Their Dirty Secrets (Brothers x Reader)
The brothers, to remind all of you, are demons. Demons are known for... not exactly being truthful. Usually manipulative, malicious, secretive, etc.... and while our beloved boys are most definitely not that- they are still demons.
Canonically, they give into temptation very easily.
Theres more to these boys then what they lead on.
Warnings: heavy invasions of privacy, slight manipulation in Asmo's section, somnophilia in Satan, Beel, and Belphie's sections. Non-con in Belphie and Beel's.
Lucifer had cast a spell on the full length mirror in your room. It happened when he became furious with you one night- and he wanted to ensure he knew about all your little plans and going-ons with his brothers. How dare you think you could "fix" his family.
You, of course, never found out about this spell he cast. It essentially worked as a one way mirror, with the entirety of your room projected onto anywhere he wanted to watch you from- usually his D.D.D or the mirror in his own room.
But as time went on, and things happened... he did eventually stop using it, and in time, completely forgot about it. He never intended to use it to invade your privacy, but...
It was evident one night that you smelled... different. Human smells were such weird scents. He could tell you were shifting a little too much; you had a light blush on your cheeks throughout dinner, and you seemed to be absorbed in your own world. And when he remembered about the one way mirror, he went back to his room to see if you were alright- that was all he intended to do.
But when he saw you get on your bed and shove your hand down your pants, he couldn't help himself. He stood there, transfixed on you as he folded his arms over his chest. He watched you like a hawk- watched you pleasuring yourself.
And if you had found yourself imagining Lucifer on top of you- if you had found yourself moaning his name for whatever reason.... well, you have him to thank for that. After all, nobody would be finding out about this little secret, so why shouldn't he use a little bit of his demonic power to indulge you in what fantasies you really wanted?
Mammon has, in the past, been known to jack off. Lucifer knows it, Levi knows it, Belphie knows it... hell, even Diavolo knows it. Asmo still to this day teases him about it.
But Mammon eventually grew out of that little phase of his- that was until you popped in.
Months into your stay in the devildom, and you had passed out on his shoulder during a movie. Once said movie was over, he refused to wake you up, and instead picked you up to place you on your bed.
Before that, however, he made sure to put your RAD clothes away for you- opening your dresser drawer only to immediately blush when he saw all of your underwear lined up neatly.
Mammon, unfortunately, is also known to steal things. See where I'm going with this?
He really couldn't help himself. Your underwear were right there infront of him... how was he suppose to resist? They were practically begging The Great Mammon to be taken!
And so he did. He shoved a pair into his pocket, before swiftly putting your clothes away and leaving you to sleep.
When he got to his room, he couldn't help himself. While your panties may have only smelled like fresh laundry- you had still worn them. And merely having these in his possession was driving him insane.
For a moment, he considered how much Grimm he might be able to sell them for- but he swiftly dismissed this thought, in favour of keeping them all to himself.
He didn't do much with the panties after stealing them. Simply tossing them in his bedside drawer and forgetting about them.
That was until, he had a particularly fun dream about you. God, he was so obsessed with you, he couldn't help but wake up so achingly hard.
And with practiced motions, he grabbed his cock and started pumping- that was until his head happened to turn and spot your panties lying there in his open bedside drawer.... and he had a wonderfully sinful idea.
He came all over the inside of your panties, right where your lips would touch the cloth. The thought of him filling you up with his cum, having it spill into your panties as you were forced to walk around with it inside of you.... that thought alone nearly made him instantly hard again.
He admired his work, before tossing them off somewhere in his room and falling back asleep. The next morning he started to feel bad about it all- stealing it, then cumming in it... and while he did feel bad, he also.... absolutely loved the idea of you wearing panties he's cummed in.
So, he washed them, then returned them to their respectful drawer when you were out... only to end up stealing another pair to do it all over again.
.....at this point, any new underwear you get, Mammon already knows about them. And also- he's gone through all of your underwear at least twice over. He may or may not have 'accidentally' used any you've bled into from your period quite a few more times then the rest.
Sweet, Sweet Leviathan. Not even he is safe from his demonic needs.
He ended up lending you a blanket during a long gaming night one time, and you got your normie human scent so deeply ingrained in the fabric.... you had wrapped it around yourself like a cocoon- it wasn't your fault his room was so damn cold!
But once you had left very early in the morning, he took back his blanket to find your scent heavily lingering.... and you can safely say he didn't wash that blanket until your scent was completely gone from it. And even then, he washed it only to practically force it onto you so he could have your scent on it again.
All because he just loves smelling your human scent as he fucks himself. Wrapping the blanket around himself as he pumps his cock, pretending he's absolutely buried inside of you.
He's definitely cum multiple times into the blanket as it's been wrapped around his cock.
On occasion, he'll "loan" you the blanket, hoping that you'll get even more of your scent on it as you sleep. He gets excited just thinking about it possibly wrapped around your hips, thighs, your core....
There was one time you came on it- you couldn't help it... you felt so unbearably horny all of a sudden! And you made a mess all over the blanket as you pleasured yourself to the thought of Lucifer pounding into you; promptly falling asleep almost immediately after your release. When you woke up the next morning, you barely remembered what happened the previous night, and returned the blanket to Levi without a second thought.
Levi didn't know the details, but all he knew was that you did cum on it. He could smell it- so deeply ingrained into the fabric, and he was ecstatic. He slept with that blanket- with his face buried in that spot every night for a month.
He took immense pleasure in cumming on the very same spot you did. And after he washed the blanket, he just gave the blanket back to you to scent for him.
Satan's plan had worked! Blamed for something you had no part in, Lucifer had strung you up just like he usually did with Mammon, opting to give you a taste of what could happen should you continue to act like his brothers.
And so, the blonde was quite thrilled to see you hanging by chains in the library- awkwardly dangling slightly above him, but definitely not out of his reach. Perfect.
Satan then offered to help you out- to place a spell on you, to put you to sleep for the duration of your punishment.
You swiftly agreed, feeling the pangs of hunger from your missed lunch gnaw away at you.
And so, you were swiftly put into a dreamless sleep, Satan admiring your powerless body before getting to work.
First, a beautiful pink collar. He locked it around your neck with a snap, before popping on a pair of cat ears to your head and attaching a cute little tail to the back of your pants.
Oh, how Satan loved seeing you like this. His little kitten. So perfectly presented and dressed up for him.
He stripped you of your shirt, and huffed as he had to make due without your tail because of the loss of your pants. That left you in only your bra and underwear, much to his enjoyment.
He took a moment to admire you, his cock starting to strain in his pants as he stared a little too long at the black panties that separated your core from the air. He was so close to tearing them off you just to get a better look.... but he denied himself.
Instead, out came his D.D.D, snapping pictures at different angles, making sure to get the cat ears in some shots, and to pin the tail onto your underwear for others.
He wanted to dress you and leave now, but his cock was aching just being close to you- being able to smell your scent so purely and so close up.... he couldn't help himself.
He stroked himself for quite a few minutes before he came into his hand, and as he came down from his high he placed a chaste kiss to your clothed cunt, before working to clean his hand and then clothe you.
Asmodeus loves to tease you. Lucifer knows it, you know it, Mammon knows it, everyone knows it. And once Asmo made a pact with you- he was all over you.
Just looking at you turned him on in all the right ways. And while he was disappointed his powers didn't work on you, he didn't only have his charm power to use on you.
He was fine with how things were for a while, however. But it was taking you so long to get horny! To indulge yourself in his sin (he would be able to tell from your pact with him)!! So he took matters into his own hands.
It was so easy. All he had to do was slip some magic into your plate of food at dinner- really, he could hardly contain himself! He wondered what you would sound like- how heavenly the scent of your intense arousal would be.
He watched with a grin as you shifted uncomfortably; a blush dusting your cheeks. He knew his plan had worked.
He followed you to your room after dinner, placing his ear at the door to ensure everything was going according to plan. And it sure was. He could hear clothing rustle, smell the arousal dripping from your heat, and most importantly- your breathy moans.
That was all he wanted. Was for you to indulge yourself. To succumb to lust- even just once! And he was content to listen for a few moments. To savour every delicious moan, every lewd squelch and shifting of bed springs.
And eventually, with a smile on his face, he walked back to his room to give himself a bath. He knew now that you were ready for him- that you were even more connected with him then before, and he knew that you'd soon be coming to him begging him to give you such a wonderful night in his bed and in his arms.
Beelzebub, admittedly, isn't all that sexual. He doesn't think much of it, nor does he partake in anything.
However, things changed one day when Lucifer was particularly angry with everyone. You, who had participated in a prank with the Anti-Lucifer league, and Beel himself with eating the entire contents of the kitchen- as well as the plates.
You, unfortunately, had found yourself tied up in the library, with nobody else around to be with you.
And Beel was wandering around aimlessly- intensely starving due to the barrier Lucifer had put on the kitchen door.
Nobody else was out and about- nearly everyone was either being actively punished, or was in hiding from the intensely angry pride demon.
But when Beel had found you, his eyes lit up so magically. He came right up over to you, and he couldn't help but draw his nose into the crook of your neck. You smelled so good... he desperately wanted to take a nibble of you.
He peered at you, but your eyes didn't meet his. In fact, you seemed to be knocked out. Asleep.
His stomach growled, and his eyes hungrily dragged along your body, strung up so perfectly before him.
He wanted to take a bite right out of you, but he really didn't want to hurt you. So what could he do...?
His eyes came to your clothed sex, and in his hungry desperation, he mumbled an apology as he tore off your pants and underwear, barely needing to bend his knees to place his face right between your legs.
His tongue came out and took a long lick across your lips, and he shuddered at the taste. He needed more.
His hands came to grip your hips; you felt so perfect under his fingertips. His mouth latched onto your cunt, desperately dipping his tongue in and out of your entrance.
He flicked over your clit a few times as well, earning a shudder from your limp body. Oh, how he did like the way you moved. And he loved the way you tasted. You seemed to get so much wetter after he flicked your clit- so he did it again, earning himself even more slick to coat your beautiful pussy.
And Beel continued to eat you out as if you were the most divine meal in all the realms- and to him, you were. You were so deliciously perfect, and he couldn't help but love the way your body unconsciously shifted under his touch.
The chains clattered as your body was suddenly overcome with violent shakes- as Beel delightfully drank from you like his life depended on it.
And after your orgasm, he pulled away, his stomach no longer growling as he admired his work. Your thighs leaked with your arousal, and Beel's chin was coated in it.
He licked his lips, dressing you once more before heading off, completely content.
Belphegor had heard everything. Mammon sneaking into your room and coming out with fabric balled up in his hands. The way you pleasured yourself while moaning Lucifer's name, the curses you spoke quietly when you realized you'd cum on Levi's blanket... He heard Satan undressing you, found his twin eating you out shortly after....
And oh, Belphie was furious. Everyone else had had a bit of you. He could practically taste Lucifer and Asmo's magic rolling off of you, he could smell a faint hint of Mammon between your legs when he laid his head on your lap, he would angrily rip Levi's blanket off of you in favour of laying on top of you himself....
All his brothers had gotten to you before him. And he was pissed.
Lucifer and Asmo used their magic, so why couldn't he?
Oh, Belphie would take care of you. Late one night, he snuck into your room and put you into a deep sleep- one he was sure you wouldn't be waking from anytime soon.
He let you dream such delicious dreams as well; he let you see such vivid sights as dream-him fucked you so hard you could cry.
Meanwhile, he easily stripped you of your clothing, ditching your underwear and bra along with everything else. Finally, he got to see, smell, touch and taste what should have always been his- this is much farther then any of his brothers had gotten.
He was swift to rub fast circles into your clit, an evil grin on his face as he watched you squirm in your sleep. He suckled on your nipples, stuck his thumb into your mouth, and eventually shoved a couple fingers past your folds.
He loved the way your body naturally responded to him, his magic was so perfect for this kind of thing- and he was sure now that this wouldn't be the only time he'd do it.
After he made sure he got you wet enough, he pulled out his hard cock and dove right in, pounding into you with reckless abandon as he chased his own high.
You were perfect- so tight and so wet for him...
He couldn't help himself, and he came deep within you. He shot rope after rope of thick, creamy cum, he was sure you were full to the brim.
Its something he smiled about as he pulled out and watched his seed drip past your folds, delighting in the thought of you waking up from the best sleep you've had in your life to discover that someone had used you. Would you be mad? Scared?
The sadist in Belphie was absolutely delighted. He wouldn't have had this night end any other way- and he was sure he'd be back soon.
step on a crack, dr. lee’s gonna break your back! ♡ ljn x reader (18+)
genre: smut, jeno x reader, f x m, crack
word count: 12.2k+
summary: after years of sitting hunched over at an office desk and squinting your eyes at an overly saturated computer screen, your back finally gives out on you and decides it needs a break.
good thing your friendly neighborhood chiropractor dr. lee is here to save the day! small issue though— he’s really fucking hot and he’s got a way with his hands.
smut warnings: dom!jeno, mild dubcon (please do not read if you are uncomfortable with this), penetrative sex, manhandling, choking, strength kink, oral (f receiving), minimal rimming (f receiving), fingering, squirting, subspace, degradation, mild spanking, body worship
other warnings: will more than likely contain anatomical and medical inaccuracies (please spare me)
When you were younger, all of the adults told you that your twenties would be some of the best years of your life. Relaying tales of being able to stay out past the curfew your parents had set for you. To indulge in certain luxuries that weren’t accessible to you when you were younger– the finest of alcohol, gambling, and more. Old enough for the freedom that comes with adulthood, yet young enough for the rose colored glasses that’ll register one of your fondest memories.
Not you though.
Scrolling through your social media, you grumble to yourself bitterly as you deliberately swipe past a post of your old colleagues from school having a night out at the bar. Lined up along the stools and leaned up against one another, bright smiles and puckered lips showing off just how much fun they’re having. Envious of their fitted dresses and the heels that you’ve been admiring from far away at your local outlet.
You really couldn’t blame them, though. They’ve invited you out many times. To no avail, they’re always met with rejection. The same exact excuses every single time:
“I’ve got OT today.”
“I have a project due tonight, I need to get this done.”
“I’m too tired. You guys go on without me.”
It’s not that you wanted to be such a stick in the mud. You just happened to work at an office that sucks the soul out of your being. It’s no wonder that the invites have become extremely scarce throughout the years, but that didn’t stop you from being petty and refusing to leave a like on their posts.
A pesky hand reaches over you to zoom in on one of the girls in the photo. “Oh, this one’s cute. You should introduce me some time.”
“Like hell I will,” You spit back.
“Like hell I will,” You spit back.
Haechan’s pouts at that, his eyebrows furrowing childishly at your attitude. “What’s got you so moody today? I just wanna spend some time with my favorite coworker.” Planting his hands on top of each of your shoulders, soothing not so gentle circles into the flesh. Digging his forefingers into the crook of your collarbone, inflicting minor pain. He whistles at how stiff the knots are. “Jesus, you’re tight.”
“Could you stop being annoying for like, two minutes please?” You retreat from his touches with a feigned scoff, refusing to let him in on the fact that the makeshift massage hurt like actual hell. Shooting shocks and aches all along from the bottom of your spine to the top, wondering why you’re strained. You’d be a fool to think you could evade Haechan’s observant gaze however. As he jabs a pointer finger right to the center of your back, you shoot up from your hunched over position with an obnoxious squeal. “Ah– fucking hell, Haechan!”
Maneuvering your rolling chair to give him your deadliest glare, you’re confused when you’re met with a concerned face. “Do you have back problems?”
The sudden question startles you. Craning your neck and giving it an experimental crack. You realize you've never put much thought into it. Writing it off as a minor inconvenience at most. Too caught up with the rest of life to be concerned with your physical health, you pushed any aches to the back burner of your mind. “I don’t think so?”
Another jab comes your way, this time directly at your trapezius. Squealing like a mouse in pain once again, you earn a few curious stares from your peers. “Ow!” You smack his wrist away. “What the hell is wrong with you!?"
“It’s because you’re always slumped over at that damn desk!” Haechan argues with a tone that’s similar to a naggy mother’s. “You need to get checked out before it gets any worse.”
“I’m fine,” You swivel your chair away from him and back towards your desk, wanting to end this interaction as soon as possible. “Seriously, you don’t have to worry about me.”
Ever the overly concerned friend, Haechan goes against your wishes. Reaching into his pocket for his wallet before filing through the several business cards he has stowed away. You hear an innocuous ‘aha!’ from behind you, turning back curiously only to be met with a small cut of paper. Wiggling his eyebrows at you mischievously, urging you to take it from him.
Taking the card with caution, you barely skim through the simplistic font before Haechan speaks up again. “This guy is top notch. He’ll put you back into shape like it’s nothing.”
“Dr. Lee Jeno, D.C..” You mumble to yourself. Looking up at Haechan’s cat-like expression with your own unamused stare, fingers already up in air quotes. “Step on a crack, Dr. Lee will put you back on track?” You mock with disdain before grimacing at Haechan. “You can’t be serious right now.”
“I’m definitely being one hundred percent serious,” Haechan replies. “Come on, give it a try! His rates are great before insurance. Who knows how much cheaper it would be with our health plan.”
You’ve watched plenty of chiropractor videos on Youtube before. Fond of the ASMR and the funny reactions. They've kept you entertained more times than you’d like to admit. That didn't stop your irrational fear of having your neck snapped so far back you wake up to find yourself in front of the pearly gates though.
“Don’t you know chiropractors are quack doctors? I mean— look at this Patrick Bateman ass business card. This guy could kill me!” You counter pathetically.
“Hey, don’t speak on my boy like that,” He points an accusing finger at you. “I’ve gone to him plenty of times, and I’m still alive!”
“That’s because you’re a freak of nature,” You sigh at his persistence, too many factors to consider before even thinking about calling this man. “I don’t know…” But when you stretch out and a crack evades both your ears, that same sharp tinge traveling up your back, you’ve got no choice but to give in. Deflating under Haechan’s narrowed eyes, you admit defeat. “Okay, fine.”
“‘Atta girl,” He cheers. “I swear that you won’t regret it. Dr. Lee’s great at what he does.”
“I hope you’re right, because if he snaps my neck and I die— I’m haunting your punk ass.”
“Being haunted by you doesn’t sound that bad honestly. But when have I ever lied to you?” He winks. “Oh, and make sure to tell him that I referred you.”
Deciding that he’s bothered you enough, Haechan bids you goodbye with a wave. When you’re left by yourself you examine the card much more thoroughly. Despite the extremely corny slogan, you admire the minimalistic design. Flipping it to the other side to get more of his information, taking a mental note to search up his reviews later.
Dr. Lee seems to check all of the marks. Almost five stars on Google Reviews, most of them being very thorough and positive. A variety of patients from the eldery, to athletes, and even to those who have suffered severe injuries. Many claim that he’s got the ‘magic touch’ and that he treats his patients with the utmost care. That and he has the credentials to boot, graduating at the top of his class.
Swiping through the photos to get a feel for what his office looks like, it seems he occupies a space at a local complex. It’s neat and tidy, a clear degree and certification plated right there for all to see. Seems like he doesn’t have any photos of himself however, his profile picture being the default silhouette.
Admittedly you find yourself pacing back and forth, your phone resting on top of your coffee table. You’d like to blame it on mild phone anxiety, but you’ve got nothing to blame but your skepticism. Mentally battling with yourself to just give Dr. Lee a call and set the damn appointment.
Well, if he’s got Haechan’s approval (you’re not sure how valid that is), you guess it wouldn’t hurt to try. You seldom ever ‘treated yourself,’ so why not throw a couple of bucks on something that’ll actually do you some good?
Bracing yourself, you swipe your phone off of the table dramatically before dialing the number displayed on the card. Slapping the device onto your ear while the rings reverberate around your virtually silent room. Swaying nervously as two rings, three, then four pass without an answer. Wondering if you’re in over your head and should quite while you're still ahead, looking back at the screen and hovering your thumb over the hang up button.
Until somebody eventually picks up. A voice that is gentle yet booming with bass, delicate yet boyish in the same manner. “Hello? You’ve reached Neo Therapy Practitioners, this is Jisung speaking!”
Fumbling your phone like a hot potato, you tuck your phone in the nook of your shoulder. Grabbing a pen and notepad before plopping back down onto your couch. “Yeah, hi, yes!” You splutter. “I was wondering if I could set up an appointment with Dr. Lee?”
“Oh, for adjustment? Sure!” You hear some rustling before the man on the line continues. “Let me just get some of your info before I transfer you over to him. He’ll go into more depth with you than me.”
After providing Jisung with the necessary information, he sends you to Dr. Lee’s extension. An annoying jingle that brings you some peace. Still just a bit wary of setting up your meeting with Dr. Lee, your concerns only growing when the song comes to an abrupt stop.
Now, you may not have a face to pair with whoever is on the other side of the line, but nothing could have prepared you for the intense timbre that's on the other line.
"Hello?” The deep and sultry voice greets you, and when you take a few too seconds too long to return it, he tries again. “This is Dr. Lee. Are you there?”
Straightening your back out like you’re already in the room with him, it takes a lot of energy to double down without embarrassing yourself. “Yes! I’m here.”
A chuckle is offered in response, and you find yourself biting your index finger at how much of a baritone his voice has. Unlike Jisung who had an innocent tinge to his tone, Dr. Lee’s voice made it clear that he was a man of experience. A bravado that couldn't be missed even without physically seeing him.
“Glad to hear it.” You practically hear the smile in his voice. “So, Jisung told me you were looking to be adjusted?” When you hum in response, there’s a pause before he continues. “Sounds good. Typically with your first appointment it’ll consist of a consultation followed by your first adjustment. Does that sound okay?”
“Mhm, that's fine.”
“Perfect.” He beams, going over some more basic information that you jot down on your notepad. “Would you be free to come in tomorrow at let’s say… nine a.m? I actually had a cancellation and it gives us more than enough time before my next patient.”
When you check your wall calendar to confirm you have nothing going on in the morning, you let him know that you’re good to go. Everything goes swimmingly from there.
Dr. Lee instructs you to wear a casual set of clothes, to have your insurance and identification ready, and to just relax.
“I’ll print out a brief page of everything we discussed today, and I’ll hand over the rest of the information to Jisung to input into our system.” Dr. Lee finalizes. “I look forward to meeting you tomorrow. I'll see you then?”
“Absolutely,” You reply. “Bright and early. I’ll see you, Dr. Lee.”
With a click, the call ends. Stretching out and hearing the pops of your spine sing like a choir, you're thankful that such a nuisance will be put to a stop soon. You feel much more at ease than before you had called, and you hope that the same holds true for when you see him tomorrow.
Turns out that it didn’t hold true. Not one fucking bit. Maybe you can still make a run for it, the main lobby merely a hallway from his office.
It had gone easily enough. Meeting his secretary Jisung at the front desk with an enthusiastic greeting. He was young, probably using this as a part time job, most definitely not taking it seriously since you caught him playing Minecraft on a separate gaming laptop. Slamming the screen shut in a fit of embarrassment, he apologizes hurriedly before you reassure him that he’s okay, laughing at his silliness.
Handing him the required materials, he sends you to the back with a small smile. “First door to the left. He should be ready for you.”
With a nod you follow his instructions. That same confidence that you had carried from the night before crumbling to dust the moment you turned down the handle of the door. Swallowing a thick wad that’s formed at the center of your throat when you take in the sight of the man who’s setting up his equipment.
Haechan be damned, this guy was going to kill you. Not in the way you had first feared though.
Dr. Lee was a sight sent straight from the Greek Gods themselves. Aphrodite taking special care and concocting whatever the fuck he was made out of with a few shots too many of favoritism. Muscular legs that are restrained by black jeans that travel up a lean waist that part into obnoxiously broad shoulders. Proportions unbelievably perfect with an even more beautiful face to boot, that sharp jawline and beauty mark that is saved for those who are the cream of the crop.
If you were attracted to merely a voice via a phone call, the real thing has you absolutely folding.
Unfortunately for you, you were too slow in backing out. Dr. Lee had finished adjusting the height of the bed at the center of the room, presumably sensing your presence before twisting his entire body to find you at the door frame. Upon meeting you for the first time, his face twists into one of the most welcoming expressions ever.
Oh yeah, you were doomed.
Taking large strides towards you, he extends his hand for you to take. “Nice to be able to meet you in person.” He says, eyes forming into sweet crescents upon your accepting shake. His large hand wraps around yours completely. Gaze trailing from where you’re connected to his pronounced forearms. Sleeves rolled up high enough to ogle the veins that lace around.
Said button up did him no favors either. Accentuating each taut muscle, his biceps begging to be freed from its constraints. The button just below his collarbone fighting for dear life lest he makes the wrong move and it pops off. Calling your name, he brings you out of your daze. Shaking your head to bring you back to reality, scolding yourself inwardly for being such a prude. “N-nice to meet you too, Dr. Lee.”
He blows a few black strands away from his forehead, snorting at your apprehensiveness. “Please save the formalities. Just call me Jeno.” He squeezes your hand in reassurance. Separating from you in exchange for extending his arm towards the bed with black leather cushions that are framed by fine bamboo. “Make yourself comfy, yeah?”
Following you closely before dragging a rolling chair to sit across from you in, he sits casually with his legs spread out and his chest leaning against the back support of the chair. Reaching for his clipboard and whistling a tune as he skims through some documents. “Alright, it seems like we have some minor back pain?” He licks at his thumb to make flipping through the pages easier. Pushing the glasses that slip down his nose, attentive to every detail. “Care to tell me about it?”
“WelI, I think I started to feel some aches as early as three years ago when I started at my office, but it was a nuisance at worst,” You explain. Jeno validates you by nodding along, jotting out your words into short notes on his clipboard. Holding his chin between his thumb and forefinger, he urges you to continue. “But it's gotten worse recently. It's more of a shooting pain now.”
“I see.” He affirms, tapping the pen against his bottom lip. “A lot of my patients that are in the office tend to be victims of misalignment, I’m sure your case is no different.”
“I hope so,” You stifle a nervous laugh, halfheartedly relaying your worst fears in a joking manner. “Would hate to find out I have scoliosis this late into life and then have to get surgery for it.”
“Oh, please,” Jeno snorts at you with a feigned offense, tossing the clipboard back to his desk. “I notice your posture is a bit off, but it’s nowhere near so bad that it would require surgery. Plus–,” He cuts himself off when he rises from his office chair, circling behind you to plant his hands on your shoulders. The sudden closeness has your breath hitching, tensing up even further when he parts your hair to get a better look at the back of your neck. Feeling rather than seeing that his chest is probably no more than a few centimeters away from your back. A ghost of a breath against your ear, realizing that he’s much closer than you thought. “That’s what I’m here for. I’ll put you right back into shape.”
“Y-yeah…” You have to remind yourself that he is a certified professional. For that reason, you conclude that he is most definitely just being friendly– at least you try to tell yourself as you feel heat travel up your neck beneath his thumbs that trace over the top of your back. Wanting to slap yourself for getting nervous over him doing his job.
