#V-Task Academy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wireddless · 2 years ago

Text

Addict

pairing: Coriolanus Snow/Reader

cw: 17+ hate. fucking. dubcon, possessive behavior, corio is emotionally abusive, vaguely implied Plinth reader, p in v, unprotected sex, nsfw below the cut,

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i just know hes so hung you guys i want him so bad

Living in the shadow of Lucy Gray was never an easy feat. That’s all she was after the erasure; a shadow, soon to be only a whisper on the sleeping breath of Coriolanus. The closest he could ever feel to real love was with the District 12 songbird, and had she been more than just a district animal, a member of the Capitol, there was no doubt in your mind he would have married her instead.

Your days at the academy, a few years his inferior, were spent in the naive mindset that he was fully capable of love. However, the only true love he would ever feel was towards the power in his cold-handed grasp. After your graduation, you continued living with your family, their prized figurehead of poise and beauty, until they managed to propose your hand to him, only a year or so before he became president.

Coriolanus, living on top of his family’s hidden debt and poverty, accepted nearly immediately, driven by the thought of the millions that came with your name. Your family, so charmed by the icy man, was manipulated into paying for the lavish ceremony. A Capitol wedding was a spectacle to behold, a sea of colored heads and garments, textiles in unique patterns decorating the spectators in a myriad of colors. An insipid eye-sore, in his opinion.

And there you were, the pale lavender of your dress cascading down your body like the drapes that covered a window in a lonely mansion, baby fat gone. The bright light in your eyes that has now long-since faded, the happy expression you held, truly believing the facade he had put on to convince your family that he was a perfect match, it all fueled a fire of satisfaction in his psyche. He remembered the young girl from their studious days, the sneaky glances shot his way from a face framed by baby fat, it was so easy to take advantage of a schoolgirl crush, to charm his way right into your heart. He’d never go hungry again, and he could finally focus solely on his rise to power.

Or so he thought. When you managed to pick his intentions apart and discovered the cunning and manipulative nature of the man, you became defiant, fucking petulant. Your once tender and loving gaze, seeking to nurture and care for him, hardened like the calcium deposits on the well pumps in the poorer districts of Panem. He heard in passing from the workers of the house about your violent fits of tears late at night. It wasn’t like he cared, hell, the idea of your reddened face damp with tears and snot amused him to no end. But fuck if it didn’t annoy him when Tigris became your closest friend and confidant.

Coriolanus kept you locked away in the golden cage of his home, not permitting the men of his staff to go near you, forcing you to discuss with him the simplest task of visiting your own family. You were still the key to his now inherited wealth, a prize that he had won with cunning and malicious tactics, and the thought of you straying into the arms of another man, who could take you, who could take even a bit of the control he held, it infuriated him to no end.

It took almost a year for you to realize that without your family, he was completely broke, and it took almost two to realize he never once held even a glimmer of fondness towards you, that he was using you. Tigris, who had spoken to you during her regular visits, had become the arms you fell into when the agony of your situation first befell you. Her hands wrapped around your body as she shushed and hummed quietly were a solace to you as the pain dawned on you. Three years after your marriage, you would speak in hushed tones over cooling tea, not bothering to hide your glare when Coriolanus bothered joining. He was no longer the subject matter of your conversations with Tigris, instead discussing gossip that had spread through the yammering mouths of Capitol citizens, and the newest trends to pass around them. She had become your dearest friend, one he couldn’t find a valid reason to hide you from. Though he never would admit while his heart was still beating, despite your shared animosity, you were still his favorite accessory.

The Reaping ceremonies for the next annual Hunger Games would begin soon, which became a sensitive topic between you and Coriolanus. It was no secret to you who Lucy Gray Baird had been, who she had been to him. What the hunger games meant to him. You resented her. Not for the place she held near his heart, but for managing to escape him before he had caged her.

The fire of your arguments was always sparked by her name, the tinder and fuel having already been prepared by the years of building resentment. Almost always in his office, your hands would shove him back as he rapidly approached you after you provoked him with harsh and unforgiving words, only fanning the flame of hatred he felt towards you. Then he would corner you, your back against the wall as one hand found your neck and the other found your hair, his fingernails digging at your scalp. His minty breath falling out of his mouth in heavy gasps as he fought the urge to kill you right there. You made him feel as though he was an animal from the districts, dirty and foaming at the mouth. And he hated that.

“You know I would never harm you.” He’d always reassure you when his grip on your throat finally loosened, his eyes taking in the way you would suck in air he had prevented from reaching your lungs. Coriolanus considered what little he allowed you, even the air you breathed, a favor. He thought himself generous, benevolent even. He wasn’t of course, and you were always quick to point that out.

Today's argument was only different in setting, within the walls of your shared bedroom rather than his office. You had shoved him, predictable, and turned to storm away, wanting to find a guest room to sleep in instead. But before you could reach the door, his hand had yanked you by your hair back towards him before nearly throwing you on the bed. When you sat up to scramble away, he shoved you back down by your shoulders and crawled on top of you, effectively pinning you to the mattress, an echo of your frequent taunts. It was rare that you two would actually be in such a position, as neither of you particularly craved intimacy with one-another, yet the way one hand slid up your negligee and gripped the curve of your thigh conveyed a much different message tonight.

“I just wish you’d shut up for once, you know that?” He growled. Coriolanus Snow was an aggressive lover. He put all his weight on his forearm strung across your chest to keep you pinned down as his fingers left their place on your thigh and slid up to the junction of your legs, cupping your heat rather aggressively before shoving them aside and sliding his fingers over your folds to find the sensitive and rather neglected bundle of nerves. You could hardly hide the shudder that overcame you as you responded.

