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ja3yun · 17 days

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The Doll House | Park Jongseong

doll!jay x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), soft dom!jay, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (m.rec), punishment, pussy slapping, begging, slight choking, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, princess), mentions of fire and other supernatural elements, anything else lmk! wc: 10.3k synopsis: your friend comes to visit you in the mansion after a month but her harsh words towards the dolls brings out a protective side, and jongseong lets you in on some secrets about the house and how they came to be. sunghoon | masterlist | heeseung a/n: hi! with this being the third instalment for this series, it's finally answering some questions while also posing some more! i truly enjoyed writing this chapter and i hope the little word plays and everything get your gears turning with theories! i enjoy hearing your theories so much like i can't even describe it <3 thank you so so so much for the love, i am forever grateful. likes, reblogs, feedback etc are all appreciated!

The doorbell chimes through the air, pulling your attention away from putting away the dishes in the kitchen, and a grin effortlessly spreads across your face. Mia's visit today after a month apart fills you with an immediate sense of joy. Though Jaeyun and Sunghoon are great company to keep, nothing quite compares to the presence of your best friend.

Her absence has been so obvious; her infectious energy seems to breathe life into everywhere she goes, which is a much-missed aura in this mansion; her presence has the power to dispel the shadows and chill that cling to the brick walls.

"Who could that be?" Sunghoon's voice interrupts your thoughts as he strolls around the kitchen island.

"It's Mia, remember? The friend I came here with. I told you she would be coming," you remind him gently, accepting the cup he just dried.

Sunghoon and Jaeyun both offer their assistance with the chores, but their motivations are drastically different. Jaeyun's assistance comes from a place of actually wanting to help and spend quality time with you, whereas Sunghoon is helping because the faster you finish, the sooner he can fuck you in whatever room you wind up in.

Despite your initial concerns, their dynamic surprises you as they seamlessly work in tandem. Rather than competing for your attention, they've embraced the idea of sharing you - an unexpected but pleasant development.

Jaeyun's bright smile at the island warms the room, his anticipation evident, "Will Mia be staying for the last month?" he inquires eagerly.

“Why? Is Y/N not enough?” Sunghoon jabs playfully, his eyebrow arching at his brother's question. His arms encircle your waist, drawing you close so your back is pressed against his chest as he leans his head on your shoulder, "If you'd rather be with Mia, I’m more than happy to have my baby girl all to myself," he murmurs against your neck, planting a gentle kiss on the nape.

Your skin tingles with a mix of excitement and affection as Sunghoon leaves a faint mark, a delighted expression dancing across your face.

“No, no! I was just curious," Jaeyun protests with a pout, his posture relaxing into a slight slouch. He’s so cute when Sunghoon teases him like that, you’re almost reluctant to stop it.

But before you can say anything, Sunghoon gently turns you to face him, his expression softening as he meets your gaze, "Remember," he murmurs, his voice tinged with a hint of seriousness, "you can’t tell Mia about us, yeah?”

Of course, you knew that telling her would be disastrous no matter the outcome. She would either think you were crazy and lost your mind, or she would tell the world. Your best friend was never the best at keeping secrets.

“I know, don’t worry,” you offer the simple words as reassurance to him, which paired with the sincerity in your eyes, he gladly accepts.

Leaning in, Sunghoon lands a soft kiss on your lips, his kind gesture relieving any remaining anxieties, "Good. Now, once she's finally fucking gone, come find me in my room," he says with a sly leer, his fingers slithering teasingly over your sides - a familiar trick he uses to make you weak. You should reprimand him for speaking so dismissively about your best friend's arrival, but he just has the power to make you forget.

Sunghoon's demeanour takes a brief shift as he addresses Jaeyun, a hint of authority creeping into his tone, "And you," he gestures towards Jaeyun behind you, his expression momentarily serious, "if you're staying here, you stay absolutely still, got it?"

"Okay, Dad, jeez," Jaeyun retorts, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance at the implication that he needs to be reminded.

You grasp Sunghoon's concern, especially given that you're currently aware of the doll's secret due to Jaeyun's loose lips. However, Sunghoon's tone feels unnecessarily harsh. Jaeyun holds a special place in your heart, and you find yourself fiercely protective of him. It irks you to see Sunghoon address him in such a condescending manner, as if he's incapable of handling himself.

Feeling defensive of Jaeyun, you push against Sunghoon's arm, shooting him a stern look, a firm reminder that he should catch his tongue because both of you know how it affects Jaeyun.

The bell rings again, drawing all three of your attention back to Mia's imminent arrival. Sunghoon excuses himself to his room, and Jaeyun settles comfortably into a chair, leaving you to answer the door with the unspoken reassurance that Mia won’t uncover their secret. But then again, what if you slip up?

It's a nagging worry in the back of your mind as you approach the door. Mia knows everything about you - every hook-up, every situationship, even mundane details like what you had for breakfast each morning. She's your confidante for everything, even the embarrassing stuff like bursting spots on your backside. With her, nothing is off-limits.

You remind yourself to keep your wits about you, to guard your words carefully in Mia's presence. The last thing you need is to accidentally let slip the truth about the dolls and your illicit affairs with them.

You need to keep your wits about you.

As you swing open the door, greeted by the radiant presence of the angel you call your best friend, every worry and concern fades into the background. Her infectious smile and warm embrace envelop you, dispelling any lingering doubts or anxieties.

"Baby!" you exclaim, unable to contain your excitement as you wrap Mia in a tight embrace, swinging her from side to side. Though it's only been a month since you last saw her, it feels like an eternity.

Mia reciprocates your enthusiasm, squeezing you just as tightly, the warmth of her embrace filling you with a sense of homecoming. Both of you laugh and struggle to breathe amidst the suffocating love you shower upon each other, relishing in the joy of being reunited.

"God, I've missed you. It's so boring back in the city without you," Mia confesses, her words honest as she finally draws back to assess you. Suddenly, she pushes you to arm's length, her hands gripping your shoulders as she scrutinises you with a sceptical expression. With a flick of her finger, she motions for you to turn around, and you oblige, doing a quick twirl to indulge her curiosity.

You give her a quizzical look, tilting your head in silent inquiry as to what she's up to. "You're glowing, like literally, you look fucking amazing," she observes, her eyes scanning you from head to toe.

"Don't I always?" you jest in response.

"Obviously, but you've got that honeymoon glow," Mia insists, walking into the house but not before nudging you with her shoulder. "Is there a hot gardener here that I don't know about, hmm?"

Laughing, you shake your head, dismissing her playful insinuations. You make a conscious effort to maintain the facade, concealing your unconventional relationships with the dolls from Mia, despite her keen observations.

They must be fucking you good for her to notice a change within a minute of seeing you.

Mia follows you to the kitchen, her gaze lingering on the various porcelain dolls scattered throughout the hallway, just as she had when you both met Soonyeol for the first time. You sense her unease, evident in the hurried pace of her steps as she tries desperately to evade the watchful eyes of the dolls.

What she finds unsettling, you've grown to find some comfort in. Each time you clean them, you develop a newfound admiration for their intricate beauty and craftsmanship. Sometimes, Sunghoon will even tell you stories about certain dolls and their origins, adding to the mystique surrounding them.

Entering the kitchen, you find Jaeyun still perched on his seat, his usual joyful smile replaced by a stoic expression as he takes on his doll persona.

It’s weird to see him like this now, especially because you’ve seen him convey every emotion possible on that beautiful face of his; the solemn look he wears now just feels wrong.

"I brought non-alcoholic wine," Mia announces, reaching into her bag and producing two bottles of white wine. Since she’s driving, she’s bringing you along in her sobriety for the day. If it was easy to get an Uber in these parts, she certainly wouldn’t be settling for 0.05%.

You chuckle at the sight, "Seriously? Gary Barlow wine?" you tease, unable to resist poking fun at her choice.

Mia feigns offence, placing a hand dramatically over her heart, "I'll have you know this is my idea of a very nice day out," she retorts, her voice taking on a mock-serious tone as she quotes his TikTok video, struggling to suppress a giggle. "That, and it was £2 off with my clubcard."

You both burst into laughter, her tension from earlier dissipating as you share a lighthearted moment. Grabbing two large glasses, you place them on the table, inviting Mia to pour some for you both.

"How was the drive?" you inquire, taking a small sip of wine.

"It was fine, although longer than I remember," Mia replies with a huff, sinking into a seat opposite Jaeyun. You notice her discomfort as she eyes him, face contorting in a form of disgust, "How has it been here?" she asks, wishing to know how on earth you’re coping in a mansion with such watchful eyes.

"It's a big house, lots to clean. All in all, it's been good.” You sip your wine, struggling to maintain the facade of normalcy.

The urge to confide in Mia, to unburden yourself of the secrets weighing heavily on your shoulders, is almost overwhelming. You want to tell her about the dolls, the ominous door that almost blinded you, and the sense of anxiety you feel sometimes when you roam the hallways. But you swallow the truth down, burying it beneath layers of false smiles and empty reassurances. It's a lonely feeling, knowing that you can't share your fears and anxieties with your closest friend. But for now, it's a burden you'll have to bear alone.

Mia accepts your answer with a sceptical expression, her eyes never wavering from Jaeyun's impassive face, "It's so fucking creepy," she murmurs into her glass, her discomfort evident in her tone, "Do you actually have to place them around the house? Can't you keep them locked up or something?"

You glance at Jaeyun, hoping for a flicker of reassurance in his eyes, but they remain devoid of emotion, sending a shiver down your spine. It's unsettling to see him so detached, his usual warmth replaced by an eerie emptiness.

Gathering your resolve, you pick up your glass and move to stand beside Jaeyun, offering him a supportive smile before responding to Mia. "It's part of the job, Mia. Soonyeol entrusted me with the responsibility of caring for them," you explain, your voice tinged with a mixture of obligation and fondness.

Mia scoffs at your explanation, "Girl, you're in a mansion on your own, just clean up on the last day. It's not like she would notice," she suggests, her nose upturned in disdain. You can tell that this whole situation is deeply unsettling for her, a puzzle she can't quite solve without knowing the full truth. She will never understand until she’s in your shoes.

"It's... nice, to look after them like this," you say wistfully, casting a fond glance down at Jaeyun as you speak.

Unable to resist the urge to offer him a comforting touch, you reach out to tuck a loose strand of Jaeyun's hair behind his ear, a small gesture of affection. Jaeyun wants nothing more than to nuzzle himself into your touch but Sunghoon’s words are still ringing in his mind.

Mia observes your interaction with a mixture of curiosity and concern, her eyes flitting between you and Jaeyun as if trying to decipher the unspoken language passing between you. You’ve only ever looked at one other man the way you look at him and it was your high school sweetheart.

The connection you share with Sunghoon and Jaeyun is utterly unlike anything you've ever known. They resonate with your soul in a way that defies rational explanation, leaving you convinced that they must be otherworldly beings. There has to be more to them than just kindred spirits trapped in the shell of these dolls; no mere human soul could evoke such a profound hold over you.

She scoffs and laughs in disbelief at your act of affection, “You’ve lost it, completely lost it. Being in this house alone has driven you to insanity,” she shakes her head, crossing her arms.

You retract your hand from Jaeyun and look at her in wonder, “What do you mean?”

It’s completely lost on you how this could look to her because for you this is normal. Soonyeol was strange in your eyes when you first arrived, Mia also accused the owner of being crazy, but now you understand Soonyeol and her attachment to her dolls.

Mia's incredulous gaze flickers between you and Jaeyun, her words dripping with disdain. "Look at you fixing that stupid doll's hair!" she exclaims, her voice laced with exasperation as if your actions are the epitome of absurdity, "You're going to turn into that creepy bitch who lives here."

Her words cut through the air like a knife, slicing through the fragile peace of the moment. You can’t feel it but you know Jaeyun would be tensing under her words if he had the ability to. Jaeyun doesn’t like it when people talk bad about his owner, especially since the reason Mia finds her so creepy is because of him and his brothers.

He does understand to an extent that Soonyeol being so young and cooped up with four dolls in a mansion that can only rival the one in Saltburn might be seen as weird, but that doesn’t mean he wants to hear about it, considering the passing comment is from someone who knows nothing about her.

You place a calming hand on Jaeyun's shoulder, your protective instincts kicking into high gear. "Listen, if you're going to run your mouth, just fucking go," you retort harshly, your voice fueled by your need to shield Jaeyun from Mia's unnecessary commentary.

Mia's eyes widen in disbelief, her expression a mixture of shock and frustration. "Y/N, listen to yourself," she chides, her voice tinged with a hint of disappointment, “You've gone stark crazy... maybe you should come home-"

"No!" The word bursts from your lips in a panic, cutting off Mia's well-meaning suggestion before she can finish. The thought of leaving sends a wave of fear coursing through you.

Mia recoils at your outburst, taken aback by the intensity of your reaction. "Y/N, I don't think it's good for you here," she pleads, her tone softening as she reaches out to touch your arm.

But you pull away, shaking your head vehemently. "You literally said I was glowing all but 10 minutes ago," you snap back, narrowing your eyes at her, "Just fucking go."

There's a moment of tense silence as Mia processes your words, her expression shifting from concern to anger. She knows there's no reasoning with you when you're in this state, and she can sense the wall you've built around yourself.

"Fine. I'll see you when you screw your head back on," she spits out at you, her voice dripping with ire and disappointment. With one final, venomous glare at Jaeyun, she grabs her bag and storms out of the room, her footsteps echoing through the halls.

You're left standing there, the echoes of her departure ringing in your ears. Despite the sting of her words, you can't bring yourself to regret your decision to kick her out. At the end of the day, this is the dolls’ house and you wouldn’t like it if someone came into your flat and disrespected you or your belongings.

But you can’t help but process her words as you calm down. You know she is just looking out for you, showing her genuine concern because she knows what isolation can do to someone and their mental state, and maybe she is right. You are attached to the dolls way beyond your own comprehension and it’s taken you just now to truly realise it.

You cussed out your best friend to protect the feelings of a doll. It's a sobering thought, one that fills you with a sense of unease and self-doubt.

Maybe you should have gone with her, go back to your normal life, and forget about this place.

In the silence of the room, you turn to Jaeyun, and suddenly any wish to leave vanishes. Just like that. His face now upturned to look at you with sorrow. He looks so beautiful in this light that his being is almost angelic.

You cup his face with your hands, using your thumbs to stroke any semblance of comfort into him before speaking, "She doesn't mean it, Jaeyun," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper in the hushed atmosphere of the room, "She just doesn't understand."

Jaeyun nods slowly, knowing that you’re trying to appease his mind but what’s said has already bruised him.

Kissing Jaeyun's nose, you offer him a tender smile before gently patting his cheeks. With a sigh, you reluctantly release your hold on him, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air, "I'll go check on the others," you murmur softly, "I'll be back in a bit."

_____

You shake off whatever you’re feeling and head through the mansion to help the other dolls. Admittedly, your task for moving them around has become much easier now that Jaeyun and Sunghoon move freely except for dinner time, which has freed up a good chunk of your time.

Each step you take echoes softly off the aged floorboards, their worn surfaces groaning beneath your weight. Sunlight filters sparingly through the windows, casting long shadows that dance across the dimly lit passages, adding to the eerie yet enchanting atmosphere of the mansion.

Sometimes you wonder about its history and its owner. How did a 20-something obtain such a grand house and why does she live alone? Of course, she has the boys but even then you can’t exactly take them on a night in the town. It’s so strange to see someone your age devoid of the usual life a young person would lead; no mobile, no wi-fi, not even a computer in sight.

The more you stay here though, you understand her a little bit better. There’s a comfort in the way this mansion takes your superficial worries away, like how many likes you have on your Instagram post or how people perceive you in general. The eyes that follow you here can’t pass judgment on you, which at the beginning was terrifying but now brings you a strange sort of solace.

As you navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion, you can't help but feel a sense of companionship with the dolls scattered throughout. With each step, you offer a soft greeting to your porcelain companions, their frozen expressions seeming to acknowledge your presence in return. If Mia stayed that day, maybe she wouldn’t have felt so threatened by them.

"Hello there, lovely," you murmur as you pass a doll perched on a velvet chaise longue, her delicate features bathed in the subdued sunlight streaming through the window. You straighten her white-laced dress and smile politely.

Even though the porcelain girl remains silent, you know she’s thankful.

You asked Sunghoon if it was just the four of them who could talk, curious about the dolls that decorate the shelves of the house. He informed you that they aren't sentient beings but each one has a complex past and represents an identity in their own way. Ever since then, you’ve started to view them differently, a new appreciation for them blooming.

While you’re fixing a doll standing regally on the shelf by a towering grandfather clock, her elegant gown billowing around her like a ghostly mist, a faint melody drifts into your ears. It's a common occurrence, though typically happens in the dead of night. Sometimes, in the quiet hours, the strains of a piano tune or the gentle plucking of guitar strings would echo through the halls, adding to the mansion's eerie ambience.

On your first few nights here, it made you quiver under your bed quilt but now you’ve come to find it a beautiful lullaby.

Following the source of the music, you're drawn to the open doors of the music room, their inviting stance beckoning you inside. Peering around the wall, you catch sight of one of the dolls seated with a guitar, fingers moving across the strings with practised ease.

His head hangs low, a curtain of dark brown hair obscuring half of his face, yet you recognize him instantly. It's Jongseong, his broad shoulders and golden complexion a telltale sign, along with his sharp jawline drawing attention to the almost heart-shaped mark on his neck.

You can't help but admire the striking beauty that emanates from him, even in this quiet moment of solitude. Sunghoon and Jaeyun's stories about his kindness flood you and memories of his selfless gestures are etched vividly in your brain.

You recall the time when Jongseong risked getting caught just to offer you a simple plaster for your pricked finger, his compassion shining through despite the potential consequences. And then there are the small, subtle acts of care that he continues to bestow upon you, like the glass of water that mysteriously appears by your bedside table each morning, a silent gesture of his thoughtfulness.

Then there's the delicate daisy that sometimes rests on your pillow before you go to bed for the night, a token from the front garden that Jongseong must have plucked with care, knowing how much you adore its simple beauty. Every day you go outside and admire the flower as it basks in the summer sun, its life a brightness to contrast the otherwise dreary house.

Jaeyun and Sunghoon both deny any involvement in the sweet actions, leaving Jongseong as the only possible culprit.

“You can come in you know,” his voice suddenly speaks over the gently strum.

Your breath catches at the unexpected sound of his voice, and you freeze in place, startled by his acknowledgement of your presence. For a fleeting moment, you wonder if you imagined it, but the gentle strumming of the guitar persists, a soothing backdrop to his quiet words.

With cautious steps, you inch further into the room, the rhythmic thud of your heart echoing in your ears and adding percussion to his song. Jongseong's gaze remains fixed on the strings of the guitar, his hair casting shadows across his face that do little to mask his smirk.

Now how does he know that you know about him?

Jongseong suddenly screeches the guitar to a halt, his eyes lifting to meet yours with an air of knowingness, "You seem in shock for some reason," he observes, his voice soft yet perceptible in the stillness of the room. With careful precision, he returns the guitar to its glass cabinet.

Your heart skips a beat, torn between maintaining the facade of ignorance and embracing the truth about Jongseong's secret. As his gaze holds yours, uncertainty gnaws at you, leaving your voice hesitant and faltering. "I... I am?" you manage to utter, the words tinged with a hint of doubt.

Wow, so convincing, Y/N, you internally chastise yourself for the lacklustre response, feeling the weight of your indecision bearing down on you. But before you can gather your thoughts and make a quick save for your fumble.

"Jaeyun and Sunghoon are terrible liars," he remarks, his voice calm and composed. "And I saw you just there, comforting Jaeyun because of what your friend said."

His candid admission catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Just like Sunghoon, Jongseong quickly discerned the truth, his thoughts solidified by Mia's careless words and your instinctive need to shield Jaeyun.

Exhaling slowly, you release the tension that had knotted your muscles, allowing yourself to relax a fraction. "She really doesn’t mean it," you clarify to Jongseong, hoping to ease his mind as you had done with his brother.

"It’s okay, you look fucking crazy, to be fair, fussing over some dolls," he replies, his tone surprisingly nonchalant, much to your relief. Considering Jongseong’s caring nature, you wouldn’t want her words to bruise his kind spirit.

You bristle at his casual reference to them as 'dolls,' unable to bear the thought of diminishing their significance, "You aren’t just 'some dolls,' Jongseong," you protest, your voice laced with compassion.

Rising from his seat, Jongseong offers a faint smile as he approaches you with unthreatening steps. "We know that, but she doesn’t. Don’t be too hard on her," he reassures calmingly, his words like a balm to the part of your brain that had been feuding with Mia, now quieting and subsiding under his simple wisdom.

As his hand gently strokes your hair, you feel a sense of comfort wash over you, his touch soothing the lingering unease in your mind. His fingers then trace down to your chin, his touch tender, "You’re good with him, you know, with Jaeyun," he observes softly, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that draws you in.

"He brings out a protective side of me, I don’t really know why," you admit quietly, your eyes locked with Jongseong's as you speak. His half-smirk in response only deepens the adoration reflected in your widened pupils. He closes his eyes like he knows something you don't.

Jongseong playfully pinches your chin before withdrawing his hand, "Yeah, Soonyeol has been the same ever since she got him," he remarks.

"Have you been here longer than him?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued as you gesture towards the kitchen where you left Jaeyun.

"I’ve been here for…a long time," Jongseong reveals, his voice tinged with a hint of reminiscence, "Heeseung for 8, Sunghoon for 4, and Jaeyun just over a year.."

The weight of his words swirls in your mind, each year marking a chapter in their shared history within the mansion's walls. You find yourself marvelling at the depth of their experiences, each doll carrying different memories and stories within their hollow frames. It now makes sense why Jaeyun knows so little.

That nugget of information must also mean that Jongseong knows everything there is to know about this place, about each of his brothers, if he has been here for so long. Maybe asking him will unlock the mysteries of this place.

"I'm not trying to pry," you begin tentatively, causing Jongseong to lift his brow in curiosity, "But how can you guys...how are you able to talk?" Your voice trails off slightly as you pose the question, a hint of apprehension colouring your words.

To your surprise, Jongseong chuckles softly and smiles wider in response, "Sunghoon mentioned you were snooping around when you arrived," he remarks, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. After a moment of silence, he lets out a long breath, contemplating his next actions before continuing, "You won't give up until we tell you, will you?"

His words catch you off guard, a mixture of relief and curiosity flooding through you. Despite your initial hesitation, Jongseong's casual response reassures you, hopefully paving the way for an open and honest conversation that can curb your nosiness.

“Come on and I’ll show you.”

_____

With intertwined fingers, Jongseong leads you into the library, your mind buzzing with anticipation at the possibilities of what he could be showing you. You grip his hand tighter, excitement coursing through your veins as he pulls you towards the far end of the room.

But as you near that god-awful painting of the sheep, a sense of dread washes over you, sending a chill down your spine. Suddenly, you release Jongseong's hand, the realisation of what he's doing hitting you like a ton of bricks.

"Oh, no, no, no," you protest vehemently, shaking your head in refusal, "I am NOT going near that room."

Your mind flashes back to the burning sensation in your eyes, the eerie red light searing into your retinas. Over the past few weeks, you've actively avoided that creepy room, refusing to even glance in its direction. Your curiosity may be insatiable, but you draw the line at risking letting out whatever is in there just in the name of discovering a secret.

Your irises mirror the turmoil within you, reflecting the fear and trepidation that grips your heart. You've made a vow to steer clear of that door and any other painting in this place, focusing your investigations on less ominous artefacts like locked cupboards and hidden pages within books.

Jongseong looks at you with concern, his brows furrowing in disbelief as he processes your words, “You know about this door?" he asks incredulously, wondering how on earth you ever managed to find it.

"Yes, and I am not going near it," you retort defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest like a stubborn child, "It almost blinded me!"

As you stand your ground, refusing to budge an inch, Jongseong's expression softens, his concern evident in the gentle gaze he fixes upon you, "I promise you, Sweetheart, there is nothing in there that can hurt you, not when I'm with you, okay?" he reassures, his hand finding yours once more as he brings it to his lips, kissing away the surge of fear that threatens to engulf you.

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, knowing that he will protect you from whatever dangers may lie beyond that wooden door.

With a hesitant nod, you allow Jongseong to lead you forward, you trust him but you’re still cautious enough to keep your wits about you, trailing two steps behind him.

Reaching the top of the wooden panel that frames the door, he takes the spare key and unlocks the door. It was really in front of you the entire time and you had no clue; you’re no Sherlock Holmes, that’s for sure.

You let out a breath and scrunch your face, being ready for anything as he swings the door open. Yet, you’re met with darkness - no red light, no flickering flames, nothing like what you saw through the keyhole.

But why does that scare you more?

Jongseong pulls you in, his grip on your hand loosening as he flicks on some lanterns. The room, once plunged with darkness now has a soft glow from the lanterns as they gradually illuminate the space, revealing its secrets in flickering shadows.

It's a stark contrast to the rest of the mansion, with its black stone walls absorbing the light rather than reflecting it. The air feels heavy with the weight of something you can’t put your finger on, every corner whispering tales of those you’ll never understand or know.

In the centre of the room stands an altar, its surface weathered with age and a stone bowl resting atop it like an ancient relic. Symbols etched into the stone tell stories that you can’t translate, the old language lost on you.

As you take in the sight before you, a shiver runs down your spine, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity coursing through your veins. Where did the red light come from if everything in here looks like it belongs in the Addams Family house?

"What is all this?" you ask, your curiosity overcoming any sense of apprehension as you creep closer to the altar. It's reminiscent of ones you've seen in movies depicting satanic rituals, yet even with its eerie aura, you can't resist the urge to touch it, your fingers tracing the lines of its rim.

"The office," Jongseong replies casually, as if this were a mundane space for everyday tasks like taxes and emails. He flicks on the last lantern and shuts the door firmly, ensuring privacy and avoiding suspicion from any passersby.

As you stand mesmerised by the ceremonial bowl, Jongseong notices your admiration and smiles, "This is the ceremonial bowl," he begins to explain, his body now behind yours, his presence both comforting and electrifying as he presses slightly against you. His fingers intertwine with yours, guiding your touch along the edge of the bowl, "This is how we were summoned"

"Summoned?" you echo, your voice barely above a whisper as you turn to face Jongseong, your eyes wide with disbelief and intrigue.

“Oh, Sweetheart, to bring a doll to life, you need to give it an entity.”

“An entity as in…”

“Any form of life; angel, demon, human, that sort of thing. Someone calls and we answer”

The revelation sends a chill down your spine, the idea of imbuing a doll with the essence of a supernatural being is both fascinating and terrifying.

As you process this new information, you can't help but wonder about the origins of the dolls in this mansion, and the entities that dwell within them. They all possess such different charms and energies that you can only imagine each of them comes from different channels of spirits.

“So what are you then?” you ask Jongseong, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of trepidation.

