aren’t in Seoul and your family obviously isn’t.

But then again, maybe you do have a partner, and maybe that’s why you looked as happy as you did. He’s not quite sure what to do with the slight distress at the thought, but with the absurdity of the amount of times he thinks about you, he decides it shouldn’t matter anyway. 

He has his own plans, too, like watching sports over bottles of beer that night, and then playing video games the next day before going to a bar with Seokjin and Taehyung. 

That Sunday, he works all morning then works out in the afternoon. In the evening, he decides to meet his friends again. 

Entering the club, he spots the table where they are - Seokjin has his arm around a woman and his lips glued to her ear; he pulls her closer as she laughs at his words. Taehyung has one next to him, too; they’re engaged in some serious conversation, it seems, given how passionately they’re talking to each other. That is, until his hand slides inside her dress; maybe it wasn’t that deep. 

Jungkook doesn’t know how his friends can converse with the women they find in these places. Given, Seokjin tends to stick to the same one for months and Taehyung is just naturally flirty and friendly so maybe it’s not that hard. 

For Jungkook, it’s just not something he’s able to fully or even properly do. What does he say? He’d brag about his work and his lifestyle if he was the type, but he isn’t, and there’s nothing else about him that he’d like to share. He’s always straightforward when it comes to these things. He’s picky; he does have a type, after all, but he always knows what they want and so do they. 

So when he spots a woman by the bar - the one who’d bought him a drink last night - he just smirks as she takes her shot and bites her lips when she catches him looking. 

“Hey, I finally caught you sober,” she giggles in his ears after she meets him halfway. 

“And I finally caught you without a man next to you,” he whispers. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah, he was just my plaything last night,” she responds. “I could be yours.”

Jungkook chuckles, enjoying her bluntness. He takes her hand and waves at his friends; they already know he’s taking off and they won’t hear from him for the rest of the night. 

It’s the way most of his evenings go anyway, whether he’s here or in Singapore or elsewhere, really. 

Jungkook likes the thrill, he likes the shallow intimacy he gets from the feelings of ecstasy and carnal desire. He likes that he doesn’t have to share anything about himself apart from his name so they could scream it, likes that there’s nothing about the other person to uncover, and that there’s nothing about himself he has to be honest about. He likes that he’ll remember the pleasure until the next day but nothing else - not her breathing, not her gentle touches on his chest, not her soft whispers of his name. 

There’s nothing much about her he’ll care for other than that she had a good time. And there’s nothing about tonight he’ll regret, except not making sure that she left his apartment like he always asks them to do.

Because it’s Monday morning, and there’s that woman wearing his coat and nothing else. 

And then there’s you, dressed in your skirt and blouse in his living room, with a look of shock on your pretty face. 

Series Masterlist

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#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook series #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #boss jungkook

[dr3c0mix]

hi hii❕️❕️just recebtly started reading your work and I am OBSESSED with Dorik (yknow the demon that reader's friends and them summoned and basically caused their immediate death)

Would you please do a part 2❔️

maybe one where Dorik and the reader settle down in the reader's home❔️ (what if they sleep in the same bed and Dorik curls onto them like a cat❔️Or would he hug the reader close to him❔️、waah❕️so many options❕️)

thank you and have a good day❕️❕️💘

Demon x GN Reader pt. 2

CW: smut, somnophilia, stalker/creep behaviour, dub-con

🔥 Dorik's been with you for about a month since your little meeting. You tried your hardest to get him to leave, rituals you looked up online, holy water, rosaries, salt, everything! He finds a way to worm back into your life.

🔥 Any attempts at kicking him out of your house was met with him waiting outside your windows or doors banging and scratching to be let back inside. "What a funny prank master! You really fooled me! I won't be so gullible next time!" He'd say with a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

🔥 You gave up on trying to get rid of him and accepted that you're stuck with this clingy mess of a demon.

🔥 He calls himself your loyal servant so you supposed it wouldn't hurt to have a little help around the house, considering how busy you've been, you don't have much time to clean up your house.

🔥 He was more than happy to help out! Doing the laundry, cleaning, cooking. "Anything to make my master happy!"

🔥 In return however, he's wants nothing more than your unwavering attention. Even just a light pat on the head or a fleeting compliment sent him over the moon. His tail swishing around frantically as he giggled to himself how good he's been for his master. "Master is pleased with my work! I did good today!"

🔥 Dorik doesn't need to sleep, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to! He'd ask time and time again if he'd be allowed to sleep with you in your bed, maybe even watch you? It's for protection! What if someone tries to hurt you when you're at your most vulnerable! He will not have it!

🔥 Eventually you relented, patting the side of your bed for him to lie down in, he wasted no time to make a mess of your bed, rolling around in your soft sheets and making somewhat of a nest for the two of you. It's fine though, you could ask him to fix it in the morning.

🔥 He'd pull you into a warm cuddle, wrapping his arms around you as if you were a soft teddy bear. "Master feels so soft, soft and cuddly!"

🔥 No matter how much you try to wriggle out of his grasp, he was too strong. He'd only giggle and bury his face in your hair as you squirmed under him.

🔥 If you'd wake up in the middle of the night, you'd be met with either soft purring from Dorik or his black eyes staring at you without blinking.

🔥 Surprisingly, he's a great cook. It took a while for you to trust his cooking as you wouldn't know if he poisoned it or not, but after you started to trust him, you never had to worry about buying food for yourself.

🔥 The weather grew a bit cold, and you started worrying about Dorik only having pants and nothing else, so you offered him one of your sweaters to keep him warm. He dropped the broom he was holding and took the soft clothing from your hands and stared at it.

🔥 Suddenly his eyes started watering. You placed a hand on his shoulder and asked if he was ok. He nodded and pulled you into a tight hug. He sobbed tears of joy onto your shirt, it was unusually warm.

🔥 "Master has never given me a gift before! I shall cherish it forever!"

🔥 He wears it all the time now, bringing the soft fabric to his face once in a while happily.

🔥 Dorik is a bit clueless when it comes to modern culture, he was so surprised when you opened your tv for the first time. "How is this painting moving? You must be a powerful witch if you can make such wonderful magic!"

🔥 You'd bring him to certain places if it had a large number of cosplayers, then he wouldn't be in any danger of getting caught.

nsfw under the cut !!

🔥 He's a bit of a creep too, whenever you're out and he can't follow because you're at college or work, he'd be busy sniffing and drooling over your clothes. He'd take in your sweet scent like a drug, his eyes half-lidded as he grips onto your underwear. he can feel his cock twitch with every intake of your musk.

🔥 The more time he spent with you, the more his admiration and loyalty morphed into something more than that of a servant.

🔥 He started daydreaming about you when you weren't there, fantasizing of him kissing you, burying his cock in you, making you his, covering you with his marks to show how much he loves you.

🔥 He can't help himself! You were just so nice to him, even when he's supposed to serve you, you'd offer him food you'd bring home, you let him sleep with you, you gave him one of your clothes! That must mean you love him back!

🔥 You had a very long shift that day and you came back a little later than expected. You unlocked the door and saw Dorik already smiling widely at you, pulling you into a hug. "Master! You're finally home! I've already run you a bath!"

🔥 You thank him and put down your bags, taking off your coat and shows as you headed to the bathroom.

🔥 Dorik waited from behind the door and could only imagine what you'd look like bare, nothing on but perhaps your undergarments, the ones he's smelled time and time again.

🔥 He scrambled to get out of the way of the door as he heard it unlock and you came out with a towel on. He blushed at your bare shoulders as you disappeared again into the bedroom. He could feel his pants getting tighter as he thought of the two of you in your little nest, fucking and loving on eachother.

🔥 The lock clicked open again and you opened the door to let him in. His eyes widened as he saw what you were wearing, a loose, baggy shirt which revealed one of your shoulders and tight shorts that left little to the imagination. He happily rushes to your side as you sleepily lie down in the mess of blankets and pillows.

🔥 "No reading this time Master?"

🔥 "Yeah...I'm a bit tired, we can read more Dante's Inferno tomorrow..." You yawn as you nuzzle into your blankets.

🔥 The room was dim, and the air was filled with your scent. He couldn't help but feel a romantic atmosphere as you drifted off the sleep.

🔥 His eyes wandered all over your body then suddenly stopped at your ass, he moved a bit closer, rubbing your side, then travelling a bit lower until you started stirring, now lying on your back, your legs now opened. Dorik felt like his head was spinning as he carefully pulled your shorts and underwear down, revealing your sex.

🔥 He licked his lips as he lowered himself to your crotch, his long tongue beginning to lick a stripe up your genatalia.

🔥 You moaned in you sleep as he went deeper, his mouth and tongue how engulfing your sex, exploring every part of your privates with his wet organ.