“Fuck you!” You spat at him, writhing under his touch. Your head fell back on the luxurious sheets and you bit back a moan as he swirled his fingers in a circular motion over your clit, stirring the lust you had repressed to life. How he loved to see your eyes rolling back into your skull as you fought surrendering to his ministrations. The edges of his mouth lifted in a smug little smirk when your arousal became more evident, making your cunt slick and pliable.

Oh, how he adored to see his poor, neglected wife fall victim to her own human nature. It made him want to consume you whole, like you were a treat he got all to himself. Coriolanus’s mouth fell to your collarbone and his teeth scraped over the thin skin as he slipped his middle finger inside your sopping hole, earning an earnest mewl from your normally argumentative lips. He bit down rather hard at the junction of your neck and shoulder as he slowly, teasingly pumped his finger in and out. This would be easier than he thought.

He tilted his head back up to take in the sight of your demeanor flickering to something more vulnerable, before taking your mouth with his. He kissed you like you provided the air he needed to breathe, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate. You’d be a fool to say you didn’t still crave him after the years of strained marriage. His teeth clashed with yours as you both attempted to deepen the kiss. When he pushed another finger inside of you, hooking them and speeding up, your mouth fell open with a shaky moan, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

When your mother described to you what sex was like, she explained it like an intimate dance, where two souls would merge with love and passion. But it was never like that between the two of you. It was always a battle, aggressive and antagonistic as one of you sought to take something from the other. For Coriolanus, it was a display of his authority and control. His fingers quickened in pace and your hips bucked up into his hand, searching for more friction that would aid in your release. And he was benevolent wasn’t he? Who would he be to deny such a rare and primal pleasure? His fingers continued their attack on the spongy roof of your walls, pushing you closer and closer until your hand tore at the skin of his back with the intensity of your orgasm. Still seeing stars, he pulled his lips from yours and hovered them over your ear, his cheek brushing against yours, damp with tears.

“See how easy everything can be when you just stop resisting me at every turn?” You opened your mouth to respond, to bite back when the arm that pinned you down quickly shifted so his hand could cup over your mouth. He loved shutting you up. His silent voice hissed in your ear with a lingering promise. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

So focused on his words and hot breath on your ear, you almost didn’t notice when he pulled his fingers from inside you to tug down your panties, discarding them somewhere behind him before fumbling with the breeches he slept in, the cold air of the room hitting his stiff cock. He brought that same hand up before him, spitting in it and spreading the wetness of his saliva over his hardened length. Barely giving you a second to process all that was happening, he pressed himself inside of you, his eyes squeezing shut and his brow furrowing as your tight, wet heat engulfed him entirely.

Having not been intimate with him in so long, it was like he was splitting you open, and you cried out with pleasure into his hand, your own lashes pressing together as you took his total length. Coriolanus didn’t remain still for long, and his hips soon began setting a bruising pace, his balls slapping against your ass as he fought the urge to moan himself, not wanting to appear any less in control than he was. Your muffled gasps spurred him on, practically driving him mad as he pummeled into you. The volume difference when he removed his hand from your mouth and forearm from your chest was quite noticeable, and his fingers wove into your hair once more, holding your head back against the bed as he swallowed your moans with his mouth.

The stinging pain of your nails in the skin of his back when they flung around him was dulled by the sheer thrill he felt taking you like this. The hand that coaxed your orgasm out of you found its way to your thigh again, pushing it up over your torso to rest on your shoulder, allowing him to thrust deeper inside of you as his fingers dug into the hot and tender skin. You nearly screamed into his mouth from the change in sensation as his hips came flush with yours over and over again. For a brief moment, he pulled away from the kiss to bite and suck at the skin of your neck, letting you sing out unmuted by his hand, as he imagined his songbird would so many years ago.

Coriolanus hated you. He hated almost everything about you. He resented you the way you resented him, but he was still addicted to you. Addicted to the control you allowed him as he fucked you stupid, to the way your pitful moans were brought about by him, to the dumb fucking look on your face as your body managed to make his hips stutter and falter as he came inside you with a low moan. He didn’t care about pulling out. You were his wife, a state figurehead, it was part of the job description to give birth to his children. Maybe getting you pregnant would even do him the favor of shutting you up. He didn’t bother helping you clean up as you readjusted your nightgown, instead opting to wipe the sweat from his brow and tuck himself back in the satin pants he intended on sleeping in.

Coriolanus Snow was not capable of real love. All those close enough to him were well-aware of that fact, including you. But when he crawled into the bed and pulled you, still breathless and trembling, up next to him, when he tucked your head into his chest in a possessive manner, your hands pressed against his heated chest, when he fell asleep holding you like you’d run away too, you momentarily convinced yourself he might have been able to love.