“I’ll leave you to guess that one,” he replies cryptically, pressing himself up against you until your back meets the edge of the altar. The cool stone digs into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"But you aren’t scared of me, are you, Sweetheart?" he continues, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks. You shake your head, unable to deny the truth, "Then that will give you some clue," he murmurs, his words hanging in the air between you like a tantalizing riddle waiting to be solved.

You stand locked in this intimate embrace, his presence gentle despite the surroundings.

“What about your bodies?” you inquire, your curiosity getting the better of you even though you're not entirely sure what you're asking. Obviously, they didn’t come from the pits of hell or wherever they're from, but you're curious about how Soonyeol managed to choose four dolls, each so perfectly suited to their personalities.

Jongseong tilts his head slightly, considering your question before responding, "Our bodies are vessels," he explains, his voice tinged with a hint of mystery, “We were crafted by the hands of Soonyeol, infused with the ashes of her loved ones.”

Jongseong's response sends shivers down your arms and legs, his words so compelling that they leave you speechless for a minute, "Infused with the ashes of her loved ones?" you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper, your head whirling, your throat dry as you attempt to swallow your nerves.

But before you can fully process what he said, Jongseong breaks out laughing, the sound reverberating off the walls of the poorly lighted room, "She just ordered them online," he says between laughter, his tone lighthearted. "That part isn't as evil unless you count the CO2 emissions from the planes."

Relief floods through you as you realise he’s just joking. You can't help but join in his laughter, the tension melting away as you shake your head in disbelief.

"Oh, you had me going there for a moment," you admit with a chuckle, feeling foolish for having been momentarily taken in by his playful deception.

Jongseong grins mischievously, his eyes twinkling with mirth, "I can give you the link to the site if you want? I know how much fun you’ve been having with the younger ones," he remarks, his laughter fading into a sly grin.

Your cheeks burn crimson at Jongseong's implication, and you shy away slightly, feeling a familiar wave of embarrassment wash over you. It's the same feeling you experienced when Sunghoon called you out for your rendezvous with Jaeyun, a reminder of the unconventional nature of your relationships with the dolls.

You can't shake the nagging feeling that at the end of the day, you're still fucking dolls, no matter how much Sunghoon and Jaeyun reassure you to embrace it. To be fair, the embarrassment hasn’t stopped you yet.

Seeing your flushed face even in the dim light, Jongseong's expression softens with understanding. He cradles your cheeks in his palms, his touch gentle as he strokes your flushed skin, "I'm not judging you, Princess," he murmurs, his voice tender. "I'm just feeling a little left out." He says playfully, making it hard to tell if he is serious or not.

But still his words catch you off guard and you meet his stare with a mixture of surprise and confusion. At that moment, you realise that Jongseong embodies the best of both worlds - the kindness and empathy of Jaeyun, coupled with the confidence and assurance of Sunghoon, coupled with his charm. It's a combination that draws you to him even more, creating a sense of longing.

Throwing caution to the wind, you act on impulse, letting go of any lingering doubts or hesitations. With a surge of boldness, you lean up and press your lips against Jongseong's, catching him off guard with the suddenness of your actions.

His eyes widen in shock at your sudden boldness, but they quickly darken with unmistakable hunger as he responds eagerly to your advance, smothering your mouth with his.

The kiss is electric, igniting a firestorm of sensations that consume you both, leaving you breathless and craving more. His lips are soft yet demanding against yours, his hands finding purchase on your waist as he pulls you closer, his touch somehow searing hot through your skin.

Jongseong groans as he dances his tongue with yours, the artificial buds on his muscle soaking in your taste. You suck on his tongue softly, eliciting a low snarl from him, his hand coming up to grip your hair roughly, while yours slide up his t-shirt, feeling the bumps of his toned tummy.

Drawing back from his lips, you see his entity burning with desire, his grip on you tightening, “Have you ever been fucked on an altar?” he asks, a smirk obvious on his face even in the dull lighting.

“No,” you breathe out, your chest heaving from the kiss.

“I’ll change that for you…if you’re a good girl,” he teases, the hand wrapped in the strands of your hair pushing your head down until you’re slowly following his guidance, sinking to your knees. From this angle, he looks like a god, a being worth worshipping as his aura glows white.

You know exactly what he wants and you’re willing to give it to him without question.

He undoes his belt with one hand, whipping it off hastily and placing it on the altar. You start to undo his trousers but as you move to assist him, your actions are abruptly halted by a sharp tug on your hair, forcing you back with a gasp.

Tears threaten to well in your eyes as the roots of your hair protest the forceful grip, but Jongseong's touch softens as quickly as it had hurt you, his hand now tenderly soothing the discomfort he caused.

"I need you to be good for me. It’s important to be good," he asserts, his voice commanding yet soft, "Only act when I say so, understood? I don't want to have to punish you, Princess. You don’t want that either, do you?"

His choice of words and gentle warning only add to the dampness in your pants, the material fully sticking to your wet cunt. You swallow hard as every word, every touch from Jongseong ignites your sense of being.

Shaking your head, you wonder if you want to obey him and avoid punishment as part of you wonders how far he could go with it.

Jongseong’s a gentle soul with kindness pouring out of him, you question whether it’s a facade to hide something more demanding underneath. Either way, you trust him, so even if you wanted to get a little bratty, you know he would cause you no real harm.

Both his hands are now on your cheeks, trapping you to look at him, “Words, Princess, use them,” he orders.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, licking your lips as you anticipate his cock laying firm on your tongue.

“Sweetheart, I’ll let you off this once, yeah? Just make sure you listen from now on,” Jongseong offers you a smile, patting your cheeks lightly before continuing, “If you ever want to stop, or I go too far, you tell me immediately. No amount of my pleasure is worth your discomfort.”

Smiling, you nod and quickly remember his instructions, “I will, Jongseong.”

Jongseong's gaze relaxes further with an accepting nod, and his touch is delicate against your skin, "Good girl," he says, his words a quiet affirmation of your submission.

He gives you the go-ahead to continue undoing his trousers which you eagerly do, your fingers quick to release the silver button and pull down his zip, leaving his trousers pooled at his ankles. You can see his member in the protruding silhouette of his boxers. Out of all the dolls, you’ve been most impressed by Jongseong, his cock is everything a person could dream of; girthy, long, like something off of Love Honey in the best seller’s section.

You discard his boxers next, leaving his member to spring into action. He is so fucking beautiful, you think to yourself, admiring every part of the craftsmanship that went into making such a wonder. Raising your hand, you go to wrap your hand around him gently but you pause, realising you probably need to be told that you can indulge yourself.

Jongseong notices your hesitation and lets out a chuckle, his smile morphing into a knowing smirk as you meet his gaze with eager anticipation, "You're free to go, Princess" he announces, much to your delight, and you need no further encouragement.

Grabbing the base of his shaft you pump him a few times, the soft feeling of his skin welcomed along your fingertips. You open your mouth, staring at him as you lick the tip of his shaft a few times, each time pulsing in your hand. The mechanics of these cocks is a wonder, how realistic they all are.

He gathers your hair in his hands, brushing the wispy strands from your face adoringly, careful not to be too rough with you just yet. You look beautiful to him right now, your tongue swirling around his head, the saliva trail you’re leaving behind every time you remove your plump lips to gather your breath. Soonyeol is beautiful, but you’re like his dream come true. There’s a pang of guilt as he thinks about it but when you start sucking his cock lightly, every thought goes out the window.

Hollowing your cheeks, you pump his cock and use your tongue to massage his bell in your warm mouth, the sensation of his cold cock in contrast to your warmth adds a new layer to your pleasure, already excited to feel him deep in your heat.

His size makes it difficult to fully take him in, so you use a combination of hand and mouth technique. You see the small subtleties in Jongseong's expression - the wrinkle of his brow, the tightening hold of his fist that inadvertently tugs at your hair again - and realise he doesn't mind how you are approaching it, he maybe even loves it.

It gives you a flutter in your tummy as you see his jaw slacking and his hips subconsciously twitching with pleasure. You’re an overachiever, have been your whole life, and while this is doing him wonders right now, you know you can do better.

Popping off his cock, you tap him on your outstretched tongue, grinning widely when his eyes meet yours. With his attention on you, you force him back in your throat, gagging slightly but relishing in the burn, your hands gripping his muscular thighs.

He hisses as with each bob, he hits your throat, “Fuck,” he grits out, pushing slightly to test the boundaries, and when you gag loudly, saliva dripping down your chin with a spurt, he instantly retreats, “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he soothes, his hand lifting your chin.

But you liked it, weirdly, the feeling of choking on his cock stirred something inside you, and your thighs become sticky with your arousal that is dripping down - and Jongseong noticed.

“Wait did you like it?” he asks, tightening his hold on your jaw, “You want me to fuck that beautiful throat of yours wide open?”

God, yes.

With a nod and eyes full of want, you silently express your desire for him to completely ruin you. However, as you resume, a swift smack to your cheek jolts you, rendering a grimace as you look up at him, perplexed.

"Words, Sweetheart, be a good girl," Jongseong prompts, his voice carrying both authority and care. A flicker of understanding crosses his expression as he reaches out to stroke your cheek where his hand had landed moments before. "I'm here to give you what you need," he reassures, his touch tender against your skin, "But you have to tell me."

With a deep breath, you muster the courage to voice your desire, "I want you to fuck my throat," you whisper.

"That wasn’t so hard, was it?" he murmurs, his tone gentle as he encourages your honesty. ain some ways, submitting to a man like this is embarrassing, yet you can’t help but feel completely in control at the same time. He’s giving you the option to have whatever you want, something the other two don’t let you do. Jaeyun lets you take control but it’s all for his pleasure, not for your own, and Sunghoon doesn’t let you do anything on your own at all.

As Jongseong begins to push into your mouth, an upsurge of sensations overwhelms you: the hardness of him filling your mouth, the taste of him combining with your saliva, and the sting of tears welling up in your eyes. Despite this, a pleasure runs through your veins, sparking a burning yearning within you, you want more of him, desperately.

Jongseong's voice cut through the veil of your shared satisfaction, "You're doing so well, Sweetheart," he says, his words a calming symphony contrasting to the burning in your throat.

You respond with a muffled moan, your mouth full as you eagerly take him in, your body responding instinctively to his every touch.

"I love how you take me," Jongseong whispers, his voice laced with reverence and desire, "You're so good for me. You were born to suck on my cock.”

His words alone are making your clit throb and you can’t take the emptiness, so, you reach down and dip your hand into your panties, circling your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. He continues chanting your praises, so lost in the feeling of your mouth that he hasn’t noticed you seek your own pleasure.

As Jongseong continues to revel in the pleasure of your mouth, a sudden interruption jolts him from his trance-like state. Feeling the subtle shift in your movements, he realises what you’re up to.

With a swift motion, he withdraws from your mouth, his grip firm on your head as he pulls you up to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, a mix of desire and admonition as he takes in the sight of you, flushed and needy, beneath him.

"Sweetheart, what do you think you're doing?" he chides, his voice low but commanding, “I didn’t give you permission to touch yourself, did it?"

“N-no…I just need you so bad, Jongseong.”

Your quivering voice of desperation makes Jongseong’s knees weak, that playful yet needy glint in your eye begging him to take you on the altar. He knows he has to punish you but you look so fucking sweet with your lips plump and drool on either side of your mouth that he’s almost forgiving you. You speak about the power the dolls have, but you have no idea the power you hold over them.

But he knows he can't let your transgression go unpunished. With a sigh, he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch gentle but firm. "I understand, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice tinged with feigned regret, "But rules are rules, and I can't make exceptions."

You accidentally let out a groan of frustration, rubbing your thighs together, hoping the friction can tide you over until he touches you.

sighing, Jongseong reaches out to caress your trembling thighs, his touch gentle yet possessive, "I know you're desperate," he murmurs into your neck, teasingly hovering over your nape with his lips, “So get on the fucking altar.”

With a whimper of surrender, you comply without hesitation, the anticipation of what's to come heightening your senses as you hoist up on the alter, positioning yourself on the edge. Every nerve in your body hums with anticipation, the need for his touch driving you to the brink of madness.

You’re glad that you wore a sundress today, planning to have a fun girls' day with Mia had its benefits even if it went horribly wrong.

In an instant, he rips off your panties, tossing them in the alter bowl haphazardly and hikes the skirt of your dress to your waist. Your pussy looks so delectable that he thinks prolonging stuffing you with his cock might be a punishment to himself rather than you.

But Jongseong is a man of his word, and if he doesn’t let Soonyeol away with anything, he certainly can’t let you.

He slaps your thigh sharply, a red mark appearing instantly against your skin, “Move back,” he demands, slapping your thigh once again. His tone is authoritive so you do as you’re told, not wanting to disappoint him anymore.

You spread your legs without direction, hoping your compliance will warrant an early yield in your punishment, whatever it may be. Jongseong licks his lips and smiles triumphantly, falling into your trap.

Yet, just as you begin to feel a glimmer of relief, Jongseong's hand comes down with brutal force, striking your pussy with a harsh slap that echoes through the room. The pain is searing, making you cry out in shock and agony, the sound reverberating off the walls as your body recoils from the impact. Each consecutive smack creates a new wave of pain, coupled with a surge of stimulation that makes you dizzy with sensations.

With each hit, Jongseong's expression regret, yet his actions are a contradiction of brutality, "I'm sorry, Princess," he says between strikes, his voice heavy with sorrow, even as his hand strikes you again, "I know it hurts but every act of defiance deserves punishment," Jongseong whispers, his voice an odd soothing balm, "We’re almost done, just two more, you can handle that right?”

His question, paired with the gentle caress of his fingers against your throbbing pussy, relaxes you, knowing that he meant it when he said he would stop if you wanted him to. Even now, as he looks at you, he's silently permitting you to end this.

But you don't want to. Not yet. The ache between your legs, the desperate need for him, drives you to endure just a little longer, "I can take it, Jongseong," you utter, your voice steady despite the trembling of your body. With a slow exhale, you brace yourself for the final two strikes, determined to prove your endurance and earn the reward awaiting you.

Jongseong's gaze softens with admiration, his hand hovering momentarily before delivering the next blow, "You're so strong, Princess," he murmurs, his voice laced with genuine admiration, "I'm proud of you."

The words, spoken amid your ordeal, fill you with a sense of validation, a reassurance that despite the pain, you're still cherished and valued in his eyes. Even though he warned you this would happen and you disobeyed him, he still gives you praise.

He delivers the last smack with force, putting punctuation on the end of your punishment, hoping that you’ve learned your lesson. And by fuck you have.

Bringing you forward, he sits you up straight, "You've done so well," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead, "Now, let me take care of you."

Without hesitation, he takes his cock and slides himself inside your throbbing pussy, the sensation being both a culmination of need and a reminder of the pain you've endured.

But as he begins to move within you, the rhythm of his thrusts slow and deliberate, you find yourself surrendering to the pleasure that washes over you. The intensity of the moment is overwhelming as you finally get what you've been craving for.

You moan softly, your hands grasping at his shoulders as you surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch.

But just as you feel yourself on the brink of ecstasy, Jongseong pulls out abruptly, leaving you gasping for more. "Please," you whimper, your voice thick with need.

Jongseong's fingers find their way to your throbbing clit, flicking it with expert precision, "Not yet, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, "I want to make this last."

The sensation is electrifying, sending you reeling with desire as Jongseong teases you mercilessly. "Jongseong," you plead, your voice a desperate cry for more but he only chuckles, his touch driving you to the edge of sanity as he pushes you closer and closer to the brink.

And then, just when you think you can't take it any longer, he plunges back inside you, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to the edge of oblivion once more, "Yes!" you cry out, your body arching against his as pleasure consumes you.

Just as you're about to tip over the edge, Jongseong grips your throat gently, his touch both commanding and reassuring, posing no real threat, "You're such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he grabs your attention, "Yet, you've been so bad. Snooping around, looking at things you shouldn't, fucking things that aren't yours." There’s a sly grin on his face as he pulls out again, leaving your hole clenching around nothing, tears threatening to fall as your impending orgasm is ripped away from you again.

Jongseong continues to torment you, his words cutting through the haze of desire, you can't help but feel a sense of vulnerability wash over you, "Was the last punishment enough for everything you've been up to?" he asks, his tone laced with both curiosity and a hint of warning.

Your breath catches in your throat as you meet his stare, the weight of his question hanging heavy in the air. You know that you've pushed the boundaries, looking around the mansion even when you promised Sunghoon you wouldn’t, and indulged in pleasures that were not yours to claim.

With a shaky breath, you nod slowly, your voice barely above a whisper, "Yes, Jongseong," you murmur, your heart pounding in your chest, "I've learned my lesson."

“Oh, yeah?” he smirks, looking at the ceremonial bowl prettily decorated with your frilly underwear, “You sure?”

Your desperation mounts as you chant a series of "Yes's," your pleas echoing in the cold air of the room. Every fibre of your being screams for him, the ache between your legs driving you to the brink of madness.

And just when you think you can't bear the anticipation any longer, Jongseong plunges back into you, his gaze still fixated on your underwear. The intensity of his thrusts sends shivers of pleasure running through your hot veins, yet beneath it all, a nagging curiosity tugs at the edges of your consciousness.

If you were in your right mind, you would question his fascination with the garments adorning the ceremonial bowl. As he picks up the frilly underwear with his middle finger, a spike of anticipation plagues you, mingling with the pulsating waves of pleasure emanating from his touch. And then, his voice cuts through the air, commanding and authoritative.

"Spit on them, Sweetheart," he instructs, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Without hesitation, you comply, summoning every ounce of saliva you can muster before releasing it onto the delicate fabric. The sight of your saliva coating the underwear sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of arousal and confusion swirling within you.

But before you can question his motives, Jongseong's touch intensifies, driving you to the brink of ecstasy once more and rips it away as he tosses the underwear into the bowl once more.

“No! Please, please, don’t stop fucking me, Jongseong. I promise I won’t snoop around or do anything without you telling me to.”

Your voice is desperate but you don’t care, if he denies you of your orgasm even just once more, you might die on this altar you’re perched on.

Jongseong's eyes light up with expectation, his hand tightening around your throat in a possessive hold while his other lingers over the ceremonial bowl, his muttering casting a dark spell in a foreign language.

Then suddenly, the crimson light floods the room, the same flash of red that almost blinded you. Terror holds you like a vice, pulling at your senses while flames lick hungrily in the air. Instinct urges you to go, to escape the flame that threatens to engulf you, but Jongseong's grip holds you tied to the altar.

There is no escape.

"Shhh, Princess it's okay, it won't hut you. I just need you to beg me," he says, his stare penetrating through the chaos with uncompromising focus, his left hand now sliding to tap on your clit with planned precision, sending waves of thrill surging through your body as he continues, lips hovering yours in a whisper, “Let Hell hear how much you need my cock.”

Hell.

The fire that is burning your skin beside you, that’s what you saw that day through the keyhole, you came face to face with the underworld. And now Jongseong’s opened it up beside you.

Summoning every ounce of courage you possess, you meet his gaze, your voice a trembling whisper as you utter the words he demands. "Please, Jongseong," you beg, the desperation in your tone echoing through the dimly lit chamber, "Fuck me, I need your cock so fucking bad."

His grasp on your throat tightens somewhat, a subtle acceptance of your surrender. With a hungry grin, he moves in closer, his breath hot on your ear, whispering pretty promises, and as his hand continues to work its magic on your clit, you totally yield to him despite the fear rising inside you.

Kissing you, he fucks back into you, letting go of your throat and focusing all his attention on making you feel good, his hands finding home on your hips.

The more you moan, the more intense the fire becomes, some of the flicker burning your arm. Jongseong notices your unease and focuses your eyes to look only at him, “It can’t hurt you, I wouldn’t let them,” he whispers, his words causing more confusion but you’re already so far gone, lost in the feeling of his cock punching into your cervix that you can’t question him.

"You're doing fucking amazing, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice filled with admiration and desire. "I want you to scream my name, let all those fucks know what a good girl you are, that you’ll never be like them.” His jab at those below you in the underworld makes your skin tingle.

With each thrust, pleasure courses through you like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending and leaving you breathless with ecstasy. And as you surrender to the overwhelming pleasure, you heed Jongseong's command, your screams echoing through the chamber as you give yourself over to him.

The flames in the bowl seem to dance to the rhythm of you and Jongseong’s passionate encounter, with each blow of his cock piercing your open, the more you cry out, and that excited the crimson glow.

As the intensity of your pleasure builds to a crescendo, you feel yourself teetering on the edge, every fibre of your being yearning for release. And with one final, desperate cry, you let go, surrendering yourself completely to the overwhelming waves of ecstasy that wash over you.

Jongseong feels you coming undone and follows suit, his cock twitching inside you and hips pushing him as far as he can reach inside you.

Once the fires begin to fade, leaving just embers blazing gently in the darkness, you feel yourself returning to reality, your senses gradually returning to you. You notice the air is thick with the odour of burnt cloth and the remains of the fire that previously raged around you.

With a shock, you look down and notice the charred remains of your underwear smouldering in the ceremonial bowl, the flames having eaten them in their fervour. Panic grabs you for a minute, but suddenly Jongseong's voice breaks through the quiet, his words a calming salve.

"I get why the others are obsessed with you, Y/N," he says, his tone filled with admiration and longing, "You belong here, I know you do."

Despite his assuring words and gentle touch as he slips out of you, his hands soothing where he has left marks, lingering questions gnaw at the edges of your mind. "Jongseong," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, "what was that fire? And what did you mean by 'those fucks' down there? Was it hell?"

Jongseong’s expression softens, his fingers gently caressing your thighs, his actions were stupid and selfish in the name of his brothers and Soonyeol. He knows he shouldn’t have done that, but he just had to show you off, let everyone know that you were his at least once, “Y/N," he says softly, his eyes filled with a mixture of fondness and concern, "there are some things you're better off not knowing. Trust me."

His words give you pause but you’re sick of the secrecy now, “Tell me, Jongseong. I will find out one way or another,” you press him, hoping your tone is half as commanding as he was, “Just tell me, what the fuck was that?”

“Go to Heeseung. He can explain it far better than I can and to be honest, I don’t want to see your face when you find out,” he says suddenly, his tone firm but gentle. Confusion flickers in your eyes, but before you can question him further, Jongseong presses a tender kiss to your forehead, “I will warn you though, Sweetheart, he won’t take kindly to being last.”

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#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #jay smut #jongseong smut #jay x reader #aj writes #park jongseong smut #the doll house #enhypen fic

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gorejo · 7 months

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▸ BOSS'S FAVORITE - gojo satoru (forbes30!gojo au)

what can you say to the boss's favorite customer when he comes five minutes before closing? Kick him out? Not an option, especially when he tips so well and has a rather cheeky motive to stay and get your attention.

content: 1.1k words. unedited. this is before the breakup! so, college forbes30!gojo. reader is his girlfriend, she/her pronouns. fluff! got this from an anon ask!! so nonnie if you see this, I hope you enjoy! also this is the shortest fic I've made in a hot minute! so be proud of me yall )) :

"you're here again," you monotonously asked, deadpanning with a raised brow, crossing your arms while you leaned to one side.

“Yes, as you can see since I’m seated here to get my order taken.” he smiled amused by your baffled expression.

“Sato—”

"your boss likes me," Satoru smugly responded while he sat back on his chair and crossed a leg over the other, his expensive shoes reflecting the cafe's dim lighting, "i came for him, so don't get mistaken," he teased with a childish smirk.

“And you know, that’s not a way to greet a valid customer. especially with my VIP status,” he huffed with the corner of his lip threatening into a smirk.

"And you know it's courtesy to not come into a store when we're just about to close," raising your wrist to look at your watch, “I don’t know like five minutes before closing.”

"well, don't blame me," he innocently batted his soft eyelashes, steadying his cheek on the palm of his hand, "I was waiting for my girlfriend outside and he so happened to kindly invite me in."

Gojo Satoru was your boss’s favorite. Not only did he effortlessly draw in customers, people curiously entering the cafe just for a closer look at him, only to end up buying a drink and some pastries to chill in the somber ambiance, but he also tipped generously — too generous to be even called a tip.

Those that walk by would do a double take when they would see the white haired man, tall in stature, dressed in a simple white shirt, and black slacks, and would reroute their steps hoping that maybe they were lucky to see him again.

Just by the frosty white of his hair, he gained attention — who wouldn’t stare at a handsome guy, covering his beautiful cerulean eyes with his notable sunglasses chilling on a seat looking through his phone, while he sipped on the most sugary drink the cafe had to offer.

The cafe was especially the busiest whenever he tagged the store on his socials. Flocks of his followers bombarded the store just to see a glimpse of their favorite college nepotism student, who happened to also be unapologetically haughty about his good looks.

And to his mercy, today, he graciously came just when the store was about to close — at least there won’t be a murderous amount of people trying to flock over.

Because fuck capitalism.

Working on the weekends, and sacrificing your leisure to make money wasn't out of the norm. It was something most college students would do. Make a couple of bucks to comfortably buy that extra cup of coffee with oat milk, or go out with friends for some food or the club.

But for you, you had bills to pay. And it didn't help that your boyfriend was well outside your tax bracket.

He was kind and offered to pay for almost if not all the dates. But with exams rolling around, and your monthly rent just about due, you didn't have enough time to fit him into your schedule.

He never complained, simply worried that you were pushing yourself too harshly. Placing a kiss on your forehead as he tucked you into bed, or cradled you in his arms when he found you sleeping on the couch, he hoped that you could trust him — trust him enough with your burdens but he never pushed. Because he trusted you would come to him on your own time, when you were ready to invite him more into your heart.

So, he's found a rather cheeky way to squeeze some time to let you know he cares. It's just his way is not the most conventional one you could imagine...

“He likes you because you tip well,” you laughed while rolling your eyes.

Clearing his throat, "I know you like to talk to me because I am that handsome,” he opened up the menu and placed a finger to rub his chin while he “actively” tried to decide what to get, “but like I said, I do have a girlfriend and I would like to order please." He chuckled while looking up, giving you a boyish grin — the one that made your heart flutter despite how cheesy he was.

At this point, it was disappointing how he still affected you. Flustered at his forwardness, you turned around, muttering as you felt a sudden heat radiate to your cheek. “Okay, then call someone when you’re ready.”

“No!” Immediately grabbing hold of your hand, a sharp screech on his chair scraping against the wooden floor echoing through the quiet cafe. He gave it a tight squeeze before he sat down, his puppy eyes pleading for you to wait, “I’m sorry… just, I- I’ll choose soon,” he mumbled, silently sitting back down.

"Okay, then… what can I get for you, Mr. Gojo." you sighed, shaking your head, looking at his fingers lightly playing with yours, “And didn’t you say you have a girlfriend? Not sure if she’ll like this if she saw, ” You smirked.

“eh it’s okay, she’ll understand,” He responded with a hum, “she loves me too much.” his thumb gently rubbed against your skin, the scales of the day’s stress flaking off the more his warm hands massaged yours. “but, give me a minute, gotta read through all the options.”

“You serious?... ” It was so easy to read through his actions — it was laughable, really.