🔥 Before you could cum, he pulled himself off of you and positioned his hard cock to your entrance.

🔥 He placed his forehead to yours as his dick slowly and carefully slid inside of you, your walls hugging his prick so nicely, he had to stop himself from crying out in pleasure.

🔥 His hips thrust slowly into you before getting faster and more desperate. He held you head next to his chest as he took in the scent of your aroused state.

🔥 Suddenly you wake up to the sensation of Dorik's cock ramming into you as he held you close, you thought it was just a wet dream you were having but the pleasure you were feeling felt very much like reality.

🔥 "D-Dorik!" You moaned, he pulls back a bit to look at you with hearts as his pupils and slurs lovingly; "I'm so sorry master! But you were so cute in bed! So soft, so warm, so good!" he groans as his thrusts get faster.

🔥 You cling onto him, moaning into his ear to go faster, how good it felt, how good he was, all the praise brought him over the edge and he released his load into you, kissing you passionately with his long tongue.

🔥 He pulls away, a trail of saliva connecting the two of you and he smiles, falling onto your chest.

🔥 He rolls onto his side and pulls you with him, now cuddling you in bed and massaging your thighs and back.

🔥 "You were amazing master!...So good..." He mutters, clearly drunk from the sex you two shared.

🔥 You giggled and nuzzle into his embrace.

🔥 You suddenly felt the cock in your hole harden once again.

🔥 "Are you ready for round two master?" he looks at you with a smile.

yes i forgot his tattoos shush i was tired

#yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x reader #male yandere #oc yandere #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere x male reader #tw yandere #clown oc #yandere monster #soft yandere #yandere smut #yandere demon x reader #demon x reader #demon x human #yandere demon #x reader #fem reader #gender neutral reader #female reader #x female reader #male reader #monster smut #monster #demon #monster x human #monster lover #monster boyfriend #monster x you

[jobean12-blog]

His to Keep

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Mob!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 3,626

Summary: You've been working for Bucky for almost a year and although you know there's so much more to him than just owning the club, you can't help but be drawn to him as he's drawn to you.

Author's Note: Just more mob!Bucky because I love him so! Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: light mentions of v-i-olen-c-e and angst, but mostly sweetness and softness, tension and flirting, and d-o-m and obse-ssi-ve Bucky.

The piercing shot rings out, and before the echoing sound even dies, Bucky’s running. Your high-pitched scream pierces the air and he silently prays for your safety, his long legs moving so fast time seems suspended.

When he reaches the hallway, there’s a small group of employees gathered by the doorway, their expression filled with shock and horror.

They part without question as he approaches, rushing into the room and ignoring the violence that so blatantly fills it. His blue eyes search for you and finally his heart starts beating again when he sees you unharmed.

You’re crouched in the corner, eyes wide with terror as you take in the slumped over man in the chair, his tailored and expensive suit now stained red.  

Bucky’s men immediately follow his orders to handle the situation but his attention never leaves you.

With slow steps he approaches you, holding his hands out and speaking your name softly. When your eyes lock with his the first tear slides down your cheek and he nearly crumbles to his knees, his heart shattering.

He gathers you into his arms with such a gentle grace, as if you’ll break and ushers you toward his office. With a nudge of his toe he opens the door and sets you down in his large leather chair. Carefully he takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over you, tucking it above your shoulders.

His eyes are laser focused on you as he fills a crystal glass with whiskey and forces it into your shaky hand.

“Drink this.”

You glance at it unseeingly, lost in your head, replaying what you just witnessed over and over.

He lifts the glass with a gentle touch and when it reaches your lips you drink reflexively. He waits until you finish all of it.

Taking a silk handkerchief out of his breast pocket, he kneels down in front of you, his hands moving with slow trepidation, but still you try to intercept it.

“Let me,” he orders. “Please doll.”

The second set of words come out softer and your hands fall to your lap.

He cleans your face of tears, his touch delicate and reverent and you can feel his warm breath fan your cheek as his thumb chases a stray tear that slips toward your mouth.

“Doll,” he whispers roughly, emotion clogging his voice.

Your wet lashes lift and you meet his eyes, your breath catching at what you see. You’ve never seen him look so vulnerable. His usual façade of unrivaled power and unrelenting dominance gone, replaced by a haunting look of dread.

“James?”

At the sound of his name on your lips his jaw clenches, his controlled restraint slowly slipping away with his mask and every moment he spends so close to you. He needs you to feel you. Your warm and soft skin, your pulsing heartbeat, your lips, every curve…

But he would never take advantage of you, especially after what just happened.

“Let me take you home.”

You nod and easily fall into his embrace, resting your head against his chest as he escorts you toward the exit.

When your soft sheet hits your shoulder you sigh, snuggling closer to your pillow as Bucky tucks you in. You had argued lightly when he told you to shower but now that you’re warm and clean you feel marginally better.

He pauses at the door as you fall asleep, knowing he can’t leave you here alone, instead sinking into your make up chair in the corner of the room, watching vigilantly as you succumb to slumber.

A week later you’re determined to leave your house, wanting to get back to work, even if it means facing the demons of that night. And you want to see him again. You’ve missed him, even though you know he’s never very far away.

He watches from his hidden vantage point as you close your car door and start the engine. He doesn’t need the GPS tracker he had installed on your car to tell him where you’re headed, but he turns it on anyway.

His own car starts, black and sleek in a nondescript way. He easily catches up to you, maintaining a safe distance behind you so you don’t notice him.

He phones Steve who’s working the back door of the club. “She’ll be arriving soon. Escort her in.”

Steve makes a small sound of acknowledgement and hangs up, promptly moving outside to wait for you.

Once Bucky is satisfied Steve has you covered he makes a sharp turn off the main road and takes the back streets toward his club. He needs to be there before you. Ready and waiting.

Before you even turn your car off, Steve is at the door, opening it and guarding you with his body.

In his office, Bucky waits, checking the crowd through the one-way glass that overlooks the floor. Security has been upgraded, covering every inch of his club to ensure nothing like what happened last week ever happens again.

Everything in the club looks to be running smoothly…not that he would have it any other way. All his endeavors are done with the utmost care and cunning precision. He wouldn’t be able to run this club any other way let alone the whole damn city.

He scans the floor until his eyes land on you and as if you can feel his gaze, your eyes glance up to the window where you know he’s standing.

The connection that’s been growing between you two for the past year has only been solidified since the unfortunate event that took place last week. He knew in that moment that he would do anything for you. Die to protect you.

Since the instant you walked into his club to apply for the job as manager he knew you were special. And having you work for him has been the sweetest torture. Day after day he watches you excel at your job, handle everything thrown your way with ease and professionalism, even the scummy clientele that try to lay hands on you.

No one touches what belongs to him and only the ones that don’t know who he is try. But they soon find out how big of a mistake they’ve made.

Steve alerts Bucky that you’re on your way up to his office.

The knock on his office door makes his heart skip a beat and even though he’s dressed impeccably he smooths his hand down his chest, adjusting his tie in the process.

“Come in.”

You crack the door open and peek in.

“Hi James. Steve said I could come up?”

At your questioning tone, Bucky smiles.

“You never have to ask to see me doll. You’re welcome to anytime.”

You smile softly and walk in, shutting the door behind you. With a slow saunter you move toward his desk and perch yourself on the edge near his chair.

He finds it hard to concentrate the moment you’re close. Even though you try to keep a cool demeanor, your body is inviting in its posture and your eyes devour every inch of him.

“Thank you for seeing me James,” you start. “I wanted to…”

Before you can finish he leans closer, a gentle interruption with his consuming presence.  “First of all, call me Bucky. I’m only James to everyone else. And as I said before, I would love to see you anytime you want doll.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning toward him as if you’re pulled by some invisible string. “That’s actually why I’m here. I wanted to thank you.”

“For?” he asks, his eyebrows raised as a small smile pulls at his lips.

Your eyes drop to his mouth before your lips part to speak again.

“Taking such good care of me last week and rescuing me.”

“I hardly rescued you doll. I’ll never forgive myself for putting you in that situation and the fact that I wasn’t there to protect you will haunt me forever. I never wanted you to see this side of my…business.”

You pull your gaze away from his mouth and study his face. He’s beautiful. His large blue eyes framed by dark and long lashes and his perfectly shaped jaw surrounding a mouth with lips you dream about tasting.

“It’s ok…”

“No.” he says, his tone harsh.

His face crumples when he sees your eyes widen at his gruffness.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly recovers. “That’s not meant to be toward you…if anything had happened to you…”

You tentatively reach up to cup his cheek, your thumb softly brushing over the dark stubble that lines it.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I know you would never hurt me.”