“Let’s take a look, yeah?” Those same thumbs trail down your back, the fitted workout shirt you decided to wear today making it easier for Jeno to get a proper visual of your spine, humming in fascination when he digs into the flesh. A slight jolt causing you to wince under his hold, squeaking feebly at the discomfort. You hope you’re hallucinating when you hear a breathy chuckle leave his throat. “Sorry, did that hurt?” He muses.
“No–! Okay, maybe a little,” You stutter out. “It was just a bit of a shock.”
A noise that’s akin to a lion on the prowl stirs in his chest, making his way back up to the vertebrae that’s on that rests right below your neck. Digging into the flesh once again, this time earning a hiss from you. Biting your lip when the same pain that you had experienced from Haechan resurfaces. “Looks like you do have some misalignment. Does this hurt?” He asks before exerting more force into the spot.
“Fuck–,” You curse, covering your mouth in embarrassment at your lack of professionalism. “Sorry, yeah. That hurt a lot.”
You’re starting to think that this alleged ‘doctor’ is having a little bit too much fun inflicting pain on you. Under the guise that he’s just examining what issues you have, you grow more skeptical with each chuckle. Just when you’re about to retreat from his overbearing touches, he retreats first. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea on what you’ve got going on.”
“You think?” You deadpan, not sure if you’re finding relief in your suspicions dominating your obvious attraction.
“Well, I know, rather.” He shrugs before walking back over to his desk, pulling out a model of a spine. Traveling back to you to point at one of the uppermost vertebrae. “Your thoracic is misaligned towards the top, specifically your T1– which is responsible for lots of important things like your shoulders, arms, the like.”
“So what does all of that mean?”
“Luckily, it’s not bad at all. I think a few sessions would be just fine,” He answers, discarding the spine model. “I’ll give you a sheet with a bunch of stretches that’ll prevent further injury. ‘Till then,'' That same smile encapsulates his features, tilting his head playfully. “Ready for your first adjustment?”
He raises his eyebrows when you give him a gobsmacked face, as if you haven’t already signed a waiver and a bunch of other non-disclosure agreements that specify that you are in fact going to be realigned.
“Oh, we’re doing that now now.”
“Yeah, now now.” He mocks you halfheartedly. Hands now coming to your front and pushing you down gently, swallowing when you get the best look of his face that you’ve gotten in the short time you’ve been in this office. “Lay back for me, okay?” He instructs softly, leaving you to grab his chair once again.
You do as he says, coming down with control only to realize you’ve fallen into his hands rather than onto the cushion. A horrible realization dawns when you recall the Youtube video that you had watched before going to sleep. Oh shit, he was going to crack your neck.
“Relax for me, just let your head fall back. Don’t tense." He praises you when you follow with no objections. Taking your trust with gratitude, he coos at you when your eyelids flutter shut. “That’s it…”
“Are you gonna do the thing?” You open one eye curiously.
“What, the thing where I readjust your neck?” Noticing that your expression is scrunched in fear, he realizes that you’re still a bit on edge. He knows that earning his patients’ full trust is all part of the job. It came easy to some, but harder for others. Good thing he was a patient man. “I understand if you’re scared, but just know that I haven’t killed anyone.”
“Oh, that totally makes me feel better–”
“Just how did you score such high reviews on the Internet?” You chide him. “My life is literally in your hands right now.”
“I think those reviews were properly earned because of my dazzling charisma. Is that not enough to put you at ease?” He soothes light circles into the back of your neck, earning a purr of satisfaction from you.
“You mean your pretty privilege?” You drawl, immediately regretting not being able to bite back your sharp tongue.
"So you think I'm pretty? He questions.
Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you amp up the theatrics by clamping your mouth shut. Motioning a metaphoric zipper from one end to the other and breaking off the tab.
Jeno decides he’s poked enough fun at you despite wanting to provoke more funny reactions. “Alright, now that you’re relaxed– I just want you to focus on your breathing.” He watches you inhale and exhale, chest pumping up and down with every breath. Gnawing at his cheek when he realizes that your shirt is just a bit low cut, your cleavage visible from where he’s sat behind you. “Mhm, good girl.”
The pet name quickly demolishes any relaxation you’ve achieved in the span of two seconds, but before you can properly address it, Jeno twists your neck. Squawking out a ‘oh my god!’ when a pronounced crack invades the room. Eyes practically bulging out of their sockets when Jeno brings you back to place, patting your cheek and letting out an exuberant laugh.
“You did it!” He claps for you.
“Holy fucking shit,” You gasp, unable to care about coming off as presentable to him. Sitting up quickly to wrap your hands around yourself. Unable to describe the sensation that just occurred, something in between satisfaction and utter shock. “I’m alive!”
“You are,” He says, bottom lip tucked between his teeth when you rejoice. His patients showing instant results and giving positive reactions would always be his favorite part of the job. “How do you feel?”
You take a few seconds to think, shaking your body a little and craning your neck side to side. “I feel a little lighter? There was a second where my head was just.. blank. Like there was nothing at all. I think I liked it.”
When his lips quirk up into a smirk, you fold into yourself bashfully. Wondering if you’re coming off too casual with someone you had just met. Only now remembering that you had a very nice set of arms and hands over what you’d consider an intimate part of the body. Aside from Haechan who you couldn’t really chase away (no matter how many times you’ve cursed at him), you’ve never been too fond of physical touch. But when you catch the veins that have become even more prominent after exuding his efforts on you, you can’t help the fantasies that plague your mind.
Jeno was capable of twisting your neck like it was nothing. You wonder how easily he could lift you. Or how long he could last with you in his arms. Or how long he–
“Ready for the other side?” He pipes in.
Maybe you shouldn’t lust over your chiropractor when you’re in the same room as him.
Falling back into him once again, he waits for your body to go slack. Counting off when you’ve reached a state of peace, he reiterates the action but in the opposite direction. That same rush breaking through your toughest nerves. Sighing out in relief, unconsciously arching your back when a tingle travels down your spine. Completely unaware of the way Jeno ogles the outline of your body in such fitted clothing.
“Still doing okay?” He hums, unconsciously trailing a hand through your hair. You ease into his touch with a sappy smile. The blissful pleasure similar to the buzz that comes with a good wine, your body is heavy but your mind is light.
“Doing just fine, Doctor…” You whisper out, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. A stark contrast from the top half to the latter of his palm, such a soft touch despite the surface being riddled with calluses. He felt just like how he looks– a bit rugged but just as gentle. Lee Jeno was an oxymoron personified, and you fear for your well being as the rest of this session goes.
“Didn’t I tell you to call me by my name?” He reprimands you, a bit of a growl laced in his words.
“Right,” You breathe out, painfully perceptive to his thumb that grazes against your bottom lip. Catching his hand with your own, lacing your fingers around the crook of his. “It felt amazing, Jeno.”
Jeno has had plenty of patients stretching near and far– many trying to pull moves on him. That isn’t to say he hasn’t found a few attractive people in his time in the office. But he knows better to engage in any sort of scandals that could bring any bad light to his reputation as a well renowned chiropractor. It was also natural for his patients to become a little lost in their heads after living with that pain for so long.
But when you don such a lost and dazed expression, Jeno realizes he might be in just a little bit of trouble.
Clearing his throat, he tries to carry on like normal. That proves to be difficult when he has to put you in quite a few compromising positions. Having to hug your body close when he lifts you up, plenty of cracks to show just how long you’ve deprived yourself of such basic luxuries. Using his strength to realign your spine in increments while you lay on your stomach.
He’s not a stranger to the grunts and groans of relief from the rest of his patients. Yet with each and every adjustment came a new sound. A stuttered gasp, an elongated groan, a screech in almost painful bliss– he wonders if you like being hurt. And when he has you laid on your side with his hand on the small of your back, an almost pornographic moan has him reeling in delight. Almost wanting to keep you for longer than he originally planned– to shut the blinds and lock the door, trying to remember if he still has that ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ sign that he has tucked away in his desk somewhere.
But again, he knows better. When he finishes off with popping your shoulders into place, he cranks his own neck. Taking extra care of you, treating you with the same sincerity as a flower in a field. He hadn’t realized that your time is minutes from cutting into his next patient. Sighing defeatedly, he has to cut it now.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” He pinches your nose when you refuse to wake up. Much too lost in your own wonderland, the irrational fear of a chiropractor snapping your neck too far dissipates into thin air. Every part of your body feels as light as a feather. Jeno grabs your forearm, the lack of resistance resembling that of a limp noodle, causing him to snort at your stubbornness to get out of his office. He thinks it wouldn’t be so bad if you were to stay a little longer.
“C’mon, wake up!” He laughs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to lift you onto your feet. Lifting you with little to no effort, like you weigh nothing. Strong arms surround you firmly, yet you feel a sense of security. “Did I do that well?”
“Oh god,” You loll your head onto your shoulder, giving yourself a good stretch. It amazes you when you reach out high and not a single ache or crack follows. “I haven’t been this relaxed in years.”
Jeno’s sure he could make you feel even better if you’d let him, but it’s better to leave it at what you pay him for. “Glad to hear it,” His hands instinctively seek purchase on your shoulders, comfort being a second nature. Urging you towards the door, he doesn’t miss the pout that you don when you wobble like you’ve just learned to walk. “When will I see you again?”
You still have that half lidded gaze from being snapped like a twig, but it seems that you’ve come back to earth. “When’s your next available appointment?” You lean against the doorframe.
He checks his calendar on his phone for any openings, he relays the options for you. “I’ve got an opening for Saturday next week, same time. Would you be interested?”
“Sign me up.” You answer. “I’ll see you then, Doc–” He’s grimacing at you before you can get the rest of the word in. Still not used to the informality, you huff before turning to take your leave. “I’ll see you next week, Jeno.”
“That’s what I like to hear. It was nice having you today.” He grins, waving you off before closing the door. When he hears Jisung bidding you goodbye and the chime of the bell to confirm that you’ve left the vicinity, he immediately rips his glasses off. Brushing his hair out of his face and rubbing at the prominent bridge of his nose.
He saw the way that you were ogling him when you had first entered. It was nothing new– the ladies young and old alike couldn’t get enough of him, and he definitely wasn’t oblivious to any of their advances. But when he thinks about all the ways he could bend and twist you over the furniture of his office, how he would be the reason you couldn’t walk, he comes to the realization– you were going to be a problem.
Saturday takes much too long to roll around, and fortunately for you Jeno contacts you no more than three days later for a cancellation. Your second appointment passed with flying colors. Jeno praises you for following the stretching regimen that he had provided you with, noting that your stiffness has already depleted exponentially. Chiropractic adjustment quickly becomes one of your favorite appointments of the week. Coming in with a smile on your face and stepping out and like a million bucks.
The same can’t be said for Jeno, however. While he’s sure that the attraction is mutual, you seem to be sending him mixed signals. Unsure if those moans are practiced or if he really evoked them from using his pure strength. Hell, he’s found himself hitting the gym even more than he already does, getting giddy when you take note of his progress.
“Have you been working out?”
“A little.” He smirks. “Why? Has it been paying off?”
“A little.” You mimic him with a subtle lick of your lips, giving his bicep an experimental squeeze. Jaw dropping at how hard the surface is. The muscle jumps when he unconsciously flexes beneath your touch.
That’s not all though. He’s noticed that you’ve gotten a bit too comfy in the time that you two have spent together. Your first visit you donned a plain workout tee paired with a baggy pair of sweats. But throughout your visits, t-shirts turn into tank tops, sweats turn into leggings, leggings turn into biker shorts– tops seeming to expose more and more of your stomach until he can see the lower curvature of your breasts.
“Oh, I forgot to mention it,” You say when Jeno pulls at your ankles, a pronounced ‘pop!’ successfully sounding around him. “Haechan was the one who recommended you to me.”
“Lee Haechan?” Jeno raises an eyebrow, the visual of the coconut headed brunette plagues his mind. Grimacing at how overbearing he can be. “Yeah, I know him.”
“I’m really glad he did,” You hum, that same damned expression that has been haunting him every night for the past few weeks. “You make me feel so good, Jeno.”
“You really need to be careful with what you say,” He tuts, appalled that such euphemisms fail to register. His voice lowering down to a low whisper, muttering under his breath. “I’m a guy, you know.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. Lay on your tummy for me, now.”
Maybe it was the confidence that came with getting better posture. Maybe it was the fact that you were becoming more flexible after he suggested you should join the free yoga classes that your community has online. Whatever it was, it was becoming even more of a problem for not just him, but those around you too.
“You are an addict.” Haechan glares at you. “You’re a crack addict. You’re addicted to crack!”
Embarrassment floods your being when your coworkers take a peek at the commotion. Haechan’s choice of words certainly does not do your image any favors. You cover your face with a manila folder from your desk, not wanting to give any attention to your nuisance of a coworker. He wasn’t having it though, ripping away the barricade and getting close in on your face.
“Wanna know how I know you’re a crack addict?” He corners you.
Diverting your attention from your project, you swivel your chair in his direction to entertain his antics. “Oh, pray tell Haechan. Tell me how you know that I’m addicted to getting adjustments.”
Pulling out his phone, he presents you with a photo of a package that was addressed to his home. Raising an unamused eyebrow, your question remains unanswered. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s a free roomba that I won from a raffle,” Haechan starts. “Dr. Lee’s quarter-yearly raffle to be exact.”
“Every appointment that someone I’ve referred to him has, is another entry to the raffle. And in the three weeks–” He holds out three fingers. “That you’ve been seeing Dr. Lee, guess how many entries I’ve scored.”
You’re not exactly fond of the direction this is going in, growing a bit nervous as you’ve lost track of the many times you’ve swiped your card along the pin pad that stays with Jisung at the front desk. “How many…?”
Bringing a hand to his mouth, he obnoxiously coughs to clear his throat. “Sweetheart, you have seen him ten times in three weeks.”
“You’re lying.” You gasp.
Tapping on an email from Jeno himself, he flips the screen towards your face. The evidence in all its glory specifying how many entries he’s been given. “Read it and weep, babe.” He squats down to your height in your chair, whispering into your ear mischievously. “So, tell me the truth– is he actually realigning your spine? Or is he blowing your back out instead?”
“Haechan!” You slap at him harshly, growing flustered at such an accusation. You think you’ve done a good job at being discreet about your desire for Jeno, able to keep yourself at bay every night when your vibrator clears your dirty mind for you. “We have not fucked.” You cross your arms to emphasize your point.
“Yet.” That childish grin grows. “Keep visiting him like that and it’s bound to end up like some cheesy porno.”
“We aren’t gonna fuck,” You shut him down. “That’s so unprofessional.”
“Suit yourself.” Haechan shrugs, turning on his feet to leave you alone once again. Tending to give you a mental whiplash and leaving you to clean up the mess yourself. “I’m just saying– it’s actually been kind of hard to get an appointment with him lately. Much less multiple times in the same week.”
“It’s probably just because I’m a new patient and require more adjustment.”
“Maybe so, but I’d look into that if I were you,” He bids you off with a wink. Greeting another female coworker who passed him by, returning his gesture with a wistful smile. The interaction causes your eye to twitch. You’re sorry for that poor girl– she has no idea how insufferable that man is. Turning back to you with a smug expression to gloat. “Thanks for the free roomba by the way!”
His last words have you pondering, unfortunately. Jeno does spend a great deal of time on you, and his rates are definitely generous enough for multiple visits to be feasible. Maybe there is something there.
But it’s been a really long time since you’ve been physically intimate with anyone. You’re a bit jaded in your judgment, often pinning most people’s flirting and undivided attention as mere kindness. The prospect of being able to have Jeno actually want you as much as you think about him stirs something in your stomach, annoyingly girlish butterflies fluttering around like you’re in high school again.
Who knows? It wouldn’t hurt to try and push the limits a little. What’s the worst that could happen?
You might’ve jumped the gun. Wearing the smallest and tightest skirt in your closet with no safety shorts underneath probably wasn’t the smartest decision. Regretting your decision and clamping your legs shut, when Jeno gives you a once over upon your arrival.
His expression was unreadable when you met at his desk. Jaw clenched unbearably tight, a hypocritical action as he’s advised you to refrain doing that on multiple occasions. Claiming that it was a main factor in the migraines you’ve vented to him about.
“So,” He speaks first, his voice gruff when he tries to cut the tension. “It seems like your thoracic alignment has improved greatly in the past few weeks.”
You nod, grateful despite the awkwardness of the situation. “I feel much better thanks to you."
“I’m glad that I was able to help,” He replies, the sentiment still there despite coming off aloof. Was there a vein popping out of his neck? “Anyways, I was thinking after this appointment, we could limit visits to maybe… Once a month?”
Haechan might’ve been onto something when he said that you were addicted. Itching to get cracked almost every other day of the week, thriving off of that high that’s akin to walking on clouds. To go cold turkey and only experience such a luxury once a week almost feels devastating.
You’re hesitant, but you have enough pride to not be so desperate as to object. “We can do that, I guess.” You deflate into the leather chair, feeling oddly petulant for your age.
Hopefully Jeno doesn’t catch your dismissiveness. You assume so at least when he carries on like normal. Gesturing towards the drop bed as per usual, you follow him helplessly like a pied piper. Pulling your skirt down when it hikes up with every other step, you’re inwardly chastising yourself for being so dumb. Of course this would make him feel awkward. You were basically setting yourself up for the easiest wardrobe malfunction ever– the worst part being that it was completely deliberate.
“You know the drill,” He says when you stand idle. Hesitant to do so, knowing that he’s going to get an all access view to the racy panties you wore today. When you take too long you feel anxious at how he hollows his cheeks, his tongue poking out impatiently at your lack of initiative. “What’s wrong?”
People were usually one or the other: book-smart or street-smart. Not Lee Jeno, though. If the doctorate that hung loud and proud behind him wasn’t proof enough, he was also much too intuitive and introspective for his good. The emotional intelligence that most people lack was evident with every conversation the two of you shared during your visits. You knew better than to think he’d be oblivious to such a drastic change in your wardrobe, every outfit prior paling in comparison to the stunt you’ve pulled today.
And if the way he’s vented about the other patients he’s had that have made a pass at him was any indication that he hated unsolicited advances– you’ve basically set yourself for not just rejection, but a strained relationship with someone whose company you’ve grown to enjoy too.
On second thought, limiting visits to once a month would be ideal. Hopefully he’ll forget about it and the two of you can act like nothing happened.
You can tell his patience wears thinner when he crosses his arms across his chest, hip leaned against the top of the bed. Chelsea boot clad foot tapping against the floor in a steady rhythm. Left with no other choice than to suck it up and embarrass yourself, you lift each leg over the bed as slowly as possible, hands clutching at the hem as you lay back with your stomach taut with fear.
At this point, it’s like clockwork. Your head falling back into those large palms without fail. Jeno is always tucking the stray hairs that obstruct your features behind your ear, glad that you always kept your eyes closed whenever he’s this near.
“You’re tense.” Jeno mumbles.
You apologize and try to relax as much as possible. Relinquishing the tension in your neck so you’re weightless against him. Such pathetic attempts are futile however, Jeno tsk’ing at your lack of comprehension to his instructions.
“Your shoulders,” His fingers slide down the expanse of your neck to the span of the offending body part. The smooth glide eliciting a ticklish tingle that now has every inch of you clenching, especially between your thighs. Snatching your shaky hands that are gripping onto your skirt for dear life with each of his own, forcing them to your side. “Let go.”
The strength that he exuded against your resistance was terrifying. Your heart pounding against your chest erratically, fighting your hardest to shoo away the thought of him taking you right where you lay.
Now that there’s nothing that stands in Jeno’s way, he carries on. Fighting a battle of his own, anything he looks at causing a problem downstairs. Look too high and he’s met with your twitching thighs. Look too low and the top of your chest is free residence. And trail even lower, your eyes are shut tight. Bottom lip caught between your teeth nervously, you almost look dumb. No, you do– but he thinks it’s so cute.
So cute and free for the taking. The height of his rolling chair leaves the top of your head right between his legs, close to his growing crotch. He thinks about how he could just unzip right now and sneak his cock right between those gorgeous lips. They’re a different shade than usual, and he loves how it looks on you. Was that another part of this little ploy of yours?
Twisting your neck from side to side, the cacophonous snaps are accompanied by that sweet gasp. Inhaling a sharp bout of air when his grip on your neck is harsher than usual, fingertips digging into you even deeper than before. “Does it hurt…?” He croons, unable to control the grin that forms when he grazes down your forearms.
“A… a little,” You’re squeamish at the flicks of fire that his touch leaves behind, prickles of pleasure going off like bombs in a land mine.
“Oh, poor baby,” He fakes sympathy, now roaming freely around your entire being, save for the spots you need him the most. “It’s because you don’t listen to me. I told you to let go.”
“I do listen to you.” You weakly protest, upset with yourself for displeasing him. A need to satisfy when you look up at him fondly, proving yourself that you can follow what he says.
“I don’t think you do,” He retorts coldly, returning a bleak expression that’s unlike the warm Jeno you’ve grown familiar with in the past few weeks. “I can tell you’ve been neglecting yourself. Have you still been stretching? You’re so… stiff. Do I have to loosen you up? Maybe we do need to keep seeing each other.”
Such crude words stir unspeakable feelings in your lower half, now squirming against him when you try to flee from his hold. “Jeno, I–”
He doesn’t allow you to finish whatever senseless gibberish you had to say. Squishing your cheeks shut, his chest now flush against your back. Prominent nose now at the nape of your neck. Inhaling profusely, the mixture of your perfume and shampoo has him grunting in a sensory overload.
“Just be quiet,” He spits.
A single finger trails from where his lips are located at your nape, all the way down your spine. Admiring his work like an artist who has just created their magnum opus based off of their muse. Every vertebrae perfectly aligned, your back smooth beneath his touch. It was a lie– you took great care of yourself, everything from your posture to your confidence improving vastly. But while he had good intentions, you walking in with that skimpy outfit utterly destroyed his original plan of keeping your relationship strictly professional.
While he was able to build you to his flawless image, it gives him a surge of power to know that he can just as easily break you.
He wants to.
“Lay on your stomach.” He demands. A complete contrast to the kind guidance he typically provides, not helping his own case when he slides his arms under your abdomen. Flipping you over when you take too long to do as he says. Gasping at how quickly he tosses you, remorseless when you yelp out in surprise.
His grip immediately seeks purchase on your back, maniacal when he continues the appointment like usual. The cold air conditioning hitting the crease of your bottom. Your eyes widen when you realize that your skirt has rode high enough for your ass to be exposed to Jeno’s wandering gaze. Wrists are immediately slapped away with a stinging pain when you try to protect your modesty. “No!” You scream.
“What did I say?” He pinches the inside of your thigh, taunting you for more of that sweet cry when he hurts you more. “See? You really don’t listen. I’ve warned you so many times, and look where that’s gotten you. Can’t you just be a good girl for me?”
“I already am!” You talk back, squealing when he smacks your exposed ass. “Fuck– Jeno!”
“I don’t think you are,” He scoffs, kneading the flesh that’s already forming a bruise from the slap. “Good girls don’t walk around with their asses out like little sluts.”
This mental flashbang of such a cruel Jeno paired with unrelenting caresses has a bout of wetness seeping from your core. Back arching pathetically when the aftershock travels to your clit. Biting your cheek when he laughs at your compromised position. Having to pull himself away from his desires for just a moment, remembering that you were here to be adjusted.
“See how bad you are for me? You made me forget what I was supposed to be doing.” His cadence now completely riddled with saccharine. “Let me take care of you, baby.”
Jeno has taken the words out your mouth. Physically incapable of forming a complete sentence, still in too much shock. Hands coming up to the top of your back, carrying on his adjustments much more harshly. One crack after another, that same air that fills your brain that you thrive off of. Moaning out in pleasure at the relief he provides. Both an angel and a devil with his hands.
“See?” He bends over, pulling your blouse down from your back to expose your shoulder blade. Laving his tongue against you before nipping at the crook of your jaw. Kissing whatever skin that your blouse will reveal. “If this is how obscenely you act when I’m just doing my job, I wonder how much louder you get when I do what I want.”
“What do you want?” You gasp out when he hikes your shirt up, now traveling down only to come back up, licking a fat stripe from the bottom all the way back up. Your hands grip into the sides of the drop bed, nails scratching crescents into the faux black leather.
“Don’t be dense,” He grunts out while ripping your blouse over your head. Disposing of the material carelessly, meeting the fine slope of your back with an insatiable lust. The clasp of your lacy bra resembles a ribbon on top of a Christmas present. He unclasps it, eager to unwrap his gift. So close to achieving perfection, he loses himself to his desires. Mounting himself above you, a confined cock that feels massive now grinding between your thighs. He enjoys the struggle when you pathetically try to kick and squirm. “You know what I want.”
You do, and you know that you want it just as badly. Both day and night dreams of Jeno ravaging you with his brute strength. Marking you as his and bending you to close to impossible positions. Drooling at the thought of being fucked on every corner of his office loud enough to break the interior of the soundproof walls.
When you fall slack beneath him, he proceeds to strip you of your skirt. Still appalled by how lecherous you could be. The fall from grace as the friendly office lady to the woman he’s wanted to fuck senseless becoming a bane to his existence.
“Please, Jeno…” You beg of him. Wanting him to do something, anything to satiate this new ache. Compared to the back pains you’ve experienced in the past, Jeno’s inflicted a new problem for you.
“What’s wrong, baby?” He coos.
“H-hurts,” You sniffle, unable to cope with not being full of him. “I need you to fix it.”
“Hm, what hurts?”
A full set of teeth form into the most devilish grin when you reach behind you, taking his hand into yours and guiding it to your sopping pussy, urging him to feel around the seat of the destroyed fabric. Panties now ruined to the point it sticks into your folds, thighs twitching wantonly. It was degrading. To be close to completely naked under a fully clothed man, yet you couldn’t help but love it. “Here… hurts here.”
“And what do you want me to do about it?”
“I need you, Jeno,” You practically sob. “Need you to fix it.”
As practitioner and patient, he had sworn long ago to provide his clientele with the best service. That applies now more than ever. Your wish was his command, and he plans on delivering on that tenfold.
Climbing down your body, he stops past your ankles. Gripping at your panties and sliding them down your legs, growling at your glistening lips that shine bright under the white ceiling lights. Finding your ass once again and parting them for good measure, groaning when your cheeks jiggle back into position upon letting them go. “Gorgeous, beautiful body,” He praises you, fingers immediately darting towards your folds to give them an experimental flick, reeling at how easily you flinch under him. “And so fucking sensitive, too.”
Pushing up at your thighs, he has you in a downward dog, knees planted firmly on the drop bed and your back bent for him. Jeno’s hand sneaks around your belly and down your lower region, index and middle slotting around your clit.