“Yes, this requires a lot of thinking,” quickly peeping at his watch latched on his vacant hand before humming exaggeratingly, “hmm…”

Tapping your foot, “Any minute now, that’ll be great, Sat —”

"Give me a couple of seconds please,” he stopped you, reading through each item, slow as a sloth — at most twenty items were on the menu, it shouldn’t even take an elementary student this long to read at his pace.

“Sure, whatever for the boss’s favorite, right?” you pursed your lips, your eyes forming faux crescent moons.

“Oh, I got it!” he chirped, simultaneously closing the menu when you heard your boss off in the distance, shooing your other coworkers into the kitchen, “Let’s close up! Chop! Chop! The faster we finish, the faster we go home!”

“I need to go help —” you tried heading to the kitchen, not wanting your coworkers to bear the burden of cleaning on their own.

“I'll get —" Gojo hummed, just about to say his order before you cut him off, his firm grip on your hand keeping you from leaving.

"the mochi with zunda, with freshly whipped cream and a side of strawberries to go with it, anything else?" you quickly retorted.

"Oh yes, maybe I can top it off…” elbows leaning against the table with his arms crossed, flashing you with his cheeky smile — the one that showed his teeth and the cute dimple he had on the bottom corner of his lip.

“with a kiss, because you’re finally off the clock now, right?”

author's note: he's so annoying but I love him to death so that's alright heh

#ae.writes #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #forbes30!gojo

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bloomries · 11 days

Text

yeah so my husband— my husband?!

includes : (the demon brothers) lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor.

summary : calling him your "husband" (even though you two aren't married yet) to see his reaction.

warnings : gn! reader. fluff. mention of marriage. suggestive (in asmodeus'). the word 'husband' will begin to look strange bc it's used so much, apologies.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Lucifer

You just meant for it to be a harmless little prank, something to tease Lucifer with later when you two were alone, perhaps gauge his reaction to the idea, but after you said 'yeah, so my husband...' Diavolo's eyes grew as wide as the moon and you instantly regretted your prank idea.

Diavolo clasped a hand on Lucifer's shoulder, beaming. "You finally asked!" This statement went over your head as you tried to quickly take back your words, Lucifer's blanched face making it clear he'll definitely be scolding you later. "But it seems I missed the wedding? Oh well, I'll just host you another wedding so I can see it for myself!"

"Ah, L- Lord Diavolo..." Lucifer sends you a glare as you smile sheepishly. "We aren't- I haven't-"

"How do you both feel about a chocolate fountain?" Diavolo is already off in his own little world, imagining how he'll plan out your wedding. Lucifer decides he'll inform Barbatos of the prank, and have Barbatos deal with it- Lucifer already has his hands full with you. He pulls you aside as Diavolo talks to himself.

"Do you see what you've done?"

"Sorry..." You fake pout, batting your lashes up at him. "My darling husband will surely fix it though, right?" Oh, how can he stay mad when he truly likes the title so much. Perhaps this will make asking you to marry him easier? You surely seem to enjoy the title just as much.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Mammon

Mammon is always trying to listen in on your phone calls, he's nosy and likes to know all the gossip. Today in particular though, he's trying extra hard to hear, clinging to you and making you unable to do other tasks whilst on your call.

Deciding to tease him a little, in hopes of getting him off of you, you sigh dramatically into the receiver. "I'm sorry, my husband needs my attention, one second."

And when you look down at him, his eyes are wide and shiny, a blush quickly forming on his cheeks. Him? Were you talking about him? He's your husband? A giant grin takes over his features and it seems your little prank has the opposite effect you wanted, as he takes the phone from you.

"Yeah, sorry, their husband- that's me!- needs 'em!" He boasts proudly before hanging up the call and clutching on to you tighter, burying his face into your side, his grin not changing in the slightest.

You sigh, running your fingers through his hair. "Rude, I was trying to talk to someone, you know." Mammon shrugs, not a care in the world.

"'m your husband, I take priority."

"You know you're not officially my husband yet, right?" Shit, you're right. Well, that'll change soon, don't you worry one bit! Mammon knows how to take a hint, and there'll be a ring on that finger soon enough!

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Leviathan

You and Levi were playing an online game, chat on full blast, when you decide to tease him- because it's just so fun to see his flustered expression, and you have an inkling that this'll give him some motivation for the game. "Ah, hubby, can you help me with these guys!"

"H- Hubby!?" Leviathan's neck nearly breaks from how quickly he snaps to look over at you, you seem unphased though by the phrase- as if it came so naturally. His heart skips a beat, his grip on the controller tightening. "W- Where are you, I'll come help!"

His gaming friends are all blowing up the chat box, some getting on voice chat just to ask what that meant- 'was Levi actually married?,' 'He was a husband?,' 'Since when!?,' 'Congratulations!,' etc.

Levi would have gotten more flustered, had he been paying any attention to said friends, but he's much more focused on proving he'd make an excellent spouse by rushing to where you were in the map and one-shotting all the enemies that surrounded you.

The battle is quickly won thanks to Levi, who puffs out his chest with pride. You lean over from your gaming station adjacent of his, and press a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, hubby~" His cheeks grow a rosy pink, and he pulls his headphones off to give you a serious look.

"Let's get married."

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Satan

"Oh husband~" You call, "Can you help me get this book? I can't reach!" Satan peaks his head from around the corner to give you a questioning look. Who were you calling husband? He watches you struggle, leaning his frame against the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I don't remember proposing." Satan watches as you deflates from his lack of reaction to your prank. He sighs, walking over to you and helping you reach the book, tapping it on your head lightly before handing it over to you.

"You're no fun, you know that?"

Satan has a feeling this was definitely set up by one of his brothers, and he'll definitely be getting his revenge on them for making you do this (and for making his heart hammer against his ribcage uncontrollably). Still, he hates to see you upset in the least, so he lifts your chin with his finger and thumb and sends you that smile that sends shivers down your spine.

"Don't be upset, you'll get to call me husband soon, okay?"

And he truly did mean that, he already had a ring, which sat heavy in his pocket. He just wanted to make sure you had the most perfect proposal, something straight out of a romance novel- because that's what you deserve. Soon, soon you'll be able to lovingly call him 'husband' whenever you wish.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Asmodeus

Asmo is live-streaming again, doing a little grwm-type video, with you off to the side/in the background. As he begins to do his skin care, he asks for you to take over and chat for a little while for him, so you peak your head into view and wave at his viewers.

"Hello everyone!" You smile, glancing back at Asmo who's behind you in the bathroom, doing his skincare. "My lovely husband is doing his skincare right now, it usually takes him about ten to fifteen minutes to complete it." You say, however you can see his head pop-up from the sink and he whips around to look at you.

"Husband?" He calls, and when you nod, confirming your words, he grins. "Oh my, is this a proposal?" He asks with a teasing lilt, and you joking go along with his words, nodding before reenacting the famous getting-down-on-one-knee. You open your hands as if you had a ring box, presenting it to him. He holds his hand out to you, "I do~" You pretend to slip a ring on to his finger and he admires the imaginary ring before leaning down to kiss you.

"Now," He pulls away, wiggling his brows. "Shall we get started on the honeymoon part?"

"Asmo, that's typically after the weddi-" Asmo reaches for his phone, waving and saying a little 'byeeee' to his followers as he ends the livestream with a giggle, throwing you a lil' mischievous smile.

"No harm in starting earlier, right?" And despite only being halfway through his skincare, and this not being a real proposal, the honeymoon was very nice indeed- he can't wait for the real one though.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Beelzebub

You had seen the trend, and wondered how Beelzebub would react. So, under the guise of trying some new food and giving it a review, you set up your camera and begin filming. "Hey everyone, me and my husband are going to be rating food from the new McDevil menu~"

Beel doesn't react at all, and you send him a quick glance before trying again- perhaps he didn't hear you? "I think the Sin-Fries are a solid 7/10, what about you, husband?" But again, he doesn't react to the word at all, instead giving his own rating for the new fries.

Is he really not realizing what you're saying? You decide to try one last time. "My husbands food always looks better than mine," You whine, peaking over at him to see his reaction, only to see him offering you a bite of his burger. You sigh, giving up and deciding to just enjoy your food. You take a bite of his burger, offering him some of yours. The review ends swiftly, and you turn off the camera.

As you two clean up from eating, you notice Beelzebub quieter than usual. You're about to ask him if everything is okay, his face becoming flushed, when he speaks up.

"Soon, okay?" You blink a few times, confused by his words. He bashfully looks up at you, and that's when you realize what he's talking about- marriage, he plans on proposing to you soon. Your own cheeks now grow unbearably warm. "I promise."

Your prank definitely backfired, as now you're the one trying to calm your racing heart (although Beelzebub is definitely just as flustered). Still, you're holding him accountable to his promise- soon.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Belphegor

You're not sure how this little prank managed to get turned against you, but Belphegor has made it so that you're now his personal pillow- again.

"I'm just saying, if I'm you're husband, then that means you should let me use you as a pillow whenever I want." You open your mouth to retaliate, but he beats you to it, batting his lashes up at you. "Don't you want your husband to be comfortable?"

"I..." You falter. You regret deciding to call him your 'husband~' to try and get him to help you with chores. You thought maybe it'd motivate him, or maybe you'd just get to see his cute blushing face, instead you're suffering.

"Come on now, don't be shy~" He wiggles about, trying to grab you to pull you towards him, but he doesn't really exert enough energy to be successful. "Ugh, why... do you... do this... to me- to your darling husband!"

"You're anything but darling." You say, crossing your arms over your chest. "Last time I call you 'husband' or any term of endearment, I swear..." You grumble, turning on your heels to leave, disappointed your prank didn't work.

Belphegor grins, snuggling up to his pillow as he watches you leave. "That's what you think," he mumbles to himself, yawning, "when I finally get that ring on your finger, I'll have ya calling me husband again, just you wait~" He snickers, and a cold chill runs down your spine. You glance back to see him asleep, although you feel as if he's planning something- and you weren't sticking around to find out what!

#obey me x reader #om x reader #omswd x reader #obey me imagines #om imagines #omswd imagines #obey me headcanons #om headcanons #omswd headcanons #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #om fluff

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mistiell · 1 year

Text

I'm Starvin', Darlin'

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary: Spencer realizes how touch starved he is when you, the newest member of the BAU, develop a habit of casually touching him throughout the day.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Fluff, mutual pining, bit of a misunderstanding towards the end, this hasn't been proofread so I might come back to correct some things later

A/N: So, I have been like, completely MIA for the passed few months, and I apologize for that. Life has been hectic and I haven't had any motivation. However, I'm back now! At least for a little while. This is my first fic for Spencer but I hope to write more for him in the future. There'l definitely be a part two to this sometime in the future, so look out for that.

Part 2

Spencer has never been one for physical affection.

Logically he knows that he needs a certain amount of it to survive, and he doesn’t particularly mind it anymore when Morgan claps him on the back or when he has to shake somebody’s hand. But when he’s pulled in for a hug, there’s this weird sort of anxiety that makes him worry about whether or not he’s holding on too tight or how long he can stay there without making it awkward. He’ll endure it if he thinks a hug would be the best way to comfort someone, but typically, he avoids them altogether.

That was, until you came along.

It was sunny out, and for the first time in a while, the blinds in the bullpen were pulled open to let the sun shine in. Spencer was sitting at his desk, flipping through his mound of paperwork when JJ had led you over to your new desk, right across from his. JJ had caught his attention to introduce you, but the moment he laid eyes on you, whatever she was saying went in one ear and out the other

You had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life.

“Spence.” JJ’s voice snapped him back into reality and he was suddenly acutely aware of how long he’d been staring.

“Hm?” You’d giggled at his dumbstruck expression and he swore he’d do anything to make you laugh like that again.

JJ stared at him expectantly for a few seconds before rolling her eyes and gesturing to you again, “I said, this is Agent L/n. She’s our newest member.”

“Oh, right, um, I’m Sp-Spencer Reid. Er– Doctor Spencer Reid.” He was halfway through mentally berating himself when you smiled oh so kindly at him, extending your hand.

“Y/n L/n. It’s nice to meet you, doctor.”

“Oh, um, you can just call me Reid.”

“Right.” You very obviously looked him up and down in a way that made his heart race, “Reid.”

And then you sat down at your desk.

And he had to sit there and pretend he wasn’t utterly and entirely flustered by that tiny, microscopic interaction.

He came to realize about a month into your friendship that you were a touchy person by nature. You’d touch his arm when he made you laugh and sometimes you’d squeeze his shoulder before you sat down next to him at the round table. Six months into your career there and you’d gotten comfortable enough that you’d hug most of them when you showed up for drinks outside of work and playfully pinch Morgan’s arm or side when he got a little too brazen with his flirting. Sometimes you’d bump Spencer’s shoulder to tease him. It took a few times to get used to it, but eventually he started bumping you back.

Actually, he found that the more you touched him, the less he seemed to dislike it. In fact, he finds himself waiting for those casual displays of affection. Every time your skin meets his, he feels warm, revitalized.

Which is why on one particularly late night, when he’s utterly exhausted and the two of you are the only ones in the office, he feels comfortable enough to do what he’s about to do.

He thinks about it for a long while, never one to do anything like this without properly thinking it through. He’s just so tired and this case was so draining that, as pathetic as he thinks it is, he finds himself wanting to ask for a hug.

He won’t. He’s not that confident yet. But he thinks that maybe there’s another way to get away with touching you in some capacity.

So he rolls his chair over to your desk, attempting to casually plop down next to you so his side is practically pressed against yours. To his surprise, it actually works, though his casual “plop” is more like a rather awkward “slip-and-almost-accidentally-knock-you-over”. But you don’t mind. Instead, you laugh and bump his shoulder a lot more gently than he bumped you.

“Watch it, clumsy.”

“Sorry.” He chuckles, awkwardly clearing his throat, “What are you working on?”

“The mountain of paperwork that’s been accumulating since I got here.” You huff a short, embarrassed puff of laughter as you glance down at a notepad he hadn’t noticed, “That, and doodling.”

“Doodling what?” He asks, though he wonders how much he’s actually going to be able to pay attention when he’s so focused on how warm your thigh and shoulder feel against his.

“Oh, um,” Is he crazy or are you blushing? “It’s embarrassing.”

“I won’t judge.” After a split second of deliberation, he gently shifts his weight into his shoulder to nudge you just a little.

“Promise?” You smile shyly and he can’t help but smile back.

“Promise.”

There’s a second where you hesitate before sliding the pad over for him to see. He uses his middle and index finger to drag it over a little more and what he’s met with makes his cheeks warm and his heart flutter about in his chest.

It’s him.

You’ve drawn him at just about every angle, and in such detail that he wonders if you were trying to downplay your abilities or if this is really your definition of doodling. It’s clear you’ve done most of these by memory only because he’s had his head bent over his desk for the past few hours, and most of these are full views of his face. They’re unbelievably accurate, and he realizes you must look at him enough to have his facial features memorized.

“I-I know they’re not great, and I messed up your lips in a couple, but, uh–.”

“Wow.” He breathes in such genuine wonder that you cut yourself off. He looks up at you, a strange, viscous warmth weaving in between his ribs and settling to swirl in his stomach in such a way that it makes him feel a little sick. But, even more strangely, in a good way. He catches himself staring and quickly looks back at your artwork with a flustered smile, “I-I’m flattered. This is… I mean, you’re amazing.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, heat creeps up his neck and he rushes to correct himself, “I-I mean your work is amazing. Not that you aren’t amazing, because you are, but–.”

“Spence.” This time, it’s his turn to cut himself off. That’s the first time you’ve ever called him that.

And fuck, if he isn’t a goner.

You place your hand over his and his heart leaps into his throat, “Thank you.”

“Y-Yeah.” He’s so lost in your eyes that it comes out a whisper. With a little flush of confidence, he turns his hand palm up in yours to squeeze your fingers before hastily pulling away to avoid you noticing how clammy his hands are.

After that night, he finds himself seeking you out a lot more. Knocking his knee against yours under the table, tapping you to get your attention rather than just calling your name.

It isn’t until you’re both out with the team that he realizes he hasn’t been as discreet as he thought he’d been. He’s had a few drinks and is a little more than tipsy, which is never a good thing with how much alcohol loosens his lips. Especially when you’re sitting right next to him, definitely more sober than he is.

“Pretty boy, when did you get so comfortable with people touching you?” Derek asks, earning a rather confused look from the man in question. Before he gets a chance to respond, you’re asking exactly what he’d been thinking.

“What do you mean?” By the way he’s looking between the two of you, Spencer assumes Derek is referring to the way you’re pressed against his side – or rather, how he’s pressed against yours, considering he’s the one who leaned practically his whole body weight into your side the moment you sat down.

“You don’t know?” Emily asks, and you shake your head, “He doesn’t like touching anyone.” A knowing smirk creeps up on her face as she locks eyes with him, “Or at least he normally doesn’t.”

“Oh.” Is all you say in response. He doesn’t like the sadness in your tone, and he especially dislikes the way you shift away from him to give him space. There’s a rather startling urge to wrap his arm around you and pull you back to him, but he shuts that down immediately, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“Do you remember that time he dodged a handshake by telling the guy it would be safer for them to kiss?” Penelope giggles, clearly drunk at this point.

“You weren’t even there.” Spencer counters, laughing a little to diffuse the tension. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye and notices that your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

You’re a little too quiet the rest of the night. At one point, you leave for the bathroom and when you return, you slide your purse in between the two of you to keep a safe distance.

He hates it.

He hates it even more when you stop him outside the bar with an apologetic look on your face as you’re all leaving.

“Hey, Spence?”

He swallows the butterflies in his throat that surface at the nickname, “Yeah?”

“I, uh,” You clear your throat awkwardly, “I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you uncomfortable with all the, um… touching.”

He opens his mouth to tell you he really, really doesn’t mind it, but you accidentally cut him off, “I didn’t even consider that you might not be comfortable with it, and that was really inconsiderate of me. Now that I know, you don’t have to worry about it anymore. I’ll be sure to uh, keep my hands to myself.” You titter, glancing at your shoes sheepishly.

“Oh, it’s okay–.” He’s cut off again, this time by Emily, who’s yours and Garcia’s designated driver for the evening. “L/n! You coming?” She calls with a smile.

“Yeah!” You call back, before turning back to him. He watches you almost lean in for a hug, and a pang of disappointment stabs at his chest when you stop yourself in favour of nodding at him with a smile, “I’ll see you next week, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Is all he has time to say before you’re climbing into the backseat of Emily’s car.

He is seriously dreading going into work on Monday.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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salvatwh0re · 9 months

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I have officially mastered the void

So this morning (afternoon actually) i decided to tap into the void so I did the 61 points yoga nidra meditation with a subliminal. I didn’t really need the subliminal I was just using it cause my headphones are somewhat noise cancelling and my family was awake so I didn’t want to get distracted. But the meditation was really relaxing. At first I had some trouble staying focused but then I reminded myself why I was doing this and what I was doing it for. So it kept me motivated. After that i affirmed a little bit then I counted down from 100 and then I affirmed some more then I got bored of affirming so i started visualizing and then I got bored of that so I just decided to focus on the darkness behind my eyelids.

I never really took that advice from people when they said it helped cause I didn’t believe them but it actually worked. Out of everything else I did that was the one thing that sent me straight to the void. I think for the most part it was just letting go of that desperate feeling i always have when I try to enter. I always feel like I’m forcing myself to do it so I just let go and kind of forgot about what I was doing while still keeping that intention.

I was getting pretty anxious tho because of the time so I just got out but i did it again and it sent me straight to the void again. So now I know the secret to getting into the void is to just let go of that desperation and to stop forcing yourself, just let it happen. If you feel you’ve affirmed enough stop affirming, if you feel you’ve focused on your breathing enough, go back to your automatic breathing pattern STOP FORCING YOURSELF IT WILL GET YOU NOWHERE!!

and I know a lot of people stress about not being aware in the void and not affirming for your desires but stressing over that is exactly what’s going to make you forget tbh. When you let go of that desperation you let go of those other doubts too, those things that were stopping you from getting there in the first place. I feel like removing yourself from those thoughts is really effective in getting you what you want.

I will say it might help to have a list of things you want either written down or set in your mind because it will be a lot easier to remember what you’re going to affirm. When you’re in the void or even before you tap in completely you’re supposed to be super relaxed so it might be a little difficult to bring up those thoughts but because of how different the void is from the 3D it’s kind of hard to forget. Especially if you’ve been trying for a long time.

The void isn’t really something you question, you know for sure you’re in cause you can’t hear feel see taste or smell anything so it’s pretty identifiable. And because you’ve reminded yourself over and over that that’s what the void feels like, once you feel it you’re going to be like OHHH ok now i know to affirm for my desires. You’ve been training your brain to associate the void with your desires so of course once you recognize that you’re in you’re going to remember to affirm for your desires.

Also I don’t really like using the term void personally, but it’s what I learned it as. I feel like calling it the void just makes it sound so otherworldly and extraterrestrial and scary tbh. I think that’s what was holding me back as well, fear. I know that Neville Goddard refers to it as the I AM state which is a perfect name for it because it really is a state of just BEING like you’re not worried about anything else other than yourself and that’s the beauty of it. I would go on more cause there’s so much I can say but overall i hope you just let you go of that desperation so that you can finally push through and get everything you’ve been wanting because you deserve it.

#void state #void success #the void state #loassumption

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faetreides · 1 month

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　　╰ • ❀ - ❛happy birthday, mr. emperor!❜ ✦

cw: afab reader, daddy kink, pretend it’s april 19th, implied painal sorry for writing an anakin that would love jane eyre too much, bondage mention, dark themes, implied age gap, blowjob

“I wish you could see how the stars I made shine for you, angel.”

Last night Anakin had tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, silently chuckling when it sprung back to smack you in the face. Your nose scrunched in that bunny-esque way he loves, and he whispered against your cheek that he loved you before departing your home. As soon as you heard the door swoosh shut behind him, a bright smile beamed across your face as you sprung out of bed and began preparing. You’d gotten better at pretending to be asleep, or maybe he’s just humoring you.

It took you hours to set up your husband’s surprise stay at home birthday celebration. His job as the Emperor of the Galaxy drains the life out of him even on his good days, so you do what you can to ease the tension however possible. Today is the day in which you put your heart and soul into adoring the love of your life. It wasn’t hard to decide on this kind of party. You’re more of the long distance vacation person in the relationship, and Anakin would gently scold you about how it wouldn’t be safe to even leave the palace most of the time.

You hum a catchy tune, looking in the mirror to make sure that the bow in your hair is tied perfectly. You picked a satin fabric that matches the color of Ani’s eyes, and a part of you can’t deny that the decision was motivated by the desire to see his jaw clench in possessiveness. The little thrills you manage to witness get you through the days inside. You do some last minute twirls, glancing over your outfit and ignoring the slight discomfort of the silk ropes underneath.

Your slippers slap against the floor all the way to the dining room. The servants had already been dismissed for the day as soon as your husband had left, something else that you wouldn’t mind getting a ‘thorough scolding’ for. You know Anakin just doesn’t like for you to ever feel the need to lift a single finger if he can help it, but it’s only fair that you be the best spouse you can be on his special day.

All the food lining the long rectangle shaped table is Ani’s favorite, painstakingly put together and placed in an arrangement by your own hands. You haven’t slept in what feels like forever, but it’ll all be worth it to see how happy this will make him. Like always, you don’t care to delve into how slick your pussy gets at the thought of his approval. Even a small grunt of acknowledgement when he’s distracted drives you wild.

After making sure that absolutely everything is in the proper place, cheesy decorations strung up all over the place included, you smooth your clothes down with your palms flat and wait in the bedroom. You hope he appreciates how restrained you’ve been since he’s been gone, the tempatation to hump your puffy folds against the pillow he lays his head on is still on your mind. Anakin usually wakes you up by licking a flat stripe up your cunt under the covers and hooking his fingers in your hole to stretch it enough for him to spit in, always already naked from the night before. Like a cat kneading the surface it’s walking on, you could cry at being deprived of grounding yourself by burying your shaking hands in his soft hair.

Your excitement must bleed into the Force somehow, because you hear the heavy stomps of boots sooner than you thought. You scramble to meet your husband at the door, remembering how he once admitted that he likes to hear how happy you are to see him when he gets back. The cat never fails to return to check on the canary, and when it eats the stubbornly cheerful thing it doesn’t have to. It knows exactly where the bird is, and always will be.

You don’t even wait for him to get out of his armor and into his more casual attire that he likes to lounge around in at home. As soon as you see your favorite crow’s feet wrinkles revealed by the silver door, you pounce.

With very little effort, you reach up and push the top of your outfit off your shoulders. Anakin’s darkened gaze follows the truthfully skimpy garment as it falls to pool around your ankles. Your cheeks burn and you pray that he’ll take his time admiring you but no such luck, his eyes quickly flick up to see the start of a series of clumsily tied loose silk knots. The holonet tutorial you followed was sort of confusing, but you thought you managed to pull it off in the end!

“Fuck, look at you, bunny.” He groans, prowling around you in a slow circle. “All this for some boring old man?”

“Hey, ‘s not nice…” You wring your hands together, wiggling your plump ass for him as he makes his rounds. “You’re MY boring old man, Ani.”

“Watch it.”

“Or what?” You giggle despite the warning look he’s giving you.

The heat in his gaze feels like flames licking at your spine, but you don’t push him any further. You would never want him to have a stressed induced heart attack. Your unspoken jab makes you giggle again until you realize that Anakin could peek into your mind whenever he pleases.

The sudden slap to your rear doesn’t surprise you, nor do the frenzied squeezes. He loves to watch the skin bulge out between his thick fingers, he loves your fat ass period. The blush pink ribbons were tied together in a way that you knew would enhance your curves, putting enough pressure on your plush ass and tits in particular to really make them pop. Your thighs were nothing to forget about, though, you know better than to assume that Ani doesn’t love every bit of his baby equally.

He circles back around to face you and grins. He adjusts his cock in his pants, not taking his eyes off fof you for even a second, “So fuckin’ gorgeous, honey. And here I was about to say that the best thing I could receive is waking up to you every day.”

“Thank you, Daddy, Happy Birthday.” You purr, sinking to your knees and winding your arm around his thigh, nuzzling into the seam of his pants like you were searching for something.

He ‘tsk’s above you but he sighs and waves his hand in the air, summoning an emerald green cushion to slide under your knees before you hit the floor. That pillow didn’t exist in the beginning of your relationship, but you’ve ended up loving being like this so much that it became a necessity.

Anakin groans as you mouth at his bulge over his slacks, wetting the fabric with your kitten licks to his tip. He settles a heavy palm on top of your head and gives you a couple pats. Neither of you are in any rush, both enjoying your dynamic in a more sensual way. Ani loves how cock drunk you already seem to be, the tension in his body just melts away when he can see how much you’re salivating over your mind going blank.

“You can’t go dumb on me, Angel, I haven’t even got my present yet.” He teases you and grins when you mewl distractedly.

You’re trying really hard to pay attention, promise, but you couldn’t ignore your husband’s natural musk if you tried. “ ‘ngh- hah… ‘Sorry, Daddy.”