His eyes are locked on yours, the tension between you palpable. You unconsciously trace your lips with your tongue, drawing his attention. He moves closer, closing the distance and resting his elbows on his spread thighs.

“Anything you want from me. Anything at all. You need but to ask and it’s yours.”

“Jame…Bucky, thank you.”

He visibly preens when you say ‘Bucky,’ and it makes you smile, triumph alight in your eyes.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do…?” you ask, looking at him from under your lashes.

“Nothing. You’re perfect. However, I’d like to ask you something.”

His words peek your interest and you inch closer, knowing after today there’s no turning back from this. From him.

“Dinner. I want you to have dinner with me doll.”

“That wasn’t a question,” you say teasingly, even as you drag your teeth over your bottom lip. “More of an order.”

“Mm, you’re right,” he winks. “Either way, I think your answer is going to be yes.”

“Like a date?” you question, your grin widening.

“Yes. A date.”

“What will everyone else say when they find out you’re dating your employee?”

Your question has his features hardening ever so slightly, but not at you.

“No one will say a word about it. I can assure you of that.”

You audibly swallow as you take him in, focusing on the way you feel about him, not what he’s capable of.

“I’d love to have dinner with you Bucky.”

He visibly relaxes and a genuine smile graces his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes in such an endearing way you nearly swoon off the desk.

“Good. Then let’s eat.”

You giggle. “Now? I thought you meant you were going to pick me up, you know, I’d get all dressed and then you take me out.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to give you time to reconsider.”

Reluctantly, but with a smirk, he pushes on his heels and rolls his chair away from you, grabbing his cell. He orders a spread of food from one of his restaurants, then sits back down.

“Sit,” he says, motioning to the chair across from him.

When you do he slides closer, framing you with his spread legs and caging you in with his thighs.

“So now that this is dinner, tell me something about yourself that I don’t already know.”

“Hmm,” you muse, tapping your chin.

You fall into easy and comfortable conversation, sharing more about your past. Bucky listens intently, hanging on to every word and prodding gently with well thought out questions.

A knock at the door surprises you both and you can see Bucky’s body tense. He was so immersed in you he lost sight of any possible dangers, forgetting his surroundings. He mentally berates himself, tucking that away and vowing to be more mindful, if only to keep you safe.

Thankfully, it’s only the dinner delivery.

He takes the food and moves to the casual seating area of his office, placing the food down on the coffee table. You follow him and sit on the floor.

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes wandering over your form before he follows suit with a light shrug.

“Have you ever sat on the floor to eat dinner?” you ask playfully.

“Not that I recall,” he answers, serving you food.

You both laugh and dig into the delicious dinner.

After your impromptu dinner date you and Bucky continue to dance around each other at work.  The connection is strong, the pull between you taut with intense heat and longing. You can always feel his presence, his eyes on you, but it’s not uncomfortable at all, in fact, it makes you feel safe.

Later that week as you’re leaving your yoga class you feel someone following you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end but when you hear the instructor’s familiar voice you relax slightly and turn to say hello.

“Hi Matt.”

He greets you warmly and falls into step next to you as you walk toward your cars. The conversation is light at first but then he starts to complain about his girlfriend and how their relationship is failing. You begin to feel uncomfortable and as if sensing it, Matt drops his head.

“I’m sorry. Enough of my drama. I just need to move on I think.”

You take that as your cue to leave and start to say your goodbye but he keeps talking, chasing after you as you move toward your car.

“Hey, how is work going?”

“Uh..good, really good, thanks.”

Matt continues firing questions at you and your eyes dart around the darkened parking lot, quietly searching for Steve or one of Bucky’s other men.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” Matt says, the words pulling your from your spiraling thoughts.

You step back to gain space and before you can answer, there’s a loud clanging noise as the door of the gym next door slams shut.

A big and broad silhouette comes into view and both you and Matt automatically look over.

Steve’s large frame moves closer and you sigh in relief.

“Hey Steve,” you chime, taking a step toward him.

Steve respectfully keeps his distance while also always keeping you protected.

“Ready to go?” Steve asks as he glares at Matt.

“Yes,” you answer, waving at Matt.

Matt blinks several times, clearly confused at Steve’s arrival but grudgingly says his goodbye and shuffles off to his car.

“I was looking for you Steve,” you say once Matt is out of ear shot.

“I’m sorry it took me longer than usual. I was on a call,” he apologies.

“It’s ok,” you say with a soft pat to his shoulder. “Just glad you’re here.”

“I always am.”

When you look at him with curious eyes his own go wide. “Well…not always of course. Bucky would have my head, but I just meant…”

You throw your head back with laughter. “I know Steve. The first few months I thought I was just crazy but when I realized it was just you trailing me and keeping me safe I felt better.”

Steve gives you a more relaxed smile and opens your car door.

“Um Steve,” you say softly as you sit. “Do you think maybe…we could keep this just between us? Matt’s not really a bad guy. I think he’s just having a rough time. I’m sure everything would have been just fine.”

Steve’s mouth turns down in a frown. “You know I can’t do that.”

With a sigh you reply, “I knew you were going to say that.”

Steve’s lips lift into a wry smile. “When it comes to his girl he wants to know everything.”

“Is that so?” you ask, narrowing your eyes. “Should I start keeping a diary so I can report in every second of every day.”

“Well, you probably don’t need to go that far, but…”

Your lips purse but when you see his expression morph into one of sheepishness for the second time that night you decide to let it go and take it up with Bucky himself.

Back home, Steve walks you to your door.

“Do you want to come in? Need a snack or drink?” you ask.

He doesn’t take a single step closer and shakes his head once.

“He’s on his way now.”

“Bucky’s on his way?” you squeak. “Shit. I need to change and tidy up!”

At your use of ‘Bucky’ Steve genuinely grins. The action catches you off guard but you realize that Bucky wasn’t lying when he said no one calls him that but you. With another flurry of thanks and goodnights you bid farewell to Steve, even though you know he’ll just be sitting outside in his SUV until Bucky arrives.

You prepare for your shower, determined to keep your head once he gets there and get some definitive answers from him.

At his knock, you open the door with a tentative smile.

“Doll face,” he greets, his voice deep and intense.

“Bucky,” you echo. “Would you like to come in.”

“Please,” he answers and brushes past you.

Just the delicate touch of his hand as he walks by sends goosebumps skittering across your skin.

“I’m sure you already know about what Steve did tonight,” you say as you walk into your living room.

“Of course,” he answers.

You look over your shoulder and narrow your eyes.

“Want something to drink?”

“Do you have whiskey?” he asks.

“No whiskey, just red or white wine and water. Take it or leave it.”

At your sassy tone his eyebrows raise every so slightly.

“Water is fine, thank you. And want to tell me what that sassiness is about.”

After you get two glasses of water you sit on the couch across from him, leveling him with your best glare.

“How long have you had Steve following me?” you ask him.

“You’re very observant,” he states.

“That’s not an answer,” you continue with sass. “And I’ve been paying attention. You know I have. But mostly to you.”

Your confession satisfies him. You can see it in the way he lifts his chin and his eyes glitter.

“I want you to fill me in Bucky.”

“On?” he asks as his arm falls over the back of the couch and his fingers ghost over your shoulder, mostly bare in your thin tank top.

“Bucky.”

You mean it to come out more demanding, but it’s breathy and your body shivers at his touch.

“Are you sure? You were pretty freaked out by what you learned last time you got a glimpse behind my curtain. And rightfully so.”

“Tell me. I trust you and I want to give us a chance.”

He takes a deep breath and shares as much as he can without putting you in any more danger.

“Why do all of this though? Do you have men following everyone that works for you? Why did Steve call me your girl?”

“Two of these questions have the same answer. From the moment I saw you I wanted you to be mine and after the incident earlier this month and I almost lost you, it became an overwhelming feeling.”

His fingers press into your skin as he glides them down your arm.

“And no. I don’t have men on anyone else that works for me. I keep them safe of course. But just you. Always you.”

His hand leaves your arm and he strokes his thumb along your jaw. You lean into his touch and sigh out his name.

“I’ve been patient,” he murmurs. “Fuck doll, I’ve been so patient.”

He presses the pad of his finger to your lips, tracing their softness.

“But with every breath I take, I think of you. Every beat of my heart, I want you.”

The moment stretches in sweet torture before you place a hand on his cheek.

“I want you t…”

Before the words are fully out of your mouth he’s on you, dragging you into his lap and grinding his hips up as he grabs the back of your neck and steals your breath.

You press closer, needing to feel every inch of him. Your arms wrap around his neck and you lightly scratch your nails over his scalp before your hands fall to his chest and you start to tug at his tie.

Your lips leave his and you trail kisses along his jaw, stopping just below his ear before tracing the muscular column of his neck.