“Ahh–,” You gasp out loud, clasping a hand over your mouth at the attention to your most sensitive nerve. Wetting the tips of his fingers between your folds, traveling back instantly to caress circles into the nub. Lips coming down to the base of your back once again, already knowing many of your erogenous zones through the subtle fondling from your past visits. “Feels good.”
“Yeah?” He hums, pecking smooches down your ass. A one track mind to inhale your heady scent for himself.
“So good, fuck–!” Toppling over when he brings that same fat tongue to the center of your core, coated in spit when he shakes his head from side to side. Eating you out from the back with a vice, his two fingers still unrelenting against your clit. Pushing at your button and the tip of his appendage fighting to break past the barrier, succeeding with only little resistance. Eyes rolling to the back of your head when you feel him against your walls, shameless slurping as your wetness trickles down his throat. “Oh my fucking god.”
“Tastes so good, baby.” He rasps, breaking away for a moment of breath. Replacing his tongue with the fingers that were attacking your clit. Wrapping his other arm around your thigh to keep you from falling off, entertained at how you pathetically try to support yourself by planting your head into your forearms. Tummy sucking in and gasping for breath when he finds your g-spot with embarrassing ease. Almost as if your body was made for him to navigate.
“So spoiled,” He shakes his head at your incessant moaning, not surprised that he was right on the money to think you’d be such a whiny bitch. “Pretty girl acts like a slut to get fucked and she gets what she wants. You’re lucky this cunt makes up for it.”
When you turn to look behind you, you’re met with a gaze devoid of anything but a need to fuck and claim, locked onto your pussy like it was the only thing he knew in this world. His lips slick with your juices, hair a brazen mess that poked in several directions– the epitome of sex. Your desires personified into a single being.
Catching the way you ogle him, he snickers at your dumbfounded face. Amping up the intensity of his finger fucking, his palm slapping against your core with every meeting of the hilt to your entrance. Fucked out gazes lock onto one another, and he needs to make it known that you don’t hold a candle to him. Opening his mouth to make a show of lolling his tongue out, coming back to get a taste of your puckered rim.
“Wait, Jeno, not there!” You claw at his hair, grappling harshly against his scalp. The burn causes him to wince, features scrunching yet remaining adamant on tasting every part of your body. Pinning you down at your back, you’re now unable to fight him when your chest falls completely flat. Your other arm rendered useless as it’s your anchor to keep you from completely toppling over. Despite your protests, the circles that he draws with his pink muscle has you singing contradictory praises.
That knot at the core of your abdomen constricts, losing autonomy over your body and granting Jeno complete control. Features twisting to euphoria when he reaches lengths further with his fingers than past partners have with their own cocks. And when he’s able to break past the barrier of your tightest barrier of your upper hole and he flicks at the spongy wall inside, your vision goes white.
A broken cry crashes along the four walls, droplets of sticky wetness decorating Jeno from the bridge of his nose to the top of his collarbones. Immediately breaking away from you to focus on fingering you until you’ve given him all of your cum. Jaw dropped wide open as he tries to catch every bout of squirt. Nails scratching at his scalp and lacing into the strands for stability, the pain only aiding in the ache of his restrained cock. The stuffing of the leather now seeping out from how deeply you’ve scratched against it, its wood frame misaligned with the weight that Jeno had planted on top of you.
Your body is limp when your orgasm subsides, aftershocks still causing you to jolt when Jeno gives your pussy a light slap.
“Best orgasm of your life, huh?” He gloats, cleaning off the remaining stickiness on his face with the back of his hand. Bringing his wrist that’s adorned by a Rolex up to his knuckles. Your essence now etched into every one of his senses. You lay almost lifeless and without a response. A pathetic sight that causes Jeno to scowl, offended that you could even think that he was done with you.
Still trying to catch your breath, you hear a ghost of a whisper, metal clanking and clothes rustling. When you muster up the energy, you catch Jeno in your peripheral. Unbuttoning his black dress shirt and unbuckling his belt, the brand name material slipping from his clutches. The metal of the buckle clanking against the floor, his exposed collarbones shining with perspiration and your cum.
He circles around the bed to meet you, looking down at you with a snide smile when you realize that he’s now shirtless. It was true, he really did have visuals sculpted by the Gods. Broad shoulders on top of a pronounced chest, slimming down to a lean waist.
Slowly unzipping his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. Finally revealing his cock in all of its glory, monstrous in size. Long and girthy, the biggest you’ve ever encountered. Slapping against his stomach and his precum covered tip meeting his bellybutton. It’s almost terrifying, there’s no way you could ever take him.
As if he’s read your mind, he cups your face sweetly like he’s done plenty of times before– yet it holds more of a threatening aura than any positive reinforcements. “Don’t be scared. I’ll make sure it fits.” He murmurs, loving how you instinctually take his thumb into your mouth.
When he leaves your wet cavern, he grabs at the base of his cock and places it just below your lips. “Spit.” He instructs, leaving no room for objection.
Dropping a thick glob of saliva, he immediately bobs it up and down to coat it along his length. A significant amount of precum aiding him even further in lubrication. The mix of fluids riddling the room with the pungent smell of sex. You’re both inebriated off of the prospect of what’s about to occur next.
Biceps are angled deliciously when he bends down to wrap his arms around your waist, flipping you back onto your back. A shadow of your sweet doctor fading in when he climbs on top of you once again, despite how beautifully he glows. You two nod at each other when he lines himself up with your core, thankful for the pool that has formed between your thighs.
“Breathe for me, alright?” He says. It takes a great deal to control himself, wanting nothing more than to plunge into you in one go. Regardless, he controls his urges. His tip enters you slowly, the both of you gasping in unison at the newfound pleasure. Weeks of mixed signals now coming to fruition with every inch he goes deeper. “God, you’re fucking tight.”
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Jeno was so thick that it felt like he was splitting you in half, parting your walls and filling up every crevice inside. Each inch gives you a sense of fulfillment when you earn his praises. Showering you with compliments, affirming how good you’re making him feel and how wet you are.
“That’s my good little slut,” Jeno groans into your hair. Delivering a quick kiss to your ear before licking up the shell, hoping it distracts you from the strain. He stills after bottoming out, merely rutting around in place of fucking you mercilessly. Taking a moment to relish in the way your pussy encapsulates his cock, coating him with your sticky arousal to the point it leaks out.
Pain quickly fades into blissful pleasure. Cupping his jaw to urge him to look at you, you feel your chest burn at his handsome face. His ruined hair still looks perfect when it falls over his forehead messily, lips red and swollen from all he’s done to you. “I’m okay now, you can move.” You confirm, and the shift in his demeanor lets you know that you don’t have to tell him twice.
He starts with a few experimental thrusts, watching you closely and seeing what spots make you tick. Noting that you like when he puts power into his thrusts. Gripping the frame of the cushion your head rests on, he lifts himself to pull out until it’s only the tip that connects you. Granting you maybe a second of peace before immediately plunging back down, causing you to screech out in euphoria.
From there, everything is fair game. Bodies slapping against one another when he grips your ankles and spreads them apart. Fucking you with purpose, everything from his hairline to his abs are covered in sweat. The shine makes his skin glow gold, every taut muscle accentuated by the perspiration.
While your pussy is a delight and has him throwing his head back, he still has so many fantasies that he wants to fulfill. Releasing your ankles, your legs plop down weakly. Pulling out of you and leaving you empty, causing you to shriek at the loss. Scrambling to sit up when he stands up, trying to grab at his cock to lead him back inside. “No, no, no–!”
Nothing could have prepared you for when he lifts you up from the bed with nothing more than a grunt, delivering another stinging slap when you scream at him. Slapping at his shoulders to let you down even if your body betrays you by wrapping your legs around his waist. Traveling only a few paces, he slams you against the nearest wall. Framed photos and contents in bookshelves shaking, gasping out when he realigns his cock with your entrance.
When he dons a blank expression, as if wondering what to do next, you furrow your eyebrows together. Pussy still empty and in need of being filled, you whine. “Jeno, hurry, please.”
He doesn’t thrust up into you however, instead he plants you down onto his cock. Using his pure arm strength to lift you up and down like a fuckdoll. His forearms blazing with bulging veins. Your back is burning as it scrapes against the wall deliciously. Amazed at such fortitude, you continue to cry out when he hits that spot inside you with precision each time. A babbling mess when your chests collide and he licks up the salty tears that you’ve shed, laughing into your ear mischievously.
“I hope you know that nobody will ever be able to fuck you like this,” He laughs out, grip on your ass spreading the cheeks apart to accentuate his point. “No matter who you find in the future– they’ll never be as good as me. You know that right, baby?”
You bob your head to agree with whatever you caught from his sentence, stroking his ego just the way he likes. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t formulate your own thoughts at this point. Much like the slight high you experience whenever Jeno had adjusted you before, your head light and empty– you now feel it at its utmost potential. Unable to control your body when a trail of spit leaks out of the corner of your chin.
Jeno stares at you fondly, arms growing just a tad tired. He transfers the effort into his legs, planting his weight into his calves to stabilize you. Allowing for one of your legs to fall to go even deeper, your other thigh still folded in. Holding your head with his hand, he knows you’ve floated into another state of being, your pussy unconsciously clasping around him every time he angles just right.
“What a dumb, pretty baby,” He practically sings, utterly in awe at how fucked out he’s gotten you. Licking off the drool from your lip with the intent to clean you up nicely. Dropping your leg that’s hiked up, he lifts you once again. Now leading you to his desk, letting you down only to bend you over. “Let’s finish together, okay?”
Moaning out something that sounded like a yes, he takes what he can get when he reenters you for the third time. Eyes fluttering shut when you surround him once again. “Think this pussy might be the death of me.” He grunts.
“Your cock is soo good,” You mewl, your breasts cool against the mahogany of his desk. Seeking sanctuary by grabbing onto whatever trinkets or paperweights that litter the surface. The back of your thighs aching from trying to keep up with Jeno’s relentless pace. “So, so, big.”
“Yeah?” He lifts a sweat dripped brow, pistoning his hips with generosity. Taking care of his patient will always be his top priority. Fingers meeting your clit one last time, swiping at it with ease from how wet it is. “Cum for me now, baby. You earned it. Did so well for me.”
Clenching his thighs, he fucks into you one last time. Pushing into your body with his own so forcefully that you ride up the desk. One last cry to the empty vicinity, nothing registers except for Jeno. His scent, how he feels, those hands that have gotten you into so much trouble– he really fucked you so good. So good that all you know at the moment is his name. Your orgasm washing over you, pussy clenching impossibly tightly he roars. More squirt shooting out of you, a sticky mess falling onto the carpet floor of his office.
In a few more self indulgent thrusts of his own, Jeno pulls out completely. Pumping himself no more than two times before his cum flies out. Bobbing up and down to get out every last drop of creamy white, painting your beautiful back with his liquid. Harsh gasps are paired with your patternless pants, the both of you were spent.
Jeno decides to utilize the last of his energy for good. Lifting you up once again and walking towards the comfortable loveseat that rests in the corner of the room. The sticky fluids aren't much of a problem while you catch your breaths. He wraps his arms around to hold you on his lap, your head resting against chest. Rubbing circles into your neck and whispering sweet praises, waiting patiently for you to come back to earth.
“You okay?” He asks when your eyelids flutter up slowly, that shine back in your face to let him know that you’ve recovered. “Lost you there for a little bit.” He teases, pinching at your cheek playfully.
“Oh, shut up.” You pitifully try to push him away, much to no avail. Flashing you a charming grin that rivals the sun itself. “I knew that chiropractors were quacks.”
“Not my fault you’re hot as fuck.”
“I said ‘shut uup’,” You whine, dropping your head into his shoulder to give yourself more time to recuperate. “Let me rest. I think you’ve somehow caused more damage to my back than heal it.”
It’s obvious that you’re overexaggerating, but Jeno can’t help but accept the backhanded compliment with pride. Admiring the relaxed smile you try to hide from him, he pats your hair that’s sticking up back down.
“Guess we’ll just have to keep seeing each other then.” He replies, falling into a slumber himself.
“We’re okay right?” You tilt your head curiously, now fully rested and cleaned up. Jeno having to rush the both of you to the staff only bathroom when Jisung left for break, a few scanty touches here and there.
Hands lodged into his pockets, Jeno is even more handsome with the afterglow of sex. You hope you’re at least a fraction as presentable as he is. “If you’re okay, I’d say we’re just peachy. However–”
“Oh god.” You dread the worst case scenario of being blacklisted and having to find another chiropractor.
“Will you let me finish?” He glowers at you, making you shut up immediately. Now that you know that Lee Jeno is not to be messed with. “Anyways,” He continues. “I think you deserve a treat for being so good.”
Taking his right hand out of his pocket, he presents you with a business card. A complete contrast to the simplicity of Jeno’s, a completely black square with red accents. Before you get a chance to read what’s written, he speaks again. “That’s my colleague here at the complex. He’s actually right across the hall.”
Now given the opportunity, you find that Jeno has referred you to a nail bar. “And what is this treat you’re offering?”
“Well, if you’re ever interested in getting a manicure or pedicure, you’ll want to go to him. He’s the best in town. Nobody does nail art like him,” He chuckles. “Let me know if you’re interested. I’ll ask him to give you a discount.”
If there’s anything you’ve learned from these past few weeks, it’s that investing in yourself a little goes a long way. Spending too much time worried about necessities that require minimal maintenance, you’ve forgotten to indulge yourself along the way. Looking down at your nail beds whose cuticles you’ve failed to tend to, you take Jeno’s offer into consideration.
“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.” You give him your warmest smile. “Can I ask you something though?”
“Go for it.”
“Haechan told me it’s been hard to schedule with you recently, but I’ve been seeing you pretty often.” You try to phrase it as humbly as possible, not wanting to come off as arrogant. “Is there a reason for that?”
“I mean, you did need more adjustment than my other patients who have been long time regulars. But I guess I got a little ahead of myself.” He boxes his nose, and for the first time ever you think you’ve caught Dr. Lee Jeno’s cool exterior slipping. “You have a really nice ass.”
“Thanks.” You deadpan. “You have nice arms– and legs, and a really nice… nevermind.”
Shaking his head at you, he walks you out when you take your leave. Bidding you adieu with a friendly pat, the both of you thankful that the heated sex hasn’t obstructed your relationship as patient and doctor at all.
You reach high into the sky, feeling like you’re at your absolute best. Wondering what else you can do to improve your state of being. Thinking back to the business card that you had pocketed, you locate the other door adjacent to Jeno’s. Much to his description, there is a sign that indicates that there is very much a beauty salon on the other side of that door.
Shrugging to yourself, you decide you’ll sleep on his offer. Making your way to the front desk to find Jisung eating away at his meal. You realize you’ve already grown fond of how this business is run.
“Come back and see us!” Jisung waves at you, to which you return with equal enthusiasm. “Hope to see you again soon!”
You realize it’s inevitable when you exit the front lobby and step out into the parking lot. The large Neo Therapy Practitioners sign standing proud at the awning above you, the new business card taking up space in your purse–
You’ll be seeing them alright.
author’s note: if you made it all the way here, thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it.
i really want to thank panty nonnie who i’ve been in contact with through dms and have grown very close with in the past month. they’ve been an absolute angel and i couldn’t have gotten over my writer’s block without them. so, if you’re reading this (again hehe) just know that you’re the best and am more than grateful for all you’ve done for me. <3
levi ackerman x F!reader
summary - erwin makes levi take a vacation. he finds you. strangers to lovers, smut.
a/n - cafe worker reader, reader is taller than levi, dom!levi but frankly not a lot of kink in this other than him making you ask him to cum. levi has PTSD, modern au.
this fic is dedicated to therealvalkyrie who is one of my favorite people and also i was supposed to gift this for christmas so i am <3
wc - 4K
“Can I take your order?” You shift your weight nervously, the wood floor of the cafe creaks underneath you. The man in front of you looks unusually serious, deep purple circles under his light eyes, peeking out from a fringe of black brown hair.
“Tea.” He glances at the menu. “And a turkey sandwich.”
“Right away, sir.” You whirl around and make your way back to the kitchen to put the order in, glancing behind to look at him He’s staring out the window, watching the gentle snow fall.
“He’s staying at the creepy air bnb at the end of Spyglass Lane.” Your coworker, Sasha, elbows you. “Kinda suits him. He already looks a bit like a ghost.”
“Sasha!” You hiss, “He just um, he looks tired.” You start to make his tea, unable to keep from checking in on him, watching him fiddle with his phone, and scoff at the local newspaper. You check the steeping color on his tea and pour it into a dark blue ceramic mug, carrying it on a tray over to him.
“Are you new in town?” You ask politely, setting it in front of him. You notice that despite how often he’s been checking his phone that he hasn't received a single notification.
“Mhm.” He grunts, not returning your warmth. “Just stuck here on vacation.”
“You’re at the air bnb on Spyglass, right?” He just stares at you. “I um, I live over there so if you need anything, feel free to uh, knock on my door. I’m in the little green house, down by the water.” He grunts again noncommittally. You turn to go get his sandwich, a little hurt by the chilly reaction.
“Wait.” He says after a second and you turn around, confused. It looks physically painful for him, but he sighs. “I’m Levi.”
“Y/n.” You offer, he looks down and for a moment you think he’s oogling you, but you realize he’s looking at your nametag.
“Oh.” You give him another courteous smile before disappearing back into the kitchen.
“He’s terrifying,” Sasha says, biting into a roll, “I call dibs on not waiting on him while he’s in town.”
“He seems,” you search for something charitable. “He seems like he’s trying.”
You’re walking home from work at twilight, and the whole world is glowing a soft blue as the sun sets behind clouds. Snow falls lightly around you, catching in your hair and eyelashes, in the crooks of your elbows. You hear him before you see him, hear the tires spinning in the ice. You jog down to the end of the lane, past your house to the Brimwell Estate, knowing exactly what you'll find. Sasha was right about it being creepy, it was an old Victorian mansion, painted deep purple with black accents. The home was out of place in your little New England town, flush against the snow. You can just barely make out the car as you jog towards it, it's black and boxy, some kind of European sports car that had no business on these winter roads.
You arrive just in time to catch Levi swearing violently, raking his hands through his dark hair as he bends down to examine his tires stuck in the snow, apparently having given up revving the engine.
“Hey,” you call, waving to him. “Need a hand?” You watch him consider denying you then sigh deeply in defeat.
“Yes.” He says, shoving his bare hands in his pockets, you catch how red and raw they are from the cold.
“You need gloves,” you breathe, scandalized, “I have a pair you can borrow, if you want to.” Levi shakes his head.
“I’m fine. Fucking car is stuck.” He looks away.
“I can see that.” You crouch down and look at the hole the tire’s dug in the snow. “So um, you can get in the car and try to drive, and I can push-”
“You can drive the car.” He snaps. “I can push.” You fight to keep your skepticism off your face, he’s much shorter than you, and slight at that. He seems convinced though, so you shrug and he opens the car door for you like some regency era gentleman. The engine purrs to life under your palms, you press experimentally on the gas pedal and watch him brace his body against the back of the car, and to your shock, the car scoots immediately forward, as if Levi is able to lift it’s entire weight without great effort. You carefully drive it into the garage, keenly aware that even a scratch on this vehicle might cost you several student loan payments.
Levi looks mostly unchanged, a flush on his cheeks from the cold, but his eyes are grey and emotionless. He doesn't look like he's exerted himself in any great fashion, and you feel a warmth creep up on your cheeks.
“Ugh.” He rubs his eyes. “I suppose if I were,” you watch him hear someone else's words in his mind, have some internal conversation that flashes across his face. He doesn’t attempt to hide his conflict. “I suppose if I were being, a person ,” he grinds down on those last two words clearly repeating someone else, “I would invite you in for a drink.” You laugh lightly.
“Well I don’t say no to free booze.” You offer, and he nods, and just starts walking back to the house. He unlocks and opens the door, stomping his boots off, swearing more.
“I hate this fucking shit.” He snaps. “The snow. It’s supposed to be pastoral but it’s a fucking hazard.”
“Yeah, it’s better than the mud, in my opinion.” You glance around, the house is decorated but unlived in. Despite this, it’s immaculately clean, to the point where you’re afraid to touch any tables or surfaces for fear of leaving footprints.
“The mud?” He asks and you nod.
“Spring is mud season.”
“What?” He furrows his brow. “I thought spring was supposed to be flowers and shit.” You shake your head.
“Great.” He stomps off to the kitchen with you in tow. You watch him pour two glasses of what looks to be expensive whiskey from an ornate glass bottle, and scoots one to you across the table on a coaster. He doesn’t ask you if you drink whiskey, or if you want ice. He just takes a sip and closes his eyes. You speak.
“What um, brings you to town?”
“Sabbatical.” He grunts. “I work for the government.” You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not a politician,” he cuts off your thoughts with a shudder, “I’m in intelligence.”
“Oh.” You cock your head at him. “Like, military intelligence.” He shrugs, and takes another drink.
“Like I can’t talk about it intelligence.” He says, and a second too late he realizes he’s fully shut down the first conversation he’s had in two weeks since moving here, he grasps for a desperate straw. “How about you?”
“I work at the cafe?” You say, a small amused smile playing on your lips and Levi just barely manages not to smack himself in the forehead. Of course. You met today. At the cafe.
“There’s too much mayonnaise on the turkey sandwich.” He says, searching for things to say to you, for the first time in a long time, he wishes he could schmooze like Erwin, or joke like Hange.
“I don’t actually make the sandwiches,” you say, and to his relief, you laugh, diffusing the tension a little. “So,” you look around. “What made you pick this place?” Levi’s lips twitch downward.
“An old friend inherited it.” He looks out the window. “I suppose, I could call him a mentor. It’s dark but,” he pauses again, you note that he seems to be having trouble choosing the right words. “I don’t hate it yet.”
“You don’t have to fill the silence.” You offer, gesturing towards a window seat where you can watch the snow fall. “If that would be better for you?” He nods. The snow picks up and the two of you sit and watch it blow across the street, sipping your drinks for a full fifteen minutes. You’re thinking about leaving when he offers you a refill.
“You can, I can get you more?” He says, standing and adding to his own drink, feeling intensely awkward but finding that he cant tear his eyes from your curves, from your waist, from that little sliver of skin he can see when you move, where your shirt's come untucked from your pants. You stretch a little, and he gulps the whiskey, keeping his eyes on your face with herculean efforts.
“Any more of that stuff and I’ll be crashing on your couch.” You stand. “I gotta get home.” He nods, and you’re not quite sure if it’s wishful thinking on your part but there’s a touch of disappointment evident in his eyes.
“I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t have to-”
“Shut up,” He grumbles, already reaching for his boots. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He jams his foot inside what look to be virtually unused snow boots. “What the fuck do people do around here anyway?” You think about it.
“Hike?” You offer. “During the summer there’s more, you could kayak in a lake or something.” He nods, shoving his hands so hard into his pocket that you think you hear the seams rip. He walks like that, next to you down the hill to your cottage.
“Why the fuck do you live out here alone?” He asks, studying you. “Isn’t it boring?” You sigh.
“I’m um, I’ve got friends here. I decided I don’t wanna do the rat race, you know, the competitive college and career thing, I want,” you swallow, wondering if the drink was stronger than you thought. “I want to be happy.” You say finally and he lifts his head, cocking his head at you. “Sometimes that’s hard, I guess. For some of us.”
“Yeah.” He says quietly. “I get it.” You stomp your boots on the porch.
“I’m having a couple people over this weekend, if you want to come?” He balks and you backtrack. “It’s just a few people. Not even enough to have a real party.”
“Fine.” He says, and then pauses. “Thanks. For the car.”
“Yeah.” You shrug. “No worries. That’s sort of how it is out here, winters are hard. We gotta help each other out.” He looks at you like he’s got something else to say but he just turns and walks back up the hill.
“Mornin’ Levi,” you shoot him a sunny grin, one hip popped as you stand, pen to paper, ready to take his order.
“Good Morning.” He says begrudgingly engaging in small talk. “I’ll have a large tea, don’t oversteep it, and,” He barely glances at the menu. “The barley soup.” You nod.
“That’ll keep ya warm on a day like today.” You glance at the snow covered street, at the windows covered in condensation. “It’s freezing.” He grunts his agreement, and and you see where his sports car is parked at the end of the street. Today, he doesn’t leave after lunch, taking a laptop out and setting it on the table, drinking several teas and after the soup eating two sandwiches, so lost in his own world he barely looks up when you clear the table. You clear your throat softly several hours later and he looks up.
“We’re closing, Levi.” You say softly. He nods, pressing his lips together.
“Do you,” it looks like it physically pains him to get the words out, but he gets it out anyway. “Do you want a ride home?” You blink at him.
“Oh, yeah,” your smile lights up his entire chest, “Definitely, thanks Levi.” He scrunches his face up, wondering why you insist on saying his name like that, Levi, Levi, Levi, here’s your sandwich, Levi, are you finished with that, Levi, we’re closing, Levi. He presses his lips together while you gather your things, watches you wind a scarf around your neck. Levi. His mother’s only legacy, a name that was at best, outdated, and at worst ugly. He catches his own reflection in the window of the cafe, and then glances at you again, laughing with your clumsy co-worker, tucking your jeans into your worn boots.
He feels the urge to leave. To run. To walk out into the street and not look back, feels the anxiety that seized him so violently in D.C. that he thought he was having a heart attack, only to be told by doctors at the hospital that what he thought was the violent ending of his life, was something emotional. Soft. A panic attack. Who has panic attacks? not soldiers , he thought, not brave people. But once they started, they only got worse, until eventually he couldn’t even make it to his own office without the violent involuntary hyperventilation.
“It’s alright,” Erwin had said to him. “Take time. Take as long as you need.” It’s nearly enough to bring the hot sting of humiliation to his eyes.
“You’ve given me too much.” Levi says angrily. “You can’t-”
“I’m not just your boss, Levi.” Erwin sits heavily in his chair. “I’m a person who cares for you.” Levi swallows. “Take the time. I’ve got a place you can stay, if you want to get away from the city for a bit.”
“I have, I have a duty-”
“You’re useless to this country if you can’t function.” Erwin says, blue eyes flashing, “I need you. So take care of yourself and come back. There will be things to do when you get back.” He gestures to the globe next to his desk. “There will always be things to do.” Levi nods, wishing he had the words that come to him much later, alone in his car on the drive up to Erwin’s family home. That’s the problem. He wants to say. That it never stops.
“Levi,” you’re in front of him, pulling him out of the back of his head. He swallows. “Whatcha thinking about?” He shrugs.
“Oh,” He opens the door for you and the two of you step out into the cold. “Do you like your job?” Does he? Levi hadn't considered this in many years. He thinks about it now.
“It’s a job.” He shrugs. “I work with some good people.”
“That’s nice.” He opens the car door for you, moving so quickly you barely see him do it. “Oh thanks, Levi.” He groans out loud and you cock your head at him.