Then you remember that you can’t spend the rest of your life on your knees (you wish), so you sheepishly wipe the drool from your mouth. You have trouble getting hold of the zipper, your fingers being too wet to properly pull it. Your embarrassment is short lived, because Anakin is using the Force to undo it and slide his pants down far enough to free his throbbing length.

You pout in disappointment when it doesn’t flop out to smack you across the face. In no time at all you’re slobbering all over his cock.

You flutter your eyelashes up at your husband, hollowing out your cheeks and humming periodically. You can’t help the satisfied grin that comes over you whenever you get a deep groan or grunt in response. Your mouth makes ‘slurp!’ sounds as you suck him off, a sharp ‘pop!’ going off when you pull the suction away to trace the veins on the underside of his curved cock. Precum beads to the surface but they’re swiftly licked away, you outright make out with the thick tip of his dick for a good minute.

Anakin would tease you for how much of a bitch in heat you’re being, but he’s no better when he wriggles his tongue fucking either of your holes. He’d call you that with love though, he’ll never forget how grateful he is to still have you after everything.

“My consort loves their dick, huh? Should I even ask if you’ve prepped your ass?” He asks and you smother your smile in his balls as you lavish them in your saliva.

“Good bunny.” Anakin sighs, balling his fist up in your hair. “Daddy knows you like it when it hurts, angel.”

And you do, even with the dried cum around the corners of your mouth and the tears spilling over. You’re smiling in between gasps of breath with every heavy thrust, you send a thought into the Force of concern over the state of Ani’s joints and you squeal when he speeds up. He hadn’t even bottomed out yet, your puffy rim was already red enough from his bullying the blunt head past your entrance.

You sob and let your mouth hang open, staring off into space as you feel his length cleave your insides in two. The kisses dotted all over your face help soothe you, but you still pant and dig your nails into his wrist on the side of your head caging you in. Anakin’s other hand kneads one of your ass cheeks, giving you more quick pats when he think you’re getting too worked up.

Some of the ribbons wrapped around your body have been destroyed, either by Anakin’s irritation when he wanted more access or by how amateurish your knot tying skills were. The ones around your ass are still intact, and you do your best to shake your ass against the remaining inches sinking inside your puckered hole, wondering if Ani can pick up on the shimmer of the ropes in the dim light.

He’s a good man, your Ani, he only lets it hurt on special occasions. If you rub up on him really nicely, ruining your ass goes outside of those occasions. It’s his birthday, why not let him play with his favorite toy how he wishes? You take pride in the leash you have around his every waking and slumbering desire, he has the same hold on you.

At the end, the universe will only know the carnage Darth Vader left in his wake. Long dead twin suns will singe the memory of Anakin Skywalker and his lover into the fabric of reality.

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fict1onallyobsessed · 2 years

Text

Name me a Reason

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader f.t Soap

Code named ‘Salem’ by your teammates, you found yourself in a rather difficult situation with Ghost and Soap. Somehow you had to find a building, regroup with the guys and find a safe house. Easy, right? No because you get shot.

“Salem.” Soap whispered into the radio. You held the button for the radio, eyes wide in fear he was in trouble. None of you knew where the other was, not even Ghosts direction skills could lead either of you to him. There were people everywhere, civilians or what not, soldiers carrying guns, and you had to avoid everyone. You gave him the go ahead to speak, pausing all of your movements to look for any sign of Soap running away from gunfire. “You know your name means ‘peace’ in the Bible?”

You signed, returning your eye back into the scopes glass to look for any sign of Ghosts location nearby.

“Since when does Johnny read the Bible?” Ghosts low voice came through the radio next just as you stood up, grabbed your gun and started running from rooftop to rooftop trying to get closer to the centre land. “Thought you out of everyone wouldn’t believe in shit like that.”

“I don’t. My midder had me go church ever’ Sunday.”

“Huh. I thought Salem meant undamaged in Islam-” Ghost started.

“I’m going to damage both of you if you don’t shut up…and it means none of those.”

You scanned your surroundings as you finally made it on ground, a small hope of the right direction only motivating you to push more, even though you had a bullet stuck in your shoulder and your left arm was basically useless.

You pressed the radio button again, your back pressed up against a wall as you looked around for any targets. When you saw none, you swiftly moved forwards through empty alleyways. You figured if you were going to get made, you’d do it when there was a group of Tangos. So, you needed to stay quiet.

“If we’re talking about names let’s talk about Soap.”

You heard him audibly groan followed by a hum from Ghost. You’d bet Simon already knew since their very clear ‘bromance’ was strong, but wanted him to say it again. When Johnny didn’t answer, Ghost spoke up.

“He can clean houses quickly.”

“What?”

“Expert speed and accuracy he told me.”

Soap groaned and quickly shut down the conversation, a new welcomed silence falling between you three. The building Ghost was in was one with a green door apparently, and you saw one just as such quite close to you. You made sure it was the right one before heading that way, leaving Soap to argue with the two of you that he wasn’t even close to that direction.

You don’t really know what happened next, but when the pain in your shoulder increased dramatically it took you by surprise. You fell to the floor and found cover behind a car, quickly reloading your gun before pointing it in the direction you were being shot at. As if one bullet wasn’t enough, now you had 3, and what sucked is you didn’t know if it was a clean shot. Taking three bullets out would fucking hurt.

You rolled underneath the car, your stomach flat in the ground as you pointed your gun at the targets legs. It wouldn’t kill them but it would disadvantage them, which was good enough for now. It took a bit but eventually you got the upper hand, only being left with two more Tangos.

There was conversation in the radio that you didn’t care pay attention to until your last target was dead. You were still under the car, now shooting down the last man. Checking around you to make sure you were safe before you decided to listen in.

“The mask…take it off.”

“Show my face?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Negative.”

“Are you ugly?”

“Quite the opposite.”

“Cocky bastard.” You whispered, knowing full well both he and soap heard you clearly. You grunted as you crawled from under the car, dusting yourself off before quickly rushing towards your designated building.

“Y/N? Can you confirm?” Soaps smirk could be heard even from the other side of town. You were trying not to get shot, while they talking about how hot Simon was.

There was a long pause and you took a deep breath in, eventually reaching up to press the radio button on your chest. You didn’t wanna over boost his ego, but who were you to lie when you knew damn well about Simons gorgeous face.

“Affirmative.”

“Damn right.”

“No fair, she’s biased.” Soap sighed.

“Shut up and get to that house. Simon, I’m coming in don’t shoot.”

“Copy.”

You pushed open the door with your hand tightly gripping your shoulder, blood seeping between the crack of your fingers as if to mock your attempt to stop the bleeding. You hadn’t radio’d in your injuries, which soon proved stupid.

“You’re bleeding?.” He was by your side at an instant, applying pressure with his own two hands and pushing yours away. To say that hurt was an understatement, but he led you to the nearest worn out chair and sat you on it. “How many?”

“Three. Did they go through?” You winced as he looked for any exit wounds, releasing your shoulder momentarily.

“Only two. We’ll have to get to the safe house first, there’s no meds here.” Ghost clicked the radio button; “Soap we need to move out, Salem’s shot.”

“Go. I’ll find the safe house. Send the location when you’re there. Signal should be better.”

It took you around an hour to find a car, drive to the supposed safe house and then even find the bloody building. Safe to say it was an hour you needed in order not to bleed out. Simon managed to patch it up enough but it was a temporary fix, and so the blood slowly started escaping the cracks of your fingers again.

You felt quite drowsy, head spinning as you tried to blink the white cloud in your eyes away. You’d lost so much blood and there was a bullet still lodged in your body, that itself was going to be a hard procedure.

Simon laid you on the floor, quickly getting to patching you up better. He talked and talked trying to get you to stay awake, but eventually everything did go black and your body went limp.

The lightheadedness turned to heavyheaded the second you woke up. Eyelids so heavy, the light just too bright, your left arm and shoulder bruised. Groaning, you reached up to hold you head, the annoying pounding carried on the more you moved. With that, you tried to slowly sit up, breathing uneven as your body was put under pressure.

“Don’t do that, your shoulders just been fixed.” His voice was too rough for your liking, the pounding only getting worse in your temples. Still, you listened to his orders and laid back down with a huff. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore.” You now managed to open your eyes enough to see him, his heavy duty gear on the floor while he kept his gun close. Your blood covered the sleeves of his shirt, but his hands were clean as if he hadn’t been digging into someone’s body looking for bullets.

There was a silence that followed, not a pleasant one at that. You could tell he wanted to say something just by the way he sat on the couch you were laid out on, but he didn’t. Soap wasn’t anywhere near either, and you didn’t have to look around to know that since he doesn’t shut up.

“Where’s Soa-”

“What we’re you thinking?”

“What?”

“Have you not been through basic training, (Y/N)?” He only now looked at you, turning his head sideways to make eye contact. His mask was still on, something you were expecting to see as you were in an unfamiliar place. “You call in injuries for fuck sake. I was right outside.”

“No. The first one I could handle but they ambushed me, there wasn’t even time for me to process it, Simon. I was so close to where you were there was no point. They were dead before I even noticed I got shot.”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he stood up walking wherever there was space.

“I could of helped. That’s the whole point of a team!”

“Did you not listen to a thing I just said?” You say up straight, swinging your legs off the edge of the couch so they could rest on the floor. “There was no time! I would of if it mattered. I was right outside the goddamn door-”

“Why didn’t you call it in the first time then?!”

You had no excuse for that to be honest, you just thought you could handle it and there was no point worrying the guys. You wouldn’t tell him that though, he’d try and contradict you.

“Stop screaming, my head hurts.” You looked down, your good arms scratching at your side as you tried to think of something to say.

“I just sat there for 2 hours trying to save your life. I wouldn’t of needed to if you would of just followed protocol.”

“Sorry I inconvenienced you. Next time just leave me to die.” You didn’t mean that obviously, in fact you didn’t even expect that to come out your mouth nor did he apparently because he paused for a second, staring at you.

“The whole point of this is for you to live. I cannot fucking lose you, (Y/N).” His voice was low but just above a whisper. He was vulnerable, something so rare you barely saw in him. But the second your head shot up at his comment his eyes went dark again. “And I’d appreciate it if you make that a little easier.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, looking down in whatever you were feeling right now. You didn’t know if it was shame or embarrassment, or even maybe hurt. He meant the world to you too, and if the roles were switched you’d have reacted the same. “You’re right I should of called it in.”

You looked up at him from your seat, both of you staring at each other silently before he moved to sit beside you. Your head fell onto his shoulder almost immediately, eyes closing as his scent, with a tinge of blood, filled your nose.

“Don’t do that again.”

You nodded against his shoulder, cuddling as close to him as your body would go. Now the silence was bearable, a comfortable blanket of safety until he spoke up again.

“What does Salem mean, then?”

You shrugged; “Nothing, I thought it sounded cool to be honest.”

His shoulders vibrates in a chuckle. You both knew Soap wouldn’t believe you, but it was what it was.

“Rest for a bit. Soap will be here soon and air-evac tomorrow. The rain is too heavy for it to come now.”

You body was in a state of exhaustion already, so it took mere minutes for you to doze off again. Ghost just sat there, listening to you breathe silently and waited for Johnny to return. You took a mental note to apologise to Soap for leaving him alone because of your stupidity. But that was later, because righty now you just wanted to sleep, and where would you feel safer other than Simons arms?

THE END

THE SUCKS MY BAD BUT THIS MAN >>

He is bbygrl

#simon riley headcanons #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon riley request #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #ghost x reader #cod x reader #i don’t even write for men what am I doing #Simon Riley x female reader

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 month

Note

Can I request ACOTAR poly bats x mate reader? Who got killed if you don't write that the reader just got injured badly? Thank you!

Injury HC (ft. poly!mates Bat Boys)

While I love me some heavy angst, I just couldn't bring myself to kill off mate reader even if its just for a hc 😭😅

Warnings: lots of mentions of blood, wounded/dying!reader, polyamorous mates, injuries, healing, angst and fluff, ft. mor, ft. amren, ft. madja, ft. wraiths

woof where to begin

it would be damn near impossible for any of them to think rationally at the sight of blood coming from you, not their beloved who should only be full of smiles and laughter

bat boys become overbearing if you even get a papercut

But this. . . this was something else entirely.

So much blood that they feel sick from the rusty smell of it that permeated the air.

You looked so small and broken; Rhys has already come up with a thousand ways to kill whoever did this to you. You were their beautiful, proud, cunning mate.

The first one to make a move toward your body would be Rhysand. Always rational under pressure as Azriel and Cassian look around in case there was an ambush by the enemy. He feels sick to his stomach the entire time he's checking your vitals. When his fingers make contact with your blood soaked head, the sticky substance felt white hot. Rhysand could wash his hands millions of times and still feel that searing sting of your blood on his skin.

When they finally get you safely to Madja, you do manage to regain some consciousness, enough to reach out and grab Azriel's hand as everyone was leaving the operating room. Its difficult to move your lips to speak but you manage to plead for Azriel to stay. His shadows always soothed you.

There's no rest for Rhysand or Cassian unfortunately.

Despite Mor and Amren's best efforts, they can't drag your other two mates away from the door.

Rhysand being constantly updated by Azriel through his thoughts and shadows

Cassian tried not to let dark possibilities into his head. They banged against the door of his mind, loud and clear. If you died. . .

"She won't die." Rhysand would tell him sharply. He couldn't lose hope. But the steady smell of your blood that refused to lessen worried Rhysand greatly.

For Azriel, he was forced to stand there at your side as Madja did her best to put you back together. He refused to look away. There was absolutely nothing he could do to help.

He furiously clenches and unclenches his hands. Angry with himself for not being enough to protect you.

In the wee hours of the morning, Mor finds Rhysand and Cassian slumped together asleep. She put a blanket around them and takes a seat to join them in awaiting news. Amren soon follows suit once she has risen from bed by worry.

Finally, Azriel emerges into the waiting room.

Cass and Rhys leap from their seats

You're alive, although incredibly weak.

Madja had to bind and fix your bones while also trying to stop your bleeding. The most important thing was that you would live with some major scarring.

For the next several months, you acquired three overbearing nurses.

Not that you were complaining.

They only allowed Madja to tend to you and that was just during your checkups. Even the Wraiths' cooking was monitored by one of the bat boys.

Azriel and Rhysand had the tenderest hands when they changed your bandages or moved you around so you wouldn't get bed sores.

When you were well enough, Cassian would carry you to the outside garden so you could enjoy the warmth of the sun personally. You'd sit on his lap with your head resting on his chest. You liked listening to him talk as your ear was pressed close to his heart.

You had to tell them to shut up a few times because of how often they would apologize to you about letting you get hurt. It wasn't their fault, you'd argue to deaf ears. This was actually motivation for you. To remedy this and prevent getting hurt this badly ever again, you'd have to train more. Get stronger so your mates wouldn't blame themselves for you getting hurt in their absence.

Rhysand may be the only one who doesn't coddle you during any kind of physical therapy. He's one for tough love. Cassian too. Poor Az is utterly helpless.

Oh, you're out of breath? Let me carry you, sweetling. Rhys and Cass being too difficult? I'll give them a talking to.

Once fully healed thanks to your bat boys, you feel stronger and better than ever.

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #acotar #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #bat boys #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #acotar cassian #rhysand fanfiction #rhysand x reader #a court of thorns and roses x reader #a court of thorns and roses fanfic #a court of thorns and roses fanfiction

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littledollll · 2 months

Note

Ok but manipulative obsessive ballet teacher larissa keeping her star student after hours so they can focus on her technique in more ways than one

AND YOU JUST KNOW SHE’LL HAVE HER HANDS ON HER STUDENT AT ALL TIMES

It’s to help your form she says, definitely not just to see how flustered you can get

Private lessons

Ballet teacher!Larissa x ballerina!reader

A/n: is this becoming a thing? I think it’s becoming a thing. I’m kinda obsessed, could be a little AU for us?👀 also I’d like to note that while I’m not gonna specify age in hopes of inclusivity, reader is around their mid 20’s.

HAH I wrote that back when I thought I was gonna have the ideas and motivation keep writing. Anyways, this is my last draft. Hope you enjoy!!

Warning: unhealthy teacher/student relationship, touching, sexual undertones, little bit of mean Larissa

_______________________________

“I will say this once and only once. At this level none of you should not need me walking you through every little step like the girls from baby ballet!” Larissa spoke loud enough to fill the room, before signaling the pianist to begin playing.

Everyone ran to form a line across the back of the room, you ending up fifth in line for the exercise. Perfect spot. Only four in front to watch, and be done quickly.

“However you’d like to start, give me four pique turns to the center, four changing fouettés, pas de bourree and close with a triple.”

One by one each student went. Some being sent back to start from the beginning if they messed up, some going without comment, very rarely did she praise anyone.

Your turn came, you started in a simple fifth position, spotting towards the diagonal which just so happened to be exactly where Larissa was standing. You had no trouble keeping your eyes on her.

“Thank you!” She said in a very clearly annoyed tone. “Finally someone who knows how to spot correctly. The rest of you should learn a little from this starting position. Go on, my dear. I apologize for interrupting your start.” You gave a short nod and began your sequence. Everything was going perfectly until the final part, where you failed to complete the third turn, but saved it by landing on fifth.

You quickly got up and were about to scurry back to the beginning but Larissa spoke up. “No need. You were perfect till the very end and at least saved it. Back of the line.”

You smiled, Larissa smiled back, giving you- a wink? Oh you must have been seeing things. She wouldn’t. What an odd thing it would be for her to do. Regardless, you nodded, looking down as you walked past her only for her to stop you in your tracks and tilt your chin up with her pointer finger. “A ballerina walks proudly. She floats with a straight back and gentle steps. Chin up, my dear.”

Surely she could see the dark red blush covering your cheeks, she nodded you off to continue walking, a smile still on her lips.

When she turned to continue the class, her smile fell, and the strict teacher was back.

When everyone was done with diagonal, she called back to center. “That will be all for today. Applaud yourself for the effort and I will see you all tomorrow.” She locked eyes with you as she spoke, before turning to talk to the pianist while everyone packed up and left.

“You. Stay back, my dear.” A few girls looked back, but she was very clearly talking to you. Her direct tone made it seem like you were in trouble, making your heart race.

“O-okay. Should I keep my pointes on?” You spoke as you stopped in the middle of untying the ribbon. “Yes, please do.”

“Is something wrong, ma’am?” You asked softly as you noticed her staring, watching you. She shook her head with a smile. “Nothing at all, darling. You’re a great student, I’d just like to give you a few pointers.”

By the time you finished tying your ribbons back on securely, and stood, walking over to her, everyone else was already gone, even the pianist. And Larissa had closed the door with the last one out.

“I’ll start with how you failed that triple turn. It shouldn’t be much of a difficult thing for someone of your level…” she mutters.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” You said, lowering your head.

Larissa stepped in front of you, so close you could practically feel her breathing as she once again tilted your chin up. “What did I say about ballerinas, sweetheart.”

You blushed at the closeness, this woman was beyond beautiful, and talented. Having her this up close felt like an honor. You felt so small next to her. “They walk proudly.” You answered.

“Good girl. So you do listen.” She stepped back and you immediately missed her presence so close to yours. “Fortunately for you, I do know what happened.”

She rounded you. “Get into fourth, give me a clean double.” You did as told, a clean double pirouette, finishing back in fourth position.

“Good. Now give me a triple, this time focus on what you’re feeling.” Again, you did as told and just like last time fell on the last turn.

“Do you see the problem?” “Yes- I think so.” She nods. “Tell me.”

“My heel is on the floor by the time I’m in the third turn.” She looked at you proudly for a moment. “Very good. You’re dropping your heel. When you do a double it’s no issue because you’re still high on pointe. But you’re turning in demi at the third. No dancer of mine turns in demi at this level. That’s for the little girls. Tell me miss, are you a little girl?”

“I- well- no of course not.” She hummed, bringing a chair in front of the mirror, centered in the room. She pointed at you to move to the center as well as she sat down, crossing her gorgeously long legs.

Any dancer would die for those. You’re sure she was the envy of the whole school back when she was just a student. “You’re acting like it. You turn like it.” Her voice brought you back in the moment.

“Anyone can do a simple turn. I’m sure the damn pianist could come do one for us. Anyone can do a double too. Any one of the juniors at this establishment could. You’re failing, at this age and this level. I mean you can do it, but you don’t do it well.”

“I can. I promise you I can. I’ve done it before!” You rushed to prove yourself to her. She was the last person on earth you wanted to disappoint.

“Well of course you have. You wouldn’t be in this level if you couldn’t pull off a simple triple turn. So what is it? Are you finding the easy way? Is this you being lazy, in my class, miss?”

You wanted to cry at just the idea of disappointing her.. and this was how she saw you? Some lazy brat in an advanced class while she was God herself to you? That wouldn’t do.

“I’ll help you, my girl. You dance beautifully, you move and project emotions the way no other can. But you’re falling at the basics. All the talent and emotion in the world won’t save you if you can’t pull off a good turn. Try to think of any important role to dance which doesn’t turn.”

“There’s not many..” you said quietly. You wanted to bring your head down again, truly, you felt shameful. You could do it, both of you knew that. But you weren’t, why is that? Larissa wondered.

“Not any, my dear.” She sighed, walking behind you. “I want you to try for four turns with me here. I will spin and support you. Just keep that heel up.” You nodded, getting into fourth, and doing a plié before starting your turns.

Larissa’s hands moved quickly around your waist, guiding you through every turn and stopping at the four count. “You’re very capable. You can spot well, you could turn ten times with me here, I bet. But I trust you know that there won’t always be a pas de deux in every show or every dance. There won’t always be somebody to help you turn.”

“Yes I know, ma’am.” She smiled. “Of course you do. You’re a smart girl, my dear.”

“You trust that I won’t let you fall, yet you’re not trusting yourself.” She said, squeezing your hips lightly as she kept her hands in place. “You have the strength to stay up, no doubt. Trusting yourself is just as important.”

“Let’s try to balance on pasé for a few, hm? Get your body comfortable with staying up for a longer time.” She stepped back.

Her eyes were racking over your body. You could feel it, it only made your blush grow deeper. “Slowly. Take your foot from the ground up to your ankle first.” You moved as she spoke, she seemed to approve of that.

“Up your calf… and above your knee. Do not rest it, now hold.” You were perfectly still once she told you to hold position, settling all the shaking in an instant.

“Your breathing cannot interrupt you. I want it to look like you’re not even breathing. Keep that rib cage closed tightly and focus. Imagine there is a string going straight through the center of your body, pulling you up toward the ceiling.”

You breathed slowly, barely. Not even thinking about uttering a word at this moment. “Turning is much easier than balancing. You have more momentum to stay up, and as long as you don’t move and exaggerated amount you can get away with not being perfectly in center with your body. Though you should be.”

You felt the warmth of her hands again. You could see her blurry in the mirror, trying to keep your face straight. You stared right into your own eyes.

Her hands were under your breasts for a moment, pressing down on your rib cage gently. “Tightly closed. Very good, my darling.. very good.” She whispered.

Larissa’s hands caressed your thighs before reaching your knee, spreading your leg a little more open. “I should be able to see you in one line if I were to look at you from the side. Keep your knee aligned with your shoulder.” She spoke softly, having no need for loud words as she was practically pressed up against you.

Your balance shook as she adjusted you, but she didn’t let you fall. Instead helping you find your balance once more before moving on. “You’re focusing too much on me. I’m not even here. Now rest.”

You sighed in relief as she gave that command, letting your pointe trail down your leg the same way it trailed up, until you reached fifth position and got off pointe, allowing yourself to rest.

“That was very good.. I would’ve been a little disappointed had you not done that. Half the girls would rush, out of sheer desperation but you.. you did that stunningly. A very good girl, you are.”

“Thank you, ma’am.. I’ll be honest, I do my best to impress you…” Larissa quirked her brow. “Is that right.. Well, lovely girl, you do a good job at it. Let’s get those turns right and I’ll be even more impressed, proud, even.” Larissa hummed as she traced down your spine with her long fingers, and then reached your skirt.

Shamelessly, she began untying it, removing the garment from your body and throwing it next to her chair. “That thing only makes seeing the things I need to see harder.” You nodded in agreement, feeling your skin heat up as she held your hips for a few moments much longer than necessary.

“We will work on your left side another time. For now I want to focus on getting that left heel to stay up.” She stepped back, moving around you to be in front now. “Give me a triple pirouette.”

You took a deep breath in, breathing out slowly. You moved into fourth position, doing a deep plié before you started.

This time, you stayed up longer, but let your heel fall by the end. Larissa sighed. “Again.”

It went on for some time. Each time you would get closer to doing it right, finally. “Again.”

“Let’s try something. Think about doing four. Set your mind, we’re doing four turns, but remember you’re closing, cleanly, on the third.” You nodded, feeling anxious about how many tries this has already taken. No doubt you felt Larissa was tired of this.

With the thought cemented on your mind, you went for four. Just keep the heel up for four.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three, close it!” You landed it right as she finished speaking, closing on a tight fifth position, your arms rounded and lowered around your bellybutton.

“Absolutely perfect. You did perfect, my dear. That was the cleanest I’ve ever seen you turn.”

“Why’d you count?” You said in a whiny tone and Larissa couldn’t help but chuckle. “You all hate it when I count. But it helped you, didn’t it? I’m just guiding you, my beautiful girl.”

You smiled, “yeah it did help..”

“Come, sweet girl.” With hurting legs you walked to her, standing in front of her with little idea of what exactly to do. But she grabbed your hand and pulled you towards herself, wrapping you in a soft hug.

It was certainly an odd thing to do, but her warmth was something you seeked.. and God, was being in her arms delightful.

She rubbed your sides gently, caressing over your soft leotard. “You did very well, my star. I want to see this progress shown in the next class, yes?” You nodded, nuzzling yourself against her neck without even thinking about it. And breathing in.. she smelled expensive, a little woody but also floral. You wanted to bathe in whatever perfume it was she wore.

“Very good, my girl. It’s time for you to get home.” You almost whined as you pulled away from her, and Larissa hushed you. “Change out of your pointes, and don’t forget your skirt. I have to close up here soon.”

You nodded, going over to your bag and quickly changing into your street shoes and some shorts. “Um, thank you, ma’am. For helping me and everything.”

“It’s a pleasure to help such a delightful student like you, always.” You blushed, waving a quick goodbye before practically skipping out of the room.

Larissa smiled as she saw it written clear across your face, she had you wrapped around her little finger. What a good girl you truly were.

#larissa weems #wednesday larissa weems #larissa weems x f!reader #gwendoline christie #larissa wednesday #larissa weems wednesday #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa

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azrielbrainrot · 2 months

Text

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 5

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

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

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore (nothing too graphic)

Word Count: 4715

Notes: This took a while to write, I'm sorry about that but life has been kicking my ass. I really hope it makes enough sense because I've found I'm not very good at writing action scenes (but that's also not the main focus). Hope you enjoy!

Part 4 ○ Part 6

The moon was high in the sky, its pale light guiding your way through the forest. The air was strangely quiet, the leaves crunching beneath your feet were the only thing that could be heard between the trees. Even the wind was serene and no animal dared make a sound, as if sensing what was to come. The atmosphere allowed you to keep your composure, any incoming threats would be easier to detect like this. Unfortunately, so would your allies.