He hisses out a curse and tightens his grip. You smile into his skin and loosen his tie. You’ve barely gotten it undone when his large hand lands on your ass cheek. The sting makes you moan and rock your hips but in a flash your eyes are on his, your chin caught between his thumb and forefinger.

You take in his appearance as he stares at you. His usually pristine shirt now wrinkled, the buttons at the top hanging open and his loose tie dangling messily. His normally untouched hair is tousled, wild from your fingers and his control is clearly wavering with every heaving breath he takes.

You don’t waste another second and this time you kiss him, pressing your softness against every hard plane of his body, maximizing every bit of contact as you try to pin him to the back of the couch. You nibble into his bottom lip and then swallow the sound of his satisfied growl.

“Doll,” he starts, and you hear the questioning tone of his voice.

“Fuck me, Bucky. Fill me and make me yours.”

For a split second you see surprise flash across his features but he instantly recovers with a smirk.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for his, how many times I’ve dreamed of you saying those words to me,” he murmurs, his body rigid with his restraint. “And remember, you asked for this. I’m going to give you everything.”  

His words are a dark promise, one you hold onto with every fiber of your being.

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @littleseasiren @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #mob!Bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #mob au #mafia au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

[ashleyslothlife]

Of the things I was prepared to happen in X-Men comics mpreg wasn't one of them. I have no problem with the fetish for others, I personally have a phobia of being pregnant so I avoid anything with shades of non-consensual pregnancy most of the time. I might not like Corsair but no one deserves that. I'm at X-Men (2021) Issue 19 heres hoping this story line doesn't last to long.

#x-men #I started reading at Power of X / Houses of X so all I know about Corsair is he ditched his kids to be a space pirate so that is the dislik #sure it started out he was abducted but it seems like he had A LOT of time he could have used to get back in contact after he escaped

[st4rtar0t]

Details about your future partner

physical appearance, astrological details and more

In this pick a picture we will get to know some information about your future partner, this can even be your future spouse or somebody you will have a long term relationship with. I know you are really curious about them so why not read this and like and share if you feel that this reading has resonated with you?

Pick a picture from below

DM for personal readings.

Picture one

Some of you may already know this person. I see that you know this person from a work setting. They are really hardworking and they put their best in everything they do. They are a master at their craft. I also see that they have had their heart broken in the past and they no longer want to take any risks. This person is really attractive and a lot of people have their eyes on them. They know how to have deep conversations and I also see that they hate small talk. They are always energetic and have a youthful smile. However they have a sense of mystery around them. It's like they are always Hiding a part of them from others. They are family oriented and they will always put their family before anyone else. I also see that they are just your type. They are really protective of the people they love and they will do everything in their power to help others around them. You may Meet this person through social media or through an online platform. I see that you guys will be talking a lot to each other. For some of you, this person is already stalking you and you can feel it. The only reason why this person isn't approaching you is because of their past relationship. This person is really attracted to you and they want to have long term relationship. They only date to marry.

Physical attributes: dark/tanned skin, buzz cut, brunette, ginger hair, puppy face, golden retriever energy, sharp jawline, narrow eyes, thick eye lashes, blue/brown eyes, wide nose.

Key words: childish, eyes on you, watching, spiritual union, lust, lesson, co-worker, short trip, water body, fox, R,A,T,M,O. Explorer, possessive, lots of love, overflowing love.

Astrological details: Virgo rising, Taurus moon, Mars in Aries, Venus in 2nd house, Gemini Mercury, Neptune in 12th house.

Picture two

They are definitely spiritual and if not spiritual then they are definitely interested in being a better person every day. I also see that they have deep understanding of human heart and are quite empathetic. But that doesn't mean they'll carry the burden of others. I see that they like the freedom they have. It seems as if you already know this person or you will be getting to know them soon, sooner than you think. You first conversation may start as an argument or you may not like them at first, its giving enemies to lover vibes. You or they can be an introvert or One of you may not talk much. Some of you may have a fake account that you use to stalk people and they know about it? Or they may collect information about you before talking to you. I am getting a little to no information about them its like the universe does not want you to know about them, it may be a surprise.

Physical attributes : straight nose, beautiful side profile, big or unique ears, full lips, mole under eyes, sharp teeth, dark hair, blond hair or some, fit body.

Key words : bold choice of clothing, snap chat, sunglasses, 11, hot headed, red, T, V, X, May, October, November, pet dogs, younger sibling, gardening, leaf, watermelon.

Astrological details : Scorpio sun, Uranus in Pisces, Virgo moon, Venus in earth sign, Jupiter in 1st, mars in 4th, Libra moon, Pluto dominant,

Picture Three

( Some of you may also be attracted to picture 2)

They're kind of replaying old memories in their head at this moment. They have a tendency to always think about what could've been instead of living in the moment. Sometimes they're just not feeling it, like they're out of sync with everything around them. They feel as if the world is moving but they are frozen. but they are okay with it as long as are helping out and sharing what they've got. Their sense of accomplishment may come from helping other both financially and mentally. They're all about hard work, always grinding and putting in the work to make things happen. They don't like drama and competition, if they feel like you are competing against them they will just let you win. They'd rather keep things peaceful and drama-free. When it comes to love, they're total romantics, just going with the flow and following their heart. They may be a hopeless romantic. They have immense live for their work and they do for a living. They're always honing their skills and perfecting their craft, putting in the effort to be the best at what they do. And at the end of the day, they're someone who feels pretty good about what they've achieved, just living their best life and enjoying every moment. They are grateful for everything that comes their way. No matter blessings or blessing disguised as disasters. Just soaking it all in and feeling grateful for where they're at.

Physical attributes : coloured hair, red hair, tattoos, veiny hands, curly hair, big eyes, sharp jawline, locks, big hands, may wear boots most of the time.

Key words : Horse, 9, 24, 15, pink, water body, red velvet, Venessa, butterflies, absent father figure, garland, gold, nose ring. April, August, June.

Astrological details : Libra descendent, Uranus in 5th, mercury in 10th, Venus in 4th, Taurus Venus, South node in Virgo, Jupiter in libra, cancer rising,

#tarot reading #spirituality #tarotcommunity #divination #pick a photo #pick a pile #tarot #pick a picture #pick a card #pick an image #future spouse #future #future lover #spiritual journey #love reading #love tarot reading #tarot readings #predictions

[tremendum]

Mr. Miller

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)    

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)    

word count: 6.8k requested: yes. here and here :) 

summary:  “six months before you ran yourself into any trouble with somebody - that's no easy feat, considering your track record, so you like to call it a win anyways. but boy, talk about a rocky start with someone. Tommy's goddamn brother, no less.”

warnings: Jackson era, mentions of marijuana use, age gap (unspecified), sliiightly dub!con, smut (PiV, unprotected), creampie, overstimulation, pussy spanking, choking, spit kink, slight knife kink (do not look at me), dom!Joel (brat tamer!Joel if you squint), slight sir kink, so much dirty talk, lots of begging, degradation kink, dacryphilia, mean!Joel, this is just shameless smut i am horrible  notes: okay i kind of modified these asks but I thought it’d be fun to write it like this!!! as always reblogs/asks/comments are always great motivations :’) this is not reread because i am INSANE! xoxo

(  read the sequel other Joel fics:     fever       landmines    )

★  

to be completely honest, you never would’ve guessed you’d move to Wyoming. 

of course, in this world you didn't really have much of a choice of where you end up; it was hard to travel, yes, but there was some guiding hand that invisibly pushed you upon Jackson in the middle of a really rough winter. 

a girl, lost and on her own through the dangerous sprawls of what's left of the United States - of course Tommy and Maria had accepted you into the community; you were resourceful, willing, and strong-headed. 

most of Jackson was nice.

the people were good, the community functioned, and you were finally safe - you found a job working partly as a patrolman if an extra hand was needed, but mostly as a gardener.

it was a beautiful basin valley with sprawling mountains that glittered in the snow even during summer. 

you'd only been there for - what, maybe half a year? six months before you ran yourself into any trouble with somebody - that's no easy feat, considering your track record, so you like to call it a win anyways. but boy, talk about a rocky start with someone. 