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beeschmee · 4 months ago

Text

all part of the colonel's plan

⊹ ࣪ ˖ word count: 7.5k

⊹ ࣪ ˖ p a i r i ng: farspace fleet colonel caleb x mc

⊹ ࣪ ˖ summary: your mission was simple: sneak into skyhaven and escape with the final aether core fragment, right under the farspace fleet's nose. you weren't prepared to fall right into a trap created by the fleet's new colonel.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ t a g s: mdni, explicit sexual content, fem! reader, jealous! caleb, unprotected sex, light bondage, dry humping, orgasm denial, inappropriate use of evol, biting, pet names, cunnilingus, p in v, breeding, light praise

⊹ ࣪ ˖ n o t e: hii guys! the brainrot for this man is unreal, and i just needed to write something, so i hope you enjoy~ not proofread so enjoy the chaos! thanks for reading 𖹭 ao3. banner: me. dividers: cred

When you accepted the mission to search for a lead on the aether core, you hadn’t expected it to be easy. Skyhaven was new territory for you and your information on the Farspace Fleet was few and far in-between. Yet, when you ran into that frazzled cadet, it was like candy falling into your lap.

Her uniform was snug against your body as you flattened out any wrinkles that appeared during the change. The girl barely could barely thank you before darting off into an alley. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. You saw your fair share of scared recruits during your time in the academy.

Placing the uniform cap on your head, you take a deep breath before heading towards the crime scene tape on the other side of the street. The smell of ash and burning wood fill your nostrils as you get closer to the decimated property. A similar memory flashes in your mind, threatening to pull you back below its depth, but you push forward. Now cannot be the time to falter.

You stop in front of a commanding officer and salute them, waiting for their nod before ducking under the tape. The breath you were holding loosens from your lungs as you approach the remains of the house in front of you. You refuse to let your eyes linger on the charred front patio, pulling your cap further down your head to block your view of it as you pass.

Focusing on the task at hand, you head towards the backyard. Near the pool, you can sense something pulling you to the bushes. The feeling is faint but unmistakable.

You nod to fellow cadets and officers as you pass. The air is filled with chatter and commands thrown around, causing further chaos, as the fleet is trying to balance an investigation and the return of their Colonel at the same time. The distraction is much appreciated.

You crouch before the bushes, reaching into the vines to search for the presence pulling you in. Thorns scrape against the exposed flesh of your wrist, drawing tiny pinpoints of blood to the surface. You wince as you lean further in, grasping at air. The further you look for this presence, the less you feel it. A frustrated sigh escapes from your lips.

“Is there a problem, Cadet?” A masculine voice speaks up behind you.

You jolt to your feet, ignoring the pain of the thorns trying to hold onto you. The man in front of you is older, probably in his late 40s, and is looking at you with all the contempt in the world.

“No, sir.” You shake your head, then gesture to the bush behind you. “I was looking for any additional evidence that may have been blown back by the explosion.”

The man doesn’t even blink as he stares down at you. You bite your tongue to stop you from rambling off useless lies. He doesn’t trust you, that much you can tell. Yet, he simply nods his head after a few more seconds of silence.

“Carry on, Cadet. This area needs to be cleared within the hour. It’s set to rain soon.”

You swiftly nod your head, holding onto the cap so it doesn’t fly off. The officer scoffs at the notion and walks away, immediately yelling similar orders to the other officials by the house. Once you feel comfortable that he won’t turn back around, you continue your search amongst the foliage. The presence from before is faint, almost nonexistent, and the fear of failure starts to creep along the edges of your mind.

Bending your knees into a squat, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Even if the aether core isn’t here, it’s close by. It has to be.

Opening your eyes, you reach your hand out to part the branches to look further into the bushes. You’re leaning forward to examine the area when a blunt force slams into the back of your head. The air rushes from your lungs and a ringing drills into your ears before darkness takes over.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Memories of gentle laughter and playful fighting war against the sounds of crashing waves as you wave in and out of consciousness. The world feels as though it is spinning. Your head is splitting apart, pain rippling from the back of your skull to your temples. As you come to, your head refuses to lift up, the muscles in your neck sore and locked in place.

It takes an unreasonable amount of strength to pry your eyes open. Even with the little amount of light in the room, you can’t help but squint against the pain. Everything is blurry no matter how much you blink. You try to reach up and rub your eyes, but your hands won’t move. They can’t move.

You’re cuffed to the chair you’re in.

Panic quickly starts to creep in as you take in your situation. You wiggle your feet, only to find them just as restrained as your hands. Pulling your hands against the metal band holding you down, you flinch at the persistent stinging from the cuts on your wrist. A whimper escapes through your clenched teeth as your wrist jams against the restraint, unable to squeeze through.

Somewhere behind the chair, you hear a door open. Your body stiffens as the realization of your situation sets in. You’re trapped.

“I’d be careful. You don’t want to break those slender wrists, would you?” A voice from behind you asks.

In your semi-conscious state, something about that voice prickles the hairs on the back of your neck. Despite the person’s warning, you continue struggling against the metal bands, trying to figure out a trick to get out. Heavy footsteps echo throughout the dark room, leisurely approaching you.

“Persistent as always,” the voice mutters, your ears barely catching the words.

One more useless tug and you resign from the meaningless action. You’re thoroughly stuck. It doesn’t help that your head feels like a ton of bricks and then some. The tension of your position is surely causing knots to form all along your shoulder and back.

The person takes another 10 steps, you count. There’s silence for a long moment and then the sound of a heavy fabric bristling. The feeling of warm air on the side of your cheek causes you to flinch, jerking away from the sudden sensation. They let out a seemingly exasperated sigh before the warmth leaves you, their body pulling back.

“I’d say that I’m surprised to find a traitor in our midst.” The voice states louder. “But, I made it so easy for you. I’m almost disappointed by how easy you fell for my trap. I mean, come on. Wasn’t that incident almost too familiar?”

The ringing in your ear fades away as you focus on the voice now positioned in front of you. A voice that has your heart lurching into your throat, threatening to spill out. It can’t be.