It's funny how so much can change in a matter of days. Before, when you were only a relatively low ranking member of the guild, walking through the dark woods as you are doing now would simply be the norm, whether you were on a mission or not, but, after everything you learned, not having Azriel and his shadows near you makes you feel off-kilter, like you can't protect him if he stands too far from you.

If it weren't for the millions of problems that keep piling on, you'd probably sit on this feeling, dissecting it until you realize how peculiar it actually is for you to feel so achingly connected to the shadowsinger who, even if had been your husband during a time of your life you've now forgotten, was essentially a stranger to you now. You've only really known him for about two weeks, not nearly enough time to be feeling like a part of you is missing.

You weren't used to worrying about anyone else at times like these. Even when your missions weren't solo, you didn't actually know your coworkers, much less cared if they survived or not. But now, you can't stop thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, of how Azriel and his family could get hurt because of you. You stayed up thinking about this all night, if this would all be truly worth it just to get your memories back, but had decided that you wanted to know what happened, no matter the cost, and knew that, as much as the Inner Circle was helping you recover your memories, not all their motives were altruistic. They all wanted revenge as much as you did.

All of you had planned this out meticulously, going down to every last detail and considering every possible outcome. Everyone was also extra careful on how to approach using you as bait. You expected it from Azriel - he's been protective of you ever since you stepped foot into his High Lord's home - but seeing the rest of them so worried about you made you want to recover your memories that much more. You want to remember these people, want to know how they all, especially Azriel, came to care for you, so much so that even death didn't stop those feelings.

There had been other plans brought up, ones that didn't involve putting you in such a risky situation, but it was soon decided that the only way to get to Norris would be to show up alone. If he so much as caught a glimpse of anyone else, you know he would simply run and if he truly put his guard up and went into hiding, finding him would be nearly impossible even with Azriel's spies and shadows at his disposal, he hadn't found you after all.

The tree you were looking for comes into view as you get lost in your thoughts, the magic traces left behind on its bark unmistakably familiar. The guild has used this system for as long as you've been a part of it. Every important meeting with your handler had taken place next to any object or area marked with this exact faint magic, enough for the attuned eye to pick up on but not so strong that anyone else might come across them and meddle where they're not welcomed.

You don't have to wait by the marked tree for long before an imposing figure appears beside you. He had probably been watching you for as long as you've winnowed into the edge of the treeline, keeping his eyes on you as you walked to the meeting place. The air shifts, the wind picking up slightly as if sensing the tension threatening to form in your body.

Turning around as casually as possible, you face your former handler, the male you thought had saved your life but you've now learned did quite the opposite. Not that there had been any particularly fond feelings between you and him, but it still hurts to know how easily the male manipulated you and turned your entire life around with no remorse.

He was mostly covered with a black hood, only a bit of his face being visible through the shadow it cast, enough to meet his eyes. You've only seen him without it a few times, you know that dark brown hair lays under the hood and a few scars adorn his face. Truthfully, you're not even sure if this isn't some intricate glamour. Nothing that comes from this male should be trusted.

His form gives nothing away, no nerves or suspicions, but his brown eyes rake over your body, searching for something. Since he thinks you've just crawled out of a cell or worse, he's probably looking for any signs of injury, or that you've betrayed him and the guild. It's best you don't let him find anything that tells him otherwise.

“Norris,” you greet him as you would any other time, nodding once at him with a passive expression.

He crosses his arms and meets your eyes when he hears your voice. His eyes dart over the forest around you as if he knew Azriel would be lurking in the shadows. His self assured expression doesn't help with your nerves. Norris always seems like he's three steps ahead, and more often than not he was actually four.

“I didn't think I'd see you again,” he finally speaks up.

“I thought so too.”

Norris hums in response. You're not sure if he believes you or not, but short and distant answers are the norm for him. Either way, you need to stick to the plan, there's no turning back now. “How did you escape the Night Court?”

“They thought I was someone else, someone they used to know,” you start, trying to convey some of the confusion you'd experienced the first time they told you who you were. He knows you well enough to expect you to have some trouble maintaining the same level of apathy he so easily displays, he'd warned you multiple times to act more like an assassin and not let your emotions get the best of you. “It eventually led to a fight between the High Lord and his Spymaster. They couldn't agree on what to do with me from what I heard. I managed to escape in the chaos.”

You stop for a second, licking your lips. You decided not to completely lie to him so it would be more believable, this version of events could have come true had you not trusted Azriel, had your feelings not been so suffocating and confusing.

“I waited for a while before contacting you, to make sure they didn't come looking for me,” you continue eventually, the fact that he isn't asking more questions makes your heart pick up ever so slightly.

He turns his head to the side, a faint smirk playing at his lips. You resist the urge to clench your sweaty palms, not wanting to let him see through you. “Who did they think you were?”

“The Spymaster's former wife,” you admitted, hoping you sounded as detached as possible.

“And what do you think about it?”

“What?”

“Do you believe them?” You didn't expect him to ask you outright. It would make more sense for him to try to cover it up, stopping any doubts you might have had before they grew.

“Of course not. I've never been married,” the lie tastes wrong on your tongue but you make sure not to let any of it translate into your body language or your voice. Which is why you're so caught off guard by his next words. “I think you're lying to me.”

Norris turns you around and grabs you to him before you have a chance to react, pulling you flush against his chest and pressing a dagger to your neck, power rumbling under his skin, raising the hairs on the back of your neck at its intensity. This isn't that surprising to you since you were more than aware of how much faster and stronger he was, and that tricking him would be extremely hard, but this means you need to move to plan B. And you were really hoping you could avoid a direct conflict like this.

Azriel is the first one to show himself, emerging from the shadows with deadly calm, hazel eyes never straying from Norris as his hand hovers Truth Teller. As much as you try to keep calm and not give anything away, you know Norris can feel you tense up and hear your heartbeat picking up when you see the shadowsinger walking straight into danger.

You feel another presence behind you, Morrigan, followed by Cassian and Amren on each side. The sisters had stayed behind, despite their many protests. In case anything happened, Velaris needed its High Lady and the Valkyries at least. You also know this is a personal matter for the fae present, you had been their friend and been ripped away from their lives by the male currently holding you at knife point, threatening to end your life once again, for good this time.

They all start walking slowly to you, effectively forming a circle around the two of you, getting ready to attack if Norris hurts you or tries to run. He appeared as calm as if he had just been caught on a night stroll, his heartbeat never rising in tempo against your back even under Azriel's chilling stare. He had been expecting your betrayal, and had been ready for them.

You could feel the fury in the air, could see it written in Azriel's eyes as he studied every single one of Norris' movements. You had been worried that he wouldn't be able to keep his composure since he was against this plan from the start, in fear of this exact situation coming true. But he seemed completely focused, not even risking looking at you too long in case he'd get distracted. This made you relax ever so slightly. You'd planned out for this situation and even if you ended up hurt or worse, you know Azriel won't let Norris go unharmed. You would get your revenge one way or another, you just hoped you could spare the male in front of you any more pain.

Rhysand winnows in next to Azriel moments later, darkness clinging to him as he takes a few steps closer to you nonchalantly. Talons scratching your mental walls before checking in on you. All according to plan.

“I would say it's a pleasure to meet you but even I can't spin a lie so effortlessly,” he starts, arrogance dripping in every word. You'd never admit it, much less to him, but Rhysand was every bit the perfect High Lord, especially at times like these. It showed in the way he carried himself down to the seemingly bottomless pit of power at his disposal. No matter how strong Norris is, anyone with even a little of self preservation would think twice on how to handle him.

“I came prepared for your little tricks, High Lord.”

You frown at his words, confusion settling over you before you realize what it meant. Rhysand must have tried getting inside his mind as soon as he appeared. Norris had expected him to, had put up walls to ensure it didn't happen. This would only make things harder.

“Skipping pleasantries, are we?” Rhysand's face gives nothing away, but as he drops said pleasantries, it gives way to some of the anger bubbling under the surface, the next words coming out in a serious tone. “You're not walking out of here, Norris.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Norris says as he leans in closer to your ear, voice dropping to a whisper, “Did you think I would come on my own?”

A sinking feeling grows in your stomach as you watch dark figures manifesting all around you, far outnumbering your group. You recognize some of them, know their clothes and masks mean they're assassins from the guild.

A fight breaks out right before your eyes, causing you to struggle desperately for the first time in Norris' arms. He tries to keep you in place by letting the blade touch your skin as a warning, a few drops of blood escaping the small wound. You know he could easily kill you, but you're also aware that if he did the chances of him escaping would drop to zero. That's the only reason you're still breathing, so he can use you as a shield.

Your eyes were following Azriel's shadow covered form as he fought against multiple attackers, the feeling of helplessness rising with each clank of his sword. You can't stand there and wait any longer, so you grab the blade still positioned dangerously close to your throat and wrap your fingers around it tightly so it cuts your hand instead of your neck while swinging your elbow back to try to push off of Norris. Just as you expected, you weren't strong enough and he pulled the knife back from your grasp, intending to stab your stomach to stop you, but you had a new trick up your sleeve.

Azriel's shadows had moved to you as soon as Norris grabbed you, crawling up your legs discreetly in the dark of night, where they stayed waiting for your signal. And, as they tasted your blood in the air, they engulfed Norris, giving you enough room to push back and to elbow him a few more times, also letting off some of your power and finally being able to release yourself from his hold.

The shadows aren't enough to keep him away from you for long, the lack of visibility barely slowing him down as he attacks you before you even have the chance to take a breath. Luckily, your little helpers' singer rushes in, getting between you and deflecting Norris' strike. He hands you a sword so you can fight back with him and pushes back against Norris without wasting a single moment.

The three of you enter a match, barely being able to pay attention to what's happening around you, though you can tell everyone is in the same predicament. Even between you and Azriel, keeping up with Norris proves difficult, he's not only an exceedingly proficient fighter but he's also familiar with your attacks and style, making it easier for him to avoid your attacks and focus more on Azriel's.

The fight goes on for longer than you'd like. Even with your and Azriel's joint efforts, you had barely managed to wound Norris. The bastard was too strong and experienced, he was one of the guild's oldest assassins for a reason.

Suddenly the sickening scent of blood reaches your nostrils, in a concentration you haven't experienced before. It makes you falter in your movements, but luckily it has the same effect on Norris, leaving him open to Azriel's attacks, who seems undisturbed by it. You risk a glance behind you, but all you can see is the rest of the Inner Circle watching the battle, while the ground and their bodies, even the trees around them, are covered in blood. You're not exactly sure what happened, what they did to completely obliterate the assassins to a point not even their bodies were left, but you don't have more time to linger on this as Azriel finally manages to get a few good hits in, leaving Norris stumbling back away from him.

Rhysand is next to you in the blink of an eye, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. You move to help Azriel, hoping to distract Norris enough for him to be able to infiltrate his mind. It doesn't take much longer before Norris finally drops unconscious at your feet, and you immediately let out a relieved breath. Azriel's shadows move to tie him up so he has no chance of escaping.

Your plan had always been to catch Norris off guard or wear him down enough so that Rhysand would be able to infiltrate his mind, successfully knocking him out so you could take him back to the Night Court for interrogation. And, as much as you'd planned for the possibility of him bringing backup, the assassins had made this harder to achieve. You all had been worn down more than expected, but, as you look around, you see no one seems to be gravely injured.

Cassian smiles and nods at you when he notices you eyeing the blood trickling down his shoulder, it wasn't too deep of a wound and the blood was already stopping from the looks of it. Azriel did tell you Illyrians heal faster than most fae. Speaking of, you feel scarred fingers wrap around your wrist as you give Cassian a tentative smile of your own.

Your focus is stolen by Azriel, your eyes finding his instantly as he holds up your hand carefully, examining the wound and the blood that had been smeared all around you during the fight. He's wearing a conflicted expression, pain visible in his eyes. You've found Azriel shoulders too much guilt, even when what happened wasn't his fault.

His other hand reaches out to touch your neck, where a small cut overlaps with the pronounced scar on your skin. He's been blaming himself for your death for over a century, he must have been terrified of not being able to stop it again, even if it was happening right in front of him.

“I'm alright, Azriel,” you smile up at him, hoping to calm him down, “This will be gone by tomorrow.”

“We need to take you to a healer.” You shake your head, not wanting to stay behind and leave them to deal with Norris by themselves. Gently prying Azriel's hands away from you, you go to tell him as much.

“He's right,” Morrigan interjects, “I can take you to Madja and she'll fix it for you in an instant. I can bring you back right after.”

“It's just my hand.” You don't understand why they're making such a big deal out of it. This wouldn't need a healer, aside from some discomfort it won't hinder you in any way. They all have small wounds of their own that they seem to be ignoring.

“You're hurt.” There's a finality in Azriel's tone that is starting to rub you the wrong way. You understand he's concerned, you've tried to be considerate of his complicated feelings ever since you found out you had been his wife and the tragic way in which he had lost you, but that doesn't mean he can order you around.

“Barely.” You try to keep your voice leveled, pointing at Norris' unconscious form still covered in shadows. “And this is a lot more important. I need to know what he did.”

“I'll tell you everything we find. You don't need to go with us.”

“What?” You can feel the confusion taking over your features. Azriel has been forthcoming with any and every bit of information, you don't understand why he's trying to keep you away now.

“It's best if you don't come to the dungeon. You don't need to see that,” he offers, his face becoming irritatingly blank, the mask you know he uses as the Night Court's Spymaster. This only makes your anger spike even faster.

“See what?,” you challenged, head tilting to the side, “Do you think I never tortured anyone?” Your voice rises with every word, annoyance taking over your body. “I know the female you married was much different from what I am now, and I don't know if she let you order her around like this, but I'm not her.”

“I'm not ordering you-” Azriel's face falls at your words but you're too far gone to even try to interpret what it's written in his eyes, to even listen to what he has to say.

“It sure sounds like you are.”

Rhysand stands between you two before the argument can escalate further. “This is not the time to be fighting. We need to take him to a safe place before he regains conscience. I can only keep him down for so long.” He eyes Azriel for a moment, studying his features as some sort of understanding takes over his own. “Mor will take you to a healer,” he holds up a hand as you open your mouth to argue back, “It will only take a moment and then you can meet us in the dungeon. We won't start without you. I promise.”

By the expression on his face and authority behind his words, you know trying to argue with the High Lord won't take you anywhere right now. He's too used to calling all the shots and you can't change his mind in a matter of minutes, not when there's a much more pressing situation on your hands. You need to choose your battles.

You simply turn to Morrigan, ignoring the hazel eyes staring straight into your soul. “Take me to your healer then. The sooner I get this done the better.” She nods at you, extending her hand as she winnows you both back to Velaris.

The adrenaline of the fight started wearing off as the healer, Madja, worked on your hand, stitching skin back together with expert ease. As much as it had annoyed you to be sent to the infirmary, you could admit the pain had been worse than you expected as your body calmed down. It still wouldn't have been much of a problem to warrant that amount of concern.

Morrigan simply watches as the old fae works on you. She tried to talk to you about Azriel but you pushed her away, not wanting to hear any explanations from her. He's old enough to speak for himself, and you'll probably be eager to hear what he has to say after this whole situation is worked out. Right now, you only want to go back to where they're holding Norris so you can finally understand what he did to you and hopefully learn how to fix it.

Just as Madja is wrapping your hand in a white bandage, keeping the strong smelling ointment she spread in place, the healer speaks up for what feels like the first time tonight. “That boy loves you more than anything. Give him a chance to explain. I'm sure he never meant to hurt you,” she finishes as she pats your hand softly. “All done.”

Her words give you pause. It does make you wonder how obvious your and Azriel's love had been that everyone seems to have no doubt in their minds that he would do anything for you. He seems to be very private in his affairs, especially personal ones. It also makes you curious if you'd known her before, it's more than likely since she's the Inner Circle's healer. You push those thoughts away, knowing you wouldn't ask the old healer about your relationship before anyway. You were so close to getting your memories, you needed to focus on that.

“Thank you.” She gives you one more smile before gathering her things, making you stand up and rush to Morrigan, who has a somewhat nostalgic and understanding smile on her face. She holds onto your shoulder before you even have the chance to say anything, knowing what your next words were going to be.

As soon as you winnow in, you understand why they called this place a dungeon. There really was no other way to describe the dark, stone covered space. The air was thick with humidity and blood, the kind you know has lingered for centuries and will never be completely washed out. You have to blink a few times to let your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, it was truly close to pitch black inside, the perfect environment to torment someone in, especially when you're the shadowsinger.

You never let your eyes meet Azriel's when you walk in, even as he turned to you, only allowing yourself to focus on your former handler, heavy chains on each of his wrists as he stood on his knees in the middle of a cell. He was already awake, it seems they did start without you. Rhysand speaks into your mind, sensing the incoming protest. He woke up sooner than we expected. He's been trained for this.

A sigh almost escapes you. Norris was trained for every possibility, this was going to be a gruesome session. As much as you were arguing with Azriel to stay, the truth is this is not something you ever enjoyed. So many in the guild did this sort of thing for pleasure but you only ever tortured anyone when it was strictly necessary and they had truly done something awful to warrant it. You can only hope it at least gives you the information you've been searching for and the freedom you never even dared to dream about.

“I almost thought you weren't going to show your face again.” It's infuriating how unaffected Norris sounds even though his blood already stains Azriel's favorite dagger.

“Wouldn't miss this show for the world,” you admit. He was one of the few individuals you believed deserved this and much worse, for all he has done to not only you but so many others. You're almost certain your conscience won't bother you for this.

Up until tonight your feelings for him were passive. You never particularly liked him, but you always felt obligated to show him respect as your superior, there were also less than ideal consequences if you let your true feelings show. Still, there had been some small, stupid hope that he didn't really do all those awful things to you. He trained you and taught you a lot, knowledge that you know has helped you in a lot of bad situations, that has kept you alive through them, and will continue to do so in the future.

A sickening smirk overtakes his face at your response. “I always liked you better when you acted like one of us.” Fury and shame travels across your body, but Azriel moves before you get the chance to, slashing his blade across Norris' chest, a sharp noise of pain escaping him. The gesture almost makes you smile, as twisted as that may sound.

“You'd do well to watch your mouth. My Spymaster doesn't take well to disrespect,” Rhysand's voice sounds different, arrogant but nothing short of furious.

“Still hung up on her? Since you stopped searching I thought you found yourself a new shiny toy.” Azriel's fist connects with Norris' jaw as he gets the last words out, a laugh escaping him despite the flow of blood rushing through his teeth for being able to rattle the shadowsinger.

You decide to step in, not wanting to let Azriel speak or act for you when you're more than capable of doing it yourself. And knowing how much he blames himself for your situation, for stopping his search when you were alive all this time. You'd be damned if you let Norris hurt him in any way. He's done more than enough.

“So you admit you were the one who found me.” You walk until you're standing over Norris' beaten body, right next to Azriel, close enough he has to adjust his wings not to touch you.

“Of course, you were one of my finest projects.” You let out an acknowledging hum, temperature dropping around you as your icy power rose to your fingertips. The pain would be a lot worse if you kept his body temperature down, you want his whole body to ache. This was going to be a long night, thankfully hurting Norris was nothing short of enjoyable.

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

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satoruhour · 5 months

Note

Helllooo!!!! I hope you're doing well<33 I'm not sure if you're taking requests so this can be taken as a random rant as well. (I'm in my exam week-depressed-stressed era lol) but is it just me Or the animated version of choso and the mans voice actor just doubled his hotness!?? Hence why me is here to ask if you could do a choso street racer au, could be anything from him meeting at a race or him taking them drifting? Idk but I just need more racer choso au's😭😭😭

LUCKY DIME

a/n: oh no my love i hope your exams went well and that you’re resting comfortably now ❤️ OFCCCC i planned to write a racer!choso for so long i just didnt have any motivation / tagging @screampied

wc: 3k

warnings: racer!choso, reader is ‘dating’ a weirdo, fem!reader, threat of sexual assault (from weirdo guy), threatening harm, flashback, unsafe driving tendencies (dont follow them in this fic lol pls drive safely), semi-public sex (parking lot), car sex, slight nipple play, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, finger sucking, implied multiple rounds and p -> v sex later on, n*sfw under the cut

choso hasn’t always been open about his origins — moving from the shimotsuma district to shibuya just two years ago in need of quick cash to send back to his struggling mother. it was a hard decision on both ends, with his mother advocating more for him to leave for a better life than the one she could offer. he acquiesced with a promise to earn enough to send back to her every month in return for the secret stash she provided for him and that promise meant everything. he was going to get money no matter what.

even if it meant meddling with the local yakuza, doing petty little tasks of collecting money, escorting the people important to the oyabun to their meeting places, being on lookouts while gambling and prostitution happens indoors. choso would never write back to his mother on what he’s been doing to get so much money, but if he’s able to send a hefty amount back to her on every 29th, he’s satisfied.

that is until he’s met with a couple arguing as they walk along the alleyway, creating such a ruckus that choso’s sure they could power the whole of shibuya — well, more of the man, anyways, saying something about racing and cars that he’s not even sure he catches on.

“well, if you just listened to her and opted for a flat-plane rather than use a cross-plane, maybe you wouldn’t have lost the race!” you’re throwing your hands up, struggling to walk behind in these new heels you bought while you navigate the dark alleyway. for a boy who’s expressed interest in you, he wasn’t doing well in trying to keep you one bit. you’d say he’s rather annoyed that you know so much about cars, trying to genuinely help him while he just sees it as attacks.

“yeah, well, if you kept your mouth shut, you wouldn’t have embarrassed me about losing to noritoshi.” you roll your eyes, unaware you’re passing a dangerous area with dangerous activities behind the door choso was guarding, nor do you notice the way the bodyguard perks up at the name of noritoshi, who sounds awfully familiar.

you scoff, “trust me, you embarrassed yourself the moment you tried to challenge the dude,” it was meant to be a harmless comment; noritoshi could never measure up to the famous four, but he practised his drifting hard enough and put in the hard work, stayed humble. he was everything that your “man” wasn’t, and it was only deserved that he didn’t win. ultimately, you didn’t expect much from a man in the illegal racing scene who only cared about who had the nicest engines and paint finishes.

“what’d you say?”

choso keeps a close eye on the both of you.

“it was nothing—” you sigh, reaching out to grab at his arm to get him to stop shouting so loud when you notice the person standing in front of a shady door — twin pigtails hairstyle with a dead look in his eyes and a tattoo across his nose, dressed up in a suit. it was scary enough walking through a dimly-lit alleyway, but your fear heightens when your eyes fall upon the surroundings of ashes of late night campfires, dried blood along the walls, and used condoms on the floor.

“no, no, tell me what you said, just so i know that i heard you right,” your “man” insisted, stepping up so close to you that your nerves were on high alert from the proximity and the possibility of that someone just a few feet away inflicting harm on the both of you.

“it was nothing! i just meant that you didn’t have a chance against noritoshi from the st—” it’s like you hit a sensitive nerve, because the next thing he’s doing is grabbing your wrist and dragging you along, not aware of how choso perks up even more, ready to leave his post. it borderline hurts with the way he grasps at your skin, paired with the discomfort of your heels and outfit, you can’t just wait to get home and rest up.

“ohh, so that’s what you said!” the man continues to tug you, not heeding your pleas for him to stop, “might as well just leave you here with the yakuza to see whether you stand a chance.”

that’s what the man was guarding . . wait.

a shout wretches out of you when you notice there’s no shadows at the door that’s lit simply with fluorescence at the same time the mysterious man has one hand each on your arms.

“who are you—” your “man” has the gall to speak first, shocked at the stronger grip of the other when he tears the fingers away from your wrist before stumbling back. the mysterious guy simply tugs you into his hold, levelling the other with just a stare from his eyes that’s got him babbling and stuttering in fear. you hate to admit that once the man beside you speaks, your body curls into his side — it’s like a smooth cup of coffee that you gravitate towards.

“do you want to repeat what you just said?” choso puts you behind him as he approaches the other, one step taken while the cowering one takes one step back. “because i can always open the door i’m guarding and let them take care of you, instead.”

“t-that wouldn’t be necessary—” he’s adamant on his threatening, taking out a flip phone and dialling numbers one by one, no doubt the number of his boss. he doesn’t even look at you, eyes trained on the pigtailed man as he continues to dial the number and pressing call. if choso’s being honest, he’s about to shit himself just as much, never having called his saiko-komon personally before so he only fakes the number, thanking the heavens that someone somewhere decided to call his boss’ phone just at the same time.

they all hear it, the familiar nokia ringtone from behind the door, but in choso’s ear, all it says is that it’s an invalid number that garners no answer. he talks over the operator’s voice anyway.

“yeah, i need you to take care of this guy. just outside here—” that’s enough for him to go running away, puddles splashing and his voice crying out for civilisation, although you’re not too happy yourself, afraid for your own fate. kept like a pet for the yakuza? made to work for them to pay off this small helping hand? commit—

you sit up from the hood, “you called a fake number?!” it’s hard to say when that fateful meeting turned into this over the past few months, asking choso to recount the night the two of you met out of curiosity when you realise that your yakuza-accountant boyfriend had dialled a fake number the whole time.

“i had just joined! i wasn’t going to phone my boss . .” he sheepishly says with head turned to you, and while you’re giving him brutal smacks on the shoulder (“what! if! he! hadn’t! run! away! were you going to let a phone operator beat him up?”), you’re still thankful he decided to step in at the right time even if his heroic act had been brought down a notch by this revelation.

it’s then that he asks about the whole racing thing you were involved in but you’re taken aback by the fact that he wasn’t going to make you do anything in return. even if the alley had boasted its dubiousness, you realise than the man standing in front of you was not much older than you, a childish sparkle in his eyes when you entertained the question. with a random number in your phone, it was up to you if you wanted to text him, but after a few races, you think that he was just too handsome to pass up.

choso picked up racing and drifting fast, joining your small group of friends of yuji, megumi and nobara who were all rising up the ranks. it was difficult, knowing the famous four, but it didn’t hurt trying to build a reputation in the underground scene. he practised around the docks, crashing into crates, sending the seagulls flying, and almost sending your scrap car over the edge.

“tokyo is pretty at this time of night,” choso mumbles as he sits up, too, liking the way you scooch closer to him on the hood of his 1967 Ford Mustang.

“tokyo is cold, i’m lucky i’m not freezing to death.” you tease him even when you’re wearing his warm jacket, squealing when his cold hands make it under the jacket and your shirt.

“how are you cold, that jacket’s wool!” he nestles his face into your neck, freezing nose touching the skin there and you giggle, trying your best to push him away. choso says that, but he’s happy to see you in his jacket while his arms tingle with both frost and lovesickness. “you’re just extra sensitive to the cold.”

before you can retaliate, though, he’s pulling away from your body heat to look you in the eye; it was a wonder he even got you, a girl who’s just so passionate about cars and who taught him everything he needed to know about it. six months down the road, he’s writing about something other than living paycheck to paycheck again, getting in some extra money from racing as well.