Tommy's goddamn brother, no less. 

you didn't particularly get off on the correct foot with Joel Miller. when he showed up in town, people were thrown off. you surely understood that - but it was Tommy's brother, and Tommy insisted he would be fine; he and the girl with him had already been 'round Jackson before, leaving just a week or so before you showed up, apparently. 

you'd definitely heard about him. 

coincidentally, you'd actually moved into the house that Tommy had wanted Joel to have; the house that had the spare girl's bedroom which Ellie came through to ravage once they came back into town. (apparently the towels at Joel's were too rough no matter how many times they were washed, and Ellie really liked that Tamagotchi you'd found in the bedroom she once slept in.) 

maybe that'd already put him off, the short time in which Ellie had found company in you. who knows. 

but unfortunately, your first impression of him was muddled by a very real lens of beer-goggles and a long week's aching exhaustion in your brain. he was large, a tall man whose disposition dripped of domineering power; he didn't trust anybody here and by the looks of it, they didn't particularly adore him. he kept to himself besides Tommy -  who unfortunately along with his wife were really your closest comrades in the community. 

you almost felt bad for him, because that's how many people saw you at first. but on that night, you were just drunk enough, as you greeted Maria and Tommy at the bar with smiles and a joke about your libido, that you didn't quite realize that Tommy's big brother Joel was sat there, eyes watching you with a glimmer of something lurking behind the rim of the beer bottle. 

to be fair: everybody in this life is unkind in their first impressions. that's just how the world is now - 'every man for himself' is an unfortunately ugly reality and those who are too soft to see that are rarely spared the gore.

but when Tommy introduces you to Joel with a huff of a laugh and a friendly slap on your shoulder, Joel's eyes are distrusting, judging. he doesn’t say anything to you.

you try not to be offended. 

"pleasure to meet ya, Mr. Miller." you nod with a grin, your cheeks hot with slight intoxication as his large, calloused palm slips into yours. his grip is tight - your wince is covered with your words as you momentarily shoot Maria a look, turning back to the man in front of you.

"I met your girl earlier. stormed into my house like she owned the damn thing. was lookin' for some stuff she'd found last time, I guess. I'm just glad she didn't find my collection of big-girl toys." 

okay. okay, yeah, maybe you are too drunk. Maria laughs, at least, and Tommy lets out a chuckle, eyes flickering to Joel. but he just hums, eyes glancing over you once more before returning to nurse his dark beer with a furrow of his brows. “right.”

and pathetic as it is, he was too damn irresistible; you’d imagined that stare -that brooding scowl- one too many times in the dead of night, hands down your pants or in a stranger’s bed. 

and it hadn't gotten better in the months following. 

it was of circumstances most unfortunate for you that Joel and Ellie moved into a house just a few down from you - as much as you wished to just never see the man and his censorious stare, it was unavoidable. especially when Ellie showed up nearly day-to-day with questions, excuses, or even just complaints of boredom to coax you into letting her inside your house. 

a week or so ago, you’d overheard Tommy in a hushed voice down at the dining hall trying to convince Joel it was a good thing, that Ellie was learning to garden, learning about woman stuff (yes, he actually fucking said that), and - god forbid- make friends. 

but you love Ellie.

she in't like Joel. she’s funny, and lively, and easy-going once you warmed up to her. in fact, you actually started to collect things from around town to show her on her ceremonious visits; books, tattered board games, once you even found a trumpet in the crawlspace of your old house. it was rusty and honestly probably still had dried saliva from whichever fifth-grader played it way back before the outbreak, but it was enough to entertain you and the fifteen-year-old girl for hours even if neither of you knew how to play it. 

and maybe it was after Ellie mentioned to you with a giggle that Joel complains about you calling him ‘Mr. Miller,’ or maybe it was when she said he’d always ask about you and what you’re like whenever she returned from your days together. 

no matter what the catalyst really was, you just know you have it bad for that man, in the worst way - because he is a fucking asshole. 

but the worst of it was when Joel and you get paired up to patrol together on the outskirts. it means hours together of breathing and awkward looks, silence from you because he was silent and clearly wanted nothing to do with you. 

you suffered through hours of Joel’s rugged sageness for survival, tugging you effortlessly through boulders, lifting yourselves high through dilapidated structures in the middle of the wilderness. he was strong and capable and fucking sexy, and that made it all the more unbearable when snide comments about your youth or your inexperience or your lack of punctuality would pass his lips. it was annoying how hot it made you. 

as the summer rolled around, the horde was growing ever-present at the lips of Jackson county, festering like the moss that spreads along the woodsy forests in the northwest - hence your increased activity with the others who patrol the area and keep the community safe. 

he was a many of almost no words, and though you were in no way the same when you were around people you trust, the man just brings out the skeptic in you - so for weeks, it was days of the two of you walking in silence, the only noise being weak impasses and jabs at the other’s self-esteem all veiled by a smirk or an eye-roll. 

and still, each day out passed with your untrustworthy gazes pinned on the horizon just as much on each other's trigger fingers.

-- 

you're at your wit's end on one Friday evening as you finally return into town from patrol with him. 

Joel is a man plagued by too many unnamed illnesses; the likes of which you so fondly call in your head 'can't-accept-help-itis' and 'stubborn-old-asshole-luenza.' part of his symptoms render him unable to say full sentences to you without a judgmental look or a skeptical scoff, and sure you're not always the best judge of character, but you're confident that Joel has his eyes on your backside every single time you bend over to move your marker on the trail. he’s thought about it, too. 

but right now, you’re so tense you’re about to snap. 

his gaze hasn't left your profile for - you swear to god - almost thirty fucking minutes. like, nearly the whole walk from the first outpost. he’s been staring at you like you’re a ghost, or a second head sprouted from your neck. 

the heat of the summer night is unsullied; though you’re high in elevation, the warm wind blows a gust over your bare knees and ruffles your hair, coaxing a damp feeling to settle between your thighs under his gaze. 

"if you stare any harder at me, you'll get a fucking nose bleed." you sneer, keeping your eyes ahead as you grit your teeth. his gaze is burning into your side and with your words, they maintain their heat. 

whatever he was thinking, he keeps it to himself. you glare at his own profile, thick thighs, sturdy chest, hair that blows gently in the warm air. his jaw, glinting against the lights that guide you back into town. at least he’s looked away from you. good.

your victorious smirk is wiped off of your lips with his next words, the first in several hours from him besides grunts and directives. "d'you have the logs on you?" 

you look at him with revelation. "shit." you sigh shaking your head, "they're- they're at home." 

his face slides into a look of disdain, deep vexation at the task of now going back with you to your own house to sign the logs and confirm your findings for this patrol. "great." he mutters, feet kicking into gear to hightail it up the street, towards your house. 

the heat is swirling around your legs in the darkening evening as you finally enter your house, sighing into the empty air. the lights flicker when you switch them on, and you'd bring yourself to be more embarrassed about the disheveled state of your things if it had been anyone else with you. 

it doesn’t even matter, after all; his sights are set one one incriminating little piece of evidence in the corner of the living room. 

the small nub that sits on the tray by your windowsill seems to be more salient for Joel than the hurricane that threw your belongings across the space.��

your hands fall onto your hips, sighing as he accusingly lifts it from its ashy grave, eyes furrowed in irritation. your flannel sticks to your sleeves in the heat as his eyes meet yours. 

"is this- 's this marijuana?" he's incredulous as his fingers pinch the burnt-out roach, and you screw your brows at him; is he serious? you ignore the dwarfed look of the small old joint in his large hand, instead rolling your eyes. "yeah, some folks call it weed. you can smoke it and it makes you feel real good. you ever heard of it, Mr. Miller?" you snark, the sarcasm spilling from your lips deliciously; Joel eats it up like a man starved, his jaw ticking as he tilts his head. 

you know he secretly loves when you taunt him with the honorific; yes, it gets on his nerves, but there’s a secret air about him that suggests he likes it that way. it is easier to blur the lines between hate and desire than affection and desire, after all. 

"Ellie comes over here every day." he hisses, eyes sharp. you blink slowly at him, trying to fight the laugh that creeps up your throat; his gaze is dark, furious - did he think you were smoking weed with the girl? she's, like, thirteen. (fifteen, she corrects you in your mind. but still.) 

"that’s correct." you confirm, turning from him to search the kitchen for the log you'd forgotten in your haste to leave. his footsteps ring angry onto the floorboards. "if you're worried about that, I’d never smoke around her. 'm not that disrespectful." you defend, avoiding eye contact as you shuffle through your drawer of junk. 

"doesn’t matter. she won't be coming round much more." he threatens it - tests the waters. as if he has the authority to punish you.

you lift a brow at him, "don’t you think she should be able to make that choice?" you throw back at him, tossing your switchblade onto the table to your right as you sort through the miscellaneous items with both hands. 

uh oh, that struck a nerve in the man. 

his eyes sharpen as he breathes harsh at your words; "don't talk about things you know nothing about, girl." he snaps, crossing his arms, "now find the fucking log so I can leave." 

you glare at him, gesturing in front of you; your eyes scream no shit, Joel, I’m looking. 

it's silent as you search through the drawer, gritting your teeth in the tense silence of anger, thicker than molasses. 

you click your jaw, refusing to let it go, let him think he won. 