“I,” he presses his lips together, aware that he’s holding you hostage in the blistering cold, “Why do you keep saying my name like that?”
“Like what?” You shiver.
“Like, Levi ,” he does an imitation of you and you laugh lightly. “Like you say it every time you talk to me.”
“I guess I just like the way it sounds,” you sit in the seat and he closes the door quickly, running around the car to rejoin you. “It’s got nice music to it. No hard consonants. I like it.”
“Huh.” His car hums to life.
“Do you want to um, to come over, for dinner?” You say, and he looks at you sharply. “I mean cooking for one is kind of lame.” He presses his lips together.
“I’ve been eating frozen meals.” He admits, and you giggle. “It’s fucking depressing to eat alone all the time.”
“Right so, come over.” You say again and he sighs.
“Do you,” he presses, and then catches himself before he imposes, “You don’t have to, because you feel badly.”
“I’m inviting you for dinner because I want to.” You say firmly. “I’m alone too, you know.” He nods, pressing his lips together. He parks the car in your driveway, carefully. Levi examines your home carefully, framed drawings from your niece on the wall, comfortable couches covered in blankets, bookshelves, a screened in porch at the back of the house.
“I have beer, um, and seltzer?” You offer. Levi doesn’t answer right away, struck by how lived in this space is. The pile of shoes at the door, the coat on the chair, the spot on the couch you clearly always sat in to watch tv still a little wrinkled. He swallows.
“Beer.” You hand him a glass bottle, and he opens it. He glances at the dinner table but you take your beer and sit on the couch, beckoning him to join you. He manages not to take the furthest possible seat from you, manages to keep his eyes from the way you fold your legs underneath you, the way you tuck a pillow into your chest. A car door slams down the street and he jumps viscerally, hand flying to his shoulder where his gun would be in it’s holster, heart racing.
“You alright?” You ask, the bell tone of your voice cutting through the silence. He takes a shaky breath, remembering the embarrassing grounding exercises his therapist had taught him. “Levi,” and now all that he can notice is you, the length of your eyelashes, the curve of your jaw, the way your hands are folded in your lap. He takes a risk, feels like Erwin, making a gamble.
“What if I asked you to come sit here?” He glances at the couch next to him. “What would you say?” He watches you consider, burning in agony.
“I could say yes.” You respond, after the longest minute of Levi's life. “What if I have questions first?” He shrugs.
“I’ll answer them, but you have to answer them too.” He sips his beer and watches your face, your beautifully expressive face, as you think through things, he watches the emotions push and pull you.
“Why are you here?”
“Forced sabbatical.” He grunts, and sees on your face it’s not enough for you, and reveals just a little more. “I always thought, for sure, right, that I was doing the right thing. I trusted the people giving me orders and I,” he takes a sip of the beer, it’s cool temperature calming him, grounding him. “And I’m not sure I do anymore.” You nod. “Why are you here?”
“I um,” You look down at your hands. “I couldn’t do college. I wanted to, but I couldn’t handle it. Just too um, sick I guess. Too low functioning.” He nods. “Other people could stay up all night, they could work hard and not, not lose their minds and their happiness. I just couldn’t see myself doing it.”
“I didn’t go to school.” Levi offers, and you laugh, taking a sip of your beer.
“It’s a choice I feel good about.” You say firmly. “It was my choice.” He nods.
“Any other questions?” You shake your head and scoot across the couch, leaning against him as he slips an arm around your waist. He sighs, feeling a visceral kind of relief at your touch. Your body is so warm, so soft, you feel so close to him, that his heart rate slows. You sigh, and his hand slips, almost accidentally, under your shirt where it’s riding up on your waist, his cool fingers on your warm skin. You feel him tense, and then decide to own it when you snuggle into his chest. “I’m going to put the beer on the table.” He says, softly, and you know what he means, know what he’s asking.
“Yeah.” You look up at him. “Good.” He sets it on the table and then turns back to face you, his lips inches from yours, holding eye contact. He makes you close the distance between you, crashing your lips against his, but from his firm hold on your waist you guess that’s the last decision you’ll be making. You fumble with the buttons on his shirt but he stops you, wanting, needing to see you, to really see you without the layers of clothing, tossing your sweater on a nearby chair.
“Fuck,” he breathes, as your lips move down his jaw, burning on his skin, “Let me-” He pushes your clumsy hands away and tugs his shirt over his head, letting it crumple on the floor with uncharacteristic carelessness. You lie down, he cups your face with one hand, slotting a thigh between yours and nearly laughing when he feels you grind against it. “Easy.” He mutters.
“I want-” You start.
“I know what you want.” He half snaps, half gloats. “I’ll tell you when you can have it.” He palms your breasts, burying his face between them and groaning at the soft warmth he finds, pulling them out of your bra. His mouth closes on one of your nipples, pulling the most beautiful hushed gasp from your lips, and he needs to hear that sounds again, would do anything to hear it again, and you oblige, you sweet fucking thing, moaning again when pinches and pulls at them, and presses his thigh to your clothed cunt.
“Oh,” you sigh, feeling him kiss down your stomach, peeling your jeans down, tugging them out of his way, kissing the inside of your hips, delighting in the softness he finds in your thighs, leaving little bruising kisses on the inside of them. There’s something so genuinely warm about your body, something golden and comforting about the energy you exude, beautiful and innocent, he nearly loses all composure when you breathe his name, a prayer, a hymn. “Levi,” you moan, and he gets it, gets why you say it all the time, understands why you’d repeat it at the end of every sentence, it was to prepare him for this, so that he didn’t lose his mind when you’d do this. “Levi,” you say again, when he presses a kiss to the top of your panties, removing them at a maddeningly slow pace, “Please,” you whimper, “Please, I want you so-”
“I know,” he says sharply, “Be patient, or I won’t give it to you.” You bite down hard on your lower lip, resisting the urge to grind your hips against him, but you’re rewarded for your stillness when he slips a single finger inside you, moving your panties to the side and starting to kiss gently at your clit.
“Oh, oh my god,” it’s like the breath has been robbed from your lungs, he growls into you,
“Taste so good.” He picks up the pace, wanting more music, more sound from you.
“Levi,” you moan again, “Levi, Levi, right-”
“Mhm,” he says, watching you fall apart, adding another finger, certain he’s got you right where he wants you, and he’s reminded of the pleasure of human connection, of the warmth of trust, of the way it felt to give to someone so completely like this.
“I’m gonna, gonna,” your back arches up off the sofa, drowning in pleasure as the roughness of his tongue flicks along the softest parts of your body, “Please I-”
“Ask me.” He demands, lifting his face from you, grinding his thumb into your clit, watching you fall apart, unable to sit still.
“Please, please can I cum, Levi I need to,” you beg, shameless, breathless, beautiful, “Please, please, please-”
“Go ahead.” He orders and watches the pleasure wrack your body, the way you tense and relax as you vault over the cliff of your climax. “Shit,” he fumbles with his belt buckle, achingly hard in his pants, “Do you have, do you have a condom?” You blink back to reality.
“I uh,” You rub your eyes, “I don’t.” He pauses, teeth sinking into his lip for a moment before digging through his wallet and pulling one out, checking the expiration date.
“Lucky you.” He says coolly, standing and stepping out of his pants. “What was your plan, if I didn’t have one, just out of curiosity?” You give him a mischievous smile.
“I uh, I guess we would have rolled the dice.”
“Irresponsible.” He mutters, pinning your wrists over your head, climbing back on top of you, “You just seduce men with that sweet fucking voice,” he snaps, pushing the end of his cock inside you, “And roll the dice, huh?” Your mouth drops open.
“I-” He cuts you off by cupping your face gently, stroking your cheek for a moment as he commits' every part of this moment to memory.
“I'm teasing.” He mutters. “Fuck, oh my god.” He pushes a little deeper inside you and you let out a little whimper, he’s bigger than you’d expected, “Shh,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Shut up and take it.” You moan out loud then and he rolls his eyes at you before pulling back and rolling his hips against yours in earnest, “Feel so good,” he grunts, “Oh my fucking god.” You’re making little mewls that you can’t hold back, feeling every inch of him pushing in and out of you, dragging against your walls.
“Levi,” you gasp, and that seems to placate him a little, “Levi,” your back arches, and he leans down to kiss his name off your lips, his name, short and ugly, in your mouth, sounds like a miracle, feels like a sunbeam. “Levi,”
“Yeah?” He groans.
“L-levi,” you squirm against his hold but he’s so strong it’s like pulling on iron. “Levi,” you choke out, and feel him start to rub at your clit with his free hand. “Oh, oh my god, don’t stop, don’t-”
“So good,” he growls, “So good for me, cum for me again, you can do it.”
“I,” you buck your hips against his and he scowls. “I’m so close.”
“You can do it,” he orders sharply, “Cum for me, I wanna see that shit, cum for me and moan my name again.” You obey, your second orgasm hits you harder, little tears forming in your eyes, the pleasure overwhelming as he chases his own high, cumming deep inside you with a loud groan. He flops on the couch next to you, holding your soft body close to his own, kissing the top of your head. You feel his touch on your back, he holds you tightly, tracing feather light patterns on your skin.
“Levi.” You sigh deeply, and he feels your warmth, praying he’s not leeching off of you, that it’ll spread between your bodies, as he grabs a throw blanket and tucks it around you, grumpily burning his face in your neck.
“I like my name better in your mouth.” He mutters. You nod, relaxing a little.
“Stay for a bit.” You ask, it’s a gentle plea. Levi rolls his eyes.
“As if you’re getting rid of me now.”
Order of Operations
It's only fair that if you partake in a free show, you return the favor when asked.
5,177 Words - NSFW
Accidental Voyeurism, m and f!Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Dirty Talk, mentions of FWB
Everyone knows the order of operations around here. It’s drilled into you the moment you accept the contract, the verbal agreement that you’re more than just some expendable body that can and will be chewed up and spit out by the streets that Silco has them patrolling, the jobs he has them doing, the endless slog of footwork.
When Sevika had approached you, clapped you on the shoulder and told you that things were looking up on your end, you knew your time had come. An uninterrupted string of successes, a track record so clean that it rivals the streets of Topside. That was your legacy up to that point, and you’re thankful for the opportunity to be more than just a member of the nameless, faceless chattel that makes up the bulk of Silco’s gang.
You’re someone now, have been for months. With that comes a different sort of job, a responsibility that isn’t something to scoff at. The expectation is that unless you’re in real danger of dying, Silco is your first stop after any job. If he’s busy, then Sevika. But as you stumble into the bar, arm tucked close to your side to stem the bleeding of your injury, she’s nowhere to be seen. Silco it is.
There are others here, those that nod at you once without offering help. It’s past closing time for the bar, meaning the scant few that are present are under Silco’s employ, and the rules are known. Silco first, medical attention second. Getting up the stairs first, then Silco. Making it across the room, then getting up the stairs.
The railing is your lifeline, the gash in your side burning as you climb to the second floor and meander your way down the hallway that holds his office - and other rooms for storage, empty rooms that had once been for paying customers to sleep their drinks off in under previous ownership. You’re certain Silco’s own apartment is somewhere on this floor, maybe above you’re not sure.
The wandering of your thoughts is telling of your blood loss, cutting back on your restraint and the logical part of your brain that says you should knock first. Without that self control, you reach a bloodied hand to the handle of the door and push it open. The hinges are always maintained, it doesn’t make a sound as you step inside, subconsciously avoiding the creaking floorboard.
You should have knocked. In one swift moment, all of your faculties come back to you when you take in Silco’s chair turned to the side, his head bowed over himself, his left hand balled into a fist on the desk while the other is twisting strokes along his cock.
Sevika. You need to find Sevika, to report to her about your job for the night. Silco hasn’t seen you yet, there’s still time for you to quietly duck out and pretend that you’re not going to have this image burned into the back of your eyelids. Even as you know you need to get the fuck out of here, your feet are frozen and your hand grips so tightly to the door handle that your joints ache from the pressure.
Silco’s body jerks, hunching in on himself more as his hand must catch on something that drives sparks through him. Or, maybe he had a thought that ratcheted his pleasure to a new level. What you get is a raw response from whichever of those had done it, a groan leaving nose since his mouth is clamped tightly shut. It does nothing to muffle the noise.
A sick little part of you begs to hear it. You want to hear him come undone, this tightly-wound man that’s only just begun to see you as an individual worth investing his appreciation in to. Well, up until this moment where you’ve likely sealed your fate. That single groan echoes in your ears, rattling your brain until it rings and rings, distracting you enough that you don’t realize you’ve taken a step back into the creaking floorboard.
Silco’s head shoots up, his eye widens, and you slam the door shut in favor of stumbling down the stairs, forcing yourself to look nonchalant so no one can ask what’s on fire. A doctor, you need to find one to stitch you up before you lose both your blood and your mind. Your heart is racing, your hands shake, your knees feel weak as you push open the door to a clinic you frequent.
It’s a simple injury, the passing of a blade along your ribs that likely wouldn’t have killed you if you’d let it go for the night. Yet you need something to distract you, and that’s why you yank your shirt and jacket up to allow the physician to stitch you in ten neat loops. He knows you well enough that the bill gets put on Silco’s tab, and you’re sent off with unlabeled pain killers and a warning to eat something before you take them lest you throw them up.
Easy said, easier done. In your apartment you change into something loose, drink cold soup directly from the can like it’s a can of beer, and wonder if it’s ethically wrong to rub one out to the thought of your boss pleasuring himself when he assumed he was alone.
Silco hadn’t even locked the door. Wouldn’t you lock the door if you’re about to do something like that? Or at least wait until there’s no one around? Every time you walk by that door, all you’re going to imagine is the faint wet sounds his hand made as it dragged along his dick. The sound of that groan is still crystal clear in your mind, and with an angry sound you slam the rest of the soup, chuck it into the trash and drop onto the bed with a purpose.
Just once. You’ll get it out of your system just once, then be on your way. And gods forbid, you’re going to start knocking no matter what.
Sevika’s looking for you.
At first you think it’s going to be her looking for last night’s update, but instead she’s got you pulled in one of the curtained-off booths with two glasses and an unmarked bottle. It’s the hallmark of a tough conversation, and as she pulls hard on her cigar, she lays it out for you.
“I don’t know what you did,” Sevika pauses to offer you the cigar. That in itself is a telling sign of how badly you’ve fucked up. You take it, and she continues, “But he’s got two options for you. Go upstairs and talk to him, or leave and don’t come back.”
“You’re not going to throttle me?” You speak around the filter, and both her eyebrows raise as if you’ve said something unexpected.
Midway through your pull of the cigar, your cheeks welling with smoke, she asks, “Why? You do something to warrant dying? You’re worth a little more to the cause now that you proved you’ve got value.”
Better to not mention it, if she doesn’t know. Instead you blow out the smoke and hand the cigar back to Sevika in favor of pouring yourself a glass of her chosen alcohol for this little meeting. Swirling it, you don’t meet her eyes, “So my choices are face him or leave? Does becoming unemployed involve dying at some point?”
“Must have fucked up badly, if you’re worried about dying so damn much. Listen, I don’t know how to make it more obvious. Either go upstairs and talk to him - no dying - or go home and find a new job - also no dying. In fact, he made it clear you were not to die,” Sevika doesn’t drink from the glass, she instead grabs the bottle and takes her sip from that instead. It doesn’t put you off your own drink, rather makes you finish it in one swallow and flip it over on the table until it’s upside down.
“Better go see what he wants, then.”
As you push the curtain aside, Sevika’s voice stops you in your tracks, “For what it’s worth, he didn’t seem upset. More quiet than usual, but he wasn’t doing that shit where he chews on his tongue. You’ll be alright.”
Hearing that he didn’t want you dead was more soothing than anything else she could’ve said. Still, the lack of anger is good to hear, and you give her a wave over your shoulder as you duck out and beeline to the stairs. The club is busy tonight, business beginning to wind up as the evening begins. With any luck, you’ll be back down here in that booth with Sevika, a drink in your hand and only slightly-warmed cheeks.
Best to be honest about it, no lying. But to get to that point, you need to get in his office first, and you make it a point to rap your knuckles against the wood a few times to announce your presence. After a moment, his voice calls for you to come in. It’s neutral and smooth, a testament to his lack of fury. Except all you can think of is that sound of pleasure he’d made at his own hand, gravely and low.
Deja vu hits you as you push the door open, standing in the threshold and observing him. There’s no escape, the moment you enter you’re trapped by his gaze from the other side of the desk. His legs are crossed, his boot tapping absently against the side of his desk as he leans back in his chair with his arms crossed. Silco might not be upset, but he sure as hell doesn’t look happy.
A deep inhale before he drawls, “You have your manners, this time. Did you find them on the way home? Which gutter had you dropped them in, I wonder?”
As you close the door behind you, you already find yourself losing your self control once more and giving him snark, rather than the profuse apologies you had planned.
“The one where Drop Street intersects with Browning,” Your response isn’t appreciated, judging by the downward turn of his lips. Silco says nothing about it, however, he just continues his slow knock of his boot against the desk. It’s vaguely in time with the music downstairs, and league slower than the sudden pounding of your heart.
Silco shifts in his seat, uncrossing one arm to prop against the arm of his chair to lean his cheekbone on his hand, “You chose to come up here instead of leave. Why?”
“I like my job,” The answer is simple and honest, without a need to elaborate. Yet you do, “Wouldn’t have stuck around so long if I didn’t have a reason. You’re a pretty good boss, I’m sorry I barged in on you. I shouldn’t have done it without knowing what was happening in here.”
Something sparks in his eyes, his head tilting down just enough that it changes the perspective of his face, turning the expression from disinterest into one of expectation, “How long were you standing there?”
Long enough, you want to say. Long enough that you haven’t been able to stop thinking about the exact shade of pink the head of his dick had been. Long enough that you’re finding yourself thinking shameful things about a man you hadn’t seen as a sexual being until last night. Long enough that you’d found your release a shameful amount of times after going home.
Instead of revealing what may have become your darkest secret, you shrug one shoulder and avoid his eyes by looking at the stained window at his back. It’s answer enough, telling of your guilt to the point of damnation. A long breath leaves him as he considers what you’re not saying, and what his answer will be.
“You say you shouldn’t have done it without knowing what I was doing. If you had known…?”
It takes you all of four beats from the music downstairs, from his boot on the desk, to comprehend what he’s asking. There’s something laced in that question, and you’re not quite sure if it’s arsenic or something harmless. Swallowing hard, you carefully choose your words, hoping for clarification, “I’m not sure I know what you-”
“It’s a simple question,” Silco sits upright again, leaning forward to put both of his elbows on the desk to get a clear view of your expression, “If you had known that I was in here pleasuring myself, would you still have entered and watched me do it? Yes or no?”
What do you even say to that? The truth? Yes, that you would’ve still opened the door and gotten an eyeful of an arguably attractive and powerful man reduced to little more than his basest instincts? No, you held nothing more than a passing attraction to him and weren’t interested in violating his privacy like that?
In the end, you jam your hands in your pockets to hide the trembling and give him the honest answer, “Yeah, probably. Have you seen yourself? Not exactly bad on the eyes, boss.”
There, just for a moment. The hard line of his eyebrows loosens, his lip quirks at the corner just the smallest bit, his fingertips push into the desk as his hand tenses and relaxes. All of these add up to the conclusion that maybe you weren’t in as deep of shit as you thought.
“Then I take it you enjoyed the show?” The shift in his tone is enough to have you reeling, if you hadn’t clenched your fists and braced yourself for whatever answer he was liable to give to the closest thing to a come-on he’d get without you outright telling him that he caught your attention. That little curve of his smile is devastating, “And what did you do afterward? Go home and sleep off the injury I received a bill for? I don’t think that’s accurate.”
Silco knows. He knows what you’ve done, but the sick bastard is looking to make you say it. Grinding your teeth, your jaw moves back and forth as you chew on a thousand words you’d like to say. Rather than torture you more by making you spit them out, Silco lifts one hand from the desk and crooks his finger, a gesture for you to come closer.
One, two, three steps across the room until you’re in front of his desk, but Silco’s already turning his chair to the side. It’s a clear demand for you to come around the side and stand before him, one that you can’t bring yourself to deny as you stop just short of your toes bumping against the gold tips of his boots.
Looking up, eyes clearly dragging along your body and leaving your skin feeling heated in his wake, Silco lays out another demand, clearly spoken with no room for misinterpretation, “Show me, then. You got to see mine, it’s only fair you return the favor.”
“Is that what you want? To see what I did to myself while thinking about you?”
“You thought of me? I’m flattered,” A smile that’s far sharper, almost lascivious in nature crosses his face as he pushes away from the desk and gestures with a wave of his fingers to the surface, “Make yourself comfortable. Pretend as if I’m not even here, if that makes it any easier.”
Already kicking your boots off, you chance a glance up at him, “You’re not going to touch me?”
An honest-to-god laugh leaves him as he makes a show of getting more comfortable in his chair, watching the movements of your hands as you hook your thumbs in your belt loops, “Why would I do that? It’s not as if you touched me.”
He’s got you there. With a half-shrug and a tiny thought about if he’d have let you, you kick off your pants and hop up onto his desk, noting that there weren’t any papers on its smooth surface. He planned this. That alone strikes something in you, the fact that the only reason you were up here is because Silco wanted what he was owed.
Apparently, that means you sitting on his desk, your legs just parted enough so he can see the wetness that’s gathered on the fabric of your underwear. Both of his hands curl against the arm rests, gripping them as his eyes are trained not on your own, but the very beginning of what’s to come. Nothing happens at first, nothing from either of you besides Silco’s breath hitching and your blood rushing in your ears.
“What are you waiting for?”
“If I say ‘For you to say please’, is that going to change your mind about killing me?”
“I’m already rethinking that as we speak,” Yes his legs uncross and the obvious hardness of his cock tells a different story. Abandoning the temptation to make him beg for it - which he wouldn’t do, surely - you prop one hand out behind you while the other slides up your thigh toward what he’s impatient to see.
Merely cupping yourself is enough to make your breath shake, eyelids fluttering lower as you watch his face, the minute changes as he gives you all the attention you’d never felt from him before. Granted, you hadn’t known you wanted it until very recently, but it’s exhilarating to know exactly who is in front of you, watching as you dip your fingers past the band of your underwear to touch yourself in earnest.
Silco’s jaw tightens, as you dip your fingers through your wetness, sighing quietly in appreciation of the brief release in tension. You hadn’t realized how wound up you were about this until just now, and it’s quickly becoming an all-consuming sort of thought that throws any embarrassment out the window. There’d only been a miniscule amount to begin with, his forwardness leaving no room for it.
Satisfied you’ve gathered enough, you pull your fingers from your underwear and hold them in the light where Silco can see them. Your fingertips glisten in the light from the lamp on his desk, shining golden as you turn them to catch the shimmer. It’s meant to be a tease, to taunt him for not touching you like you expected, but he subverts you by reaching out to snatch your wrist and drag himself close enough to bring your fingers to his lips.
The feeling of his tongue dragging along your digits is so disorienting, the sensation immediately being equated to where that particular appendage would feel elsewhere. And damn, if Silco doesn’t seem to know exactly what he’s doing to you. Scarred lips close around both of your middle fingers, sucking the very last of what you had to offer and searching for more with that tongue of his. Enraptured, you hold his eye contact with all your willpower, using it to force your eyelids to not flutter, to not close and block the sight of Silco tasting you like this.
With a wet pop, Silco lets your fingers go with a jerk of his chin toward yourself, an obvious sign to begin again. Once more, you go down the front and pass your fingers across yourself, clit slipping between two fingers as you go. Your legs twitch, threatening to snap shut; Silco’s hands shoot from the arm rests once more, gripping your knees with bruising force and a growl of, “Shift backward. One foot up on the desk.”
It’s a lewd position, one that he directs you into while betraying his own vaguely-worded rule once more. Once you’re positioned, Silco stays far too close for a long moment, peering up at you as if he were judging you for doing this in front of him. For him, really - no one else could’ve gotten you to do something as bold as this, right in front of his very face.
Fingers drawing slow circles, you let your tight grip on your voice go. With it comes a sigh that borders on a whine, high-pitched and beckoning as your ring and middle fingers sink into you. With deft fingers, Silco all but rips the tie from his neck, loosening its hold around him and showing you the harsh flex of his throat as he swallows. His tendons are drawn tight against his skin, a testament to what’s happening to him from watching you.
It’s akin to watching an animal straining at the leash, desperate to chase after prey that sits just beyond its reach. And he’s desperate for it, enough to reach past you for the knife you’ve forgotten that’s embedded in the desk. With a sharp pull, it tugs free with a creaking of the wood, and its blade finds your hip just as surely.
Before you can stop him, maybe argue the case for your underwear’s survival, the blade dips beneath the fabric and is cut through at your right hip with one swift movement. Tugging your foot down briefly, he snaps the other side and roughly props your leg back on the desk. Suddenly, you’re bare before him on full display. Somehow that fabric had felt like a shield, the leash holding the animal back.
Yet he sits back heavily in his chair, a darkened look of hunger in his eyes as he watches you push your fingers inside again. Silco’s eyes burn you, leaving trails on your skin as he watches you touch yourself inches from his face. It’s maddening, enough so that you’re convinced it’s what’s pushing you steadily along to your end far more than any mere touch of your fingers could do.
Swallowing hard once more, nails scraping against the wood of his chair, Silco asks, “What are you thinking of?”
“S-Same thing as last time,” Talking is a chore, an expenditure of energy better used for the groan you let out when your palm presses against your clit. The sound seems to shock him, his shoulders jerking the moment it leaves your throat. Sweat is on his temple, catching the light as he tilts his head, questioning.
“And what might that be?”
Silco’s playing hardball. It’s teasing, despite the edge to his voice and the sharp lines between his brow that betray the nonchalance he’s trying to portray. Silco isn’t unaffected, that much is for sure, and that’s what makes your mouth upturn into a grin and your boldness to ooze through once more, “How your dick looked while you were stroking it. How it would feel inside me, the sounds you’d make in my ear if you bent me over the railing on the second level of the bar when it’s busiest-”
Fast as lightning, before you can comprehend the movement with your lust-addled mind, Silco nearly ripped the buttons off his pants in his haste to open them. Slim fingers take that very cock you’d been thinking about, and you’re treated to the side of his eyes rolling behind his single eyelid. The back of his head hits his chair with a thump, the same groan from the night before echoing through the room with his pleasure.
It’s instinct to roll your head back, but you force your eyes to watch him just as he watched you, taking in every inch of him with your eyes, memorizing the prominent vein on the bottom, imprinting that exact shape into your mind until it becomes the only thing you can think about. Unbidden, you whine his name as you strike something inside yourself that sends static through your senses, every one of them consumed with the sensations of your fingers and the sight of Silco bucking his hips up into his own hand.
Blinking rapidly, Silco gains enough of himself to grit through his teeth, “Was this what you wanted? Hm?” - he squeezes himself tighter, hisses through his teeth - “To see me like this? Does it make you feel powerful?”