The footsteps resume and you listen to how they reposition behind you. Their warmth radiates on your back. They’re too close.

Suddenly, two leathered hands run over your shoulder toward your neck. You try to yank away from their touch, but they have you caged in. Something cold slides against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as it circles your throat. Click.

“A perfect fit.” The voice is quiet, as if they’re talking to themself.

There’s a boyish lilt to the deep voice that causes an ache in your chest. Your brain is arguing with what your heart realizes all too fast. Memories of that same voice, but lighter and more carefree, echo in your mind. Your hands clench against the armrests, trying to grind yourself to reality. A corpse can’t speak.

One of the hands leaves your neck, lightly tracing a path down to your shoulder before dropping away. The other lets the metal band rest against the base of your neck before wrapping your throat. The leather material is rough against your skin. Your body breaks out into a cold sweat as it tightens ever so slightly against your windpipe.

Slowly, your head is being pulled up. Pain pulses across your skull to your spine as the person behind you straightens your posture. Their thumb and index finger move up slightly until they’re pushing up your jaw, forcing your head up.

You try to take in the room as your position changes, but your gaze halts at the view in front of you. Across the room is a glass wall. You stare back at yourself in the one-way glass as your vision clears up. Whether it be fear or denial, you almost want to beg the hand to let you go, to let your chin fall back against your chest, so that you don’t have to look.

But, you were always a curious one.

Your eyes adjust to the darkness and take in the sight of the hand wrapped around your throat. It tightens just a little bit more, restricting your airway enough to make your brain feel fuzzy.

“You always did like to make me wait, pipsqueak.”

With that damning admission, your pulse rages against his fingers. Your eyes flick up to the reflection of the person, the world freezing around you.

A dead man stands behind you. His finger taps against your pulse as he smiles at you. Never losing eye contact, he leans down until his lips are grazing the shell of your right ear.

“Did you miss me?” Goosebumps raise all over your body.

“Caleb.” Your voice is raspy and the sounds get stuck in your throat, threatening to choke you.

“The one and only.” He presses a light kiss to your temple.

He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t explain how he’s standing in front of you. Your world as you know it is cracking and crashing around you, and he’s just there. Tears spring up faster than you can force them away. They pool in the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision of the living ghost behind you.

Caleb steps back around, clicking his tongue in disapproval as he wipes the tears from your eyes. You flinch at how cold his hands are; the sensation shocking you. “Now, now, pips. I expected a big hug from you when I imagined this moment.”

His words betray his actions as he crouches in front of you, his hands tracing the skin around the restraints. He doesn’t move to release you from them. A laugh bubbles up and escapes your lips as you take in this foreign version of your best friend. Gone is the childish Caleb you knew so well. This man may look like him, but the energy around him is suffocating. Harsh lines decorate his face and his smile doesn’t reach his dim purple eyes.

“Hard to hug a dead man when you’re chained to a chair.”

His thumb digs into your wrist for a brief moment, the pain jolting up your arm. He shakes his head.

“I see you haven’t lost that attitude of yours, princess.” The pet name drips off his tongue condescendingly. “That’s okay. It’s to be expected since I’ve been gone for so long. There was no one around to work it out of you. But, I’m here now.”

“And how are you here, exactly?” You lean forward, sneering at the man. “Last I checked, you should be 6 feet under in Linkon Cemetery.”

“I know it’s all confusing now, and I don’t expect you to understand. Not yet. But, aren’t you happy? Your “big brother” is back.”

You spit in his face. His facade drops ever so slightly. Reaching up, his thumb wipes it off his cheekbone. With eyes never leaving yours, he licks the dribbling spit off his gloved appendage. A groan slips past his lips. The sight has butterflies blooming deep in your stomach.

“Gentle, pips. There’s more than one pair of eyes watching us right now.”

Your eyes dart to the camera mounted on the wall behind him, a red light blinking next to the lens. You gulp at the thought of others witnessing this moment, praying there is no audio. He has to hold back the grin from forming as he watches you frantically think of the Fleet watching you both. The cameras are only accessible by him, but you don’t need to know that. He loves the way it makes you fidget in the chair.

“Now, are you going to be a good girl?”

Eyes glaring daggers into his, his hands land on your thighs, squeezing the plump flesh. His touch is cold against your warm and clammy skin. The look in his eyes daring you to go against him, to act up, to defy. It’s dangerous, he’s dangerous.

His fingers move up, pushing the fabric of your skirt with it, all the while he watches you. He sees the way your pupils dilate, the way the pulse in your neck quickens. He feels your thighs twitch, moving to squeeze together, but his grip prevents you from denying him. All the while, the fabric of your panties grows damp at his roughness.

Higher now, the tips of his thumbs start to fall into the crevice between your thighs and hips, and he almost moans at the way your skin pillows around his hands. That’s not what does him in though. Before you can protest and ask him to move away, his thumbs graze the outskirts of lace frill. Lace that is wet and stuck to your skin. His head drops into your lap, his breath quickening.

“Fuck, pips.” He traces his fingers along the edge of the fabric as he pants into the side of your left thigh, nipping at the skin to prevent another moan from leaving his lips. You gasp at the sensations, your body trying to curl in on itself but the restraints prevent you. “You are my undoing.”

“Caleb.” The sound of his name whimpering out of those plush lips has his cock twitching in his slacks.

“What is it, my love?” His hot breath is torture against your trembling skin.