"I do have self respect, y'know." you pipe up, lifting a brow as you finally stumble upon the log, pulling a dying pen from the drawer and scribbling notes as you plop down on a wooden chair at your kitchen table.

Joel stays standing; it does not go unnoticed when his eyes take in the contours of your body, the clothes that stick to you in the heat of the summer; a pair of jean shorts, torn from years of use, and a thin tank top, covered with an unbuttoned flannel. his eyes sear into you at your words.

wow. fuck him. 

(no, not like fuck him, but- fuck him.) 

"never said you didn't, darlin'." he mutters condescendingly, the pet name leaving his mouth bitterly. any form of backlash you were going to unleash on his dies in your throat quickly when he leans over your shoulder to sign his own name next to yours. your eyes widen to search his face as his own skim over your account of the patrol. he's- wow, he's closer to you than you would have expected. 

holy shit. smoky swirls of gunpowder, pine, and dark amber whiskey. they fill your nostrils, dizzying your mind as you let out a stuttered breath - it's hot in here... your eyes glance as a small lick of sweat trickles down his neck. your throat is dry, heat swirling in your abdomen as he hums, "jus' think Ellie should start hangin' around with others." 

"why's that?" you snap, daring him to say it. fuck, your heart is pounding in your chest. oh, if he just admits it; that he thinks he's better than you, that he thinks you're pathetic - lord, you yearn for it, you’d have a fucking field day. you want an excuse to hit him. or bite him.

fuck Joel Miller, and- okay, fine. fuck him, too. 

his brows are furrowed as he glares hawkishly at your stubborn form; his gaze is serrated with disdain, jaw clenching with the words you're just begging him to admit.

"she's been cussin' and speaking...vulgar." he mutters, eyes flickering away from you. your jaw unhinges as you huff in surprise; he has the audacity to accuse you for teaching her to be foul-mouthed? hadn't she traveled with him for, what, a year? she’s a teenager - that’s what they do. 

"oh, please." you snap, "that girl was far from a princess when you showed up here, you know." you mutter, tossing a look over your shoulder up at him, the buttons undone at the top of his shirt staring at you, mocking you. 

"I know." he dismisses. his hand falls to stable himself on the back of your chair as he leans down towards you, "but you ain't helping. don't need her gettin' into any more trouble." 

you narrow your eyes, "trouble?" you parrot, accusing. 

the air is warm, thick as you cross your arms, the windows open and flowing the outside summer air into your nostrils. "how could I be trouble? you hardly know me." you snap, offended. you swirl with irritation. 

"because I listen. people think you're harsh. untrustworthy." he spits, smirking down at you as if his words are poison that'll dissolve your whole being into a small puddle of regret. but no, it's gasoline; his words are enough to incite your flames, lick you alive with ardor. 

he doesn't like you? oh, big fucking deal. you don't like him. 

"you ever heard of the pot calling the kettle black, Mr. Miller?" you drawl, lifting an accusatory brow. “what if you’re the bad influence? it’s not like you have any more manners than I do.” 

his jaw sets and his nostrils flare from his sharp exhale; you let your eyes swipe over the splattering of freckles that peek out from under the scruff beard that grows; a scar jags across his skin, frown lines creasing his scowl in a dark, terribly attractive way. you’re tip-toeing a line here, you can feel it. 

he can feel it, too. 

his eyes dip down, though you try hard to hold his heated gaze; they trail slowly over your shoulders and down, down to the dip of your collarbones and then over your breasts, heaving slightly with the proximity of the man. his gaze nearly melts the tank top that stretches over your torso and a flood of excitement rushes through you, pooling in the seat of your underwear. a smirk creeps onto your face at his wandering stare - resentful, loathing, heated. 

something in you snaps, and you can't deal with it any longer; not with his proximity, leaning over your shoulder and staring you down, with half-rolled sleeves. his forearms, they’re thick- goddamn, he's so-

"-I can't tell if you're looking at me like that because you want to kill me, or you want to fuck me." you snap, breaking his spell as you snap his attention back to your own eyes with your bold choice of words. "either way, it'll have to wait. I got shit to do, Mr. Miller, and for some reason, you're still in my house giving me fuck-me-eyes." 

"-you better watch your mouth." he snarls, chest heaving as he leans forward menacingly, his jaw clenched. 

you let yourself smile up at him, "or what, Mr. Miller?" you ask kindly, voice dripping with perfidious innocence. 

he sneers, eyes raking over your form, jaw ticking. your body flushes with warmth under his scrutinous gaze; one of your bare legs slides up to rest on the chair next to you, on full display snd illuminated in the light of the kitchen as you smirk at him. his dark chocolate gaze slides over the skin revealed; your skin tingles in excitement under his watch. it makes you chuckle. 

"what, you don't like the way I speak?" you hiss, glaring at him. "chastising me for shit that you do, too?" you mutter snidely, pulling your leg back down as his eyes glare into yours. "I'm an adult, you can't tell me what to say. fucking hypocrite."

your hand presses into his chest, standing to your full height. his chest is firm, hot, but he lets you do it easily, moving back out of your space; giving you an out, offering you a chance to say this-isn't-what-I-want. but you won't take it. no, instead you slide up closer to him, until you're too close. 

"why so quiet now, Mr. Miller?" you almost purr, your hand still toying with your switchblade, the glint of it reflecting in his eyes. slowly, you lift the blade to trace it gently, softly over his jawline, as you’d do with your fingers. he watches you like a damn hawk, breathing heavy. 

the scratch of it against the facial hair is enough for him to snap; suddenly snatching the blade from between your fingers in one quick motion. 

“you’re testin’ my patience.” he growls, shaking his head as he holds the handle of the knife in an iron-like grip. you shake your head, “yeah, well, you’ve taken all mine.” you counter. “so…” you start, raising a brow at the knife in his hands, the way your legs are turning to putty, “you going to kill me, Mr. Miller? or fuck me?” you whisper it into his ear, up on the tips of your toes as the peppering-gray curls at the base of his ear tickle your lips.

a sharp exhale - almost a surrender. then, a rough hand pushes you down against the table, hard. your body is pliant, willing, excited as his force brings you to thud against the wood, his hand flying down quick just to your right in a loud thud.

your head snaps to your right, eyes wide and jaw open; your switchblade pins your own flannel to the table, stabbed down and holding the material and your arm in place. christ, it barely missed nicking your skin.

“depends on if you can learn some goddamn manners.” he growls, leaning over you, his hips slotting between your thighs.

maybe it’s the look on his face, or just how damn long it’s been since you had someone, or just because it’s Joel – but your facade falls so quick and you’re soon keening up towards him, arching your back so your chest sticks out.

“I’m a fast learner.” you promise; at that, he merely hums, his hips grinding slow over yours. you let your eyes squeeze shut, groaning lightly at the bliss of his rough denim sliding against your shorts-clad cunt, throbbing with desire.

you’re breathless; shivers cascade down your spine at the press of his hips against yours, licking your lips to wet them; “fuck, Joel-“ your breath is strangled, “please. I can be good for you.” you try to convince him, blinking your eyes up at him. his smirk is downright evil as his hands fall to your top, skating over the tops of your breasts before one hand grips your jaw in his large palm, squeezing hard onto your cheeks and forcing you to stare into his eyes.

his grip is unforgiving. “y’think you can jus’ bat those pretty eyes at me?” he sneers, his breath hot and fanning over your face. you’re overheating- god, it’s so fucking hot in your house; your hand raises to grip his forearm, swallowing your pride for the sake for finally getting to feel him inside you, “’m sorry, Joel.” you mutter, cheeks squished by his hand.

his brow furrows, shaking his head. a chastising tutting noise escapes his throat as he rolls his hips, grinding sloooow and smooth against your dripping cunt, aching with desire.

“no, you’re fucking not.” he spits, pushing you harder against the table. your throat is dry, a whimper of desire escaping your throat. his lips brush the shell of your ear as he leans more of his weight on you, your legs wrapping around his hips and your own surging up, up in search for some friction, “say it. say you’re not sorry. you like it, I can tell.”

shivers spill down your spine as you bite back a moan, cheeks alight with heat at his teasing. Your eyes lull over towards the blade that holds down your shoulder, pinning you against the table. a hot rush of arousal floods your underwear as you swallow, eyes rising to meet his in a lidded gaze. 