As if. Your nails dig into the surface of the desk, scratching at the lacquered top to gain purchase against the swell in your stomach, the fire of your nerve endings burning themselves, “It… It makes me feel something,” And against your better judgment, what’s left of your logic after it’s been nearly carved out of you, you’re the one that begs, “Please fuck me, Silco.”
“Not this time,” Silco spits, disappointment hitting you hard before the implication of there being another instance of this takes over. Instead he looks you in the eye, burning through you with a physical feeling of want, as if he needs this as badly as you. Loosely, weak almost with his undoubtedly close end, Silco smirks, “Next time, if you’re good.”
It’s not praise, more like teasing if you examine it with a clear head like you will later, but your brain supplies the thought of Silco calling you that. Of Silco pulling you into his lap and squeezing at you and telling you that you’ve been good for him. It knocks you sky high, your eyes rolling as your arm gives out and you’re left on your back to buck into your own hand.
The wet sounds of your fingers moving harmonize with the steady pump of Silco’s, the chair creaking beneath him as he plants his heels on the floor as leverage to fuck into the curl of his fingers and palm. Even as your orgasm wanes, as your muscles tremble and your ears ring loudly enough that you can’t hear the muted bass from below, Silco’s only just now getting to that point.
Without warning, Silco shoots to his feet, slams his hand down next to your head to brace himself, and looks you in the eye as he grinds against your heat with long strokes. There’s no danger of him going back on his refusal to take you across his desk, but the feeling of his length against your cunt is euphoric enough that you don’t even care.
Silco leans close, enough that he can let loose the drawn out sounds he’d been holding back directly into your ear. Arousal burns through you at each one, making your fingers itch to thrust into yourself all over again for him to watch - but it’s not meant to be for your pleasure, but to tease you with it. Maybe a promise for more, if you please him.
With his free hand, he yanks your shirt up just in time for hot ropes to shoot across your stomach, settling against your skin and rapidly cooling as his head hangs. With a gasping swallow, his breath struggling to come into his lungs with his exertion, Silco looks you in the eye with something calculating and suddenly cold.
The ice is painfully familiar, paired with the uncomfortable stickiness against your stomach and between your thighs. It lingers long enough that you wonder if you’ve done something wrong, yes he assuages it by bringing his free hand to your chin to hold you still. You don’t expect the kiss, a chaste pressing of lips that doesn’t go further.
You hadn’t even had time to enjoy it, a complaint on your tongue that dies as soon as he gives you another, slower this time now that you hadn’t denied the first. Using your unsoiled hand, you brush the hair from his forehead as he pulls away, measuring the odd vulnerability that’s made its home on his face. Had he been unsure? You certainly were.
Silco pulls away, you push up onto your elbow to watch him leave you and right himself. You’re offered a handkerchief, kept in the top corner of his desk - it’s stained purple at the corner, which you avoid pointedly as you clean yourself off both at your stomach and between your legs. To your surprise - and a bit of your pleasure, you realize with a sick feeling - Silco doesn’t return it to the desk nor throw it away.
It goes in his pocket.
Something expectant crosses his eyes, his brow raising and body turned toward you like he thought you were going to say something about it. You hadn’t planned to before, and you definitely weren’t now. Rather than razz him about it, you slide off the desk and slowly redress yourself, sans underwear.
Unable to truly help yourself from being a little facetious now that the delirium has passed and you’re feeling more like yourself, you glance over your shoulder at him as he drops heavily back into his chair, “Next time, huh?”
“I told you the stipulation. Forcing me to repeat myself is counterproductive to what you apparently want so badly.”
Rolling your eyes to the ceiling, you focus more on the buttons of your pants rather than his face, “And you apparently don’t want it. I’m more than glad to find someone that does.”
“Remember your question about reconsidering ending your life prematurely? That would hasten it.”
A scoff comes from you as you finish and round back to the front of his desk to put some distance between you. This is not how you expected the conversation to go, much less the night itself, but both are still young and you can get the answers you want with a little prodding, “Are you asking me to be exclusive, Silco? Go steady, maybe?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I simply don’t like to share. It’s beneath me,” It’s said with his legs crossing much how they’d been when you arrived, this time without the incessant bumping of his metal boot tip against the side of the desk, “You can have one or the other, but keep in mind they won’t be able to do what I can.”
“What, jerk off in their office with the door unlocked?”
“If you remember right, you hadn’t locked it when you closed it earlier. You’re just as guilty of that as I am.”
Chewing on your lip, you size him up as he props his cheek on his knuckles again, looking for all the world as if he’s a cat that’s caught its prey. But you’re not prey, not in the slightest, and that makes you prickle at his presumptuousness, “Whatever. I’m leaving. If you’re gonna off me for not wanting to deal with your weird riddles, so be it.”
Half-turned away is where you stop when Silco’s long suffering sigh hits you, “I’m not looking for love. If you’d like me to be blunt so badly, I’m asking you to consider an… agreement of trade.”
“Way to make it sound unsexy.”
It strikes a nerve, because all of a sudden he’s carding his fingers through his hair in exasperation and gritting through his teeth, “We fuck each other and go our separate ways. I won’t seek it elsewhere, and I’d expect you to show the same courtesy. Is that blunt enough for you, or do you need a demonstration?”
Pouncing on that like the predator Silco seemed to view himself as, you turn back to him with a winning grin, “That’s what I was waiting for-”
“Get out. Don’t come back until tomorrow.”
Kissing Bruce Wayne (The Batman Headcanons)
TW: suggestive material, etc.
Would be hesitant to initiate a platonic relationship let alone a physical one. Bruce takes his time when courting someone. He doesn’t want you to become a target.
Isn’t your typical billionaire playboy and wouldn’t make his entire ‘goal’ to his love interest into bed
In fact he’s quite the gentleman, holding doors and asking for your opinion. Hands brush and he lingers for a moment before apologizing.
First kiss would likely culminate on the sidewalk outside your building. Maybe it’s raining, and he finally confesses his feelings and Y/N pushes him to do something about it in frustration
Then his lips are on yours. Bruce is clumsy and awkward, slipping in the downpour. You deepen the kiss before both are pulling away breathlessly.
Has chapped lips that delightfully scratch at you
Tastes off peppermint
Would gently tip your chip up, smiling sweetly before kissing you.
Not a PDA type. Maybe holding hands. MAYBE.
Would pull you into his arms before swinging you around, peppering you with chaste kisses before burying his face in the crook of your neck. Not in public, though.
Definitely expect kisses in bed…
Total softy and loves lazily making out, giggling and talking in between. It’s a good alternative to his constant brooding.
Coffee and Doughnuts | Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader
Summary: You come to work late with an unwanted visitor: period cramps. It’s a good thing that Aaron’s there to look out for you.
Prompts: “I’m dying.” & “You’re not dying.”
Content: Fluff, Hotch making dad jokes, mentions of period cramps, BAU team, Aaron being a softie, references to the B99 scene when Amy was late for work, two idiots in love
Word count: 1.9k
A/N: WEEEE, i’ve finally gotten around to posting my first one shot with our favorite boss man, hotch! i thought this was really fun to write from the prompts i crossed paths with….but with a twist of one of the world’s biggest enemies: period cramps. anyways, let me know what you think! feedback is greatly appreciated for me to improve in the future :)
let me know if you want to be a part of my taglist!
Maybe it was a mistake to go to work knowing that you were suffering from your monthly period. You were close to believing the universe was against you this time when you realized you forgot to stock up on your painkillers and you were running late to work because your car had a flat tire.
“Wait for it. Wait for it,” Derek said as he pointed over at the clock with the rest of the team waiting alongside him, “It’s 9:01, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is officially late for work for the first time ever.”
Spencer tilted his head to the side and crossed his arms, “Unusual thing for her, though. She’s usually here to welcome my ramblings early in the morning. Although, it was revealed that 29% of employees do show up to work late at least once a month.”
Derek let out a laugh and shook his head, “Alright, let’s do this. Who’s got theories?”
“Uh…” Penelope trailed off before a thought came to mind, “I guess her alarm didn’t go off? It’s happened to me a few times, so that could be it.”
“All three alarms?” Rossi replied, deadpanned, “We know that she has battery back-up alarms, c’mon, who wants to take this seriously?”
Emily snapped her fingers and points at Derek, “Oh! She was abducted by aliens in her sleep.”
“That’s what I’m talking about, Prentiss,” Derek laughed as he high fived her, “More plausible than baby girl’s alarm clock theory. She probably tucked herself in bed too tight and couldn’t get out.”
“Is tucking yourself too tight even possible?” JJ raised her eyebrows at Derek, who shrugged in response, “I would say…traffic, but I’ll take it back because it doesn’t correlate with (Y/N)’s ethics.”
The team’s antics and playful debate did not go unnoticed by Aaron, who was silently working through the mountain of files he had to accomplish for the day. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit worried about you being late for work. Most of the time, you were there working away at your desk when he came in for the day. You’d always look up from your paperwork to greet him with a smile– something that Aaron looked forward to everyday and something that made his heart beat a little faster than usual.
Aaron sighed as he stood up to make his way down to the bullpen. The team had their backs to him, which led him to clearing his throat to get their attention, “What’s going on here?”
“(Y/L/N) isn’t here yet, sir,” Penelope replied, “We’re setting down theories as to what could be the cause of it. We have an alarm that didn’t go off, alien abduction, tucked in bed too tight, and traffic.”
“Whatever the reason is, I’m sure (Y/L/N) will be coming to work today,” Aaron said, nonchalantly, “She would’ve informed us beforehand if she wouldn’t, so I suggest that we all get back to work to lessen the piles on our desks.”
As the team muttered a string of compliances and walked to their desks, you entered the BAU office with your eyebrows furrowed and hurriedly took place at your desk, passing by the rest of the team with no words uttered. Aaron took a quick glance at your slumped posture as you read over the paperwork to be done for the day, he frowned from the lack of greeting as he made his way back to the confines of his office.
You muttered incoherences as you worked through the stack of papers from the period cramps were pushing you to the verge of irritation, “Stupid, stupid paperwork.”
Emily peeked up from her desk to look at you, “Hey, (Y/L/N), you good?”
“Peachy. Just fucking peachy,” You looked up to smile in annoyance, “You know, maybe if Eve didn’t eat the apple, women wouldn’t have their uterus shedding every month!”
“Ah, I see we have the red monster visiting us today,” Emily snickered and shook her head, “We should’ve guessed that instead of aliens abudcting you in your sleep.”
“I would love to be abducted by aliens if they had the permanent cure to period cramps, it’s stopping me from efficiency.”
“It also stopped you from greeting lover boy Hotch this morning,” Emily stuck her tongue out as she dodged the pen you threw over at her, “As if it isn’t obvious, (Y/L/N)! You should’ve seen his frown when you just passed by him.”
“Isn’t that his signature look, though?” You muttered, “How long have you known?”
Emily dragged herself over with her swiveling chair, “You know that you’re both idiots, right? God, the yearning that radiates off the two of you.”
Your nose scrunched up from the surge of pain that coursed through you, “Well, keep it to yourself, I could turn into an unsub if you make it any obvious. I don’t want things to get uncomfortable.”
“We’re profilers, (Y/L/N), it’s only the both of you missing out on each other’s sappiness,” Emily jokingly made kissing noises as she drags herself back to her desk.
You should’ve known that your co-workers would eventually find out or maybe you were just a bit obvious. No, you were certain that you were doing a good job at hiding it. Or maybe you weren’t.
It was probably bound to happen. The lingering hand Aaron would put on your lower back when an opportunity would present itself to him. The moments when he’d drape his jacket over you as you slept on the jet, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Dave. The morning coffees and brighter smiles you gave him, which Emily teased you about more than once. The magnetic force between the two of you as you always found yourselves sitting next to each other whenever possible.
You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you looked over at Aaron’s office to see him talking on the phone while he was reading through his files. Does he know? Are the both of you actually idiots? You didn’t realize how long you’ve been looking until both of your eyes met and he gave you a small smile that got your cheeks heating up as you turned back to your paperwork. Stupid, stupid crush.
Time passed, your period cramps didn’t– in fact, it even got worse without medication. Reading a page took you longer than usual, the words looking hazy and started to become gibberish to your mind because the pain was affecting how well you comprehended the information before you.
As lunch time came around, Spencer walked to you slumped over your desk to ask you if you had the energy to eat out with the team. You groaned and shook your head as you muttered out a ‘No, I’ll try to nap this out’, which may have been incoherent from your cheek squished against your desk. Spencer pat your back and told you that he’d bring you back some food to eat if you felt any better.
Aaron bumped into Spencer as he stepped out the elevator to make his way back to the office holding a takeaway container with two coffees on top of a box of doughnuts. He opened his mouth to say something but Spencer told him that you decided to stay behind for lunch. Aaron didn’t miss the knowing look on Spencer’s face when he saw what was on his hands. He didn’t mind though, he wanted to look after you because that’s what friends do, right? At least that was what he convinced himself to avoid his feelings from blossoming further– it didn’t though.
He stood beside your sleeping form and gently placed his hand on your shoulder, “(Y/L/N).”
You opened your eyes and groaned, “With all due respect, Hotch, I’m dying. Please let me suffer.”
“You’re not dying. Last I checked you’re (Y/N), not dying.”
You sarcastically laughed and gave him a thumbs up, “Great dad joke. Let me give you a 5/10.”
“Uh, I got you some Motrin and food to eat. Thought you could use some coffee,” Aaron mumbled as he set the medicine, cup of coffee, and box of doughnuts on your desk, “I heard that sweets could help during your period, just not entirely sure about that.”
Your eyebrows were raised in confusion as you sat up to look at him, “Oh. Um, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Aaron said with a nervous smile as he rubbed his fingers together, “I’ll get back to my office, but you could eat there or do your paperwork on the couch, I don’t mind the company.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
The two of you settled on the couch in his office, falling into conversation as you consumed the coffee and doughnuts. You wished you could spend more days laughing with Aaron– no, you wished you could just be with Aaron. Even with silence lingering around the atmosphere as the both of you worked, you didn’t mind. Neither did Aaron.
Aaron couldn’t help but look at you fondly as your eyebrows were furrowed in concentration while you read through the folder in your hand. He wanted to kiss you right there and then. The universe seemed to listened to him when you looked at him with the smile that he loved seeing.
“What’s up? Do I have something on my face?”
He gently put his hand on your cheek, which you leaned into. You noticed how his eyes flickered to your lips and you knew then and there that Emily was right. You leaned closer and Aaron found himself smiling again- something he couldn’t help whenever he was around you. The two of you thinking about how it’s finally happening, despite not believing the team when they teased about it.
Aaron softly pressed his lips against yours and you felt your whole world spinning. You wanted this moment to last forever, you never expected this to happen. Not on a day you thought that the universe was against you.
He pulled away to say something, but you gave him no opportunity to do so as you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him for another kiss. The both of you were smiling through the kiss and you pulled away to give yourselves a breather.
“Hi,” Aaron smiled as he rested his forehead against yours.
“Hi,” You said smiling, “So, how long have you wanted to do that?”
“Probably not longer than you did,” Aaron teased, “What do you think about dinner tonight?”
“As long as it’s with you, it’d be wonderful,” You smiled as you kissed his cheek, “Coffee and doughnuts just like this would be great, too.”
Aaron grinned, kissing you once more- something he’ll never get tired of despite the fact that this is just the beginning of your story. He hopes to kiss you in every time the sun rises, and you hope for the same, too.
“Back to work, SSA Hotchner. I could hear the team coming in the bullpen,” You laughed.
“I don’t mind, Dave called me an idiot the other day,” Aaron said as he smiled and shook his head.
“They’re right though. We are oblivious idiots, we should get fired from the job.”
Aaron thought you were right, the both of you were oblivious idiots- but, he didn’t mind the long wait. He would’ve waited for as long as he had to just to have his arms around you, like the way it is right now. And, he may be an idiot for not knowing it any sooner, but he does know one thing for sure- he wants you forever. And you do, too.
You: We all have our demons.
You, grabbing Tommy: This one’s mine.
Reunion. Yan Chrollo x F Reader
Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, Chrollo is awful here Big Time oh lord oh god oh no, unbalanced power dynamics.
Word count: 2.3k.
It was a testament to the poor quality of your company when every red light you received felt akin to personal torture.
Optimism, that’s what you need. Some adjustment in your mindset that will allow you to view this glass as half full rather than half empty. Optimism. How you loathe the word. You felt optimistic this morning, while eating warm pastries from the hotel’s continental breakfast on your room’s balcony. At lunch when you visited a café and found your drink was already covered, another customer had paid it forward. There was no way you could’ve predicted the sweet taste of the day turning dry and sour a few short hours later.
He’s saying something, you think, spinning pretty words from the loom that is his mouth. You pay him no mind. Rather, you find interest in the shifting landscape of your hometown, as observed from the passenger seat’s tinted windows.
The video rental shop you looked forward to visiting every Friday has been replaced by a liquor store. Your favorite diner is gone now too, the land bulldozed and the signs standing upon its grave promising ample warehouse space as soon as next year. How odd, since the day they promised potential leasers the project to be complete passed about five years ago. A waste, what a waste.
“Are you intent on ignoring me all night? That isn’t very mature of you, [First].”
Maybe you’d think better of it if you were in a clearer state of mind, since alcohol’s pleasant buzz holds you prisoner now, but you respond with unbridled antipathy.
“Did you expect me to be in a talkative mood?”
“When there’s so much to discuss, yes.”
He’s not wrong on that front. You’d rather cut your own tongue out than admit it, though.
“There isn’t anything to discuss,” your rebuttal comes swift. Panicked. “I just want to get back to my hotel and sleep.”
“Hence my driving you, dear.”
“No, you’re driving me because my mom insisted—”
The words lodge themselves in your throat and you make no effort to free them. It isn’t right. For him to be here, where you grew up. In the town where you got your first part-time job, begged your older sibling to drive you to the mall on the weekends so that you could hang out with your friends, crushed over a cute boy from your class who worked at the movie theater. Chrollo didn’t belong here. It’s intrusive, a violation, a breach of your personal privacy to the highest degree. If your body rejects foreign pathogens that would seek to do you harm, it only makes sense that you would give him the same treatment.
Home is supposed to be your sanctuary — his presence is defiling that. Corrupting and warping it as if to say you could never be rid of him. It didn’t matter if you locked the doors and held them shut. He would always find a way in. Always.
“Did you lose your train of thought?”
“Yes,” you lie without hesitation. He knows it, you’re certain he does, but he’s already claimed victory. In the aftermath of a battle, the victor takes inventory of what they’ve gained. That has to be what he’s doing now. Sorting through the spoils and gloating.
“A pity,” Chrollo confesses. Though you don’t look at him, you can tell he’s smiling by his voice alone. “I would’ve loved to hear your thoughts.”
“Somehow, I’m doubtful about that.”
Yet again, in another show of mockery from a cruel and indifferent universe, the traffic light overhead turns red upon your approach. Just like its predecessor. And the one before that. You’d think it was rush hour by the traffic lights alone, but it’s eleven o’clock at night, and you haven’t seen another car in minutes.
“On the topic of your family…” he trails off, purposeful in prolonging the silence, so that your suspense might accumulate. You grip your clutch tighter. “I wish I’d gotten to meet them sooner. We never got around to it, did we? Ah, the stories from your childhood were especially a delight. The senior photo in your father’s wallet was too. You’ll have to tell me what quote you picked sometime.”
You don’t want to think about it, you don’t want to think about it. How a murderer shook hands with your father. Made pleasant small talk with your mother. Discussed cars and current events with your brother. All the while you sat sinking in the restaurant’s booth, your appetite lost, forced to regurgitate some flimsy excuse about why your family had never met your oh-so charming ‘friend’.
“To think I’ve been your first boyfriend in such a long time, too. Your ex still lives in this town, doesn’t he? Working at that… hm, what was it… gas station. I wonder if I’ll get to meet him as well.”
“We are not dating, not anymore,” you remind him, aghast. “And that’s a respectable occupation, anyway.”
“By your father’s tone, he certainly didn’t seem to think so.”
That’s right. What an excellent job Chrollo did at establishing himself as appealing in every prospect, from the choice sports car sitting in the parking lot for them to ogle over, to paying for everyone’s dinner by the night’s end. How they must’ve thought reciprocating his affections would be a no-brainer. Still, you place no blame on your family — everything is his fault from beginning to end. There was a time when you were similarly so blinded by his presence that you assumed there was no darkness to be found.
“You have zero business judging the employment of others with the line of ‘work’ you’re in.”
“Perhaps. And yet,” with the hand not on the steering wheel, he motions to your person. “You have no problem wearing a dress I obtained from my despicable ‘line of work’.”
Heat rises to your face and situates itself there, letting you know it won’t be going away anytime soon.
The garment had already cast guilt on you. After discovering the truth behind Chrollo’s weeks of absence and seemingly endless pit of money, you rid yourself of every material item he’d ever given you. Bags, jewelry, purses, shoes, and clothes; they were either donated or thrown out as looking at them for too long nauseated you. This dress was the lone exception, not that arguing this point would do you any good. You were reminded of your cousin’s wedding and the subsequent need to fly home for it while ridding yourself of his gifts.
The high-end places you’d undoubtedly be attending for such an event spurred you to save one, just one, of his expensive presents. Never had you expected to “coincidentally run in” to him and be subjected to his torments over the moral ambiguity.
After what feels like an eternity, he turns into the hotel you were able to reserve on a limited budget; a potential light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe he’ll part ways with you here. Sever whatever connection bound you in the past, giving you freedom to pursue a future without him in the picture. He should feel satisfied over the agony he subjected you to this evening. For months, if not years, you’ll endure questions from your family about that fascinating stranger who happened upon you that one night and proved himself a desirable bachelor.
“Did you not work out? Have you ever thought about contacting him again? Maybe smooth things over?” Queries such as this would be your personal agony, handcrafted by the man in question himself.
“There’s no need to sit there and pout,” Chrollo reassures, though his words promise the opposite of that. “You look lovely in it. And as you said, I have no business judging others.”
He doesn’t, but he’s going to anyway.
You shrink into yourself when he places his arm behind the passenger seat, a habit you noticed he has whenever he backs up. Before, it birthed life to butterflies in your stomach, but now, you want to create as much distance as possible. No space would ever feel like enough.
He turns the keys in the ignition and the car’s humming falls silent.
For some time, the both of you sit there, neither moving nor making a sound. Your eyes remain firm on your lap while you can feel his stare searing into your profile. You’re agitated, at a loss on what to do, and most pressing of all, you’re tired. His presence promises more than ill-timed appearances and caustic words meant to eat away at your high defenses. Considering this, your stomach twists painfully. No amount of faux bravado on your part can hide your apprehension from him. He smells it out, like a shark sensing blood in water.
All you had in your arsenal were words, sharp yet ultimately harmless words. What he boasted in his… you dread the thought.
“What do you want, Chrollo?”
It’s not that you want to ask, but that you feel there’s no other option available. This was a merry-go-round ride that would keep spinning until one of you fell off, and if anyone was going to fall, it would be you.
“I’ll let you decide that.”
He sounds sincere, however, you know better than to believe that. Suspicion must be written all over your face. He takes your hand in his and you let him. You wonder if he knows it’s his hands you fear the most, rivaled only by his hollow eyes that at times appear omnipotent. As they do now. At any given moment, he could see all of you, while you saw a mere fraction of him.
Maybe it’s a blessing he revealed only so much. If you witnessed the full depths of his depravity, you might never surface for air again, drowning in a vat thicker than tar.
How can so much darkness permeate from another human being? It was times like this where you couldn’t be certain if he was one.
“I’ll either stay or leave by your discretion,” he announces, causing your eyebrows to scrunch together. Just when you thought you’d taught yourself to expect the unexpected with him, he finds new ways to throw you off-balance.
This has to be a trick. Something is hiding in the fine print, and you’re intent on finding out. “What does you staying look like?”
“You were always quick on the uptake,” he’s pleased, evidently, a factor he makes known by pressing a chaste kiss to your hand. All your self-control goes into not pulling yourself free. It may have been intuition or paranoia, but something told you he’d sooner let you dislocate your shoulder than allow you to pull away. Not after he’s waited months for this.
“We’ll get out of this car together. You’ll let me into your hotel room — your bed — then your life. Your parents invited you to breakfast tomorrow, didn’t they? I’ll come with you. I’ll see your childhood home, look at old photo albums at your mother’s behest and laugh at the stories she tells me from your youth. I’ll compliment the arrangement of the furniture, how the colors go together just so. She’ll be simply taken with me. Your father, too, naturally. I’ve already begun to make excellent progress on that front.”
You don’t think you could breathe if you wanted to.
Chrollo leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper that made your earlier dinner want to claw back up your throat.
“I will attend your cousin’s wedding this weekend as your date. I’ll charm your aunts, impress your uncles. Play with your nieces and nephews. You can introduce me however you like. A friend, a colleague from work. They’ll know. They’ll read between the lines. They’ll ask when they can expect to see you walk down the aisle to me someday in the future. You can cry, if you so please, but they’ll simply mistake it as a maiden who is head over heels in love. I’ll tell them to keep their calendars free next June, and they’ll laugh, perhaps you will too.”
He squeezes your hand to anchor you. Otherwise, you think your mind would’ve given you the reprieve of going someplace else, someplace safe and sane and anywhere but here. Hell itself may be preferable, if you weren’t already there.
“I will insert myself so deeply into your life, that to cut me out, you’d have to slice into yourself as well.”
You’re trembling now, like a leaf caught in a hurricane, with no hope of ever reaching solid ground again. Pushed and pulled by the whims of a being that so plainly outclasses you in every category.
What could you do? What could you say? Did it even matter what approach you tried to take? The web was spun and you were caught. The more you struggle the deeper embedded you become.
So you play by his rules and voice yet another question you don’t really want to know the answer to.
“And…” your lips are dry, so terribly dry, as is your mouth, “If… if I ask you to leave?”
He pulls back — not that it matters. It still feels like he’s there, the warmth of his breath, the woody notes of his cologne. Haunting you. Dominating you. Asserting that this nightmare isn’t over, oh no, it’s just getting started.
“That’s simple,” Chrollo takes your pallid face in his hands, stroking your cheek, gazing down at your through thick eyelashes. What gleams in his lifeless eyes, you can’t say for certain. You think it might be best if you remain ignorant to it. “You’ll come with me.”
A kiss to your cheek. He lingers this time, you’re in no position to protest. He savors the closeness he brought by interlocking you to his person with ironclad handcuffs.
“So, what will it be? I stand by what I said earlier. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Be a dear and share them with me.”
FREAK IN YOU | PWP | PJM | (M)
It’s been weeks since you and your boyfriend Jimin have last had sex. He’s been away on tour and you’ve been home growing increasingly pent up while you wait for his return. So when he surprises you by coming home early, you waste no time relieving the sexual frustrations that have been taking over you both for the last few weeks.