His fingers are still tracing the edges of your panties, back and forth and back and forth, never giving you what you need. Your pulse throbs heavily in your clit as you clench around nothing. You can feel yourself growing wetter at his ministrations and the thought is mortifying.

Yet, something about the way he looks both dominating yet pathetic with his head in your lap has you unraveling. Years of desires that were so tightly locked away come flooding to the surface and it feels dirty, sinful even. None of it matters anymore. No reasoning could stop this from happening… and maybe, this was always where you were meant to land.

Right in the palm of his hand.

His head tilts in your lap, his soft hair tickling you. Purple eyes stare up into yours, begging for the words to leave your mouth. Yet, the hint of darkness glinting behind it lets you know he won’t wait long. You're his for the taking.

You nod your head at him and he smirks.

“Ah-ah,” he scolds, nipping at your inner thigh harder this time, leaving a light bite mark. “Use your words.”

Rouge scatters across your cheeks, ears, and neck in shame and lust. Tilting your head to the side, averting your gaze, you whisper, “Please touch me.”

Fingers ghost over the top of your fabric, pressing gently into your mound, the fabric pushing into your folds. The feeling has your brain short circuiting. It’s still not enough.

“You have to be more specific, love. I’m already touching you.”

His face moves up higher, kissing a trail up your thighs until his nose reaches his finger, replacing it. His hands move up higher, grasping the panties resting on your hips and pulling them up higher, causing the fabric to dig in deeper. A pathetic moan ripples out your lips.

“Where do you want to be touched?” His nose moves, pushing into your throbbing clit.

“There. Please, Caleb.”

He wants to tease you more. He wants you tied to this chair, begging for his touch, tears streaming down your face from the edging and denial. He wants you to want him as desperately as he needs you. But, the sound of his name so needy on your tongue has him saving his plans for another day. Oh how easily he folds for you.

“You always get what you want, don’t you?” His tone is sarcastic, but he doesn’t deny you any longer.

Fabrics is pushed to the side and the feeling of his skin on yours has you twitching in the chair, your hands gripping the armrest. His tongue swipes through your folds, flicking your clit before diving into your pussy like a man starved. The sounds escaping your mouth are foreign to you, but so is the pleasure burning its way across your body.

Caleb is relentless in his pursuit for your orgasm. He alternates between lavishing your hole, moaning at the way your walls pathetically clench around him, and abusing your clit with bites and sucking. It’s all too much for you. The pressure building within you is lightning fast. You bite down on your lip to prevent the moans from escaping, but that angers Caleb.

One hand leaves your thigh and pulls your bottom lip out from between your teeth, replacing it with two fingers. He presses down on your tongue, your mouth opening with the force.

“Don’t,” is all he mutters against you before returning to his feast.

His other hand moves down until his index finger ghosts your entrance. He traces around and over it lightly, never truly giving you what you want. Meanwhile, the fingers in your mouth play with your tongue as you moan around them.

Suddenly, his index finger catches on your entrance and he slowly sinks into you. You bite down on his fingers, whimpering at the intrusion you desperately needed. He wanted to go slow with you. Truly, he did.

But the way you clench around him has him seeing stars. He doesn’t hesitate to add another finger, relishing in the way you accept him smoothly. He presses in until the palm of his hand rests against your clit. The sounds your pussy is making has him grinning ferally.

Lifting his head, he gazes at the glazed out look in your eyes. A look he’s seen only a few times before when he happened to check his monitors and you were fucking some other guy in your room. He’d almost stormed to your place that night to kill the man. He’d only been gone for a month and you’d given yourself to someone else. Your first time. The jealousy bubbles within him even now.

His hand suddenly starts rocking back and forth, his palm grinding harshly against your clit. The sensation has you tearing apart at the seams. Stars flicker in the corners of your eye as you feel yourself approaching the edge of a dangerous cliff. His name rambles off your tongue like a prayer.

“That’s it, baby girl.” His tone sounds mocking, but you can barely process that over the pleasure coursing through your body. “Cum on my hand.”

He’s resting on his heels now, watching you fall apart right before his eyes. Your knuckles are white against the armrest, your thighs twitching, and your mouth suckling on his fingers through broken moans. He curls his fingers up right as he sees you inhale, finger tips grazing a spot you’d never touched before. A spot no one had touched before.

A wave crashes through you, dragging you under, as an orgasm rips through you. Caleb doesn’t falter, working a third finger in at the same time you cum. The sensation has tears bubbling in your eyes, a sob escaping your lips. He works you through your orgasm flawlessly, while building up another one at the same time. It’s overwhelming.

Caleb removes his fingers from your mouth, trailing down to your neck, grasping it within his hands. Fingers press into the sides, your head feeling light at the restricted blood flow. Your eyes find him, trying to ground yourself in the storm of pleasure.

His fingers leave you right as you're about to cum again, the denial harsh. Before you can beg the colonel before you to continue, his fingers reach his lips. You watch silently as he sucks on his fingers, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight is obscene and filthy, and you’re enthralled.

Once he’s done sucking every last drop of you off his tongue, he stands up, towering over you. The grip on your throat moves to your cheeks, pushing them together. “Open up,” he demands.

Even if you wanted to defy him, his hands force your lips to part and your head to tilt up to his. He leans down until his face is above yours, eyes boring into yours as his mouth opens. Your cum and his spit gathers in his mouth before he spits it into yours.