“wanna drive?”

you grin, hopping off his hood before jumping into the car beside him and he only laughs at your enthusiasm, hopping in after you and starting the ignition. you wish it was like this before every race: you beside him in the passenger seat as he gets ready to race against his opponent. the rev of the engine always excites you, knowing you contributed to the many modifications of his Mustang. but choso always says it’s dangerous for you — so you’re left to watch from the sidelines.

but now, as choso drifts down the mountain, you can’t help but stare at him as he changes gears every few seconds, hair blowing everywhere from the wind outside before he reaches the base and races off into the main road. you’re shouting in excitement, music blasting loudly from the cassette player while you dominate the streets at night.

“d’you think i can break 190, sweetheart?”

your jaw drops, “while drifting?” he nods, “you’re insane . . yeah, do it.”

choso’s laughter feels infinitely heavenly, stepping on the accelerator on a fairly empty road. he’s familiar with the traffic of the roads too, so at 4am, it’s basically deserted when he speeds down the gravel while he tries to break the speed limit. you feel on top of the world, a pretty road full of green lights on every turn; there’s a couple of sharp screeches from his tires as he navigates shibuya.

“hear that increased throttle response . .” you whistle when he presses his foot into the accelerator again, Mustang speeding off into the streets while you look over to him: hand holding the stick shift and one hand on the wheel. he’s as pretty as you remember him six months ago and his beauty truly hits you in the moment that you unconsciously rub your thighs together.

“all thanks to you, baby,” feels like the final blow, not knowing the effect he has on you until you’re waiting until he slows down to place your hand atop his on the steering wheel. there he lets you steer where you want to go, face melting into recognition at the place you’re taking him to.

“you’re nasty.” in the abandoned car park, he giggles when you’re shushing him as you make your way to the backseats, levelling him with a stare that begged him to hurry.

“yeah . . whatever, you like it.”

choso grins, switching off the ignition and climbing in after you, making you forget all about the cold season of japan in mere minutes. his lips collide with yours and his body naturally pushes yours to the leather seats, driving you crazy just with his mouth. his hands make quick work of your skimpy outfit, inching past your tight halter top and to your tits. you gasp softly into the kiss.

“may i?” even after all this time, choso still asks for permission, pulling down your top and bra when you nod.

his mouth is both warm and gentle when it meets with your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud and eyes looking up at you just to relish in the hooded lids and soft moans you give him. his free hand fondles your other, squeezing and playing, rolling the bud between his thumb and forefinger.

“just s’soft . . always,” he hums into your chest, kissing you down bit by bit and making you wait for it with each teasing journey he makes. there, he manoeuvres himself onto the floor, kneeling on the carpeted finishing as your knees hook onto each shoulder. the car is filled with your laboured breathing, watching him slowly undo the straps to your uncomfortable heels. it’s excruciatingly slow, pulling at the strings and removing each shoe before his lips leave fire along your shin, up to your thighs and to your pulsing core.

“choso . .” you whine, hips bucking off the leather.

all he does is laugh, hands spreading your legs before he’s licking his lips at the mess you made in your skirt, panties and back of the fabric soaked right through. your boyfriend pulls you forward with a certain fervour that makes you yelp and you match him with a nervous grin as he tugs away the underwear and marvels at the arousal that just sticks to your pussy, pretty and dripping right in front of him.

you have no warning before choso indulges himself in your cunt and you cry out in surprise, hand tangled up in the mess of his hair that falls from his pigtails. his warm tongue laps at your clit like a man starved, slurping up all of your arousal into his tongue. the cold weather is just the cherry on top, cold wind wafting through the walls and the windows, making you extra sensitive.

“c-cho—” you hum, one hand lost in his black locks while the other clutches tightly onto the seats for any sort of anchor while choso only pushes his face further in between your legs. he can feel your pussy clench around nothing, switching between sucking and flicking his tongue with a relentless pace that threatens your sanity. “t-too much . .”

all he does is laugh into your centre, eyes flitting to meet yours while he continues his ministrations, arms wrapping around your thighs. choso moans at how good and sweet you taste, a curious hand moving from your legs right to your hole where he plays with your folds. gently, he pushes past your walls and you whimper from the intrusion, clamping down around his finger.

“relax, darling, i got you,” he softly says, relaxing his pace just a bit as he starts to thrust his finger. while slow, his tongue doesn’t stop, however, still continuing to make the lewdest noises.

“pussy so damn sweet,” he groans, nuzzling his face right into your sloppy core before teasing a second finger; it’s easy to slip in but he still warns you wordlessly, inching them right in until they reach the knuckles, “and so tight, too—”

the car is filled with the smell of sex, the sounds of your pussy and your endless moans as choso starts to pump his fingers in and out, reaching so much deeper than any of your toys can and stretching you out just right. your hips buck uncontrollably as you feel that coil in your stomach, knowing that you were only going to get even more of this before choso properly fucks you — but it’s all he promises, that to make sure you’d cum on his fingers and tongue thrice before he even thinks of railing you like you deserve.

“c-choso, your fingers—!”

“yeah?” it’s breathless, bottom half of his face all soaked and wet, but he goes right back in.

“mmfuck— cho, cho, p-please . .” your words are jumbled up, babbling through your teeth while his fingers gathers all of your juices, “i’m g’nna—”

choso thinks you’re just perfect like this, moaning as much as you want in his Mustang and spread out just for him to eat. he cannot keep his eyes off you, curling his fingers just a bit to find your sweet spot as he flicks your bundle of nerves as his eyes stay on the way your lips part for little pants to escape. your eyes have fluttered close by now but he doesn’t mind as you continue to push his head towards your cunt.

“cum on my fingers, my love,” the other groans, words muffled a little, “cum on my tongue like a good girl.”

“cho— f-fuuck . .” you writhe around on the leather seats as you reach your peak, voice descending into a silent scream while your jaw hangs open. at his peripheral he can see and feel your thighs tremble while you chant his name like a prayer, over and over until you think your voice is hoarse. his seats are wet, no doubt, and you wince seeing your cum decorate the leather, but choso quietens your worries as he leans up to give you a kiss. you can taste yourself.

“taste good?” you’re ruined despite it being your first orgasm, answering half-heartedly before slumping, a soft moan leaving you when he removes his fingers and strings of your arousal stick to each digit. his hand naturally gravitates towards your mouth, fumbling with your lips before he pushes in — distracted, he takes the opportunity to latch his mouth onto your cunt again and you mewl loudly.

“that’s just the start,” choso grins, laying a long stripe up your pussy and groaning softly at the way your tongue swirls over his fingers, “i’m sorry in advance . . hope you’re able to get out of bed tomorrow, baby.”

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gatorbites-imagines · 6 months

Note

Uhhh can I get uhhhh ftm!gaz with uhhmmmmm.....pussydrunk m!reader?

Maybs with a side of overstim please:))

Drunk on Gaz

Ftm Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x male reader

Drabble

I almost named this drabble Huffing Gaz. Also wrote this when I was sleep deprived.

Mixed terminology used for his bits.

A smirk was spread across Gaz’s lips as his hips rolled in almost sinful circular motions, his cunt gripping your cock in a tight wet grip, pulling and pushing in ways that had your eyes rolling and body tensing as you gripped tightly onto his hips. You could feel his wetness dripping down your length, down your balls, and soaking into the sheets under you, a shaky groan spilling from your lips as his movements came to a stop.

This had all started because Gaz had wanted to “reward you” for doing so well during training, claiming it was a superior’s job to reward and motivate those under them to meet the standards their superiors had for them. For the other soldiers under 141 and by extension Gaz, a night on the town or extra free time was enough, but apparently you had been doing extra well. Well enough that Gaz had called for you to stay back.

That was how you found yourself in current situation, military issue pants shucked down your thighs and shirt just pushed up enough for your superior to grope and squeeze your pecs, as he bounced on your cock as if he was made for the task.

Maybe it was because you hadn’t gotten laid since you joined the military, or maybe Gaz was simply just that good, but it felt like your brain was pooling out of your ears as his warm wet insides clenched around you, the feeling making you tremble and whimper.

Your bottom lip was bitten raw, as Gaz had teased you about being caught when you moaned a little too loudly when he first sat his cunt down on your cock, and as good as it felt to be balls deep in your superior, you couldn’t imagine what would happen if you were caught. Nothing would happen to Gaz, you were sure about that, but you? You could only imagine the asswhooping you’d get from the rest of 141. You had seen the hell Ghost put his group of trainees through, and there was no way you would ever survive that.

Your lip slipped from between your teeth as you could feel that familiar feeling shoot up your spine like electricity, a choked off groan bleeding into a whine leaving you as you look up at Gaz with begging eyes. Where did he want it? What were you gonna do?

As if he knew exactly what you were feeling, his grin only seemed to grow as Gaz leaned his hands on your chest, using his new leverage to put more weight into his hips, the slick wet noise of skin on skin spreading throughout the room even louder than before. “Common soldier, what are you waiting for?” he almost purred, seeming to take nothing but joy out of making you cum inside him.

Your muscles ached from how hard you were clenching them as your hips thrust up into him, bottoming out as bliss flooded through you, a rough moan rushing out from deep inside your chest. The noise you had let out was way too loud for your comfort, but you could barely focus as you shot thick spurts inside his wet gripping heat, your ears almost ringing, drooling gathering in your mouth and running down your chin.

But instead of stopping like you had hoped, Gaz straightened up, placed his hand behind him on your knee, and used this new angle to get you deeper inside. Any coherent thought you might have had quickly fizzled out as his pussy gripped you almost tighter than before, almost like he was milking you for all you were worth.

He might have laughed at the almost drunk expression on your face, pupils huge and with drool sloppily running down your chin, but there was no way to be sure. Instead, you were focused on the way pleasure mixed with pain as your length ached inside him, so sensitive from your orgasm, and those sinful rolls of his hips.

There was no way to be sure how much time he spent riding you, your thoughts escaping your grasp like sand between your fingers, the control you had over your moans and body splintering into tiny pieces. You felt drunk, or high, or maybe both, as Gaz stilled his movements, letting you thrust up into him from below, his eyes running all over your sweat-soaked body as your muscles burned and flexed as you almost mindlessly fucked into him.

You didn’t even know when you had started crying, only noticing the tears running down your face when Gaz reached down to almost lovingly wipe them away, his plush lips pressing against your gasping spit covered mouth in a poor attempt at a kiss.

He was taunting you in some way, teasing words leaving him as he rode you to completion until you burned and ached. He might have said something about how pussy drunk you had gotten, or how big your load was inside him, but you could barely feel your fingers, much less comprehend anything your superior was saying.

It was only after you were cumming dry that Gaz finally seemed to stumble over the edge on his own, his slick only joining the wet mess between his thighs and your lower body. Muffled praise met your ears as Gaz rubbed your chest and arms, his soft lips brushing softly against your face and neck, slowly bringing you back to earth.

Only after Gaz had gotten up, a trail of wait running down his inner thighs as he shuffled off to the bathroom, did you start to regain some semblance of self. Your mind was still swimming as he wiped you down, cleaning up your drool and tear covered face, as well as your sensitive and aching crotch, a pained whimper leaving you as you tried to twitch away from the touch.

Gaz held you until you were finally able to think on your own, a snicker leaving him as you stumble to your feet, knees almost giving out under you. Your superior leads you to the door, his hand resting on your lower back as if to support you as you stumble about like a drunk.

Before you leave, Gaz turns you around and presses an almost starved tongue filled kiss to your lips, making sure to get a good taste before he pulls back, that handsome hungry smirk on his lips again. “Keep up the good work soldier, and we might do this again” he says with a wink and a pat on the back, sending you on your way as you fumble back towards your room, feeling like a brand new man with a new determination to do even better in future training.

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rottenrosethorns · 1 year

Note

Hi! Saw that your request is open and jump straight in to request lol.

Can you make a Leon x reader fluff, where Leon is this big tuff government agent (which he is) who is respected and look up to by people around him. But around reader he's just this big puppy who loves to cuddle and be in her arms, and he's so whiny whenever the reader needs to get up to go to the bathroom that he'll just wait for her outside the bathroom, once she gets out, he just scoops her back into his arms and off to cuddling session they go~ Can be any Leon you want!

Pairing: ID!Leon Kennedy x gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: Tough government agent by day, soft puppy boy by night. Leon recounts the highlights of his week spent with you.

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: None! :)

A/N: i just love a good puppy boy yum. now, obvi RE2 takes the cake for soft boy, but in my head, i dream of old leon being the biggest baby, like he has so much trauma, let me be your therapist – hope you like this anon! <3

__________

- masterlist -

_________

Saturday & Sunday –

Leon adored the weekends. He got to spend all his time with you after all. He loved leaving work as early as possible to pick you up from your work, taking you out for a nice dinner, and maybe watching a movie or TV show afterwards. He loved staying up as late as possible, hoping that the sun never rose so that he could relish being in your comfort under the heaps of blankets because you always complained about being cold. Eventually, the stress of work and lack of sleep would forcibly pull him into slumber as he snuggled closer into your body. When he woke up to the sounds of the birds chirping and the morning sun rays peeking through the crevices of the curtains, Leon sinked into the mattress, holding you as close as possible. You were a heavy sleeper, so he often took advantage of that to kiss your temple and get up to make you breakfast.

Leon was such a giver, loving that he could be a caretaker for you. While he was gone at work, you were always the one to take care of things at home and make sure he had a clean space to relax and recharge. So, he’d always repay you for being the one to service you on the weekends. He knew your favorites, likes, and dislikes. And, even if he wasn’t the perfect cook, he still knew how to make up for it with weekly flowers delivered to the house. After breakfast, he’d be with you wherever you stepped.

You like reading in the den? He’d sit next to you while he answers emails and finishes reports, hating that your eyes were following words and not on him.

You like gardening outside? He’d start working out outside with his shirt off, definitely making sure to distract you and hating that you smiled more at the flowers than at him.

You like going out to brunch with your friends? He’d drive you to and from the restaurant, pretending to leave after kissing you goodbye and wishing you to have fun before sneaking back to sit at a reserved table.

He couldn't spend a second without you. So, that’s why he always hated the work week, because for forty hours, he had to resist quitting his career to be in your arms. And unfortunately, tomorrow was Monday.

…..

Monday –

Leon already started off the week to a bad start. Somehow, he’d forgotten to take the lunch you always packed him to work and he didn’t have enough time to drive back and grab it. It wasn’t that he minded skipping lunch – he missed many meals from harsh mission conditions already – or was incapable of buying his own lunch from a nearby food chain, it’s just that he was upset that he would be missing out on your little sticky notes you accompanied with each lunch. From when you started dating, you made it a habit to sneak in notes of affection and motivation to cheer him up throughout the day. He even made an effort to save all your sticky notes in the corner of his desk drawer with his favorite ones displayed on the edge of his monitor or overlapping on pictures frames of you propped up on the corner of his desk.

“Mr. Kennedy?”

“What do you want?” Leon all but glared at the assistant, standing near the door. She’d been a new addition to the team, meaning she was trying her chance to catch his eye. Arguably, Leon enjoyed the attention during his rookie days, using his looks for his career’s advantage; however, nowadays with you in his life, Leon treated every woman with a cold shoulder and a sneer. Unfortunately, some women were into cold and sneering men.

The assistant fluttered her eyes, pushing her chest out as if she had a spinal injury, “There’s some here to see you.”

Thinking that she was talking about herself, Leon grit his teeth in annoyance, “Get the fuck out of my office.”

“Leon!” You unexpectedly appeared through the door of his office with a disappointed frown, “That was so rude, apologize to her now.”

Leon’s jaw slacked in surprise, not expecting you to show up at his workplace. He stumbled out of his chair, quickly making it over towards you to give you a kiss only to meet the side of your face instead of your lips. Leon pouted from you avoiding his kiss. You gave him a glare, eyes flickering towards the assistant. Internally groaning, Leon knew he didn’t have a choice as you were the most stubborn person he’s met. But he was a pleaser – he was your pleaser – so he’d do anything you ask him to.

Turning towards the assistant, Leon begrudgingly muttered an apology, “I shouldn’t have sworn at you. That’s my fault.”

Although he didn’t mean it, Leon looked at the assistant with harsh eyes. From his height, you couldn’t see his disingenuous expression and gullibly believed in his fake act of remorse. His glare hardened, a warning for the assistant to leave before he kicked her out physically. Leon would never put his hands on a woman, but if they were threatening his lover, then all those morals went out the window. Getting the hint, the assistant finally made the move to leave, but not fast enough for Leon to grab you in his arms and essentially make out with you in front of her.

You pulled back from the kiss with a blush, “Leon!”

Leon smirked, loving to see the flush on your face and being the reason for it, “I missed you.”

“You saw me this morning,” You rolled your eyes at Leon’s dramatics.

“So?” Leon snuggled into you closer, sniffing you as if your scent was home to him, “What are you doing here? Don’t you have work?”

Leon heard some rustling and looked to see his forgotten lunch bag in your hand, “Hungry?”

Leon nodded like a puppy with a wide smile on his face before guiding you to sit on his office chair while he sat on his desk. He happily waited as you unpacked everything on his desk and advised him which foods to start with. And, although he didn’t receive a note that day, your presence made up for it.

…..

Tuesday –

“Conference is ready for Eagle, I repeat, Conference is ready for Eagle.”

Leon raised his cuff towards his mouth, “Copy that.”

Leon buttoned his suit jacket, securing his pistol, and gestured one arm towards the Oval Office’s door, “Mr. President, we’re ready for you.”

Leon received a curt nod before leading him out the Oval Office and towards the press room. Like routine clockwork, his eyes were constantly scanning for danger. Even though they were only moving from one end of the White House towards the other, Leon was never too careful. Once at the doors of the press room, Leon held the door with one hand while the other went back up near his mouth, “Eagle’s entering the press room.”

When he received the green light, Leon pushed open the door and followed the President towards the stage. Again, he scanned the room, looking for any suspicious activity or possible threats. Just as he made his way towards the edge of the stage where he was usually stationed during these boring politically vague press conferences, his eyes happened to catch a familiar figure, causing him to stumble over his feet and loudly crash into the American flag flagpole. The noise caused each reporter to inspect the situation as they watched Leon fumble. With quick reflexes, Leon caught the pole before it fell over and placed it back upright before awkwardly shuffling towards his post. Normally, Leon wouldn’t have made such a mistake, but the sight of you sitting with the audience of reporters caught him off guard. How could he forget that you worked in a very reputable news station?

Leon avoided everyone’s lingering stares, pretending that what just happened didn’t happen. Well, everyone’s but yours. Once he met your twinkling eyes, your face broke out into the most adorable smile as you tried to hide it behind your notepad and suppress your giggles. Leon let out a barely audible chuckle as his face flushed. You were the only one that could have him feeling embarrassed. But technically, this was your fault, because you looked too good for him not to stare at you the whole time. If any of his colleagues was watching his view, they’d definitely think you were some sort of threat waiting to take their chance.

Normally, Leon couldn’t wait for these conferences to be over. But now, he found this one particularly excruciating. The whole time he kept wondering how the hell he was supposed to control himself when you were in work mode. Just the way you asked the most intelligent questions, being so focused when writing your notes, and the way you brushed your hair out of your face whenever it fell into your vision sent him into a state of blissful insanity. The things he’d do to just leave his post and jump into your arms was unthinkable. But he had a job to do, and he was the best at it. Plus, he wanted to show off how cool and handsome he was while on the job.

“Thank you. We’ll be taking no more questions at this moment.”

Leon snapped out of his daze, moving to escort the president off the stage. Turning towards a secret service member, Leon gave the orders to guide the president back to his next destination before breaking away and practically skipping towards you.

“Nice fall there, Romeo,” You teased, can’t help but giggled as you recanted the fresh memory.

Leon scratched his head with a crooked smile, “I saw the most beautiful person in my life.”

You shook your head giggling before giving him a quick kiss, not wanting to get him in trouble at work. Leon excitedly accepted your kiss, smile widening even more as his lips tingled.

“Kennedy! Debrief!”

Leon looked over to see his colleague waving him down from across the room. Instantaneously, his stoic expression returned as he gave a quick nod of acknowledgement. Once out of sight, his features soften, looking at you apologetically, “Gotta go, I’ll see you later. Love you!”

It took him almost a minute to actually say goodbye and leave you, but the skip in his step made up for his tardiness.

…..

Wednesday –

Leon was starting to get tired of these meetings. His job was to fight bioweapons, did he really need to sit in the geeky science side of things? If there’s a monster, kill it. Easy.

He sighed, as his eyes bore into the papers, yet not reading any of the content written on them. Every word said by the scientists and researchers went in one ear and right out the other as they continued through the robust slideshow. Didn’t he skip college for this exact reason?

Just as they were about to continue towards the next slide, Leon’s phone rang, interrupting everyone from their concentration. Usually, Leon would apologize for forgetting to silence his phone, but seeing your caller ID flash on his screen had him running outside the meeting room as the group decided to call for an intermission.

Picking up, Leon piped up, “Hello?”

“Is it a bad time?”

Leon looked back to the meeting room without a care, “Nope, wasn’t doing anything important, what’s up?”

“I was just going to ask what you wanted to eat for dinner for Friday’s movie night. Do you want to order in or make something ourselves?”

“What’s wrong with both?” Leon chuckled.

“That’s too much!” You laughed.

Leon smiled, loving the sound of your laughter and being the one that made you laugh, “Okay, okay, let’s get something easy to make. We’ve got some other shopping to do too.”

“Perfect, we’ll go tomorrow, okay? Come home early.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, “I’ll be there.”

“Okay, I gotta go now. I love you!”

“I love you too,” Leon kissed into the phone before hanging up.

He was about to turn around and head back to the presentation room before being face to face with the Redfield siblings. Chris raised his brow while Claire did her best to hide her snickering behind her hand. Leon’s stoic persona returned, pushing past them as he muttered, “Shut up.”

…..

Thursday –

“Salsa”

“Check.”

“Chips?”

“Check.”

“Anything else?”

“Sour cream,” Leon read the grocery list, “That should be it.”

You nodded, heading towards the condiments aisle, “Right, can’t forget the sour cream.”

Finding the location, you were about to ask Leon for help as the bottle you wanted was placed on the top shelf, but Leon was quick to understand and had already reached up and placed the bottle in the cart. You smiled and attempted to pat his head, “Thank you! Ready to go?”

If Leon had a tail, it would be wagging faster than a boat propeller. Leon perked up at the praise, basking in the good words you had for him. He could never get over how well you treated him and he lived to impress you everytime. Just as he went to answer, a certain sibling duo appeared again. Was this his bad luck?

Once you saw Claire, you immediately rushed over and enveloped her into a hug and gushed about where she’s been and what she’s been up to. Knowing you well, Leon knew it’d a while before you realized you’d been talking for a bit too long. Chris seemed to know this too as he went over to Leon and struck up some small talk. He looked in your cart, analyzing the collected ingredients, “Taco night?”

Leon let out a gruff noise with a scowl on his face to indicate that Chris guessed correctly. Leon crossed his arms, impatiently waiting for you to finish so that you both could go home and cuddle on the couch together.

Chris scoffed, “You don’t have to hide that you love them, you know? It’s not like everyone doesn’t know you’re head over heels for them already.”

Leon pressed his lips together, “I’m not hiding anything.”

“You’re not?” Chris pressed, “So, yesterday, on that phone call, you did send a kiss through the phone, right?”

Leon met Chris’s eyes with a glare, not willing to admit he’d ever do such a thing. Although it was the truth and it would’ve hurt his pride to admit, Leon hated denying it in case it made you sad, so he chose to use silence as his answer. Chris found this particularly amusing as he laughed, “It’s okay to have feelings, you know? In this field of work, it’s nice to have someone – someone human – to remind us that we have lives outside of the virus.”

Leon’s tough demeanor slightly cracked as he watched you laugh and joke with Claire. He hated to admit, but Chris was right. You were his everything. You made all the bad memories and nightmares go away. You reminded him that he’s just a guy trying to live a normal life. And, he’d do anything to keep you in his arms forever.

Without thinking, Leon admitted, “I love them.”

Chris smiled in triumph, “You look good together.”

Just as the men finished their chat, you looked over at Leon to which Leon softened his expression to meet your gaze, “Hey, you won’t mind if Chris and Claire come over tonight, right? They can even stay over if they want! Come on, let’s go!”

Even if he wanted to, Leon couldn’t bring himself to argue with you. Sure, he wanted you for himself tonight, but he couldn’t ever say no to you. Thus, you collectively left the grocery store with Leon grumbling in tow as Chris snickered at his demise.

…..

Friday –

Fridays, oh Fridays. They were Leon’s favorite day of the week. It was the majority of the population's favorite day of the week actually. But, Leon’s reason wasn’t mundane like getting off work early to celebrate the weekend or other adjacent reasons. His reason was because he was to come home to you and destress the woes of the week in your arms. He didn’t care what movie or TV show was playing, he just wanted to bury himself deep into your neck and press loving kisses as if he was thanking you for your existence. Even though your focus was solely on the drama of the cinema, Leon was just happy to be included. That’s all that he needed. You were all that he needed.

“I gotta use the bathroom,” You started to untangle yourself from Leon’s hold, “You can keep watching though.”

Leon mewled in protest. He didn’t even know what was playing anyways, so it didn’t matter to him. The hold on you shifted, so that Leon was encircling your waist and holding your body flush against his. He buried his face into your chest and his muffled, “Don’t go.”

You patted his head, brushing your fingers through his hair as you cooed at him, “I’ll be back in a bit, okay? Keep the blankets warm for me?”

Leon pouted, squeezing you one more time before reluctantly letting you go – extra emphasis on the reluctant part. Leon was basically an octopus suction cupping you on him as you struggled to get out of his hold. Once you were finally freed, you huffed before sending him off with a quick kiss and running towards the bathroom. Leon laid on the couch, lifeless. He didn’t know what to do without you. He tried to tune into the TV, but his lack of attention to plot confused him on the premise of whatever was playing. He laid back with his hand on his stomach, fiddling his fingers as he stared at the ceiling. He shifted his body left and right, suddenly feeling like the couch was made of concrete and blankets knitted with the itchiest yarn known to man.

Annoyed, Leon decided to abandon the couch and shuffle his way towards the bathroom and paced outside as he waited for you to finish. Thankfully, you weren’t that long before you unlocked the door and stepped out. You hadn’t gotten far before Leon scooped you up in his arms and swiftly took you back to the couch and buried your bodies in the mountain of pillows and blankets. Only now did he feel comfortable, like sleeping on clouds.

You giggled, taking his face in your hand and holding him to look at you. Leon’s eyes widened, waiting for you to say what you wanted to. You booped his nose, “Were you waiting outside for me?”

Leon pursed his lips like he was asking for a kiss. You shook your head, not willing to kiss him until he gave you an answer. Once realizing this, Leon’s lips turned into a pout, “I missed you.”

You giggled, pressing a rewarding kiss to which he passionately accepted, “You’re so cute.”