❦ Pairing: Rockstar!Jimin x college student!reader
❦ Genre: Smut | fluff | established relationship | porn with very minimal plot lol
❦ Word count: 3.9k
❦ Rating: 18+ pls interact responsibly!
❦ Warnings: secret relationship, unprotected sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, slight manhandling, cum shots, cum eating, petnames, praise kinks (for both y/n & jimin), slighttt daddy kink, hints of switch jimin, but mainly dom!jimin & sub!reader, jimin has a big dick, he has a name for his dick (sorry i think i’m funny), messy sex, size kink, teasing, edging, slight humiliation, begging, breeding kink, (practice. safe. sex.), hickeys, a bit of degrading but y/n gets praised right after. pussy eating, pussy devouring, jimin is STARVING. multiple orgasms, overstimulation… i think that’s it. super fluffy at the end, cuddling. kissing, etc. but nothing too cringe. i don’t think.
❦ a/n: This is basically just a teaser for my writing style before i post a project that’s coming soon (and i think people will be excited for). This is my first work on tumblr but i’ve been writing on and off for my whole life lol anyway i hope you enjoy it, I needed my first post to be about jimin bc he’s jimin and i love him so if this seems very self indulgent that’s bc it is 😭. ALSO i had two banners that i made for this fic and when i tell you it was so hard to choose i’m probably gonna put the second one at the end.
The stress of the day weighed heavily on your shoulders as you finally had the chance to sit down, too tired to bother taking off your blazer but quickly taking off the heels that have had your feet cramping for the last two hours. between going to classes and attending interview after interview, you were burnt out — and what surely didn’t help was the absence of your boyfriend. Thanks to both of you having busy schedules and sometimes being in different time zones, it was hard for you both to call and text each other consistently. You loved your life, and you loved Jimin’s life, but sometimes you wished you could come home to cuddle with the love of your life, unloading all the mishaps and successes of the day whenever you felt the need.
You had to remind yourself this was a part of the process. The harder you worked the closer you would be to completing the dream you and jimin had conjured. You needed to get your business degree and some job experience so that when the time came you could become Jimin's manager. The both of you were confident enough to feel as though working together would only strengthen your relationship as well as be a way for the both of you to spend more time together.
You both knew how big of a step this would be, mixing work with your personal life, but you were confident you two would be spending the rest of your lives together, and so was Jimin.
It was your decision to keep your relationship secret. Knowing Jimin he would be more than happy to show you off any chance he could, but you knew that revealing his relationship status to the public would only cause problems. Between jealous fangirls and fanboys, groupies, publicists, and the like, it would only work to make your life harder. Jimin and his band of friends were starting to make it big and you didn’t want to be the reason his success came to a halt.
You sighed loosening the scrunchie in your hair so your face could relax.
It wasn’t like you were this thing Jimin was ashamed of, and you knew that very well. You both still met up in public and your hangouts weren’t restricted to late hours. It was just a relationship that was as private as could be. Seeing Jimin in disguise more often than not didn't upset you but was rather humorous. You didn’t mind having to keep things under wraps. It was the smarter thing to do.
But recently you’ve been having a change of heart. Seeing your friends flaunt their relationships in real life and on social media was something you had always envied. You were aware that keeping what you and Jimin have secret was your idea, but after four years things were starting to change.
After all, you and Jimin’s bond was stronger than when you first started out. You knew that the hate would get to you had you been so open about it in the first place, but now you couldn’t care less. You loved Jimin. you would do anything for him. Some strangers on the internet could never take his love away from you.
Seeing celebrity relationships thrive was inspiration for you. You knew how different the circumstances were. You weren’t a celebrity. Fans would surely think you weren’t good enough for him. A boring business student and a rockstar? not a very likely match. But after all these years your insecurities were tarnished.
You slipped your phone out of your pocket to see whether Jimin had messaged you at all. Being busy all day made it so that you weren’t able to check your phone. If you recall correctly, Jimin was in Arizona and was only a few hours ahead of you in New York.
You smiled when you saw a message he sent three hours ago. Something sweet, simply asking if you were alright and hoping your day went well. And he never forgot to tell you how much he loved you.
You messaged him back informing him that you just got home, telling him how much you missed him, and how you couldn’t wait for him to come back.
Your message didn’t deliver right away, so you assumed he had his phone turned off.
A loud grunt left you as you stood up off the couch, your feet digging into the burnt orange carpet. You were so happy when Jimin bought it for you and had put it in the middle of the living room where everyone would see it.
It was soft to the touch, and made your home feel even more cozy. you smiled dopily to yourself just thinking of Jimin and the little things he’s done for you. You shiver once you step off the carpet and your bare feet feel the bitter cool of hardwood. You made your way daintily to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you even though no one else was there. You turned on your speaker and prayed that the battery would last long enough for the long shower you planned on taking.
Come to see me by Jun Hyo Seong played loudly on your speakers as you started to shimmy out of your tan pencil skirt. Recently you were starting to delve a little deeper in Korean R&B and had become a big fan of a few soloists, Hyo Seong being one of them.
You loved music a lot, and that had been what you and Jimin had initially bonded over. You both had met at the concert of your favorite band. There was a chill after party you had both made your way to, and the entire night was spent talking and laughing with each other. Jimin would tell you he had immediately known you were the one when he had seen how beautiful your smile was.
His career had taken off two months after that, and had of course made you nervous when you realized you had feelings for him. It was nerve wracking enough to confess your feelings for anyone, but when it’s someone in the public eye things become even harder — at least for you.
When Jimin confessed it was like a partial weight was lifted off your shoulders. Saying yes to him was the best decision you could’ve made.
You put your hand under the water to test the temperature, and once you were satisfied you stepped right in, humming quietly to yourself. Hopefully Jimin would be able to facetime tonight, you were missing his face more than ever. Maybe it would help if he posted on social media once in a while. You rolled your eyes just thinking about how hopeless he was with instagram and twitter, and his overall reluctance to even attempt trying to learn.
It was kinda cute that whenever he needed help he would come to you with his questions. Adorable, really.
You were starting to get light headed so you decided to cut your shower short, turning your speaker off and plugging it in for its next use. you wrapped a towel around yourself and scampered to your room in an attempt to not get the floor wet. Once in your room you slipped on your favorite panty set - it was silk and kept you from chafing against the lining like with some of your other underwear. It was dark blue with a bow at the top that matched the bra piece. you wrapped your hair up before climbing into some cool, clean, sheets.
You vaguely remembered that you hadn’t eaten dinner yet, but frankly you were dying to masturbate. After such a long day, after similarly long weeks, you’ve been trying to release some stress, trying to get off without having Jimin to help you, but more often than not you would fall asleep before you had the chance.
You dug into your bedside drawer and took a sleek black vibrator with gold trim. It was one of your strongest and would always have you seeing stars even before you orgasmed.
It was quiet inside your room. All that was audible was the low buzz of your vibrator and the sigh you let out as it made contact with your clit. You slipped it inside your underwear for better intensity, and the first thought that came to mind was Jimin. His hair wet after a shower, his abs and muscular arms holding on tightly to your thighs.
He would restrict your movements, make it so that it was impossible to writhe around, make it so that you would just have to take whatever he gave you, and take it you did.
You pretend it was him moving the vibrator up and down harshly between your folds. You were so wet, your legs shook harshly even though you had just started pleasuring yourself. It had been too long.
You slipped your free hand into your underwear and slowly started to finger yourself open. You imagined it was Jimin’s fingers thrusting into you. You cried out as your fingers started to move even faster and you turned your vibrator up to its highest setting.
You could barely hear yourself panting and moaning as you were so lost into your oncoming orgasm. Your eyes were shut tightly and your hips lifted up off the bed. You could barely control your movements— you were shaking harshly moaning Jimin’s name, wishing he would just come home and fuck you like you deserved.
In retrospect, it should’ve concerned you how oblivious you were to your surroundings. You didn’t hear the keys outside fitting into the lock, the door creeping open, nor the padded footsteps of your boyfriend as he stepped into your home.
Lost in blissful pleasure, you hadn’t noticed your bedroom door being opened and the man that stood watching as you rode through the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. Only minutes later when you opened your eyes did you see Park Jimin in the flesh, sporting a boner in his tight ripped black jeans. His eyes were dark and his bag had dropped to the floor.
In his life Jimin had seen his fair share of eroticism. He’s had sex with many people, and he’s watched porn like they were superhero movies. He’s experienced. So why is it that he feels like creaming his pants when he sees you writhing around in your bed, vibrator visible under the damp silk of your panties. He can see the dark spot grow larger as you cum, and he’s sure even the slightest touch on his dick would have him cumming.
He can’t make a sound. He won’t. He wants to see you and he wants to see the look on your face when you realize he’s been watching you.
Jimin had endured one of the most time consuming flights of his life. Lines wrapped around the various corners of the airport for boarding, checking his luggage, getting food— no matter where he went it was mayhem. The only thing that kept him in high spirits was being able to come surprise you. The group had finished their schedules early and were granted a two week break before their next show.
He was expecting to come home and relax. Not come home itching to put his dick in you.
He watched as your chest heaved, your legs jerking once every few seconds.
“What the fuck.” Jimin spoke, his voice hoarse. “Baby you….” Jimin didn’t know what to say. When his eyes met yours he wasted no time climbing on the bed and slotting his lips against yours.
You reached up to tangle your hand in his hair, eagerly returning his enthusiasm. Jimin reaches behind you to pull your head back. He kisses your nose before nuzzling against it. “I missed you so much.” He sighs before wrapping his free hand around your waist and pulling you on top of him. He’s kneeling and your legs wrap around his waist.
From under you Jimin can feel how wet your panties are and he curses under his breath.
“Poor baby,” he tsks, shaking his head softly as he looks you up and down. “Forced to pleasure yourself with only your fingers and a flimsy vibrator.”
You nod your head so harshly you feel dizzy. “Yes, yes.” you sob, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer.
“You were so desperate, acting like a little bitch in heat.” He grips your hair harsher, forcing you to look at him before he meshes your lips together again.
“My pretty little baby, I'm gonna make you feel so good.” He promises. As you’re distracted by his lips sucking your tongue into his mouth, Jimin is hooking a finger into your panties and pulling them down. You can feel the way your cum drips out of your hole and you tremble in anticipation.
Jimin pushes you back onto the bed and lifts his shirt over his head and unbuttons his pants, sliding them off as much as he can without switching positions.
He looms over you and bites his lip before pushing two fingers inside of you slowly. He knows you just got done fingering yourself, but he knows how big he is and he doesn’t want you to hurt yourself on his fat cock.
He watches as your lips part into a silent moan, your eyes staring up at him but clearly unfocused.
“Still so tight for me.”
He pushes inside of you up to his knuckle before adding a third finger and slowly starting to slide in and out of your sloppy cunt. You’re so tight he’s practically drooling at how you’ll feel around his throbbing member.
You’ve missed him so much you want to skip the prep and the dirty talk and have him inside of you already but you know your boyfriend and you know how he likes to drag things out. Usually you don’t complain but right now you want him more than ever.
Unbeknownst to you, Jimin is facing the same problem. He wants to press his body against yours and fuck you like there’s no tomorrow, but there’s an order to these things and it’s an order in which he’s keen to follow through. He quickens his pace, feeling how your pussy gushes when his fingers slide in, and leaks from his tip at the slutty noises you make every time he thrusts his fingers inside of you.
He pulls his fingers out and forces them into your open mouth. “Tell me how you taste baby.”
You whine as your thighs continue to tremble— “good, i taste so good” you moan and Jimin sighs into your mouth kissing the taste of your cum.
You slide your hands down Jimin's thighs and push his pants down to his ankles where he kicks them off. Now, Jimin is only in his boxers while you lay in your bra.
When Jimin sits up you run your fingers down his toned abs and your throat catches at the sight of his thick cock. It looks so big even when constricted in his underwear.
Jimin grins when he notices where your attention has turned to before grabbing onto your thighs and pulling you down so that you’re no longer leaning against the pillows and have your legs hooked over his shoulders.
Jimin is eye level with your wet folds, eyeing your cunt like a man starved. He’s practically drooling at the sight of you. He slides a finger up and down your pussy and watches as cum sticks to his digit. “Fuck, baby.”
He licked his lips — the sight of your swollen pussy fluttering and clenching around nothing while your cum dripped down your thighs and onto the bed made him swallow hard.
“My pretty girl,” he smiled, watching as your breasts spilled out of the cups of your bra. “You know how much I love you, right?”
You opened your mouth but no words came out. “Right, baby?” Jimin asked, his hand coming to squeeze your thigh so tightly that you winced.
“Y-yes. I know.”
“Be a good girl for me, okay?”
“O-ok.” you moaned, vaguely registering Jimin’s tongue meeting your clit. Jimin shuffles against the mattress, face still pressed against your pussy as he dips his tongue into your hole. His nose bumps your clit every time he attempts to move deeper and it makes your hips jump.
You slide your hand into Jimin’s hair. It’s black, and wavy, and long, and it’s so sexy on him. You push his head further into your greedy pussy and he hums, moving his head side to side while sucking on your clit. He lets his mouth drag over the wet, and red, and swollen parts, his tongue reaching every inch of you.
Your breath shakes when your knees knock together and Jimin forces them down again. You feel a pleasant burn in your thighs and your eyes roll back as you cum onto his tongue.
Jimin pulls back but forcefully pushes his fingers into you, roughly thrusting into your pussy as you shake from overstimulation, crying on his fingers and moaning incoherently.
“P-please fuck me,” You sob, “please, please, plea-”
You cry out suddenly when Jimin grabs you by the arm and flips you both so that you’re straddling him and he’s laying down.
“So fucking greedy.” He mutters. He reaches behind you and snaps your bra so that it falls right off and your tits bounce right in his face.
You tighten your legs around him, reaching down to suck a hickey across his collarbone.
“I can tell your little pussy wants to wrap around daddy’s cock doesn’t it, huh baby? You’re so fucking wet, fuck.”
You know. You can feel how slippery Jimin’s thighs have become from you sitting on them. You want to tell him how you can’t get enough of him, but all that comes out is a whimper.
“Let daddy help you, okay baby?” Jimin slides off his boxers and rubs his flushed cock along your pussy. His tip is leaking so much, and you can feel his dick twitching from under you.
You start moving against it, humping his cock and feeling your juices blend together. You can feel the salty taste of your tears as you move quicker. You want it, you want him to fuck you for every day you two have been apart.
Jimin’s hands hold onto your hips and he helps you move along his cock making the stimulation even harsher. You can hear him moaning from under you, his pitched whines just turning you on even more.
“Please put your cock in me Jimin, fuck! L-let everyone know who I belong to.”
Jimin growls, stopping your movements and posturing his dick so that you slam down onto it. He wastes no time before he starts pounding into you, bouncing you on his cock.
Your boobs bounce violently from his aggressive thrusts and you hold onto them, playing with your nipples the way you know Jimin likes.
“Who do you belong to, baby.”
“Who’s pussy is this?”
“Yours, it’s all yours!”
“I wanna mark you up. Fill you up with my cum and watch as your belly bloats with my seed. I wanna see you cry on my cock. Would you want that baby? Your breasts to be swollen with milk and your tummy to grow round?”
“Y-yes oh my god”
He knows he’s close. It would be so easy to fill you up the way he wants to, watch as his cum drips out of you because you can’t hold it all in your sloppy cunt. Jimin is still pushing up into you, his fat cock stretching you open with every thrust.
“I-i’m gonna cum” You scream as you clench around him.
He grits his teeth, his balls tightening before he cums inside of you.
You feel so good, his cum filling you so well. It’s exactly what you needed. Exactly what you wanted. You both shake from the aftershocks of your orgasms, Jimin continuing to thrust into you while your entire body spasms.
“E-enough.” You cry, pushing down onto his chest. Jimin finally relaxes, slipping his dick out of you while you climb off of him. You get off the bed and Jimin clambers after you, watching as you kneel at the foot of the mattress.
“I wanna suck you off. Please, babe.” You whisper, sitting back onto your heels with your hands folded onto your lap. As if you were trained for this.
Jimin sits at the edge with his legs spread wide, his cock slowly peeking back up. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to how big he is. Larger than average. Jimin likes to say you two were made for each other, because no one can take him as well as you can.
He’s amazed at how such a tight pussy can fit around such a big cock.
You lean forward, taking him into your hand. He’s heavy, full of cum, as if he hadn’t let a load into you less than 10 minutes ago.
You leave a kitten lick on the underside of his shaft, feeling the veins and the way Jimin throbs. He’s a pleasant weight on your tongue and you swirl it around the tip before sucking him into your mouth.
Jimin sighs from above you, his hand gripping your hair and forcing you down onto him. He fucks your mouth like all you are is a toy for him to use. Everytime he inches you down onto him you can feel his pubic hairs tickle your nose and hear the spit fucking back in your throat.
You feel the tears falling and your eyes lose focus as Jimin continues to rut into you, abusing your throat like it was nothing.
Your hands squeeze his thighs and they shake from under you, his body spasming as he nears his orgasm. You pull off of him, your lips swollen and red, slicked with spit and pre cum.
“On my face,” you rasp, your throat scratchy and hoarse. “On my face Jimin, please. I’ve been good.”
Jimin whines and pulls you up into a tender kiss as he pumps his cock. “Whatever you want, baby.” He agrees, grabbing you by your throat and pumping his load onto your face with a long, drawn-out, groan.
You’re not too sure what happens after that, but you wake up with the sun peeking through your curtain and Jimin’s arms wrapped around you. The sheets are clean and you have a fresh pair of underwear on, but no bra.
Jackass, you think to yourself, knowing Jimin is borderline obsessed with your breasts.
“Are you up?” Jimin asked as he smoothed his hands down your sides. You hummed, turning around so that you could snuggle into his chest. Jimin was always so warm, and more often than not that led you to using him as your own personal furnace.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good,” you smiled. “I’m so happy to have you back.”
“Mhm, two weeks of my undivided attention before I have to go back to work.”
You pouted immediately. “Don’t say the w word!”
Jimin laughed, his hands coming to wrap around your shoulders. “I’m sorry babe.”
You squinted at him before rolling your eyes and pulling the cover up to your chin. Jimin left a sweet kiss on your lips, morning breath be damned.
❦ a/n: I genuinely wonder when that residual embarrassment will finally wear off whenever i share my work anywhere 😭 I hope this was good enough, it’s not really edited nor was it very planned out, and it’s also my first full blown smut work so yeah I hope you didn’t have any big expectations lol this isn’t really a good first impression, but I hope someone out there enjoyed it. I definitely need to practice with pwps.
Hello, I'm happy to bring you a bit of a different story type here, and I'm happy to say it's platonic/pre-relationship headcanons! It can be either or! Requests are still open. 🫒
Synopsis: The Reader is just getting to know the real them. [Heartslybul Edition]
Character(s): Riddle, Trey, Cater, Deuce, and Ace w/ Platonic or Pre-Relationship GN!Reader
Personality for Reader: I've been seeing a lot of feral Reader/OC/MC's and this is a treat for all my stoic, dependable Reader/OC/MC's! (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)
🍓 Riddle Rosehearts
❀ He did not think someone would like him the way he is; he's heard the talk around school, and he knows his reputation. But he didn't really care about what people say about his more superficial personality traits, they were the baseline of knowing him truly. But to see you actually smiling at him chiding, how curious…
❀ Actually having you sit around and just listening to any small remark he made without being scolded about proper manners… well, he might use you as a bit of a shoulder to lean on, and an ear to lend. He's not all business, not all ADeuce this and Floyd that… but he does appreciate a more non-solution based chat to just gripe
❀ Your very dependable, he likes that. You listen and you train your focus on him, you talk and you're precise in your own way, you make a plan and follow through. He might be projecting his failing expectations of his Heartslybul freshman onto you, because why couldn't you be them? He also might forgive a tardiness once or twice (one's without reason, he doesn't care about them if you have a reason normally).
❀ But never a failing grade. You may or may not be in Heartslybul, but no matter what affiliation you are: you're not failing. Especially not when you're acquaintances with him. Could you not think to ask him for help studying? He's sure he has been nothing but open to you, so hopefully you're not thinking of him poorly. He's not Azul, he won't ask for payment to ensure you don't suffer in school.
❀ Riddle has tough mannerisms and things about him to understand unless your in on his past or at least his emotional state. He might trust you with his past if you are friends for a long time, or even a part of his Overblot rescue team: but he might not be able to fathom having someone to talk to. Trey and Chenya just knew his past because they were a part of it and had many years to adapt with him: please, understand he might not trust you fully just yet. Wait for him.
❀ Riddle is a perfectionist learning not everything needs to be his way, so let him assure you: he prefers your balanced lifestyle over his. He can see how you not only satisfy his needs sometimes (his need for order, his need for structure, his want of sweets if you're in a food run) with your needs (your need for space, your ideas of structure, your preference of snack food). It's much more healthier than just caving to whims, he admits. How charming of you.
🍏 Trey Clover
♧ Trey is the resident middle-grounder and damage control, much less at least 25% of Riddle's impulse control on a good day; he knew you'd flock to him eventually. "Birds of a feather, flock together", the old rhymes say! But alas, it's still nice to have a level-headed person around here, it gets a little tough even if some younger years are adorable and naïve.
♧ Trey is very well informed on all the goings on of Heartslybul and he's always willing to share and guide you through the place if you ask. People not from Heartslybul aren't liable to their rules (unless you're from Heartslybul, then please learn some), but if Trey is caught slacking it's "Off With His Head"! So please, ask any questions you have, it literally can't hurt you to ask. Oh, you actually wanted to know more about him as a person? Why, that's very flattering. What do you want to ask?
♧ Trey is a busy and very independent person, even Cater can't deny or play that down. So it's nice that you both have your space away from each other, just for you two to meet each other and it still feel fresh to see one another. The campus is large if you include other dorms and other people around, and he hopes you're making other friends and bonds except just him! Trey is usually found in library areas, his dorm (mostly the kitchen), in a lab setting, or the botanical garden: so come by if you haven't seen him in a few days! He might talk your ear off about his siblings or proper hygiene again.
♧ When arguing or having a disagreement, Trey appreciates your logical stance and factual tones. You and him might not be happy (or there wouldn't be a fight) but he can understand clear and precise emotions being expressed. Don't guilt him, don't criticize, don't judge. He wouldn't even stoop so low himself as to do so either, but will stand up for himself if need be. But here, with you, he's sure you two can talk through this. Attack the problem together, if you may.
♧ Ah, being dependable! He really needs it (and Cater as well, but this isn't about him) to stay afloat sometimes. You two having something to do together or with a group, and you follow up with him to confirm it? It's nice to hear you care! … Or at least you aren't an ass and say "I'll come if I feel like it" like half the school does. What did he say? Oh, nothing! Next week is great.
♧ Trey is happy you can be authentic with him. He's happy that you drop your guarded expression used for warding off other students around him, it's sorta refreshing. Though, he does get why it took you a while to even do so, being from this school of Villains ready to strike at your jugular (hell, he mirrors your sentiment of wariness). He's just happy you can saddle up next to him to read about whatever caught your fancy, and he can not flinch with you leaning over his shoulder.
🍊 Cater Diamond
♢ Oh sweetie, oh honey… this is a slightly harder but more cuter nut to crack. He's not opening up for just anyone and he's much less likely to care about attempts to get to know him. At first. After perhaps one too many earnest and actual charged responses to actual self-destructive questions… he kinda thinks you're weird in the cool, smart kinda way! Just try keeping your head down for now, he'll see you later!
♢ He hates people seeing the cracks in his mask, but he wouldn't be calling you to vent from a dark, unused room if he was so adverse to it. He likes your honesty and he's happy he called you over anyone else: your stoic and almost non-reaction to his fracturing self-image over the phone does wonders. You want to know what's on his mind? Well…
♢ Learning each other's dislikes is like a walk in the park, especially with one like Cater Diamond. He will tell you what he doesn't like, and he expects to know what you dislike too! "Hi, my name is Cater, and what's your least favorite dinner food?" Joking, joking! He still likes that you share this with him and don't hold it over him, especially with what he had to deal with back home with food… please, just no more sweets…
♢ Cater upset isn't too rare, but the severity is usually the rare part. Miffed, disgruntled, perturbed? Happens often, especially if a spell goes haywire like those Mandrakes. Actually angry, seething, raging? He isn't that kinda guy who goes there often. He also can hit the middle of the road too, and it's sometimes the worst: because his eyes can go cold and he can have this fury like ice. But… well, he's never had to fix you with that glare, because you're always the initiator of separating for a breather. Cater is the silent brooderーand the silent stewer of angerーin Heartslybul, but he'll come around, I promise.
♢ Hold him accountable please, like you always do. Don't let him worm his way out or butter you up, please hold him accountable for any misgivings he had caused. His sister's never did it back when they were younger (leaving a not-so-small paranoia of broken promises), so he's going to make a big request of you too: you're going to be held accountable too. If you have a flaw that hurts or makes others uncomfortable, he's allowed to call you out on it. And if starts on anyone and you hear him out of line, please go ahead and hold him accountable. Deal, bestie?
♢ Being affirming of him does wonders too, he's a bit of a liar (but you can see what's the truth just by a bit of watching). Cater claims he's going to use this school to network and make the best in life, but his grades are neutral if not a little bad… well, he's not lazy like other's claim, but just not a bright star in academia. You can tell it's probably something personal, so you don't ask just yet: but you do keep an eye on him just in case he needs anything. You know he'll take a handout rather than an offer to help (even though he's emotionally smart enough to see right through you).
🫐 Deuce Spade
♤ Your so cool, how did he get a friend like you?! Deuce is a straightforward guy, so this is literally the easiest friendship anybody saw coming. It happened mostly because of mutual sympathy for each other's struggles, and how emotionally ready you both are. Please, stay his friend, he enjoys this!
♤ Share information with Deuce, it's how to be get started here. Deuce is a trusting and respectful guy, so he's going to spill his beans first and speak to you about his home life. And he spares no punches, not even for himself; he was an ass to other's, a bully to some, and a problem child for his mother… Please, share some words of sympathy or praise for going straight after that. Share your own experiences, don't let him hog the conversation! Apologies!
♤ He likes self care, he has no idea why. Self care was just this mystic and almost expensive word that made his younger brain swirl with ideas. But now? He knows it's just taking "Me Time" and just destressing however you can, and if a bit of money is spent there then meh. But his form of self care would be venting his frustrations verbally before just doing some grooming he might have missed out on (maybe use that cream Vil told him makes him look nice, or use the bath salts Cater praises)...
♤ Playing fair is paramount to talking and/or conflicting with Deuce. Deuce can get rather upset real fast, but he's not just going to jump to conclusions, he swears! Your fair point of view and cool head stopped him from at least a couple of headbutting incidents, and he values anything you tell him to calm him down. He doesn't care if you use big words sometimes, just try and not overload him while he's already in a bad mood/buzzing near physical violence (only on those that deserve it and won't listen)!