“Swallow.” And, you do. Your tongue swipes across your lips to make sure you didn’t miss a drop before opening your mouth, proving to him that you’d followed his orders. His hand taps the side of your cheek. “What a good girl you are.”

Suddenly, there’s a beeping sound echoing in the room and the pressure around your wrists and ankles releases. You’re unchained. You could try to make a run for it, but you don’t want to. Not anymore. He’d only chase you, punish you. The thought is actually tempting. But, what if he didn’t? What if you ran and he let you? Would you ever see him again? You’d only just gotten him back and the thought of losing him for a second time is inconceivable.

Caleb watches your inner turmoil for a brief second, loving the way you look torn apart. In your moment of distraction, he lifts you up from the chair. Your hands wrap around his neck for balance as your world shifts around you. He turns around before seating himself on the chair, placing you right on top of his lap, your thighs on either side of his. Grabbing your hips, he pulls you down until you’re fully seated against the bulge in his slacks.

Your eyes whip to his his as you feel him twitching beneath you. His head rests against the back of the chair lazily, a smirk gracing his lips.

“I’m all yours, pipsqueak.” His fingers dig into the groove of your hips. “Aren’t you going to punish me?”

He moves your hips forward, grinding you down onto his cock. Biting down on his lip, he groans at the feeling of the wetness seeping into the fabric of his pants. Your hands rest on his shoulders to balance yourself, falling into the motions of grinding atop him.

You wanted to respond to him. You wanted to yell how angry and hurt you were at him, but your mind blanks out at the sensation of another orgasm building within you. Your head falls to his shoulder, your lips grazing the skin of his neck above his jacket collar. Sweet moans and gasps fall from your lips, warming his heart.

His hands move from your hips, which never falter in their dry humping, and grasp the bottom of your shirt. He peels it up from your body, his head nudging yours so you lift it. Once the fabric is free from your body he tosses it to the side, his hands immediately unclipping the bra and tearing it off you.

If angels were real, you had to be one and he could only pray that staring directly at your heavenliness wouldn’t kill him. He’d dedicate his life to you, bruise his knees in nightly worship at your feet, if it meant you’d stay here, right in his unworthy arms.

Gently, as if not to scare you, his hands ghost your skin. The feeling has your nipples pebbling and goosebumps raising all over. Gods, waiting this long to have you was his punishment.

His hands explore your body, fondling your boobs, gripping your hips, smacking your ass, as you greedily grind down on him, using him for your pleasure. You feel like teenagers in heat as you both explore each other.

But, it’s not enough, and you both soon realize that as your moans turn into frustrated whimpers as your orgasm rests just below the surface.

You sit up, your hips circling his lap, tears in your eyes and the tiniest bit of drool on the corner of your lips. Caleb wants to photograph you just like this: drunk from his touch on his lap. He nods at the way your eyes plead with him, his name babbling out of your lips.

One of his hands traces up to the back of your head and gently grips your hair in his grasp. The other moves to rest at the top of his zipper, his thumb presses against your clit as you move. You're greedy in the way you start to chase your pleasure against his hand now, ignoring his throbbing cock. Right as the tension is about to burst out of you, you’re lifted off his lap.

The energy wrapped around you has you feeling weightless as your head whips down to the man right below you, anger simmering in your blood. A tear drips from your eye and lands on the corner of his cheek, his tongue swipes it.

“You’ve always been so cute when you’re angry. But, you need to know your place, pips.”

“Put me down right this instant, Caleb.” Your voice sounds foreign to you, raspy and breathless.

Laughing at your pitiful excuse to demand him, he unzips his pants. Your eyes immediately dart to the movement, any more arguments dying on your lips. He palms himself over his boxers for a moment, relishing the hungry look in your eyes.

“What if I like you up there?” Suddenly there’s a bit of pressure against your clit and then you feel your panties tear away from your body, the fabric burning against your skin as it quickly rips. The cold air has you twitching above him, and he’s given a beautiful view of your dripping pussy.

Without breaking eye contact from your beautiful mound, he frees himself from his boxers, his dick standing against his stomach as his hand wraps around it. For as long as you’d lived together in the past, you’d never seen this part of him. He always made sure never to expose himself to you, no matter how many times he’d seen you naked over the years. It had bothered you on endless nights where you tried chasing your pleasure in between his sheets while he wasn’t home, inhaling his scent on his pillow, imagining his cock rubbing against your clit instead of your untrained fingers.

You’re enthralled with the veins that adorn his thick cock as they trace up to a pink tip that has you gulping. Could you fit him? Sure, you’d been with well-endowed men in the past but Caleb was a different breed. Where most men excel in either length or girth, he is blessed with both. Maybe even cursed, depending on how this goes.

His hand pumps up and down his shaft as he stares at your exposed pussy while you sit in your rambling thoughts. Tiny groans escape his lips as he clenches the base of his shaft, holding his pleasure at bay, his balls twitching. He can’t cum yet, not when he’d prepared you so well.

“Caleb.” Your breathy voice breaks him out of his daze, eyes darting to yours. “Put me down.”

The venom in your voice is gone, replaced with a sweetness that has his teeth rotting. He can’t ever say no to you at the end of the day, no matter how hard he tries. It’d always been this way. He could only resist and deny you for so long before you won in the end.

The energy around you shifts, bringing you down the few feet to meet his body, but not fully releasing you. The tip of his cock grazes against your folds. But, he did love to make sure you deserved your win, and you hadn’t yet.