“I like it,” you admit in a shameful gasp, hand sliding up to explore his chest, “I’m- I’m not sorry. I like it, ‘m not sorry.” you mutter, voice desperate, pathetic; you’re swallowing a whimper as he grinds slowly against you again, his hardened cock straining against his jeans.

 his hand snaps to pin yours down to the edge of the table; your eyes snap up to his, meeting the swirling lust within his deep eyes, searching your face with a dangerous smirk. “you aren’t sorry?” he asks, voice dripping with condescending cockiness.

you shake your head no desperately, searching his eyes to see if he’s pleased.

he smirks at your desperation. "you will be, darlin’." he mutters, his own eyes exploring your chest as it heaves, breasts barely spilling out the top of your tank top’s hem. you smile up at him despite your desperation; hunger curls in your chest as you move your hips up against him and his face falters, a groan escaping his throat. his eyes swirl with the dark shine of a man who is nothing less than dangerous. 

the hand that isn’t pinned by the blade creeps up his arm, brushing the thick cords of muscle that rope his bicep and shoulders; soon, though, one of his hands is gripping your wrist and slamming it down against the edge of the table.

you gasp from the roughness, biting your lip as your fingers curls around the edge and hold tight under his grip.

“don’t move your hands,” he mutters as his lips dip low to trace over the seam of your top, breath brushing over the soft skin of your breasts. “or I’ll leave you here, pinned to this table.”

arousal floods you at his words and you nod silently, swallowing as his teeth bite roughly at your pressure point. “d’you hear me, girl?” he grunts, his hands moving to pull out one of your breasts from your top, your peaked nipple instantly tugged between his prying fingers.

you let out a yelp at the sensation and he huffs against your skin, biting again. “fuck,” you whimper loudly, bucking your hips as your hands grip tight against the edge of the table; one arm is pinned with the knife anyways, but your heart thunders as his tongue peaks out, brushing hot against your sweat-sheened skin.

A hand snakes to your throat and you can’t stop the moan you let out, air sucking through your windpipe at the light grip he keeps; you’re obsessed with how all-consuming he is.

Joel’s everywhere – his smell, his eyes, his hands, tongue – you want him to be inside you, you want him to be in you forever, ever, ever.

fuck Joel Miller. fuck him, and fuck him.

“I asked you something. answer me.” he squeezes your throat as he emphasizes, as he demands you; you buck up against him, convinced you’re soaking through your goddamn shorts, leaving disgusting proof of your sick, twisted arousal as you move against his crotch.

his dominance causes your face to flare with heat; you weren’t expecting him to seduce you into submission - you love it. “y-yes, yes, sir. I he-heard you.” you gasp, face flushing hot as the words leave you. he smirks darkly as he pulls away from you, danger lurking in his eyes deliciously as he nods, seemingly pleased.

he nods. “good.”

his hips are gone from you in an instant and your gasp is choked – but he wastes no time in popping the button on your jeans, sliding them and your underwear off of you in one long motion.

his pupils somehow blow even wider as he stands in front of you, palming his thick cock through his jeans, watching you pant hard.

you’re exposed in front of him – your pussy is swollen with need, pulsing with desire as one of your breasts rests exposed to the air as the knife pins you down by the arm of your flannel; you’re fucking exposed and you love it. he’s intoxicating.

 “you’re soaked.” he says after a moment of silence so long that you barely register his gruff voice. you blink, bringing your eyes back up to his from where he’s begun to undo his belt.

you can’t help the light smirk as you stare up at him, “maybe I happen to like it when you’re vulgar with me.”

he glares at you but there’s a hint of something more that flashes through his eyes; adoration? no, it couldn’t be. Joel Miller can’t adore anything.

but then out of nowhere his fingers delve through your velvet, slippery folds in a fervor; your breath chokes yet again in your lungs as you tense with the sudden stimulation.

a low, guttural moan falls from your lips as the pads of his middle and ring fingers rub tight, slow circles on your clit, “bet you taste so good, don’t you?” he murmurs, his teeth finding purchase upon your neck, sucking a mark so hard you’re sure you’ll have it for weeks. christ. “y’want me to taste you, pretty girl?”

fuck. images flash through your mind of him on his knees, tongue unraveling you, drowning in you while your thighs close around those thick greying curls.

your moan falls from you fast, nodding quick, “yes, yes, please, please, use your mouth.“ your whines are downright embarrassing – you’re not a wide-eyed virgin teen, for fuck’s sake – but Joel’s stirring you just right, making you purr with pleasure.

but instead of his tongue, a harsh swat falls onto your aching cunt and your hips jolt at the stimulation, your clit throbbing and the sting making you groan his name. you can’t help the moan of disappointment.

“well, isn’t that too bad?” he snarls, his voice mean. you feel tears of frustration spring in your eyeline as you huff a sigh, his fingers slowly, torturously moving over your clit yet again. “bet you’d love if I ate your cunt. probably dream about it, don’t ya? d’you think about me when you touch yourself?”

Christ, you’d never expected Joel-don’t-fucking-talk-to-me-Miller to be so fucking dirty; but you learned your lesson last time, so you nod quick, eyes lidded through the euphoric, teasing pleasure from the pads of his fingers.

“all-all the time, J-Joel, fuck, think about you all the time.”

and it’s true.

“that’s right. my slut, thinkin’ about me.” he spits, mouth peppering bites over your throat. “gonna have to make y’cum fast, baby. Maria’s probably waiting for us t’turn in the logs.”

the possession in his voice brings you even further towards the edge, catapulting you, sending you frustratingly close as your body tenses, puckering hole clenching around nothing as he slowly works you.

you nod your head, unable to open your eyes as your legs close around Joel’s fingers; in anger, his hand tears your thighs apart, swatting the soft skin of your thighs in punishment. you yelp at the sting, biting your lip as a new gush of arousal leaks from your neglected hole and drips down onto the table.

fueled by frustration and adrenaline and some desperate fire of attraction that’s been burning between you since he first showed up in Jackson, you nearly scream, “please, fuck me now, Joel, please I’ll do anything-“

his hand leaves his ministrations quick, his glare sharp as his fingers glisten with your desperate arousal; they’re soaked. you feel yourself flush in embarrassment until he smirks darkly, tugging himself out of the confines of his jeans. “there, see? learnin’ some manners.”

his cock is heavy and thick as it slides through your wet, slick folds. your breath, panting out and puffing as you watch in awe. his: stuttering as the tip of his dick notches at your clenching hole, teasing.

“Jesus, you’re trying t-to swallow me, darlin’.” His hand reaches out, grabbing a palm full of your tit as he rocks his hips, once again nudging your leaking hole.

your whole body shivers in anticipation; you will your eyes to not reveal how fucking turned on you are about his size - you’re more wet than you’ve ever been in your life and his cock is - well, it’s thick, long, bigger than you’d like to admit. 

“greedy fuckin’ pussy.” he grunts to himself as you hold yourself as still as possibly, one tear escaping as you your eyes clench shut in desire.

“’m ready, Joel.” you whimper, eyes opening to find his hot gaze already searing through you; he just smirks, nodding slightly. “yeah, bet you are, pretty girl.”

he can’t thrust all the way into you, not fully- his cock is too thick, your cunt slick with arousal but still so goddamn tight. the rumbling moan he lets out as he inches in slowly is fucking heavenly.

a strangled gasp leaves your lips when he starts to slide into you, inch-by-inch, stretching you open and filling you full of him. your fingers twitch at your sides as you yearn to card your fingers through his thick curls; his head falls heavy against your chest as he mutters, “s’tight, baby, fu-fuckin’ tight.”

“so much,” you whimper, fingers tight and shaking as you restrain from grabbing his arms to stabilize himself, “‘s too much.” you mumble, tears stinging. he hums, the ghost of a kiss over your cheek before he’s in your ear, whispering, “am I too big for you, baby? gonna hav’ta work you open on my fingers first next time, yeah?”

his dark grin grows as you nod your head dumbly, “fuck- yeah, yes.” you agree, nodding,

his voice is starting to slur, accent getting thicker as he soon splits you fully, speared and sheathed deep, deep into you. you’re fluttering around him as you accommodate to his size, the feeling of him nearly breaking you open as he starts to shallowly thrust.

you let out a loud moan, his thickness stretching you and sliding deeper than expected, kissing against a spot that has you keening. your toes curl and your head falls back as he pulls out, thrusting back into you slow, grinding, deep.

all you can say is his name; it falls from your lips like it’s the only word you know, his hips soon pistoning into you with fervor, chasing the feeling coiling in your abdomen. 

his hands roam. 

they explore every part of you they can reach, his teeth marking every inch of your throat and painting you into a beautiful piece of art. for him. 

the noise of your pussy swallowing his girth in is downright filthy as it echoes through your kitchen; your head lulls to the side as you let out a languid moan, the spot he's hitting making your eyes roll back. you can feel stray tears leak down your cheeks, hot and heavy as you whimper in desire; you're so goddamn close, already, you know he can feel it. 