♤ You called him a "Good Boy" once and now he's just flabbergasted in the good way: he didn't think he needed praise but here he is. He's already gone through his rocky emotional phaseーwhen he was a bullyーand he thought he was emotionally maturing. Tell him it's not childish to like being praised for his work (it works on Sebek) and you'd gladly do it again because his work is genuine, and honestly good. He gets flustered from this, help him!
🍒 Ace Trappola
♡ Just starting a talk might be hard with him, as his first sentence to you was, "Hold on…" and then he walked away. You're most likely not the chasing type (and even if you are, he was rude about it) so you start to take off and decide to talk to him later. Next time you see him, he's actually surprised you're trying again to talk to him… and then he kinda apologizes for doing that, he was too stunned to chase after you after that.
♡ Listen to what he says carefully. He's both brutally honest and a natural liar, and being a liar is hard to shake even if he wants to. He called it "Youngest Sibling Survival Tactics #2" and told you not to mind it much: but that's up to you to decide. He is going to lie, but you can easily learn the signs of it like everyone else (you're not the best liar to people that know you, Ace).
♡ If you have something cool about you that matches with what he wants to learn (like basketball trucks, or fashion tips, or some such) then he'll totally show you his sleight of hand tricks! He likes trades to be fair (... Azul) and he'll tell you anything! He's not Floyd where he's absolutely captivated and tries things prematurely, he will listen and attempt with gusto.
♡ Whenever you're disappointed in him, don't judge him too harshly. Ace can cross a line just like anybody else, and if he reaches that threshold, tell him off. And don't make assumptions about what he meant, just use first person feelings to help it get across. "I didn't think you had it in you" or "I am disappointed", like that. (But he still might get defensive, so…)
♡ He's a younger brother and a son, so he's willing to talk about family with you. Just don't be too upset if he has a take on things from the baby sibling perspective. He also likes throwing shade at Trey for fun at how he acts about people younger than him, so have fun stopping him! … But he will if you aren't having fun.
♡ It's a process with Ace, just take your time. He's just like anybody else in this school: anxious of betrayal, and just learning how to do this or that. Help him with his classwork, help him cook something, help him with your opinion on clothes… anything to just show you are on his side. After what happened at Octavinelle, he'll never take friends for granted again!
Why was Ace so hard to write?? ｡:ﾟ(;´∩`;)ﾟ:｡
You Seem So Lonely (Are You Lonely?)
Read it also on AO3!
Summary: While using the darkhold to possess a variant's body, Wanda Maximoff meets you.
Relationship: Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Tags: Reader-Insert, Mental Health Issues, Redemption Arc, Angst With a Happy Ending
Chapters: One │ Two │ Three
The Scarlet Witch becomes aware that her plan has worked when she feels the distinct feeling of the coldness of the water hitting her warm skin.
She's holding an empty ice cream bowl in one hand, standing in front of the kitchen sink where a few dirty dishes are scattered around on the otherwise clean countertop, remnants of lunch spent together as a family.
Wanda blinks, testing out the feeling of possessing a body that exists in a universe that's not her own. Despite the distance, the body responds to her mind as if it were her own. It's easier to control it than she had expected, almost like her own.
She extends a pale hand to turn off the sink, reaching for a dishcloth that hangs from a hook attached to the wall, stopping to regard just how real the fabric feels against her flesh.
Her plan to go after Strange comes to mind, and Wanda is struck by the urgency of her plot. She needs to go now, or else she'll risk not reaching him fast enough to get the girl, a hero like Strange would find a way to stop her eventually if she wasn't quick.
(Quick, Wanda's heart tightens at the word. If Pietro were here, nothing would be able to stop her.)
She turns, catching a glimpse of her reflex on the bright silver of a toaster. It makes her stop in her tracks, analyzing the face she sees staring back at her more closely.
This version of her has brownish hair instead of the reddish shade Wanda had grown used to seeing every time she looked in the mirror.
She looks healthier too. It's weird to touch her cheeks and not find them hollow. It reminds her of the time spent at the Avenger's tower when Steve and Natasha would worry to death whether she was eating and sleeping well or not.
Worry to death, maybe that's something she should've done, just like they did.
What is possibly the fluffiest pair of slippers keeps her feet warm, and her upper body is wrapped by a cozy hoody made out of the softest cotton she's ever touched. The comfort is remarkably different from the feeling of leather clinging to her skin as she wore her Scarlet Witch uniform. It's something she gladly welcomes.
This, she decides, is what she had yearned for. Comfort, something she could only find in an average life, washing the dishes and dressing in stupidly soft clothes.
"Mom?" Her face whips around so quickly that a voice in her head chastises her for being so paranoid, and Wanda almost trips on her feet as she walks toward the known sound of her children's complaints. "Mom!" She hears it again, louder and even more annoyed.
She finds them both, her sweet angels, on the last step of the stairs.
Billy and Tommy look up toward an empty hall on the second floor of the house with identical expressions of aggravation. They turn to glance at her, at the very same time, upon hearing her loud steps approach them, and Wanda is overwhelmed by the uncontrollable desire to pull them both into her embrace.
So she does.
Billy furrows his eyebrows in a strangely familiar way, she can scarcely recognize from where she knows it so well.
Tommy laughs, loud and bright, clapping her back twice as if his mother's sudden need to embrace him was the funniest thing for him.
She hears footsteps coming down the stairs, her heart picking up at the thought that she might see Vision making their way toward his family, but, instead, what she hears is a woman's voice full of mocking sadness.
"Why have I not been invited to this group hug?"
Tommy raises his head with a grin, and Billy giggles in such an adorable way that Wanda can't help pulling them even closer, inhaling the smell of their shampoo that clings to their clean hair. She distinctively notices them waving their hands toward the voice in an inviting way before a warm body embraces her from behind.
It's scary just how right it feels.
Your hands reach forward, ruffling Tommy's hair and caressing Billy's cheek, receiving twin smiles in answer to the loving action. "So... mom?" Tommy dares say, and, for the first time, Wanda notices that he's referring to you.
Not her, though she can't find it in herself to be bothered by this fact.
A shiny wedding bang on your ring finger catches her eyes as you hum, patting down his hair. Wanda is sure that if she looked down at her hand now, she would find an identical piece adorning it.
"Can we go play outside?" Billy asks with wide eyes and a pout on his lips.
You hum again, seemingly considering their request very seriously. "If your mother lets you..."
They turn toward Wanda with big smiles, clinging to her shoulders as they prepare to launch on a series of "pleases" to convince her, and Wanda's laughter feels like something unknown to her own ears as she chuckles. How long had it been since she last smiled?
"Of course you can." She agrees, despite the desire to keep them here with her for a minute more.
Once her plan is successful, she'll get to keep them with her forever.
"Remember not to cross the street without looking to both sides, and don't go too far!" You scream just as the door bangs closed, the twin's voices already far away.
Wanda's back straightens once her children are gone, and she prepares to give you an excuse as to why she's about to leave the house, unsure why she cares to explain herself to you.
"Why are you so tense?" She whips around, finally looking at you. You grin at her, soft and so entertained by her straight posture.
"I've got somewhere to be." Wanda says, wincing at how severe her voice sounded as soon as your expression shifted from humor to one of worry.
Damn, why did she need to go for a mysterious villain answer?
"Wanda?" You frowned, grabbing a toy lego from the middle of the living room and putting it aside. Wanda pays attention to how the toy looks eerily like a lego version of Doctor Strange, it falls from its place as if it didn't matter at all. "Is something wrong?"
Your hand is warm as it touches her face, and Wanda's eyes fall shut at the sensation of warmth that spreads through her whole body.
She could stay here, her treacherous mind whispers.
She could stay, and she could wake up to the twins jumping on top of her on your shared bed. She could wake up with your hair tickling her nose, with your arms around her body, clinging to her back as if she would disappear if you didn't hold tight enough.
She could stay, and watch you cook breakfast in your pajamas, watch you kiss Billy's forehead, and help Tommy put on his backpack, watch your fingertips covered in glitter as you helped them with a school project, and hear you curse because you stepped on one of their toys.
She could stay, and laugh from her spot on the bed as she watched you complain about a neighbor or something else with a toothbrush in your mouth.
She could stay for endless moments kissing you everywhere, hearing you giggle when she caressed a ticklish spot and moan when she touched you in the exact way she knew would make you breathless.
Wanda could stay.
She wondered in just how many universes she loved you, and what changed to make her fall for you in this specific universe instead of someone else.
Did you exist in her universe? Was she too blind not to have found you already? Could it be possible for her to find you, to love you, and to have you love her back exactly where she was before?
But then, she wouldn't have Tommy and Billy there, not like she does here.
This universe, this version of you, this version of her, is what Wanda wants.
"Darling?" Wanda's senses come back to the sight of your suspicious expression. "You've been daydreaming a lot today, are you alright?"
Suspicion isn't okay, Wanda decides. She can't have you watching her like something is wrong, it's important to act the part.
So the witch lies to herself, pretending that all she's doing is acting the part as she steps closer, allowing her arms to embrace you.
Your hair smells like strawberries and is soft to the touch as she carefully threads her fingers through it. And Wanda attempts to hide the soft grin that makes its way to her mouth as you pull her toward you, hugging her closer.
"I need to talk to Strange," Wanda says, hoping to death that this earth's Strange happens to be her variant's friend. "I'll be back home later."
It seems to be a mistake, she was easily figuring out these days that she wasn't all that good of a liar.
You step away, keeping an arm's length between the two of you, and Wanda sighs once she notices her misstep. "Strange?" You tilt your head to the side, a habit you acquired from her. "Wanda, Doctor Strange is dead."
Wanda chooses to smile, nodding her head to your words, better lie about it so she could get it over with as soon as possible. "I'm sorry, I think I phrased that wrong." She shakes her head, laughing at herself as if she was going a bit crazy. "I need to talk to Strange's friend, what was his name again?"
Your eyes narrow in a distrustful way. "Mordo?"
"Exactly." Wanda simulates a loving grin, stepping closer to kiss your cheek, lingering close to the smell of strawberries that she hopes to never forget.
You allow her to go, and Wanda is almost to the door when she hears your voice one last time.
"My wife better return home tonight." She opens her mouth, blinking nervously as she figures out that she's been caught. "Or I'll figure out what Earth you're from, and there will be hell to pay."
Wisps of red magic dance around Wanda's finger, powerful and lethal.
She could turn around and take you down with a single gesture of her hand, get rid of someone that could ruin her plans just like she had done with many others on the way here.
Instead, the door slams behind her with the force of her magic.
And the Scarlet Witch follows through with her plans.
Their Dirty Secrets is amazing! I love it! ❤
Ya got any dirty secrets for our local himbo Diavolo?
Also, the mirror thing with Lucifer, and the collar with Satan... uwu
Thank you for the feast!
OwO senpai noticed me- ahem.
I was planning on writing some for the dateables soon, but I can definitely write Diavolo now... ;)
Warnings: noncon, somnophilia, memory play(?)
Diavolo is no stranger to pleasing himself, or taking a succubus or two....
However, he's found that as he got older, he no longer cared enough to indulge himself
That was of course, until he saw you in that tight little RAD uniform, skirt almost too short on you....
It didn't affect him much at first, but as the year went on and he got to know you more...
Well, he started thinking about you more and more... looking at pictures of you taken by the RAD newspaper, or pictures posted on Devilgram....
At first, this was enough for him. He was ok just longingly looking at you... but his body wanted more.
Soon, he was imagining himself cumming all over your face, D.D.D in hand as he pumps himself with the other. But even this wasn't enough, eventually. And this is when he seeks out Asmo.
Not even Barbatos knows whats going on. This is a secret between him and Asmo- one that Asmo is soon going to forget.
Asmo easily agrees to "hook" the prince up, using his magic to make you unbearably horny, while Diavolo ensures you'll be busy all day long helping him with various tasks...
The prince indulges in your aroused scent, and enjoys the teasing touches he can sneak while you're distracted.
As night falls, he lets you stay over at the castle- because suddenly you feel too exhausted to go back home. Diavolo makes sure you'll be sleeping for a long time- more like in a coma rather then sleep, and only he can wake you from it.
And with some lingerie that the prince had picked out (with help from Asmo), he uses his own magic to slip it on you, and he takes a few moments to appreciate your bare body, clad only in the quite revealing red and gold lingerie fit for his princess.
He can't help but admire you, his hands skimming over every inch of skin to memorize you completely, his fingers slipping past your soaked folds to memorize your insides as well.
Thanks to Asmo's magic, you're more then prepared to take him right off the bat- and Diavolo wastes no time sliding his cock deep within you, and ravaging you until he's pumped you full of seed multiple times over.
Oh, but thats not all. He can't help himself- he spurts load after load onto your body, covering you in thick, creamy cum. His cum. And oh, he couldn't be happier. He takes a few pics with his D.D.D before lovingly cleaning you up, and returning you to how you once were.
Of course, this is only the first time he takes you- there are a few... other times, where he invites you over to the castle and, oddly enough, a few hours of your time there are missing from your memories. Walking back home, you find your hips are sore and you feel oddly empty....
And, to top it all off, ever since you started regularly visiting the prince, occasionally you'll come home to find a box placed in the center of your bed. Opening it reveals beautiful, elegant, comfortable underwear- anything from bras to panties to full lingerie sets. You assume it's from Asmo, but why he was giving this to you in secret, you had no clue.... also, was it just you, or was all your old underwear starting to go missing?
Shhhh I'm having writer block so you get this as a compensation
reiner loves it when you sing in the shower
sometimes he lingers outside the cracked bathroom door, ear trained dutifully to catch your voice against the stream
he doesn't interrupt you though, because he knows you'd bashfully quiet down if he said anything
so he just listens, pretending to busy himself by refolding clean towels in the linen closet
reiner loves it when you do a giddy little dance as you eat
he brought home those super soft muffins you like from the bakery
you look so happy, propped up on the kitchen counter, swinging your legs and smiling as you munch away
he can't help but trap you between his arms there and kiss your nose
"rei--!" you giggle, and he melts inside
reiner loves when you fall asleep curled up on the couch
he warned you it was too late to start a movie -- he knew you were already on the brink of passing out when you insisted anyway
and there you are, nearly swimming in his t-shirt, hand pressed against your cheek, a little drool peeking out
he does what he always does after admiring your peacefulness for a moment and scoops you up into his arms
he's not sure how you always stay fast asleep, but his heart swells as he holds you and carries you to the bedroom
he tucks you into your side of the bed, brushing hair from your face, and kisses your forehead
reiner is so incredibly soft for you, and he loves it more than he'd admit to anyone else
If your such a good boy then? Sit.
PAIRINGS: Sub!heizou x Dom! female reader
Warnings and head ups: Smut, this is a new character,
YOUNG MINORS DON’T INTERACT - (18+)
You were sitting on your bed listening to any kind of music flapping your legs up and down on the bed, while watching top ten pranks you were scrolling until you notice something caught your eye the label said “being dom on my subby boyfriend” you smirk also grinning you stood up walking to your boyfriend room you open his door your eyes drags you too see your boyfriend heizou playing online video games with ayato and xiao, “babe.” he ignored you putting his headset on louder “i’m busy okay?” you pouted slowly coming closer sitting on his lap “I- babe?” you smiled at him while grinding your hips on him he starts sucking his lips holding in his moans “aww come
on I want to hear does whimpers” you tease you started grinding faster making him close to his climax but you stop “I- huh?” you push him on the bed still leaving his precious mic on “oh~ what a good boy? but you still need a punishment ima leave this mic on” his face lit up flaming “but t-they hear me!” “ If your such a good boy then? sit.” he face lit up in embarrassment he stood up and kneel, “now beg” he
face turned up he gulped feeling nervous in the background of the mic you could hear his friends “Go ahead” he face was white just pale He burted out ”oh- fuck me! i want it please!” Your face grin you shrugged “since my good boy ask me nicely” “i give him whats he ask” you bend down grabbing his cock it was so thick you lick his tip leaving small salvia’s “shit! fuck- more!~” his was so loud forgeting his friends
was listening he got your head and bob it down more, The feeling was almost reaching his climax you stop opening your mouth his cock twitch “ah mommy you st-stop” you gently push him on the bed putting his cock near your entrance “ah! oh y\n” you felt so full boucning on his cock “shit your feeling so good” he muttered you felt your climax ”shit! im going to cum” he gasped “cum with me and be a good boy” he gasped leaving him so sensitive “ thank you- “ you crash on his lips “next time don’t ignore me” he grabbed your hand smiling at you “Why dont we get something to eat” he was a bit shaking but he still could walk, “he still knows we can hear him” ayato whispers on the mic set “sh- it was a nice story”
(And yes they heard everything , but they never told him)
PICTURE CREDITS: @anantaru
WORD COUNT: 264,
Soak Your Troubles Away
Warnings: Explicit Content Ahead (18+ ONLY), Descriptions of blood, gore, and violence, Cursing
Word Count: 1604 words
Summary: After a rough day, your favorite hellhound with benefits knows exactly the incubus to make himself feel better
Request:hey love! it’s me again :) i loved the kitsune fic btw!! may i request an incubus mreader & male hellhound nsfw? — with them both dark & sinister in nature,, similar to the kitsune request. tyvm & love you! <3
You’re rubbing your brand new lotion onto your leg when Ravellos busts down your door, chest heaving and ready to yell. With a short glance you can see the typical gore and viscera decorating his hands, arms, and chest. Fresh streaks of blood run down his mouth, his lips pulled back in a snarl. You sigh and finish rubbing in your lotion, tying your robe to the side as you prepare for a rant.
You had been ready for a quiet night in, having tormented several depraved, horny, sinning bastards today, but you guess this will do as well.
“I swear to Lucifer, next time I’m given a survival expert to hunt for sport, I’m gonna shove a hot poker up Supervising’s asshole.” Rav rants, flicking his hands about and flicking blood over your good rug. “It took me three hours to catch the bastard, and two nightmare hallucinations to stop his squirming. Then, after all that, he used a makeshift machete and chopped of my fucking tail!”
You nod, clawed hands brushing against his lower back as you guide him to your bathroom. Rav doesn’t pause for a moment, the only sign he’s listening being the flick of his tall ears and the occasional swish of his tail. Crimson shines on his dark fur, making you glad you restocked your perfumed shampoo; You did not need your bathroom to reek of wet dog.
“The look of despair on his face after I grew it back instantly wasn’t even worth it. I was too busy trying to get all the burrs out of my hair.”
Your bathroom is large, the jacuzzi bath right in the center with a tall shower off in the corner. Red tile and black walls give off the atmosphere of sex dungeon mixed with a spa; Just how you like it.
Rav has the decency to throw his bloodied shirt into a hamper, loosening the bands of his leather pants as he saunters towards the shower. You quickly turn on the bath as Rav fully disrobes, still enough of a mongrel to shake out his dirty black hair. His back is damp with sweat, fur sticking out every which way. If it weren’t for his chiseled back muscles, nice ass and thick thighs, you’d have thrown him out in a heartbeat.
“Dumb motherfucker is lucky I killed him so quick. If I hadn’t ripped his head off, those shredded intestines would’ve made for a shitty regeneration. Good thing I’m so gene-“ You use his rant as a distraction, turning the water on it’s coldest setting before turning the faucet. The spray makes Rav jolt, interrupting his rant and snarling in your direction. You roll your eyes.
“Don’t be such a baby, it’s better for your muscles to jump into the cold first.” Rav huffs, pushing back wet strands of hair from his eyes. Pools of red water run down the shower drain, marbled lines decorating the black fur of his torso.
“We’re supposed to be the ones torturing, not being tortured ourselves.” You scoff again, handing him a loofa and stepping out of the shower. You let your gaze wander down his body as he scrubs himself clean, his ears so cutely laid flat against his head as he rubs in the shampoo. His tail twists, agitated from the cold, but it hardly distracts you from his delicious biceps, his pecs, his abs, nor his giant-
“Like what you see?” Rav simpers, grabbing his crotch and licking his lips. You just blow him a kiss.
“Maybe.” With a quick movement, you undo your robe and let it drop to the floor, tail flicking lazily back and forth. You keep eye contact as you step in the bath, Rav licking his lips. “After you’re done complaining and don’t smell like human organs anymore, maybe you can join me.” You lean against the rim of the bath, rubbing your neck in an exaggerated and erotic manner. “Y’know, like a good boy.”
Rav’s laugh is lascivious, perverted and sleazy in all the right ways. Soap bubbles up on his fur, running down his pelvis and thighs and drawing your gaze.
As the last of the shampoo falls into the drain, Rav gives a quick shake, water splashing against the shower glass. But Rav doesn’t take a moment to be cold, not before he hops right into the bath and lowers his body on top of yours. You stay relaxed in the tub, even with the hellhound pressing his hands on either side of your head, licking his chops as he looks down at you.
“Damn, you’re so fucking hot,” He simpers.
“I know.” In a quick reflex, you grab the back of Ravs neck and pull him into a searing kiss. His chest presses against yours while fingers run through his thick fur. The bath water shifts as the two of you grind, Rav’s tail jutting back and forth. Long claws dig into your thighs, running from your hip to your knee before pulling open your legs.
Hooking your legs behind his back, you push your body upwards and flip your position; Your hips lay snug on top of Rav’s hips as your legs find balance in the bath water. Two hard cocks press against one another, Rav detaching himself from your lips to whisper lewd comments.
“You miss this dick? Cause I’ve missed yours.” A sharp spanks against your butt. “This ass, too.”
You roll your eyes again, despite how much you're turned on. “Shut up, mutt. You talk too much.”
“Oh-oh, sassy.” Rav’s hand drags down your back, his claws catching on the supple skin. Tiny red streaks pepper the surface, just enough to bleed. The smell is intoxicating, a natural aphrodisiac for your demons. “Call me as many names as you want, whore, but I’m getting in that ass.”
Even when you grab the base of his cock, jerking up and down and angling it to your ass, Rav doesn’t lose that cocky smirk. You push your weight back onto your folded thighs and balance yourself by gripping onto Rav’s neck. He lets out a choked laugh, licking his chops again. The veins of his cock pulse with pleasure.
You’ve found many benefits from becoming an incubus, your natural lubricant being one of them. It doesn’t stop the burn of Rav’s girthy cock stretching you open, but definitely leads to less blood.
You both moan as Rav fully sheaths inside you, his balls pressed against your butt. You wiggle your hips, grazing his head against your prostate. You bite your lip and tighten your grip around Rav’s neck. Your other hand finds leverage in the fur of his chest, digging your nails into the thick hair.
With well practiced movements, you begin to bounce up and down on Rav’s cock, never looking away from his heated gaze, nor letting go of his neck. Rav just chuckles, thrusting his hips in tiny movements to match your pace.
The shocks of his cock hitting that pleasure spot inside of you leave you distracted, eyelids fluttering, and allow Rav to sneak his hand to your ass cheeks. He smacks the, both, the lewd sound echoing in the bathroom tile.
“F-fuck, feels so good, so tight for me. Ain’t that right, bitch?”
Your thumbs dig into Rav’s pulse as you push your weight against him, gritting your teeth. “Shut the hell up, you fucking mongrel. You should be so lucky to have this body to yourself.” You mutter with bated breath, your heart racing. Rav’s wicked laugh only makes you grind harder, twisting your hips and chasing your own pleasure.
One of Rav’s fingers draws up your back, pulling away with your blood decorating the tip. Even as you continue to choke him, he sucks on his fingers like a treat, grinning madness in his eyes. You seeth, throwing the full weight of your body on top of his as you throw your hips back with more fervor. You lose your grip on his neck, but the pulled-taut rubber band in your stomach takes priority. Your thighs shake more and more with each second. You both let our steamy breaths before melting into another kiss, drool trickling down your jaws.
Rav thrusts up into your ass, another bolt of electricity shooting through your spine as his dick plows you. You pull away with a whiny moan, throwing your head back. Your balls tighten as your body nears its peak, collapsing your head to rest in the crook of Rav’s neck. His purrs now rumble through your chest, growling as he kneads his claws into your ass.
Reaching orgasm, your eyes find brief focus on Rav’s jugular, his Adam’s Apple bobbing with every grunt. The crescendo of your orgasm gets closer and close, you can’t help yourself; Your fangs unsheath themselves as your bite into Rav’s neck, blood bursting into your jaw, the sweet flavor pushing you over the edge. Rav howls, a deep guttural howl, and explodes inside you.
Your bodies twitch, soaked in sweet smelling water and body fluids. Rav’s flaccid cock falls out of your asshole, his cum dribbling down your thighs. Your own semen decorates your and Rav’s stomach. A thumb brushes galant your bottom lip, smearing crimson across your jaw before licking at the salty skin. Rav exhales, savoring the flavor of his own blood.
You’ll have to drain and clean the tub tomorrow. Maybe you’ll get some small-time sinners to do it while you read a book. Either way, it’s a problem for the future; You’re content to stay here, listening to the sounds of screams and crackling hellfire.
Build a Home (Chapter 1)
Hello! Some of y’all were probably expecting the next instalment of my Crusher series (if you’re new, check out my pinned post), BUT I have come with Milf!Wanda content instead ;) I only post on AO3 but for anyone cautious, it’s completely free and you do not need to make an account to comment/leave kudos :) There’s a little preview followed by the link down below! Enjoy!
Series Summary : Wanda Maximoff has been your best friend since she transferred to your high school from Sokovia, timid and reserved until you climbed over her high walls. 16 years later and you're as close as ever; you with an average job living an average life, alone; her with the perfect life with her husband and twin boys. But when you come home from work to find her in tears, your days start to feel more than just average...
An average day in the life of Y/N. Waking up with a tired sigh, you slide off your bed and fall onto the yoga mat that you laid out the night before. Or rather, the mat you laid out a couple of months ago and thought it convenient to keep there. Who would have thought after years of the heavy lifting in your youth to then working an office job for 10 years would give you lower-back problems?
Your eyes remain closed more from exhaustion than meditation as you stretch, moving into different positions mechanically. With every crack of your bones, you let out a soft groan of relief until your eyes open to the morning sun shining through the large floor-to-ceiling window of your apartment. The curtains automatically drag up 30 minutes after your first alarm so you don’t get blinded by the light first thing in the morning.
“Morning, Loki.” You mumble as he brushes against your legs, nestling into your lap. Brushing a hand through his dark fur as he purrs, you reach over to your desk and grab your phone. Frowning at the lack of notifications from one particular person, you shake your head and shrug it off, letting Loki jump off your lap as you rise to your feet.
Last Man Alive Pt.18
(Dano!Riddler x Reader)
(Link to list of chapters)
Warnings: Edward is a yandere, Dark themes, Flashback, Theft, Ends with a flashback from Ed’s POV
Word Count: 2.3k
(Y/n)’s attention was ripped away from the window when one of the detectives approached her, holding up the wallet with two IDs of the Riddler. They both had a different photo of him looking at the camera awkwardly, but they both had different names. One said Edward Nashton and the other said Patrick Parker.