Leon snuggled back into you as your fingers entangled themselves back into his hair, “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy oneshot #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy fic #leon s kennedy fanfiction #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x you #resident evil x you #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy fluff #resident evil fluff

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 1 month

Text

Teeth

Part 21

Masterlist

Werepanther!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: Full moon insanity, angst, mentions of stalking, oral (f), consensual, rough, unprotected sex.

Hard shout out to @idaofinfinity and @ittybxttykxttytxtty for helping me so much through wanting/ not wanting to write. I push myself too hard, I know, and I am forever grateful that you both encourage me to take breaks. I hope this rocks your socks off.

It’s stuck in his head.

The way you looked when he told you he was leaving.

The pain in your voice, the smell of your despair in the air.

There was no one more sorry than Billy Russo right now.

He sits in the isolation room of his design, his head resting against the concrete wall, the panther whining like a pained animal inside his mind, agonising over the way he hurt you, begging him to go back to you and make things right.

He closes his eyes.

He hadn’t meant to do it like that, so suddenly, he was going to ease you into it, tell you he’d gotten a work call, that he may have to respond, and then apologetically depart a while later, hoping to free you of some of the pain.

Instead, he’d blurted it out in the same moment that you’d finally admitted to him that you were ready.

To be fair, that very admittance had been the catalyst that had shoved him into an early spiral, the beast inside of him had started roaring in his mind, he’d almost lost control right in front of you.

He'd done it to protect you, that’s the only thing that puts him at ease. The possibilities of what could have happened if he were to remain in your presence worried him. The first time you'd been together, he'd bruised your wrist, there was no telling what he might do accidentally with the full moon almost overhead.

He takes a deep breath in and he can smell you, your scent still lingers on him. He'll have to get rid of his clothes if he plans to stay sane in here.

The panther fights him, tries to force him to shift prematurely. He groans, his entire body aching as he tries to resist it. He falls onto his side, his teeth elongates, breathing shallow.

He fights harder, tries to manage his breathing like Frank taught him all those years ago. He hates the way he doesn't have control the way other shifters do, that his past still affects him, even now.

He'll never be free of it, he worries he'll have to hide from you on every full moon to protect you from the beast inside of him, he'll always have to look over his shoulder, too afraid to lose control, too scared to give in to himself.

At least he can let go here, far enough away where he can't hurt you, or scare you with his bloodlust.

One of the bones in his shoulder bends. He grunts, takes a deep breath, waiting for the impending break to happen, his body trying to reshape him before he's ready.

It's the fight that makes it more painful, if he was compliant in his loss of control, the shift would hurt less. The pain helps though, keeps him human. He feels the burn of sweat as it drips into his eye.

After a few agonizing moments, the wave subsides, and he can sit up once more, leaning against the wall.

There are two screens across from him, built into the wall to protect it, one shows the live security footage surrounding the abandoned building he was in, near the outskirts of the city, the other shows the security footage of his home.

He's got a couple of cameras on the surroundings, but there's one in particular he watches, the only one inside of his house. It sits in the corner of his kitchen, overlooking the main hallways, and just in the corner he can see his living room as well.

He did warn you about the camera before he left, advised that he might check in from time to time. He wonders if that was your motivation for sitting at his kitchen counter and working right now.

He takes a deep breath, relaxes, watches the way you look while you work.

It sort of calms him, to see you, there’s just something so peaceful about you and the way you move. He wants to lie beside you and watch you, he yearns for those small moments where you're deep in your own thoughts.

Outside, he hears the soft drops of rain beginning to fall, like static, it fills the room, helps him focus his thoughts.

Now more than ever, he thinks about his dreams of lying next to you, something in his chest unknots, the idea of eternal peace at your side eases him into a shallow sleep.

The first night after Billy left was the worst.

It wasn't the silence, so much as the lack of his presence in the house. It's like you could feel his absence, as if something warm in the room had disappeared, leaving your very insides frigid.

You'd tossed and turned in your own room, struggling with feeling too hot or too uncomfortable, fighting hard to succumb to your exhaustion, but nothing would let you.

You’d drank tea to calm yourself, quiet music to soothe your mind, you’d even tried an audiobook that you’d listened to a thousand times because the voice actor had a particularly soothing voice.

Nothing.

There was always something wrong.

After a few hours of frustration, you'd sat up, pushed your sheets off, and stepped softly into the hallway.

You'd approached his room slowly, not out of fear, but with curiosity, wondering what his room would look and feel like when he wasn’t here to fill the space. Pushing his door open, you'd felt something so different overcome you.

It had been so much cozier in his room, the warmth you'd been searching for had cocooned you the minute you'd taken a seat on his bed. The sheets were soft on your legs, you couldn't resist lying down.

You could smell him, his earthy scent with just a touch of citrus and when you'd closed your eyes, you swear he was still here, right around the corner, out of reach, but still present.

It leaves an excited twist in your stomach, that you can curl up in his bed, grip the pillows he sleeps on, breathe him in.

It makes falling asleep so easy, that you could never understand what the problem was in the first place.

While getting ready for work the next day, you push open his closet door, searching for something of his that you can wear, to have him close.

You grab one of his blazers, finding a way to match the aesthetic so that it looks like it belongs to you.

It’s a little big on you, welcoming still, and you steal a scarf as well to battle the chill outdoors.

At work, you feel a thrill at wearing his items, delight in the fact that no one knows you wear his things and you sleep in his bed.

Work is monotonous without him though, every little spare minute you have makes you want to amble up to his office excitedly, only for your thoughts to stop in their tracks at the reminder that he won’t be there.

Dinah even checks on you at lunch, and while you’re happy to see her, her responses are clipped and perhaps a little more frigid than usual. You wonder if it’s because of his absence, if the only reason she bothered to put up with you was because of him.

You try not to overthink that. Maybe it was something as simple as her own job being frustrating.

She takes off shortly after checking in, leaving you alone with only your thoughts to keep you company.

It’s a big difference from life with him to life without him, the only thing keeping you intact is that there’s only one more day and then hopefully he’ll be back with you again.

At the end of the day, you smile politely at Sergei as he holds the door of the car open for you. Outside is freezing, and you’re glad to be in the warm vehicle, shedding your jacket and scarf as the heat soaks into your body.

The moon is full, and so effortlessly beautiful tonight, you can’t help smiling up at it, wondering if the myth about shapeshifters and full moons were true.

You marvel quietly at the realisation that you knew shapeshifters existed, and yet you managed to not tell a soul. You raise your hands, fingers tracing the panther hanging around your neck, hoping that wherever he was, that he was okay.

The back of his head hits the wall, sweat cascading down his neck as he pants.

All he can hear is his own rapid exchange of breath, and the sound of his fingers clawing at the concrete below him.

He grunts, pressing his teeth together as another wave of pain hits, his vision going dark, one of his ribs snap and he flinches, hunching forward.

It was almost time, the moon only hours away from its peak, he feels saliva drip from his mouth as his teeth grow too large for his mouth to remain closed.

The soft rain from before falls more intensely now, he imagines what it would feel like on his skin, uses the thought to steady himself. He’s been fighting the shift all day, but soon he’ll be able to give in, soon, the panther and him will become one.

Something on the monitor catches his eye. Someone moving through the downpour outside of the building. He can’t see their face, can barely make out the figure with the way his vision swims.

The cameras follow the motion, he watches something be left at the front door of the building.

He struggles to a stand, reaching for his phone hidden behind the monitor, uses his thumbprint to unlock the large iron door keeping him in the basement.

He tries to be quick, but his struggle with the panther slows him down, by the time he makes it to the front door, any trace of the stranger is gone.

He suspects it may be the stalker, but he can’t risk the chase right now, reaching to pick up the item left behind, a small lightweight box.

He gives it a hefty shake, hears the sound of fabric swishing.

He knows he shouldn’t be opening it, but instinct has taken over, he doesn’t smell anything dangerous, but opening a potentially dangerous package is still risky.

He blinks in confusion when he finds one of his scarves folded neatly in the box. Eyebrows drawn together, he pulls the scarf out, he can smell his own scent on it, and something else that drives him to bring the material up to his nose for a deep breath.

His eyes roll back in his head when he catches the pure scent of you, and when he finally breathes in your sweet pheromones, he finally realises the danger you’re in.

He scrambles back into the basement, tripping, the panther fighting him with full force. He initiates maximum lockdown and throws his body as far away from the door as possible.

You’re ovulating, he can smell it on the scarf, and the timelines make sense. He shakes his head, clenches his fist as the clawing inside of his mind grows frantic.

The beast inside of him wants you. Now. It fights to go to you, to find you, wherever your sweet body hides. He wants you, to drink you greedily down until he’s satisfied.

He’s your biggest threat now.

He hits the wall, again and again, fighting something intangible with every bit of himself.

The scarf is at his feet, he doesn’t remember bringing it in, but it barely matters now, he reaches for it, brings it to his face again, before flinging it away.

The sound of his own heartbeat fills his ears, the sound of his breathing all accumulates into an overbearing din in his head. He tries to cover his ears but it doesn’t help.

Everything is too loud, growing louder by the second, until it’s too much, until he can’t take it anymore.

Billy squeezes his eyes shut, and lets out a pure, unrestrained roar.

And then, everything quiets.

He straightens, takes a few calm breaths.

He finds his phone, typing in the four-digit pin, and answering the security question with ease despite his complete inability to think. When he’s done, his hand crushes it into fragments before dropping it to the floor.

He steps out of the room, the full moon above head, with only one destination in mind.

Your evening had been peaceful as you’d learned to appreciate being alone. You’d sipped on a warm mug of tea and sat in his sun room while the rain had poured all around you.

It was calming, and when you’d closed your eyes, you’d imagined him behind you, tucked against you while the world moved around you. It was such a serene thought, it made you miss him so much more. You wanted that with him, and you could only hope that he would want that too.

The evening had been uneventful, you’d taken out your laptop and sat in his kitchen to get a little bit of work done, hoping that he would send you a message to tell you he was doing okay, but you know that was unlikely when he was this busy.

The rain had gotten progressively worse, and by the time you’d climbed into his bed, it was almost a full downpour.

You’re sleeping soundly in his bed when the sharp crack of thunder wakes you.

You wake with a gasp, vision hazy as you blink, another flash of lightning waking you up just a little more.

You sit up, rubbing one eye as you look around.

A large shadow looms in the corner of your eye and you gasp, turning to it, your heart jumping into your throat in fear.

The room is moderately lit, and you manage to discern Billy almost immediately, the panic in your body dissipating.

“Oh my fucking God, you scared the shit out of me.” You gasp, keeling over to rest your head against the pillow, trying to calm your racing heart.

He doesn’t say anything, and the next time you look up at him, he’s still in the same spot, staring at you. He looks a little damp, his hair slicked back and you figure he must have walked through the rain to get here.

It unsettles you a little, you tilt your head, examining his white t-shirt and joggers, noting that his beard has grown a little longer than when you last saw him.

When he tilts his head to mimic you, face stoic, you gulp.

“Are you alright?” You ask, stomach flipping as he takes a slow stride toward you.

You study the serious expression on his face, wondering if he was angry at coming home to find you in his bed, even though he had offered it to you before he left.

Maybe you’d overstayed?

“I can leave if you want.” You suggest sleepily, pulling back the sheets to begin climbing out of his bed.

“Stop.” He says, and his low voice, almost a grovel, sends tingles down your spine, though you’re unable to separate the excitement from that small seed of fright within you.

You watch him approach, and after a small second of thinking, you feel the need to voice your concerns over the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re scaring me a little.” You confess on a breath.

He blinks, and then stops moving.

“I’m sorry.” He finally says, taking a step back, “I- shouldn’t be here.”

For the first time, you finally see the Billy you’re used to.

“No, it’s okay.” You say quickly, climbing out of bed to take his hand in yours, his rough palm sending tingles up your arm.

“You just scared me a little, I wasn’t expecting you back, but you can sleep next to me, I don’t mind.” You tug him to the bed, but he pauses just before you can climb in.

You look back at him in confusion, and then your stomach flips when his other hand raises to cup the back of your neck. Though his touch is gentle, it warns of something untamed below, pulling you closer to him.

You blink slowly, as scattering sparks spread where he touches you, mouth parting at the feeling he gives you, so much need for him swells inside of you.

He pulls you against his chest, and you go easily, wrapping your arms around his torso to try making him feel more comfortable. Though his hands are cold, his chest is warm, reminding you of how badly you’ve been longing for him.

His arms wrap around you too. You feel his face press to the top of your head, hear him take a deep breath, before a low rumble leaves his chest.

“You smell good.” He says.

“Thanks?” You offer, unsure.

His hands move, reaching down to grip your hips, and then smooth over the small of your back. You suck in a deep breath to fight your own urges.

He kisses the top of your head softly, and then he’s cupping your jaw to tilt your face upward, eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet your forehead, then adjusting your head, to place another to your temple.

“You’re pretty.” He murmurs into your ear, before he kisses your cheek.

“Thank you.” You breathe, more accepting to his compliments now, eyes still closed as his lips roam over your cheek, growing closer and closer to your mouth.

When he gets close to your mouth, he pauses, making your chest grind with want.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, a hit of teasing in his voice, as if you would deny him, as if you could. You smile softly, tilting your head up.

“Yes.” You say in a hushed tone, biting down hard on your lip to keep you oriented.

“Sure?” He baits, his mouth at the very corner of yours, his breath, featherlight on your skin, your desire like a pit in your throat that refuses to be swallowed.

“Why are you being so mean?” You whisper, as his lips grow closer, your eyes are barely open, but you still catch his devious smile.

He pushes at your shoulders, a shocked gasp of surprise leaving your lips as you feel your feet slip from under you. You fall backwards, his soft bed catching you easily.

Almost immediately, you sit up, looking up at him in disbelief, unaccustomed to such… ferity.

He doesn’t let you speak, or even think, before he moves, cupping your face in his hands and slanting his mouth over yours.

An explosion goes off in your head, your hands gripping the sheets almost painfully, eyes squeezed shut, trying to press your lips even firmer to his. Everywhere he touches, burns with blistering sparks.

You’re so much more than eager, beyond desperate for this taste of him, one that you’ve been yearning for, from the very first moment you kissed him.

A sigh against his lips, reaching your hands up to cup the back of his head, pull him closer so that he doesn’t come to his senses and pull away. You feel like a piece of a puzzle, relieved to be slotted into the place you belong, somehow knowing without a doubt that he was that place.

He groans passionately against your lips before pressing forward, guiding you to shuffle back on his bed so that he can crawl atop you.

You stay like that, sharing feverish kisses with each other, a quiet challenge between you to even think about pulling away.

His hands move down, tugging your nightdress up so that he can fit himself between your thighs, your clothed cunt coming right into contact with his straining erection.

It feels euphoric, the burn of needing him, separated by only a few layers of fabric. He groans into your mouth, hands reaching to secure your hips in place, taking the opportunity to grind his cock against you in return.

You gasp, more a hitch of your breath than anything else at the delicious contact, turning your head away to try catching your breath.

It’s not something he takes kindly to, his fingers wrapping around your throat in warning, his thumb against your jaw to guide your face back to his.

His eyes are dark, almost bottomless with the way you can see no light reflecting off of them. You don't have much time to look at him before his lips are on yours once more, something searing hot, desperate clawing at you.

Your moan is broken against his mouth, your stomach twisting as you realise you need so much more than what he’s giving you right now.

“Please.” You murmur into his mouth, hoping he understands you. You arch your back, offering your body to him.

A low grunt leaves his throat, and suddenly the top of your dress gets torn into two.

Your breasts spill out, and he moves from your mouth to kiss at your neck.

You whine, tilting your head to give him more access, tingles spreading over your skin at the way his mouth feels. Your hands roam his back and shoulders, feeling at his damp hair, a painful desire to explore every inch of him you can reach with the tips of your fingers.

“Billy.” You hum, and you hear him moan in response, his hand reaching to palm at your breast, your clit pulsing in retaliation.

You shudder when he plucks at your pebbled nipple gently, rolling your stiff peak between his expert fingers. Your skin tingles where he touches, sparks cascading over you.

A sharp sob leaves you, your legs wrapping tightly around his hips, the friction there is only enough to tease. Your brain begs for relief from the ache of wanting.

Your head falls back against the bed, too much pleasure searing your system to focus, his mouth working your body into a boneless mass, desperate for him.

You whine when his lips seal gently around your nipple, feeling a delicious tug inside of you, his other hand reaching for your untouched breast.

The breath leaves your body, head tossed back, feeling him, the way you yearned for him in the last few days.

The sound of your dress ripping further draws you out of the fog of desire clouding your head, you look down, realising that he’s torn your dress right down the middle.

You blink, a little confused at the strength he must have to tear through your dress without even hurting you in the process.

You suck in a deep breath, feeling some thinking redirect from your cunt to your brain, looking up at him, watching the way he studies your exposed form.

He lets out a shaky breath, withdrawing from you a little.

“I think you should run.”

“Billy?” You say his name for an explanation.

“I’m not- myself, and the things I want to do to you-” He huffs, drawing away completely.

There’s a war going on inside of his head, you can tell by the look in his eye that his desire is getting the best of him.

It’s exactly how you want it.

“I'll run if you promise to chase me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know what you meant.” You challenge, sitting up and climbing out of his bed, “Stop fighting yourself, and come take what’s yours.”

When you say your last words, you drop the tattered remains of your dress from your shoulders, watching his eyes refocus on you.

He stands too, large body looming over you, lightning flashes again, painting him in a sinister light for a few microseconds.

“You have no idea what I want to do to you.” He grunts, taking a step forward.

You take an equal step back, playfulness in your eyes.

“I think you want to chase me, and I think I want to be chased.”

A primal sound leaves his throat just then, and your eyes widen in surprise. All you can interpret, is that it’s the pure sound of him letting go of his own resistance.

You take another step back, and then another, left only in your panties, you make it to the door of his bedroom before he begins to move.

Thunder cracks, somewhere in the distance, and you make it to his dark kitchen before he catches you.

His body is pressed firmly to your back as he wraps an arm around you.

“Telling you to run was a bad idea.” His hands reaches up to cup your breasts, you groan, tilting your head back as his broad hands explore you.

His voice drops to a whisper.

“It just made me want to catch you more.”

His hand grips your throat, tilting your head up so that he can kiss you.

It’s more passionate than before, mouth pressed hard to yours, tongue delving past your lips in an effort to devour.

His other hand slides over your stomach, all the way down until his slender fingers slip below the waistband of your panties.

You gasp when he touches you for the first time, careful fingers pressing in, no doubt feeling how wet you are.

He grunts, presses his mouth to your temple.

“You’re so wet for me sweetheart, is this what you wanted? Were you lying in my bed just waiting for me to find you?”

You can’t even speak, lips parted, eyes rolling back as he gently circles your aching bud.

Warm, all around you, his scent and his body, all of it filling your head with desperation.

His grip on your jaw tightens, and you peek your eyes open to look up at him.

“Answer me.”

“Missed you.”

He lets out a sharp breath, one that could be mistaken for frustration, if you didn’t know him, but you do, you can almost feel how hard he’s trying to hold on to his control.

He spins you, pressing you back until your behind bumps his kitchen counter, his eyes are so dark, and the only time you can see his face is when lightning strikes outside.

You don’t know what he’s going to do, but somehow, with the domineering way he looks, the last thing you expect is to watch him drop to his knees.

Eye level with your cunt, he leans in, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“So fucking good.” He says roughly, voice low as if he meant to say it to himself.

He reaches forward, grips each side and tears the soft material into pieces.

When you’re finally bare for him, he looks up, sinister clarity in his eyes, no control left to be seen.

“Ask me.” He commands.

You gulp, unprepared to speak among the desperation in your throat.

“P-please.” You breathe.

He keeps his eyes on you, shakes his head slowly as if you've said the wrong thing.

“Don’t shy away from me now. Ask.”

“Can you- please-” You close your eyes for a moment, trying to find the willpower, “-lick my cunt?”

He's silent for a while, and you have to peek your eyes open to see him.

He looks calm, a devious smile on his face as he nods.

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” He vocalises, before leaning forward to kiss your thigh.

His kisses are meaningful, trailing from mid thigh all the way up, his beard scratching along your skin slowly, forcing you to grip the edge of his counter to keep your balance.

After a moment, he grows impatient, hands wrapping around your hips to pick you up and seat you on the edge of the counter.

You gasp.

Holy fuck, how did he just do that?

You don't get any time to reflect on it before he's spreading your legs, wide, wider, shouldering his large body between your thighs as if he owns the space, kissing at the seam of your cunt gently, as if asking further permission.

You groan, the torment of having his mouth so close burns at you, and yet you can't find the strength to say something, or even move, only able to feel.

He kisses, and kisses, and when you're sure his lips must be sticky with your arousal, he parts his lips to glide his devilish tongue against you.

Though you’ve felt the expertise of his tongue before, the sensation still draws a gasp of surprise, the reminder of what this man is capable of, flooding your head. He grips your thighs, you can almost feel the ardour in his grip, before he pushes upward, forcing you to lie back on his countertop.

You go slowly, settling for resting on your elbows while you watch him slide your legs over his shoulders.

His dark hair between your thighs sparks an untamed flood of desire, going right through you, burying its need directly into your bones.

His tongue slips against your clit, the motion so smooth that your mouth drops open at the pleasure he so easily delivers. With purposeful pressure, he tastes you, drinks you down, something insatiable blooming in his eyes as he glances at you.

He delves into your cunt next, reaching for a pure taste, sighing through his nose, you watch his eyes blissfully close for a moment as his tongue dips into the most intimate parts of you.

He groans into your cunt, warm breath across your skin, and then all bets are off.

Your clit is given attention next, swipes of his tongue that make you almost dizzy with the pleasure of it, licking at you just right, steadily pulling you closer and closer to the idea of an orgasm.

There’s no pretence of teasing behind it, his tongue gives an expert display of what he’s capable of, gliding in circles around your bud, licking you softly ever so often to let you catch your breath.

Your skin tingles, the air in your body held in an almost stasis state within your throat, being exhaled only to be inhaled in the same moment.

Your elbows begin to protest the hard counter, and you let yourself drop against the chilly surface, appreciating the sensation against your burning skin.

He buries his tongue within you again, groaning, and then you feel as he drags the appendage out and back to your clit.

He caresses you with every part of his tongue, from the very tip making gentle flicks to the flat of it, that rolls evenly over you. Pleasure burns inside of you, building up, your body tensed and trembling slightly, silently begging him not to stop.

You whine, reaching down, in hopes that he’ll take your hand, and he does so easily, fingers interlocked, squeezing, desperate to come.

Ravenous now, the pace of his tongue increases to a near frenzy, outside, the rain matches his mindset.

Little sounds of desperation leave you, whimpers as he brings you close to your peak with just his tongue, doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, he centres your whole world around his mouth in these moments, whether he intends to or not.

It’s gradual, it’s euphoric, you feel yourself so close to the precipice, with nothing but him on your mind.

You say his name, an appreciation of him, and all that he’s capable of.

Thighs trembling involuntarily, you raise your head to look down at him, your hand squeezing his tight, pleasure building, and building, a rubber band, pulled tight, about to be snapped.

You find his eyes on you, half-lidded, The appearance of calm, but somehow all you can see is a predator eager to devour.

It's that very look in his eye that tips you over the edge, falling back with a cry as you shatter against his dexterous tongue. You forget how to breathe as hot sparks of spread in your veins, burning, decimating your very ability to think. Your thighs tremble, chest heaving and you can feel the vibration of your heart as muted waves of bliss crash through you.

He licks you softly as you come, prolonging your orgasm, ensuring that every ounce of thought is wrung from your head with just his mouth.

When you've given him your final shiver, and you rest sated on his counter, does he finally lift himself up from between your messy thighs.

Lighting strikes when you meet his eyes, something odd about the way he's looking at you, that makes you feel like if you try to run, he would not be kind about catching you.

That is, if you could run, but your limbs are jelly at the moment, and all you can do when you meet his eyes is give him a look of adoration.

Control, is a distant memory, fading ever further with each minute in your presence.

Billy has only one trick left, and he’s not sure how long it’s going to last.

He watches you struggle to sit up, thighs still parted for him, and he can see your cunt, dripping hot arousal onto his kitchen counter.

His vision blurs, the panther trying to force him to grab at you, roll you over and mount you like an untamed beast.

More ferarum, an old saying, the belief that though he may be human, and have a mostly human composition, his base desires was designed to be acted in the manner of beasts.

To mount you like one, to fuck you like one, there’s millenia old genetics gripping his disposition by the neck and demanding he do what he was made to do.

And his solution? The answer to his problems, is the very thing driving him to insanity.

You.

Because when the beast inside of him demands your body, he presses his nose to your hair and takes a breath. When the beast demands to bite you while he takes you, he drops to his knees and tastes your cunt.

And now, when the beast is demanding to rut into you like an animal, he takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes.

How sweet they are, eager for him, willing to be devoured, and he knows you have no real idea of what you’re asking for.

He leans in, watching you struggle to move your body into a sitting position, and when you’re close enough, he grips your cheek and pulls you in for a kiss.

Heaven, the taste of your mouth, everything about you wraps him into knots, tangled in the web of your desire, and he’s not sure if he’s ever felt so eager to be owned.

But then your fingers reach for his shirt, and he has to stop you while he has the capacity to think, having distracted the beast with the feeling of his lips on yours.

Reaching out, Billy stops your hands as they reach for the edges of his shirt, looking into your eyes for a long moment, unsure of why he’s hesitating when he has you here, ready for him.

The idea of your hands on his bare skin makes the panther tug at his mind. Why was he stopping you? He could almost feel the promise of your soft hands, his stomach curling in desire.

He feels the beast take advantage of his muddled mind to seize control once more.

You can’t see too much in the low light, but you know there’s an internal battle being fought in his head. You try to be patient with him, to let him decide if he wants to continue or not, and try to be okay with whatever act he decides on.

You’re definitely not expecting him to reach through the darkness and grip your jaw.

But god, does it feel good.

“Had enough?”

It’s definitely not something you expected him to say.

It’s hard to shake your head with his fingers pressing into your jaw but you do your best to anyway.

“Please,” You whisper, unable to voice your need, “Please.”

You feel his grip on your jaw tighten.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His voice is so deep it washes over your bare skin like a gentle caress.

“You. I’m asking for you.”

He lets out a sharp breath.

“You shouldn’t want me.”

And yet, you do.

You whine, moving a hand slowly between your thighs, your intention is to either ease the ache inside of you, or get a reaction out of him.

You get the latter, with his hand reaching out to stop yours.

When he does nothing, you groan angrily.

“Please, please, please fuck me, Billy.”

In the darkness, you can’t see his grin, but you know it’s there from the way he says his next words.

“That was all you had to say.”

And then so many things happen at once.

He grips your hips, lifting you off the counter and bringing you against his body. You squeak in surprise, not enough time to marvel at his strength before one hand is under your ass, supporting your weight, and the next hand is gripping the back of your head to kiss you, hard.

You respond readily, wrapping your legs tightly around his hips while eagerly tugging his shirt up.

Smiling into the kiss as he has no choice but to let you undress him, raising the hand gripping your hair to help you get his shirt off one arm, and then switching hands to keep you supported while you pull his shirt free in totality.