Frustration burns across your body as Caleb toys with you, dragging his cock through your folds and rubbing against your clit. He repeats the motion a few times until you’re whimpering above him, your eyes burning holes into his skin. His cock catches on your entrance for a second, knocking the air out of your lungs at the feeling, before it slips out and through your folds. “Caleb,” you warn.

The colonel doesn’t even look up at you, he’s too mesmerized by how you’re dripping onto his cock, his hand rubbing your cum across the smooth skin of his shaft. Your warning falls on deaf ears as he catches his cock on your hole one more time, groaning at the way your entrance tries to clench onto him and drag him in, but you’re not close enough.

He needs your pussy weeping for me. He needs you crying for him.

It’s torture as he dangles you just out of his reach, building your orgasm up with the tip of his cock and sometimes his fingers when you beg. The edging and denial is overstimulating. The air in the room is suffocatingly hot. Your skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“I-” Your voice breaks into a moan when his fingers ghost over your clit. “I need you.”

There it is.

“Am I not giving you enough, my love?”

His cock settles at your entrance, this time not moving. The feeling has you writhing in his gravitational hold. You shake your head, words failing you as tears blur your vision. The frustration is painful.

“You’ve always been so greedy.” Your body starts to inch slowly down until the tip of his cock rests within, the feeling making you delirious as a moan rips through you.

“Always such a needy little brat.” His words are harsh and his evol raises you up until his cock is resting just at your entrance again.

Blood rushes through your ear as your walls clench around nothing yet again, the pulse in your clit threatening to tear you apart from the pain.

“Pushing me around all these years.” You sink down again, your breath stuttering, but he’s pulled you up again before you can even cherish the feeling of him. “Do you know how that has made me feel?”

“I’m sorry,” you choke out as a sob racks your body, tears spilling from your eyes. You want to rip your skin apart to rid yourself of this burning sensation. “Caleb, please.”

It’s not enough. Not yet.

“Please what, pipsqueak? Use your words. You’ve used them so well in the past to hurt me.” He sinks you down again, waiting this time to see if you will be punished or rewarded.

“Forgive me.” He tsks, almost pulling you off him before words begin rambling out of your mouth on a broken sob. “Fuck me. Please, just take me. Use me. I need it. Caleb. I’m sorry, please. Cal-”

Gravity rushes back through your body and suddenly your hips are flush to Caleb’s, his cock pushing through you with little resistance until he’s fully sheathed in your warmth. It takes the strength of gods to hold his orgasm back and not empty his cum into your deliriously hot pussy. The air is ripped from your lungs and you forget how to breathe as an orgasm rips through you at the pain and pleasure of his cock throbbing against your tight walls.

You almost lose consciousness at the absolute power of your orgasm. Lightning shoots across your body, zapping every nerve until you’ve turned to jello in his hold. Caleb’s hand rests on your abdomen, his thumb stroking over the bulge where his cock rests within you, filling you up more than you’d ever been in your life. The added pressure of his hand against your stomach has you keeling over, the air rushing back into your lungs right before you pass out.

Caleb waits for you to get used to him. He’s patient. He knows that you’re stretched thin. He knows that your body can take him, but that it’s not easy. He knows it in the way your pussy grips him like a vice, threatening to break him off at the base, yet pull him in at the same time.

When your breathing returns to normal is when he moves, grabbing your hips and grinding you against him at first. The movement has you circling on his cock, but you need more. Your hands grip his shoulders as you raise your head up to meet his eyes, and the look of him has your heart melting.

He’s looking at you as if you crafted the world with your bare hands and gave it to him. The purple of his eyes is almost gone and the smile on his lips is soft. He looks like the Caleb you know again. The soft Caleb who made sure you were taken care of and went to sleep happy every night. It has you returning the smile and his hips jolt up into you at the sight.

“There’s my girl,” he whispers before lifting you up by your hips, his cock slowly dragging out of your walls, the feeling making you dizzy. “I missed that smile.”

With that, Caleb’s restraint is gone. He drops you onto his cock once more, rutting up to meet your hips, his cock kissing your cervix. Moans rolls out of you like music to his as he fucks into with reckless abandon. You may be on top, but his tight grip controls every single movement.

His head falls into the crook of your neck, biting down hard when you clench around him as your third orgasm surprises the both of you. His tongue swipes against the mark, soothing the pain he’d caused. “Such a tight pussy, baby. All for me.”

“Yes, sir. All for you.”

Oh, the submission in your voice and body has him seeing stars. Somehow, his cock grows harder within you, the feeling causing you to whimper, looking at him with the most needy eyes and furrowed eyebrows. “Fuck me,” he whispers.

Grabbing your ass firmly with both hands, he stands up. You sink even deeper onto him with this new angle, your eyes rolling back as his cock presses harshly against your cervix and sits there. He turns you both around until you’re facing the chair. Lifting you off of him, you moan at the empty feeling as he slips out of you.

“Shhhh, be good for me.” He kisses you as one hand releases you to return with a sharp smack against your ass.

His hands move expertly as he turns you around in his hold until your back is against his chest, his cock slipping between your thighs. You tighten them until his cock is firmly cocooned between your plushy skin. His teeth bite into the shell of your ear as he retracts his hips, pulling himself free from your seductive hold as he places you on your knees in the chair.

“Grab the armrests, would you please baby?” He asks sweetly, his tongue swiping the inside of your ear, causing you to shiver.

You do as he asks, regaining your balance. You grip the metal of the chair, holding on as his hands rub down your arms. Caleb peppers across your neck and back, causing you to giggle at the sensation. You press back into him, your ass rubbing against his cock.