“y’gonna-“ he grunts, eyes screwed shut in pleasure as yours leak down your cheeks, body shaking with desire, “-gonna take my cock and say thank you, ‘s that right?”

a shaking rush of arousal just slickens you even more; the sounds of his body rocking into yours wet and loud in the room as you nod frantically, the pleasure coiling dangerously fast. 

but it seems you weren’t quick enough with your response: Joel’s hips slow, then stop completely. 

you’re left gasping, eyes wide as you stare up at him in shock: “wh-why?” you whimper, his pulsing length half out of you, teasing you. 

Joel’s eyes meet your own and he sternly swats your tits, eyes watching as the breast exposed to the air moves in recoil. 

“do you want to cum?” he asks, as if he’s asking what 2 + 2 is. your face fucking burns as you nod, “yes-“ 

but he grunts, hips too agonizingly still as he leans forward, “then take my cock, fuck yourself on it. and use your fuckin’ manners.”

you blink at him, spurring into action only after a very brief short-circuited moment. your hips stutter and shake at the angle, unable to move in a way that stimulates yourself enough to bring you back to the edge.

you shutter, muttering, “th-thank- thank you,” but you can’t do it. you glare at him as you move your hips, hands shaking, muscles straining, but you can tell he’s not pleased: brows drawn, a swat to your exposed breast that stings and spurs your hips quicker.

“come on, this is pathetic.” he snarls, fingers gently pinching your clit. the yelp you let out is dry, starved. “why so quiet now, darlin’?” he throws your own words back at you deliciously. 

he stands stationary, eyes judging you, focused on where your cunt tries to swallow his cock, your movements choppy and weak. tears spring in your eyes; he feels so good, but you just can’t get it right. 

“please.” you nearly whisper it, but it’s exactly what he was looking for. he rocks his hips shallowly, your body rocking gently with the slow, deep force of him splitting you open. 

“please, what?” he whispers into your ear, teeth scraping your jaw. resentment and arousal flows through your veins as you let out a strangles, “please, s-sir-“ 

with the words, Joel’s hips cant up into you, the slight angle making your legs coil and your throat burn. 

“please fuck me, y’feel- I can’t do it, need- you feel so good, fuck me hard, please, I want it.” you let go, begging and desperate to give you what you crave. 

his hips pick up a brutal pace. your back is pounded into the wood below you, the cool blade of the knife cold against your flannel as one of his large hands moves you until your legs are thrown up, over his shoulders.

the stretch is unimaginable and he doesn’t give you any time to adjust; his hips are unforgiving, fucking you open and letting your juices of arousal spill over the skin of your thighs and onto the table. 

“such a foul fuckin’ mouth on you.” he spits, one hand gripping your jaw until it opens for him, your mind clouded with the chase of your highs. 

he spits into your mouth, saliva warm and intoxicating as you swallow it happily, nodding in a daze. “gonna fuck you stupid, aren’t I? you won’t think about anything but me for weeks.” 

he’s right, and he fucking knows it. 

you nod at him, unable to form full words as he hits the spongy, delicious spot inside you that nearly makes you pass out. your hands fucking ache from the grip on the table, but you hope he’s pleased that they haven’t moved a damn inch this whole time; even as he splits you wide open and takes you apart. 

you’re so close you might actually start to sob as the crest of your orgasm tingles your thighs, your toes curling and legs shaking. 

he's close, too. his thrusts are getting slower, sloppier. 

“whose pussy is this?” Joel grunts, his movements soon desperate and deep; his tip kisses your cervix and your body jolts up the table with each movement of his pubic bone against yours.

the pain is fucking euphoric, delicious as you grip the edge of the table so hard you’re unsure they’ll ever relax. his finger pinches your nipple and you yelp, sweat sticking to your forehead, “-y-yours, fuck, Joel- yours, a-always.” you whimper, breathless.

you feel his smile grow against your neck and the butterflies that grow in your chest seem out of place with the bruises that will soon blossom on your skin from his teeth, his fingers.

you smile, too.

"god, you're perfect- f-feel fuckin' perfect around me, baby. need you to cum." as his sentence ends, his head jerks up, one hand rising to grip your jaw tight. your eyes snap to his and the anger boils, festering with the desire and lust within his eyes, "know y'can't help it, can you?" 

you shake your head fiercely as your orgasm nears. he hums deep, a rumble from his chest, “what do you say if you want me to let you cum?” 

fuck. fuckfuckfuck you’re too close- your muddled mind spits a barely cohesive babble of pleads, “please, p-pleaseplease I-I’m sorry I’m sorry-“ 

“you’re sorry?” he presses, hips not giving up; your whole body burns as you wait for your orgasm, knowing in any second it’ll be ruined. “look at those pretty eyes. did y’learn your manners? y’gonna say thank you?” 

you let out a sob of pleasure, his thrusts so deep you can feel them in your throat. “yes, Joel- please- let me cum, please-“ 

his hand slides to your throat. “cum now.” 

you swallow around his grip and let out a near scream of his name as his other hand snakes between you; a finger brushes against your abused clit, the combined stimulation pushing you over the edge. 

you see colors. 

your orgasm explodes as you gush around him, pulsing, begging, unraveling around his touch. your voice is broken, mutters and whimpers of his name followed by thank you, thank you drifting through the room.

your thighs are soaked with your own spend and he feels you grip him like a vice; he can't help but kiss the tears from your cheeks as he milks you through your orgasm, muttering soft grunts in your ear. 

"that's it, baby. there y'go, cum on my dick when i fuckin' tell you to." he kisses the column of your throat as his thrusts slow to deep, long thrusts. "atta girl." 

you scream at his words and the overstimulation. he shushes you, thrusts slow. "'m gonna cum." he sounds almost desperate, his body so close to yours it's almost like he's trying to smother you.

he groans your name in a broken sound; his grip tugging your hair. he moves back, frantic to pull out and ride his high- but you panic. 

"w-wait!" you rush, hands springing without thinking to push his hips hard against yours. you can't bear to imagine him pulling out of you so soon - you need to feel him, be full of him. "cum in me, Joel- I need it, j-just- fuck!" 

his hand slams over your mouth, effectively silencing you with a loud grunt of his own, "shut the fuck up," he growls, sounding too close. “jesus, girl- gonna wake up the whole n-neighborhood-“ but even his shamefully dirty mouth falters when he chases his orgasm.

soon he thrusts shallowly into your pulsing cunt before he's moaning, spurting his seed into you. 

hot, thick ropes of cum paint your walls as you flutter, whimpering as you breathe heavy, hands skittering up his back despite his earlier orders. 

his lips brush over your skin as he lies on you, heavy; "jesus christ." is all he mutters, pulling out of you with a slick sound and tucking himself into his jeans. 

you can only stare at the ceiling, the light above the table you’re laid upon swinging with the residual force of your bodies colliding.

a hand falls in a sharp thud to your right, pulling hard to dislodge the knife from its home against you; the notch it leaves reveals the patrol log; speared in the middle with the evidence of you and Joel's digressions. 

oops.

you're wrecked. you're a trembling frame of a structure after the hurricane of Joel Miller took threw you, stripping you to your bare bones. a ghost of lips over the inside skin of your knees as they fall, weak, off of his shoulders. and then he stares at you as you shakily sit up, setting your clothes right, swallowing on a raw throat. 

“‘m sorry about the flannel.” he gestures to the rip in your arm where the knife had pinned you down and something about it makes you chuckle, smoothing down your hair. “are you- are you okay?” he asks suddenly, hard eyes looking almost soft under the glow of the lamplight.

he hands you your underwear and jeans and helps you slide back into them in a surprisingly sweet turn of events.

“more than okay, christ. if you make me cum like that again you can do anything you want to my clothes.” you wink with a deep breath, smiling gently at him when he helps you stand back up on shaky legs. he actually sends you a half-smirk at that, and it flutters along your chest. 

the nighttime air is not so suffocating as you and Joel make your way towards Maria, his hand grazing over the small of your back as you walk on Jell-o legs, faces flushed and sweat slicking to your skin.

it’s awkward.

“I-” he starts, swallowing air as you stare up at him. sweat trickles from his brow and you itch to trace it with your tongue. 

“I actually think you’re not too bad,” he finishes, turning to walk up the steps to Tommy and Maria’s. you blink, heat fluttering in your chest as he admits, but soon whirls around to ensure you hear him, “for Ellie. just- don’t do that shit around her, right?” he clarifies.

you grin at his reddened cheeks as he tucks the log into the box set near the door, filing it under the western outpost for the date. 

“yes, Mr. Miller.” you mock-salute him, smirking to yourself as his flush deepens, the scowl ever-present on his face softening slightly at your smile. 

“christ.” he shakes his head, “you’re gonna get me into a lot of trouble.” you don’t miss the smile that creeps on his face as he starts to walk you back home. 

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