Almost immediately, your hands are on his bare torso. You sigh happily into his kiss, reaching around to trail your fingertips over his back. He grunts against your mouth, taking you somewhere with smooth steps.

When your hands trail down the front of his body, he pauses his movement to assist you in getting his pants off. Perching you on his small kitchen table, he fumbles for the button and zipper of his pants before kicking it off. Your hands keep roaming his torso eagerly, over his defined biceps and shoulders, and when it’s not enough, you lean in to place open mouthed kisses all over his collarbones.

He groans, turning his head to kiss at your cheek, one hand tilting your head so that he can pepper kisses along the side of your face.

You look down, finding his swollen cock gripped in his fist, his open pants hanging low on his hips. The tip of his cock is a dark pink, almost a purple in the low light, a bead of precum slowly presenting at his slit.

You know he's going to hate that he's wearing his pants later, so while he's distracted by kissing your cheek and stroking the remarkable length between his legs, you push his pants down lower, hoping that he'll understand and kick them off.

You don't get the chance to make sure they're fully off- he grips your jaw, turning your head up to his.

Such a beautifully sinister face, the promise of pleasure so close.

“Are you ready for me?” He asks, his voice a husky timbre.

Honestly, you didn't know, but with the amount of arousal you were feeling, the way your thighs and ass were messy with want, the knowledge that your body was at peak fertility, made your odds look pretty good.

Plus, you didn't think you had the sanity left in you to make sure. You wanted him badly, and you wanted him now.

You swallow, eyes demure as you nod your head.

He grips your jaw harder.

“Say. It.” He hisses.

“I want you in me.” You breathe softly.

You watch his eyes roll closed, lips parted, breathing shallow. A sharp nod, before he’s lining his cock up with your entrance by feel alone.

You bite down on your bottom lip really hard- clenching the moment you feel the head of his cock press against you.

“Easy,” Billy soothes, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down your back, “Relax for me.” He whispers, bringing his mouth to your ear.

You give a shy nod, taking a deep breath as he eases the tip of his cock into you.

A little broken sound leaves your throat, your head falling against his chest. Your centre flutters involuntarily, clenching around him, pulling another soft whimper from you.

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He hums, pressing deeper.

When he hits an uncomfortable point, stretching your cunt wide, your breath hitches as you drag your nails across his arm, silently asking him to wait, please.

He does, hands gripping your hips, aching for some semblance of sanity as he feels you all around him.

When you’re feeling okay, you shift your hips closer, silently asking for more.

It’s a trial, taking him, despite how wet and aching you are, even though you’ve been dreaming of this for days, your thighs tremble as you breathe evenly in an attempt to accept his girth.

“Billy.” You mewl, nails clawing at his biceps, squeezing tight as he finally fits the last inch of himself deep inside you.

You can feel him so eternally deep, the tip of his cock snug against your cervix while your lungs heave air, unable to comprehend the pleasure of being so full.

Trembling, your eyelids flutter as he draws out, and then back in again, thankfully, slow enough for you to accommodate.

He takes an audibly sharp breath, before you feel him lift you off the counter.

Your mouth drops open in shock, hands wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself, and you feel his hands, their firm grip on your ass as he begins rocking you slowly on his cock.

There’s absolutely no way- he steals your thinking with a rough thrust- mouth dropping open as his cock rubs that delicious spot deep inside you.

He lets out a soft grunt that makes you clench, pleasure clouding your brain, removing each thought until you’re a puddle of want.

His pace is even, calm, he moves you as if you weigh almost nothing, lifting and dropping you on his own whim, his breathing is uneven, sometimes deep, and other times shallow, but you feel that has more to do with the grip of your cunt than the weight of you.

He clenches his jaw, eyes fluttering as he begins to make deeper strokes, you struggle to hold your body upright, leaning against him, your head on his shoulder while he uses you to please himself.

It’s more than good, better than anything before, he gives you just what you need and maybe a little more. You feel full, stretched, like this is what you’ve been craving for most of your life.

You sink your fingers into his shoulders, trying to fight the tears of ecstasy threatening to fall. His skin is warm, a little groan on each breath.

It flutters in your ribs, the tug of something intoxicating deep inside of you as he fucks you like this, as if he owns you and the very pleasure you experience. Your cunt clamps down around him, desperate, warning, that you were going to shatter around him very soon.

You say his name, head tipping back to allow more air into your system, as if that could help you manage the impending act of falling apart.

He makes a low sound, almost a growl, makes you shiver, your thoughts being scrubbed from your mind as his cock fills you repeatedly.

It's too much, and then there's a rush of pleasure inside you, starting from your center and working its way into your head. You sob, body rocking against his, locked tight on the brink of insanity.

A sharp cry spills from your mouth as your vision goes white, his hands tighten on the flesh of your ass, going still when you clench around his cock.

It feels like you're locked in that haze of pleasure for eternity, head tipped back, eyes closed, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you grip his cock like life depends on it.

Then comes the tremors, falling against him, your entire body quivers, waves and waves of sizzling euphoria, carving its way up your spine, pooling somewhere in the back of your head making all your limbs feel so sluggish.

He holds you through all of it, cock deep, kissing your deepest parts, breathing shallow, eyes dark, filled with want.

When you come on his cock, his thinking fragments.

All it takes is the flutter of your walls around him, the way you look while you take pleasure on his cock, the smell of your skin, your moans filling the air, he doesn't think he's ever been this far away from sanity.

His mate is beautiful.

Made just for him, and him for her.

The beast inside of him demands he claim ownership, raw instinct to bite into your skin and mark you, leave traces of his spit and his cum on you so that everyone will know that you’re his.

The taste of your cunt lingers on his tongue, he doesn’t remember that he’s a man in these few moments after he feels you come.

All he can think of now, is the magnificence of his soulmate, and the ways he’s going to ruin her, the ways he’s going to reshape her until she wants for only him.

He feels his teeth sharpen, feels you lean in to rest your head against his shoulder.

It would be so easy, his mouth is so close, he could tilt his head and sink his teeth into your skin and you would barely feel any pain because he’d be fucking you through it, making sure you come at least three more times before he releases your skin from between his teeth.

He leans in, rubs his lips to your shoulder, to the very spot he’d bite, feels you clench around him in response, almost as if you’re asking for the same thing.

He closes his eyes, feels the push of the panther in his head, almost goes along with it.

It’s the smell of your skin that stops him. He stands there, breathing you in.

Fresh strawberries, making his mouth water, so deliciously ripe for him, all for him.

Sweet and small in his arms- hurting you would tear him apart.

It gives him the willpower to raise his head, to suck in a deep breath and remember that the predator was not all that he was, that he could choose differently.

He would simply, choose you.

When your orgasm finally subsides, all you can do is rest your head on his shoulder, clinging to him, in hopes that he never releases you.

He moves, holding you so easily that you have no idea how it’s even possible.

When your body is placed gently onto his bed, you only get a few moments to settle before his cock is pressing into you with more fervour than before.

It knocks the air right out of you, his thrusts are deep and fast, chasing his own orgasm now that he’s given you yours.

You moan, feeling him fill you so roughly, so deeply that you know you never want him out, you squeeze the walls of your cunt around him, silently begging him to stay deep inside of you, to empty himself there, a primal voice in the back of your head telling you that this is what you were made for.

His grip is tight on your hips, his breathing is shallow and hitched, broken up with low grunts, that makes your brain rattle with want.

He’s like a coiled predator, moving his body against yours, holding you firm so that he can plunder the deepest parts of you as he so pleases.

He leans down to kiss you, but doesn’t linger in favour of fucking you harder, your head tilted back, moaning in bliss to high heaven.

It works you up to another orgasm so quickly that you can only whimper in warning, trying to tell the amazing man above you that he’s your undoing without ever uttering a word. Your fingers grip his arms, wherever you can reach, nails pressed to his skin because you feel like you’re floating and you need him to tether you.

Something clicks in your brain just then, as he’s inside of you, the shallow pump of his cock lighting up every uncharted part of your brain, flooding your body with euphoria, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

It’s almost like self discovery, though, you’re not sure what you’ve found, all you know is that you’re open, and vulnerable beneath him, and through your watery vision- as the first hot tear spills from the corner of your eyes, and you catch sight of his parted lips and pinched eyebrows- you understand something you didn’t before.

That this is where you belong. With him, under him, taking him.

“Good.” He grunts above you, and you force your eyes to focus on his gorgeous face.

“You feel so good.” He says again, and you whine, cunt clenching as he keeps his thrusts short. You can feel how wet you are in the ease of his motions, your body accepting him, you can feel him with the most intimate parts of yourself.

After a moment, he goes deeper.

You let out a strangled sound, barely capable of breathing with the sheer size of him in the deepest parts of you, you reach to grip the sheets instead as you fear you might hurt him, your body shaking with the desire to fall apart around him.

His mouth parts on a harsh breath, and your eyes drop down to his pink mouth, something odd about the way his canines look, your brain too blissed out to focus.

His teeth are sharp, and there’s something about his eyes.

“Please.” You beg, aching for another orgasm, lost in the rhythm of his cock inside of you, his thrusts growing so forceful that you shift up the bed with each thrust, the headboard bumping the wall each time as well.

“I-” You try to say, looking into his eyes, a low whine slipping from your throat, trying to tell him, to convey to him that you’re on edge and close to orgasm.

He understands, like you knew he would. Billy leans into you, taking up all the space around you, one hand sinking into your hair, holding you in place, his other hand interlocking with yours.

“Mine.” He rumbles, right into your ear, your skin tingles at the low timbre of his voice, you feel his teeth, scrape over your neck and you gasp.

“Cum. Now.” He orders, and your entire body shudders almost instantly. You cunt flutters involuntarily around his cock, you hear him let out a low moan as your clenching around is cock gets more intense.

A broken sound leaves your mouth, and then the dam breaks.

You sob endlessly as pleasure overtakes your system, burning like wildfire in your veins, consuming everything and leaving only bliss in its wake. Your body thanks him, quietly, unable to do anything more than experience pleasure at the whim of his fingers and the steady motion of his cock. He holds you through all of it, an anchor that grounds you as you lose all thought.

His lips pepper kisses over your neck, it only makes the pleasure that much sweeter.

Above you, Billy growls loudly, you feel him make one final thrust, before he orgasms too, filling you with his cum, making you feel whole in a way you barely understand.

He stays inside of you for a while, cock twitching, you swear he fills you so much that it could almost spill out.

“I’m sorry.” Are the first words he whispers to you through shuddering breaths, his hands cupping your cheeks to encourage you to meet his eyes with your glassy ones.

“Are you hurt? Please tell me if I hurt you.”

You reach up to cup his cheek too, so happy to have him here with you, finally realising how much you really missed him.

Could he be yours? Really yours? Would he spend the rest of his days making you feel safe and loved and happy the way you were feeling right now?

Was that a real possibility for the two of you?

“I’m okay.” You finally gasp, thick emotion in your voice. You grip the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair to pull him down for a kiss.

Outside, thunder rumbles across the sky.

Your kisses are soft, meaningful, but it doesn’t take long for them to grow frantic again, and before you know it, his cock, having never gone soft, resumes fucking you once more.

Your body is ready for more, prioritising pleasure over whatever mild soreness you may feel. He fucks you to another orgasm before flipping you over onto your hands and knees.

He’s deeper now, your eyes roll back in your head as you rock your hips to meet his, a quiet slapping fills the room.

He reaches around, grips your throat to pull you up.

Your back pressed to his chest, his mouth tickles your ear.

“You can take it can’t you?” He asks, breathing laboured.

You mewl, nodding, his hips meet yours in another hard thrust.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, sweetheart? What you-” He kisses your cheek, “ -and that pretty little cunt has been begging for?”

“Uh-huh.” Is your only vocalisation.

“So sweet for me.” He says, almost to himself, before he makes you see stars.

Your hair splays around you as your body falls to the bed, his cock filling you with his cum yet another time.

He stays inside of you for long moments, not pulling out until he absolutely has to.

You feel his spend spill out of you, you try to keep it inside.

He’s covered in a sheen of sweat when he crashes next to you, breathing rapid just like yours is.

You look into his eyes, and you see the corner of his mouth tick up into a smile, both of you fully understanding that this would not be the last time you fuck tonight.

When he takes you against the window, your legs wobble. He solves the issue by picking you up once more.

One hand pressed to the glass, the other under your ass, you’re not even sure how it’s possible that you’re being fucked in this position, but honestly you don’t care as long as he keep filling you with his deliciously large cock.

It’s almost morning when you finally fall into a deep sleep, wrapped in his arms, his fingers trailing in slow circles around the small of your back.

You breathe contentment, a bliss you’d never even thought was achievable, sated in his arms and you know there’s nowhere on earth that could be better than this.

You groan when he slips your still tired body into the warm bath.

You barely peek an eye open, feeling him slide in behind you, you turn so that your front is pressed against his.

His hands are firm yet gentle, washing the dried sweat from your skin, pouring warm water onto your shoulder, carefully swiping his fingers through your hair.

“ Wha’ time is it?” You mumble sleepily, lips half pressed to his collarbone.

“After twelve, we slept for a while.” He murmurs softly, sleep still clinging to his voice.

“We fucked for a while too.” You sigh.

He chuckles.

You ride him in his sun room after breakfast.

Or maybe that was lunch, the details seem irrelevant.

He piles you high with toast and eggs, bacon that tastes almost as good as the sex had been, and when you’re full, you can’t help the way your hands wander over his skin.

It’s not on purpose at first, you just want to enjoy his presence, tracing your hands up his shoulders to play with the hairs near the nape of his neck.

But he closes his eyes, makes a soft groaning sound when you gently scratch his scalp.

And then of course, you have to kiss him.

One soft peck, and then another, you find yourself pressed against him, tongues dancing, the grip of his hands on your hips, pulling you closer and closer.

He seats you on his lap and you can feel his stiff erection through his thin boxers and all bets are off.

You place a kiss on his lips after, telling him you’ll be right back, taking the empty dishes down to the kitchen and using the bathroom before heading back.

You find him lying on his front, sleeping in a beam of sunlight.

He’s face down, the light of the sun revealing his true hair colour to be more of a dark brown that the black it usually looks like, his breathing is soft and even, and you curl your hands into fists to resist reaching out to touch his bare back.

You smile fondly, noticing he’s not where you left him, figuring he must have moved into the sunlight before falling asleep, very much like a-

Like papers reshuffling, you feel your thoughts build a conclusion you didn’t even know you were looking for.

Of course, it had been right in front of you all along, staring you right in the face and you hadn’t even realised.

You raise a hand, touching the pendant hanging around your neck.

The memory of the way his teeth looked last night- that you’d sworn was just a trick of the light, the unexplainable way he’d lifted you- effortlessly strong in a way that you’d never seen a man do.

The way the animal had come to you, bringing your most beloved possession back, after you’d cried in his arms about the very thing.

You let out a soft breath, leaning against the doorframe to come to terms with the undeniable truth, that Billy, was the panther protecting you.

A/N: I didn't initially intend to stop here, but the length of the chapter grew to unmanageable lengths, I'm very sorry about the unintentional cliffhanger.

#billy russo #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x reader #werepanther!billy russo #billy russo smut #monster!billy russo #the punisher #my writings

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tkaulitzlvr · 6 months

Note

hii can u pls do c0ckwarming with tom omg

STAY STILL - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom can’t wait any longer, but knows that you are too tired to fix his problem the way he wants you to. but you can’t deny the need slowly becoming mutual so, you decide to meet him halfway, and he doesn’t complain.

content: smut (not full sex, just what the req says lol)

a/n: thanku for the req!! SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING, hopefully this makes up for it! literally screaming and giggling whilst writing this (help), also the way he moves his tongue in this vid HELLO (need it inside me) ++there won’t be a part two (don’t hate me!) my upload schedule is just too irregular, i have a ton of requests and just don’t think i’d be able to write one, in the future if i’m less busy i may come back to this!!

“please baby, i’ll do all the work, i promise.” tom pleads for probably the tenth time, digging his head into the crook of my neck and placing open-mouthed kisses onto the skin, whining lowly against it. any other time, i would’ve given in the second his lips made contact with my neck, and he knows this, deciding to try his luck once again. however right now, the circumstances don’t work in tom’s favour, much to his annoyance. i am too tired to even properly decline his request, sighing loudly and shaking my head as my eyes flutter closed. this isn’t enough for tom, my lack of response not a concrete ‘no’, this all he needs to press himself against me once more, hoping that it would be just enough to push me toward that three letter word he has been longing for me to say. whilst our proximity doesn’t do that just yet, the frequent motion of tom’s hips rocking against my waist reminds me just how desperate he is, the hardness evident through his boxers - not that the cotton left much to be imagined anyway.

“baby i’m tired, tomorrow, okay?” i sigh out, half-heartedly pushing tom away as a frustrated groan leaves his lips. though he fails to see the mischievous grin that spreads across my face with the small push that i place to his chest when he flops beside me, clearly not understanding what i am doing. honestly, i wouldn’t have minded lazy sex - tom never complains when he does all the work and, if i give in, it will make him shut up, his whining already getting on my nerves, whether he is trying to irritate me or not. but, watching the way his face furrows in utter frustration, wincing every so often at the pain that begs for a release from underneath his boxers, gives me the motivation to tease him just a little more - but in the end, i am more than willing to give him what he wants, or at least, meet in the middle.

“fuck.” he mutters under his breath, wincing a little at my response, eyes squeezing shut as his chest heaves up and down, loud and shaky breaths escaping his lips, making it hard to close my eyes and finally fall asleep. i know that he won’t give up yet, so, i lay silently, wondering how long it will take for him to continue pleading me to let go and give him what he wants. and, as expected, not even two minutes pass before his hand snakes around my waist from behind? his body pressing itself firmly against my back.

“this isn’t gonna go away baby, shit- i’m sorry, just, please…let me do something.” he sighs out, a low whine following his plea, hand firmly squeezing my waist whilst his head buries itself into my neck, teeth digging into the skin softly. “fuck- need you so bad, please.”

a small laugh leaves my lips, stifled quickly once i purse them shut, thinking out loud as my amusement towards his desperation quickly becomes evident. tom stops his slow kisses against my neck, whipping his head upward in confusion, failing to see how i could possibly be laughing right now. “what’s so funny? seriously schatz, this fucking hurts. please, just let me take care of it. i won’t be long, just need to feel you.”

his voice reduces to a mumble, eyebrows knitting together once again, though a wave of relief visibly washes over his expression when i roll my eyes, sighing in -totally forged- annoyance, though he doesn’t recognise that. all he realises is that he is getting something, not even completely sure what, but in this moment, anything at all would be enough for him to release - he is far too desperate to be picky. soon enough, he hauls himself up, hurriedly undoing the button of his oversized jeans and tugging them from his frame, carelessly throwing them onto the floor. and god, if i had thought his problem looked bad through the denim, then i am quickly proven wrong, the firm print of his dick through his boxers almost painfully prominent. his hand brushes against it, the cotton of his underwear now creating more friction, his head falling backward as a low groan sounds from the back of his throat, showing just how sensitive he really is, and now i know that it won’t take a lot to give him what he craves.

he quickly moves to climb on top of me, not getting far as my hand rests flat against his bare chest, halting his movement. his eyebrows furrow in confusion, mouth opening to protest my resistance, though i interject, deciding that if he wants me that badly, then he shouldn’t complain about how he gets me.

“mmm, no. sit back baby, i want to try something.” i whisper, teeth grazing the skin just below his ear, tongue running over it afterward as his eyes flutter open and closed, mouth hanging open with a small smirk on his face. he nods his head quickly, sliding backward until his upper half rests against the headboard, head tilted upward and legs sprawled onto the bed. his hands however, fail to be so still, reaching outward hopelessly and grabbing me by my waist, fingers digging into the flesh as he pulls me on top of him.

he winces loudly once i sit directly on top of his chest, the sound soon turning into a low moan, mouth dropping downward into an ‘o’ shape at the dangerously addictive mix of pain and pleasure that i give him. i smirk in satisfaction at his desperation, finding it almost pitiful, watching intently at the way his eyes flutter, on the verge of closing, though they manage to stay half lidded, soon shooting open when my small fingers make contact with the waistband of his boxers. his breathing becomes more erratic, hands flying to my hips once more, chest rising up and down at an even faster pace. right now, wearing only a small pair of shorts and crop top appears to work perfectly in my favour, and tom’s, as his hands reach to pull the strap down, lips soon attaching themselves to my breast, whilst my own hands move my shorts down my body, tugging tom’s boxers down soon after.

his eyes are fixed on where our bodies connect once i line myself up, sliding down onto him at an agonisingly slow pace, wincing slightly at the feeling of being stretched out, going from being totally empty to so full within the space of a few seconds. tom is way out of it, and had been ever since i began to sink onto him, his mouth uttering low curses and grunts under his breath, nails digging into the flesh of my waist, teeth occasionally digging into his bottom lip.

“fuck schatz, yeah…you’re so tight, so good for me.” he utters when i bottom out, though his satisfaction doesn’t last long, eyes quickly opening once he realises that i am not moving, instead staying still with him still inside of me. he decides against questioning my behaviour, his hips beginning to thrust upwards as a slow pace, incoherent whines leaving his lips as he does so.

“ah ah ah…” i begin, lifting my hips upward and almost completely off of him, hand moving to rest firmly against his chest. he slows his movements, pushing my hips so that he is inside of me once again. “no moving baby, just let me sit. stay still, okay?”

i clench around him unconsciously, moaning quietly as he groans under his breath, clearly holding back from snapping his hips upward again. “fuck baby, you’re fucking killing me, you know that?” he confesses, shaking his head slowly, eyes lustful as they stare into my own, the pools of brown silently communicating exactly what he wants to do, the intent behind them nothing close to innocent. but, no matter how tempting it sounds to let him take control, to reverse the roles and have me pinned beneath him, thrusting in and out of me whilst muttering confirmations of how good i feel, how perfect i am, i enjoy seeing him like this, completely helpless underneath me, begging for something, anything, other than the teasing that i keep up, and i don’t intend on giving in.

“you wanted this, right?” i taunt, lips curving upward into an innocent smile, my thoughts anything but, aware of what i am doing, the frustration that takes over his expression proof of my success. “i thought you wanted me, like this…” my voice is low and suggestive, thick as honey, words as addictive as a drug, and he continues to take them all in. my lips make contact right next to his ear, slowly kissing just below it, digging my teeth in afterward, his hips jolting upward at the sensation. and if that wasn’t enough, when i adjust myself on top of him, moving my lips ever so slightly, that is when he loses it, head quickly rolling backward, mouth dropping open, a deep groan sounding from the back of his throat.

“oh my god, fuck- you’re driving me insane, please just- do something.” his voice is shaky, cut off by small groans, his tongue coming outward to play with his lip ring, flicking the silver metal in small circles, all whilst his eyes never leave my own, the desperation within them never diminishing.

“nope, you’ll live baby.” i state in response, leaning forward and resting my chest against his, wrapping my arm around his frame and sighing nonchalantly, closing my eyes. “i told you i was tired.” as i do so, he shifts his weight underneath me, slightly altering the angle that his dick rests inside of me, his eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. no matter how much he wants something more, he doesn’t refuse my embrace, wrapping his arms around my back, his hands tracing circles along the bare skin, lifting up my crop top and resting underneath it.

minutes pass like this, my walls clenching around him every so often, getting him just a little more riled up, enough to make him sigh out in pleasure and groan at the feeling of slight relief, though it is never enough to satisfy him, just enough to keep him on the verge of losing his mind, to keep him guessing, waiting for something more than just being inside of me. this feels like more of a punishment than a reward to him, the frustrated groans he lets out only seeming to get louder, though he doesn’t give in, knowing that he could thrust upwards into me - all it would take is a slight movement of his hips and he would have me, yet he holds back, almost testing his own willpower, even though we both know that it is non-existent, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself otherwise.

and it doesn’t take long for him to finally reach his breaking point, no longer able to handle just having me here, sitting beneath me helplessly, his mind encouraging him to move, whilst his body is too desperate, too completely needy, to even comply with his unholy thoughts. instead, he voices them as a request, trying once again to elicit something from my own still body.

“kiss me.” he mutters into the silence as my head remains rested in the crook of his neck, hearing slightly muffled. though the quiet doesn’t show it, he is becoming more restless, breathing getting louder and faster, his hold on me tighter, almost inaudible whines sounding from the back of his throat every so often.

“hm?” i mumble half-heartedly, lacking the energy to lift my head upward from where it had been resting, staying still within his embrace instead. my thumbs trace the firmness of his back, travelling over each bump, each muscle, all coated with a thin line of sweat, all of it evidence of just how needy he is for this.

“i said kiss me.” he repeats, somewhere on the verge of desperation and frustration, clearly not willing to let me take control of him anymore. as he speaks, his hand moves from my back, making contact with my chin, using it to lift my head upward so my eyes look straight into his own, faces inches apart. warm and heavy, his breath fans against my face when he speaks, the close proximity and admitted need for him creating a light shade of pink to etch upon my cheeks, though it is nothing compared to the helplessness that tom displays, his words proving it if that isn’t enough. “no more games. just fucking kiss me.”

something inside me snaps. whether it is the close proximity, his enticing gaze, or the time that i have spent on top of him, doing nothing to pleasure either of us, it doesn’t matter anymore. all that i am certain of is that i no longer want to tease him, placing my lips onto his quickly. the kiss is slow and gentle as i initiate it, tom reciprocating it, his shoulders quickly relaxing as he already receives some relief after waiting for so long. though it is too soft, too reluctant, too tender for him. he wants more, and he wastes no time in acting on his desire, pressing his lips more firmly against my own, deepening the kiss and biting down roughly onto my bottom lip as it parts in response, allowing him to slip his tongue inside.

and when my hips jolt upwards slightly at his sudden movement, he soon realises that he has me where he wants - still inside of him, and that realisation is all it takes for his hips to snap upwards, thrusting in and out of me at a fast pace. his hands find my lower back, trailing down to my ass and roughly cupping the flesh, using them to quicken his thrusts and allow my bounces to meet them, fingers leaving harsh red marks in place of the soft skin. the distance between our faces only increases beyond a few inches once i let out a loud moan, smiling in satisfaction.

he places one final kiss on my lips, flipping us over in one swift motion whilst staying inside of me. i cry out when his tip hits the sensitive spot inside of me, though i soon play it off, attempting to return my facial expression to something as close as neutral as i can get it - on the inside, i am screaming, silently begging for him to carry on. but he doesn’t. his eyes twinkle with satisfaction, enjoying the way i lay helplessly beneath him, even though moments ago, the roles were completely reversed. he picks up on my attempt to act casual, aware that i am just as desperate as he is, if not more, my entire being transparent, almost pathetically easy to decipher to him.

“this whole nonchalant act doesn’t suit you baby. you can stop acting like you don’t want it, we both know you’ll be screaming in a couple minutes, watch.”

those are the final words he says before reconnecting his lips to mine and speeding up his thrusts, soon proving his bold statement to be nothing short of the truth, making my temporary dominance seem a fragment of my imagination within seconds.

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