“Do you know which one is him?” The female detective asked. (Y/n) nodded, “He told me his name was Edward.” She said while pointing at the Nashton ID with a contemplating squint. The woman let her stare at the ID until she let out a gasp, her hand flying up to her mouth. “Oh my god.”
“What?” The woman asked. (Y/n) slapped a hand on her forehead in shock. ‘No. No, no, no, no.’ She mentally bombarded. “Oh my god. Edward Nashton. He works at KTMJ, a forensic accountant. I talked to him over the phone when I got scammed out of a lot of money a while back. Oh my god, I can’t fucking believe that was him.” She said, more agonizing stress freaking her out over this.
They talked before they even met.
Five years ago, (Y/n) paced the living room of the apartment she owned by herself. She hyperventilated in panic, her lips dragging down into a frown. She finally collapsed onto her couch next to her then boyfriend, (E/n), and began dialing the number of the office you’d go to track lost money. The phone rung only once before a voice came from the other end. “Hi, this is Jeff. How can I help you today?” A tired yet friendly voice said through the speakerphone that was held in (Y/n)’s shaking hand. “H-Hi. I-I-I think I go-got scammed out of half of both my savings and checking account. I-Is it possible to get it back?” She shakeningly asked, her utter panic killing her as (E/n) sat stiffly next her.
“Okay and what is your name?” “(Y/n) (L/n).” “Okay, (Y/n). So I’ll start by contacting the bank just in case it was there own error but for now I’m going to give you to my associate Ed Nashton and he’s going to ask you some questions. Alright?” (Y/n)’s hyperventilation slowed down, the man’s calmness comforting her, and she said an “ok”.
“Okay, sit tight, it might take a sec.” The man said before the line went silent. The phone made a clicking sound as a new voice was heard. “Miss (L/n)?” The voice said from the other end, lacking the comfortable confidence the first one had. “Yes, that’s me.” She confirmed.
He asked her a short series of questions that could be the answer to the scam. Like were there any websites she’d given her card info to, is it a shared card, does she have a habit of shopping while drinking, are there any debts she owed, etc.
“Jeff will keep in contact with you for updates. Have a nice day.” He said quickly through awkwardness before hanging up.
The female detective nodded and thanked her before walking away. (Y/n) continued to walk around the room as the cops and detectives talked behind her. His room was so cluttered with junk and papers but the thing that sickened her the most was a small coffee table in the corner.
The surface was filled with her own small items, some she didn’t even realize she was missing and some she’d been looking for. Jewelry, books, movies, trinkets, hair ties, toothbrush, perfume, an oversized shirt she used to sleep in, an empty plastic cup she’d get her coffee in, a menstrual pad in a plastic bag, and the underwear he stole on the night he first assaulted her.
She blankly stared at the small shrine, she was slowly finally becoming desensitized to the constant surprises Edward still had left up his sleeve. She sighed sadly, soaking in her miserable mentality. When would she catch a break?
Batman slowly walked up next to her while looking down at the book in his hands. (Y/n) turned to him when he reached her, him finally looking up. “You should see this.”
(Y/n) looked down at the journal Batman had in his hands, the Riddler’s writing scrawled across it. She gulped before she began to read beside him.
‘Friday, July 16th. My life has been a cruel riddle I could not solve, suffocating my mind, no escape. But then today, I found her. A woman. One exchange of words with her and I finally understood. My whole life has been preparing me for this. The moment when the unsolved puzzle of my life was completed.
I realized I will never be alone again, I was never meant to walk the earth alone. No one is. I was ignorant to think so lowly of love, for now it’s the reason to live. To live with my soulmate.
At first I thought meeting her was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity graced by her divinity, a blessing gifted to me out of pity. She was the first to pay that much attention to me, listen to me carefully, socialize with me passionately, treating me with the kindness I was deprived of all my life. It was no coincidence how we met. We were meant to meet. We were meant to be together. It was fate. An unavoidable destiny. There wasn’t a spark, there were fireworks.
Tuesday, July 20th. I know she felt what I felt. But she didn’t see what I saw or realize what I realized. She doesn’t know we’re soulmates because she was with another man. Human vultures populated her life. She was confused and blind. I knew I had to strike back against the vultures and expose their lies. If I want her to understand, really understand, I can’t just give her the answer. I have to reveal the sins of her close ones for her to finally see the truth. I know now what I must become for her’.
Batman turned the page to reveal the writing of a pure madman. Every inch of the page was littered in his writing, repeated inked lines overlapping with each other. He rambled the same line till the page was completely covered and the next page would be the same but with a different phrase.
He rambled about how in love with her he was and how perfect they were for each other. He rambled about how angry it made him when she hung out with other people and how disgusting it was to watch her boyfriend touch her. He rambled about how his life meant nothing without her and how any moment spent without her was the eye of true despair. He rambled. It was insane; his words, his gaze, his touch.
Everything about the Riddler was, to its very core, insane.
Batman handed the journal over to another detective as he walked over to another part of the room where rats scampered around in a cage. (Y/n) followed, feeling safest when next to him. He opened the cage and reached in, Gordon joining next to (Y/n) as he did so. He pulled out the infamous green card that (Y/n) hadn’t seen in awhile and a silver spatula of some kind.
Batman gave the tool to Gordon. The cops surrounded them. “Some kind of pry tool?” “Is it a chisel?” “It’s a murder weapon. He killed (B/n) (B/l) with it. The edge will match the floorboard impression in his living room.” Batman said, barely giving them a glance.
(Y/n) watched him open the green card that had the same ‘TO MY SOULMATE’ on the front. He pulled out the card and opened it, then showing it to (Y/n) and Gordon. It just read ‘My Confession’ with penned scribbles all around it.
“What’s he confessing to? He already told us he killed all three victims.” Gordon questioned. “This isn’t over.” Batman added, looking over to (Y/n), a sense of foreboding in his eyes.
(Y/n)’s face remained sad, she was almost simply just giving up. She felt so hopeless, she felt like she lost, like this dark, twisted game would never end. Who knew how far the Riddler had planned ahead, who knew how many steps ahead of them all he was.
“Oh, man. He’s been posting all kinds of shit online. He’s got, like, 500 followers. Real fringe types.” One of the detectives said, looking through a computer on the desk. “His final post was last night. Some video. Got a lot of views but it’s password protected.” “Can you get in?” Gordon asked. “Copying his drive now. Take some time, but we’ll get in.”
She walked over to see the video that was the latest upload, looking around Gordon with caution and curiosity. But before her eyes laid on the computer screen, the wall behind it caught her attention almost right away. Her eyes widened a bit over the sight of the wall. It was covered in more pictures of her, but some she noticed were stolen from her boyfriend’s physical photo album. Red and green writing was scribbled all over the place, familiar phrases of “She’s Mine”, “I Will Help You See”, “I Know The Real You”, and “Beloved”. Pictures of people she was close to like (B/n), (R/n), and even Bruce had their eyes scratched out with writing next to them as well like “I Will Expose Their Lies” and “Demons”.
Her heart cowered in her ribcage before her eyes fell down to the computer in shaken twitchiness. His last upload was titled, “Happily Ever After”. She had misgivings over that saying.
Gordon got a call from his phone and turned to pick it up, (Y/n) watching him with anxious worry. “Yeah.” He turned to her, the phone still pressed to his ear as he looked at her sadly. “Right.” He put his phone down, hanging up before walking up to her. “Riddler’s asking for you, at Arkham.”
(Y/n) subconsciously took a step back, trepidation and perturbation washing over her expression. “No. No, I don’t want to see him. I never want to see him again.” She took another step back from Gordon’s compassion. “Mr. Gordon, please don’t make me. I really, really don’t want to face him after all of this.” She motioned around the scary, cluttered room.
She took an additional step back, lightly bumping into Batman’s chest. She turned around towards him, her eyes begging. “Please, don’t make me have to see him again.” He looked down at her sadly. “I know you don’t want to, but he could reveal the next part of his plan to you, he’ll only talk for you. You could get more answers out of him.” She stayed silent. “I won’t make you do it, but talking to him could lead to avenging your loved ones, isn’t that your main goal?” Her eyes glanced to the floor, a nod shaking her head.
He added, “I’ll go with you.” That seemed to persuade her as she slowly looked up at him and nodded. “Okay, I’ll do it, I’ll talk to him.”
A teenage Edward was taking a stroll around town, hugging his jacket close to his form to rid of the shivers from the cold air. He liked using every ounce of freetime he got to take a walk, take a break from the orphanage. He only had a few more months until he turned 18 and be kicked out of the orphanage and forced to live life in society. He’d been planning what he’d do after he was released ever since he learned how to read, he was always much more ahead of all the other kids intelligence-wise.
He was walking past the public highschool, envy coursing through him as he always wanted to attend, when he saw two police cars parked out next to the front entrance. He stopped out of curiosity as a girl weakly walked out the front doors with the help of an older woman. The girl had a broken nose and a swollen black eye. Despite her severely damaged face, Edward had recognized her.
He was just taking another walk when she rammed her shoulder into his, giving enough force to make him fall to the ground. She yelled at him claiming he knocked into her when he was the one that tried to dodge her out of politeness. Her boyfriend, whom she was with, kicked him in the stomach yelling at him to “not touch his girl” and her calling him a pervert.
Over that memory, a pleasured smile spread across his face at the sight of karma proven on her beaten face. Another girl exited the building with a cop escorting her by the arm. She didn’t have any injuries other than having bruised and bloodied knuckles. She was yelling, “She framed me for the drugs to protect her boyfriend! He’s the one who has the drugs, and he’s racist too, might I add!”
Edward frowned over the fact that the one who gave that bitch what she deserved was to be punished. Why? She was serving justice! He watched as she got into the backseat of one of the cop cars and the other girl got into the other one.
He wished he could shake the framed girl's hand, personally thank her and tell her that she didn’t do anything wrong. But he just accepted the fact that he’d never see her again.
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Fights and Sweet Touches (Part 1)
A/N: Hey everybody, long time no see! As you can see, a drabble of mine has once again turned into a two parter! I hope to finish the second part soon, life allowing lol. This one is proving to be a douse, emotionally at least. If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment! I love to hear back from you guys!
Warning(s): Domestic argument, ANGST, hurt, mild sexual content, mentions of parental neglect and abuse, verbal assault, trauma, past demon attack mentioned, self-deprecating thoughts
To be a Demon Slayer, you must be ready to sacrifice everything to protect those who cannot protect themselves. What a well known fact this was to you, for you had not one but all four your spouses were a part of the Demon Slayer Corps., your husband being the Sound Hashira even. Tengen took his job very seriously, as did Suma, Hinatsuru, and Makio, enough that they were gone more often than not, exterminating some demon terrorizing the good people of Japan with style as he liked to say. You were proud to call them your spouses, heart always beaming with fond pride at hearing their stories on how they saved civilians and lower ranked demon slayers alike, and even more happy that they always returned home to you.
However, since your run-in with that village demon nearly nine months ago now, it had become harder for you to cope with their absence, to watch them leave from the gates whilst swallowing the bitter pill of reality that reminded you that it may be the last time you see them. Your fears increased with every departure, anxiety damn near suffocating you as you struggled to function, to find rhythm once again in your life even after all of this time. All you wanted was for them to come and stay, to have a peaceful civilian full of laughter and their bubbly personalities, knowing that all five of you were safe and sound within the wisteria walls of the estate.
These feelings seemed to have increased rapidly since Tanjiro, Nezuko, Zenitsu, and Inosuke stayed at your home, Nezuko lighting your inner desire once again to settle down and have a child of your own, much like Hikari first did. You were a month shy of your nineteenth birthday, the same age your mother became pregnant with your eldest siblings Tsuna and Tsunamaru, and a piece of you wanted the ability to mother a child that looked just like your husband with a headful of silver-white locks. Tengen had been quite adamant on not starting a family until he and your shared wives retired, believing it to be “undesirably flashy” to leave his children at home whilst being out and about slaughtering demons. It was honestly frustrating to you, having to be left at home while they ventured together and being denied the possibility of filling that loneliness with a wanted child simply because Tengen wished to wait till they all retired. When was that going to be though? It could be years before they decided to settle into civilian life, to no longer race across the countryside en-route to their next mission even though they dispatched a demon just hours before. So much of your life was on hold because of their occupation and it left you feeling upset and unsatisfied more days than not, especially when Hikari was unable to work alongside you throughout the day.
You let out a sigh of defeat as you finished mending a pair of Tengen’s pants, tying the knot with a bat of an eye and placing it to the side. It had been a righteously beautiful day outside, one you refused to spend inside wallowing in your feelings. Instead, you had gotten dressed and went to work, cleaning up your entire garden and more; you tended to the koi pond, Hinatsuru’s meditation garden, picked up and organized the training field, and tidied up your shared bedroom and craft room as well. To someone who knew very little of you, they would simply believe that you were an active person who chose to keep busy and make good use of their time and resources. However, anyone with any inkling of your personality and quirks knew that when stressed or upset, you clean, organized, and hurried about even after everything had been taken care of. Those were the days that all the kakushi and a majority of the staff steered clear of you, aside from those closest to you, they being Nao-san, Nana-san, and Kiki-san. Never did you snap but you were often either kurt or lost within the sea of your mind, reminiscing sweet memories or longing to make new ones with your spouses and the friends you had come to make since Tengen brought you home. Since Nezuko and Tanjiro’s meeting with the widely-dreaded Muzan Kibutsuji it seemed that demons were on the move, with all of the hashira constantly away from their estates nowadays. Your bi-weekly girls’ days with the Love and Insect hashiras, the Butterfly Girls, and your wives had become obsolete in the past few months, no one having the time to sit down over tea and homemade treats while talking simple gossip.
With your spouses’ gone, your sparse social time now non-existent, and the needling baby fever increasing, you felt quite out of sorts in matters possible. Your mood seemed to be worsening by the day and no matter what you or anyone else did to lift it, it only made everything worse. Nana-san and Kiki-san had attempted to whittle your feelings and thoughts from you, seeming to be worried about your increasingly troubling behavior and attitude and you would simply brush them away and seal up the cracks in the mask of cheerful indifference you wore nowadays.
Perched on the edge of the back engawa, you were doing your best to soothe your sad, heavy thoughts by busying yourself with clothes that needed mending, specifically Tengen’s uniform at the moment. Gliding the needle to and fro without a word, you watched as your mending gradually came to fruition, having been working on this particularly nasty gash on the left pant leg for nearly an hour now. You had been tempted to scrap the bottoms altogether, with the gash being so large, but you had ultimately decided against it and gotten to work. Much to your annoyance, you had gotten a late start to your day, waking well past the sunrise, and it felt as if you were behind on everything since you roused from your heavy slumber. Today also was a bit hard to swallow solely due to the fact that it had been nearly three weeks since you last saw any of your spouses, Makio having left to assist Tengen, Hinatsuru, and Suma who had already taken off to the east for yet another mission. That meant much of your downtime had been spent alone and longing for at least one of their attentions’, damn near crying as you laid alone underneath your shared gigantic comforter in a bed most definitely not made from a singular individual.
A soft breeze danced by your sitting form as you successfully tied the finishing knot, promptly sticking the needle into the pin cushion resting at your left side and adding your current spool of thread to the small basket beside it. Once that was finished, you lifted the trousers from where they laid in your lap, taking your handiwork in with a calculating gaze to ensure you had done well.
“Your work is remarkable as ever, spirit flower.”
A squeak of surprise left your lips as you jumped to your feet, eyes growing wide at the sight of your husband’s hulking figure standing just a few feet from your current position, a fond smirk sitting on his sculpted face.
“Tengen, you scared me!” Swatting at the man in retribution, you found your wrist being caught without a speck of effort, a pout sitting on your painted lips as a smirk sat on Tengen’s.
The Sound Hashira pulled your wrist towards his large frame, causing your own body to fall into his own, his face only inches away from your own. “My apologies, my sweet one, but I just couldn’t resist myself. Your reactions are always a spectacle to behold!”
Huffing in indignation, you turned your face from the man, “You’re just lucky I finished the stitching of your trousers or I could have pricked myself!”
“I believe someone of your prestigious pedigree could manage to avoid such an unflashy incident, spirit flower,” Calloused fingers came to gently take hold of your chin, lovingly guide your face to once again gaze at Tengen’s handsome one, fond adoration deep as the ocean present in his hypnotizing pools of cerise. “You are stunning as ever, my love, just as any wife of mine could be. I can only hope you haven’t worked yourself too hard in my absence, hmm?”
It was well-known to everyone who knew of your existence that neither Tengen or the girls were overly pleased with how hard you worked yourself sometimes, the four of them often arguing for you to rest more and allow the staff to handle estate matters. Such protective behavior increased following your attack but you had simply thanked them for expressing their concerns and went about your typical business. Your response to their objections was something that still proved to be a sore subject that was rarely broached in hopes of avoiding an ultimate conflict between the five of you. However, it seemed that Tengen was now willing to open Pandora’s Box.
You chose to humor him instead of addressing the jab he had just thrown, playfully rolling your eyes with a chuckle, moving to touch the tip of his nose with your own. “I minded my limits, Tengen. You don’t need to worry so much, love.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to agree to disagree, spirit flower,” Head dipping down to your neck, Tengen’s teeth playfully biting at the flesh below your well-sculpted jaw, enticing a wave of warm pleasure to thrum within your thighs.
A gasp of your husband’s name escaped your name at the feeling, body melting willingly into his chest as your head flew backwards, allowing the shinobi full access to your neck, something Tengen wasted no time in taking advantage of.
Teeth nipping at the sweet spot between your shoulder and neck, Tengen’s chest rumbled with want. “Such a beautiful image of exquisiteness you are, spirit flower. Been fantasizing about you since my departure, being to taste your gorgeous body on my tongue, to feel you like this.”
“What a good girl you are.” His right hand came to seductively fondle your left breast, his mouth coming to rest at the shell of your ear whilst pleasured whimpers escaped your muffled lips. “Show your daddy how good you are, spirit flower, let me hear your beautiful symphony of wantonness.”
“Hnn, Tengen, please!”
You moved to press your lips against the man’s very own, tongues wrestling for dominance which the hashira ultimately obtained, adjusting your bodies so your hips came to straddle him from where he laid on the engawa. His member met your core deliciously, inciting a high pitched moan from your lips when he grounded it against your pelvis just right.
Another moan escaped you as you pulled your lips away, voice shaking with pleasure as the man returned his attention to your neck. “Want you, Tengen, want your baby!”
What had been an intense fire of lustful pleasure seemed to dwindle down to a mere spark in just a second, Tengen freezing beneath you and in turn halting his ministrations on your neck.
“What did you just say?”
Not even noticing what you had said in your lust-drunken state, you looked to your husband in worry. “Tengen, what is it?”
“What did you say?” The air grew tense with his question, your walls instantly rising in possible need of defense when the man refused to make eye contact with you.
Sitting up, you forced your urges from the forefront of your mind and dug within the rich earth of your subconscious for whatever Tengen could be suggesting and it was in that moment that realization hit you like a kunai to the heart. You froze from your place atop your husband, mouth hanging wide in horror that you had let something so damning escape your lips-!
“I-it was nothing, Tengen, just some foreplay, that’s all!” Your veins froze at seeing your husband your husband unable to look at you, his face bearing not even a shred of any emotion, something that only occurred when the man was incredibly disturbed. “Tengen?”
His hands came to grasp your waist in a way you could not describe as harshly or softly, an even medium of urgency present in his movements as he set you to the side without a word. “Tengen please, I-!”
Your words fell short at seeing the usually exuberant man enter the house without a word, never turning to look at your messily dressed person, tears pricking at the edges of your (e/c) irises, desperation slamming against the bars of your ribcage.
Scrambling to your feet, you fervently raced to stop the man with an outstretched hand, your fingers coming to wrap around his left wrist in anxious despair. “Tengen wait! Just let me explain-!”
“You don’t need to explain anything.”
Time seemed to come to a halt around you, your gaze never leaving Tengen’s rigid body, internally screaming for him to turn around, to just give you damn moment to try to mend the rift-! Much to your relief, the man slowly turned to face you, but the moment his fuchsia orbs met yours you knew there was nothing you could do.
“I understand that remaining home alone without myself or our wives can grow lonesome, Y/N. The life you presently live is not one I wish to provide you in the slightest, so cold and deplorable.” He ignored your attempts to object, continuing forward with raging bitterness on his tongue. “But it frustrates me that you dare risk bringing a child, one of our flesh and blood into this demon-infested world, simply to quell your loneliness! You have seen what the world has to offer individuals incapable of defending themselves like yourself! It is already a constant burden on my shoulders to keep innocent civilians safe, let alone keep you out of trouble when you continually disregard my orders! I am sorry your waste of a father gave you to me as payment, that I cannot provide the stability and family you desperately crave! Perhaps I should have left you to a husband that could satisfy your wants since it seems I nor Hinatsuru, Makio, or Suma aren’t enough for you!”
The silence that followed his violent was deafening. Tears cascaded down the plains of your (s/c) cheeks in a downpour, shaking hands clutched tightly to your chest as you found your world crumbling beneath your feet. This is what your husband truly thought of you, a person so egotistical and shallow that they would only care about themselves and no one else? That you were so problematic that Tengen had pondered returning you to the man who neglected and abused you for years, the very same man he swore to kill if he were ever to see him again? Were you selfish for being lonely, for wanting a child that possessed Tengen’s silvery locks and your (e/c) eyes, for dreaming of a day where your spouses’ came home permanently with demons eradicated? Did the girls view you in the same light?
Tengen was lightly panting from his rant as you simply stared at him, unable to look away from the man you loved, the one who doted on you and your wives without a second thought. The same man that loved you supposedly though it seemed he simply tolerated you, seeing how much of a burden you were to him and his wives. He was already so tense from his work, body weighed down by countless responsibilities and guilt-ridden thoughts, the shinobi didn’t need you adding to the fire nipping at his heels.
Quiet as a mouse, you stepped away, curling into yourself in an attempt to get away from the Sound Hashira. “I am sorry to have been such a burden to you, Tengen-sama. It was never my intention to cause you nor your wives so much grief. I-I’ll ensure my things are packed and ready for transport by sundown, so as to not add to your building responsibilities, my lord.”
You slipped past the man before he could utter another word, hurrying inside without abandon and down the hall to your designated craft room. The door was urgently flung open and the moment it was eased closed, and your body was bathed within darkness, emotion heavy sobs threatened to pour from your lips like a waterfall, unable to be contained. Just one slip up had cost you everything: your husband, your wives, your home, your heart. Why could you just not keep your mouth shut?!
Unable to answer the question on the tip of your tongue, you quietly padded over to the closet and slid the door aside, revealing the item you never thought you would need again. The leather of the travel bag was coated in thick dust, testifying how long it had been since you had need of it, it having been three years since you arrived at the Uzui Estate with it in hand. How terrified you had been, so scared to upset your new husband, to do something wrong that would enact his wrath just as it always did your father’s, and you had finally done just that.
Your hands moved without thought, your consciousness elsewhere as you packed only the essentials, not wanting to weigh down your bag too much in case the journey ahead of you was long and arduous. By the time you completed the task at hand, the sun had come to sit in the center of the sky, signifying that it was now noon, which meant you had plenty of time to leave and seek shelter before the sun set.
Taking your travel bag in hand, you stood to your feet and exited the room as quietly as possible, sliding it shut behind issue. No one came across your path as you drifted silently down the estate halls and out the front door, the only sound being the soft chatter emanating from kitchen at the end of the back hallway. Your heart slammed aggressively within its prison as you traveled down the stone path with wet cheeks, never looking back at the life you were leaving behind. All you could do upon slipping out the front gate and onto the main road was that Makio, Suma, and Hinatsuru would forgive you for leaving without saying goodbye one last time. Where you were going, you had no idea. However, you did know that you could no longer cause the loves of your life so much anguish, and with that in mind, you began your trek into the unknown with a broken heart and a shattered marriage in tow.
Love you guys! Comments, reblogs, etc. always appreciated!
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader
Warnings: mean!ceo!wanda, bodyguard!reader, mentions of alcohol & drinking
Anon requested: mean!ceo!wanda x bodyguard!reader where Wanda has a bad day at the office and kinda treats reader more like her PA. Reader eventually gets fed up and angrily tells her that they are her bodyguard and not her assistant, but they immediately regret it when they see Wanda’s face. :)
A/N: another of my shorty‘s about ceo!wanda, which I love pretty much. Also my requests are open, feel free to drop me anything or just to talk <3
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“Y/n, make sure my coffee is on my table in the next five minutes, will you?”
Your blood started to boil after another task your Boss Miss Maximoff had for you today. Sure, she was your boss, but you weren’t her PA, but her Bodyguard. You had to make sure to keep her safe. So you let yourself been treated like a Personal Asisstant the whole day long.
Wanda instead was being the full-time businesswoman she was and practically ignored you, instead of having another task for you do to. Since her Personal assistant was sick at home she didn‘t even bother to transfer her tasks to you. Maybe she was just delusional for forgetting that you were not her PA. But she had so much to do and needed the help, not that this was an excuse.
While everyone entered the conference Room, you made sure to get the Coffee for Wanda in time. Just right before the Meeting started you slipped through the glass doors and placed the coffee in front of your boss.
„Was about time you‘d show up, Y/n“ your boss snapped at you and waved her hand at you, probably to say you should leave now. What was that? You were her Bodyguard, not her Personal Assistant. Not to upset her you did as you were told and left the conference room.
You followed the Redhead with big steps and closed the door behind you, as you entered her office. You were greeted with a sight of disgust on her face, while she was holding the Cup of Coffee you got her this morning. „Where did you get that Coffee Y/N?“ she asked but before you could answer, she raised her hand. „I don‘t want to hear it, make sure to get me a pumpkin spice with oat-milk the next time, will you?“
You clenched your fists together, closing your eyes before you opened your mouth.
„Enough of this Bullshit, Wanda! I am not your fucking PA you can boss around one day! I‘m your Bodyguard!“
The moment those words left your mouth, you wanted to take them back. You had just yelled at your boss and for the love of lesbian Jesus, you prayed that she had mercy with you.
„What did you just say?“ Wanda asked, placing the cup on her table, while she rounded it, he eyes not leaving you. You gulped, trying to not show how nervous you were.
„Miss Maximoff I-,“
„Quiet,“ she demanded while entering your personal space by placing her hands under you chin. Her eyes stared into yours and she bit her up with a smirk.
„I‘m going to teach you a lesson so you will remember, never to yell at me again. Understood, darling?“ you nodded your head, unable to speak since her voice was hoarse and dropping with her Sokovian accent.
Her hand slowly opened your tie, pulling you close to her and suddenly you knew she wouldn‘t have mercy with you.