Click.

Cold metal snaps against your wrists, binding you back to the chair like before. You try to turn and look at the man behind you, angry that he’d lock you up as before, but his hand at your throat stops you. His fingers wrap around the collar you’d forgotten about.

“Can’t you just fuck me like a normal person.”

You’re mad again and he loves the way your eyebrows furrow.

“Bold of you to assume I’m normal, pips. I thought we established,” he whispers into your ear as his cock pushes into you from behind, your pussy resisting him a little with this new angle, “I am anything but that.”

His words end with a sharp thrust of his hips, his skin slapping against your ass. He doesn’t wait for you this time, his pace is relentless as he drives into you, chasing both his pleasure and yours. You lean forward from the movement, your chest pressed against the cold metal of the chair as he fucks into you.

All you can feel is the addicting feeling of him moving inside you, pressing against a spot that has you moaning his name with every thrust. He’s no more put together than you. Sweat drips down his face, his hair sticking to his skin as he watches the way his cock disappears into you and how your pussy holds onto him when he pulls out. It’s a sight he’s imagined countless times over the years, but experiencing it is otherworldly.

You're falling against the chair now, the arch in your back giving out as your strength fades. Caleb can’t have that. His hand at your throat moves to the back of your neck and grips the collar. He leans back, using every ounce of self-restraint to remove his body from your back. When he pulls the collar back towards him, you raise up, your back arching, moans choking at the pressure the collar has added on your throat. You can still breathe, he’s evol is holding the rest of your weight slightly up so the collar doesn’t choke you out.

“A normal person wouldn’t fuck you like this.”

He’s thrusting into you again. With every push in, he pulls the collar tighter, making your body meet him. His free hand slaps your ass before rubbing the red mark away. You yelp at the pain, and relish the delicious way he soothes it.

“But, you wouldn’t want to be fucked normally.”

Your mind is in the clouds as his presence surrounds you: his scent, his body, his evol, his touch, everything. You aren’t sure where you end, and he begins as he rhythmically fucks into you. Every few moments, he slows down, making sure you can truly feel him.

“None of those other boys could make you cum.” He spits out the words angrily, his hand spanking you once more before smoothing your skin. “Do you know how hard I had to hold myself back so I didn’t barge into your room and finish the job myself?”

You should be embarrassed that he knows such things, should be terrified of how he even knows that, but his fingers find your clit and your sobbing at the overwhelming sensation of Caleb.

“You should’ve done it.” Your words are barely comprehensible over the sound of skin slapping against each other and your moans within this room, but he hears you all the same.

His hand leaves the collar and wraps around your throat, bringing himself flush against your back as he ruts shallowly into you, his orgasm quickly approaching.

“Yeah? You would’ve liked that, brat? Have your best friend clean up those assholes’ mess and replace it with his own?”

Your head falls against his shoulder, your lips kissing the skin behind his ear as you moan at the thought of him doing that all those years ago.

“They didn’t deserve to cum in this pussy. They weren’t worthy of you.” His fingers tighten and your head grows light at the pressure of his hand at your throat and clit. “That’s okay though. I’ll wash you clean of their filth. I’ll make sure no one touches you ever again.”

You’re at his mercy as he skillfully fucks in and out of you, his fingers rubbing delicious circles around your clit. There’d never been another time in your life where you’d felt this much pleasure and you fall into its embrace willingly. As your breath quickens and becomes choppy as your orgasm approaches, Caleb whispers filthy praises into your ear before grabbing your chin and tilting your head towards him.

You open your eyes briefly to look at how absolutely drunk off you he looks. You stretch up, your hands pulling at the restraints, and kiss him. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated as you both moan into the other, tongue and teeth battling for dominance when they can. His hips stutter, losing rhythm and you know he’s close. So are you with his hand between your thighs.

“Can I?” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but you know what he wants.

“Yes.” Your consent rips away whatever restraint he thought he had left.

All he can think of is filling your pretty pussy up with his cum until your stomach is full and bloated with it, with him. He’ll fill you up nice and good and make sure you don’t waste a drop. After today, he’ll make sure you leave the house, when he lets you, with his cum dampening your panties. He needs you full of him.

His fingers work you into your next orgasm smoothly, that it’s arrival has you melting into his hold. Warmth spreads across your body in waves as his orgasm rips through him like an earthquake. His hand moves away from your clit, sparing it from oversensitivity for today, and further down until it’s cupped around your mound, his dick slotted between his fingers.

The extra feeling of his hand around his dick and your cream pooling around his fingers and base of his cock has his eyes rolling back. His cum floods into you in thick bursts, the hot fluid covering your wall as his head falls onto your shoulder.

He’s moaning your name like it’s a prayer as he rides out his orgasm slowly, relishing the way your walls try to milk more out of him. If he could, he’d stay seated here forever, with you in his arms and wrapped around his cock. But, the Fleet will need this room at some point and the thought of such trivial humans seeing you like this has him seething.

The restraints around your wrists release you and one of your arms raises up to hug Caleb’s head and pull him closer into you. He peppers your eyes and cheek with soft kisses, cleaning your face of sweat and tears, as he pulls out of you. The feeling is awkward as the cum rushes to drip out of you.

Caleb’s fingers join back together once he’s fully out of you and he cups you tightly, making sure not a drop spills out. He grins against your neck as he nuzzles into it, proud of the way your pussy is pulsing against his hand.

“Can’t have you wasting my cum after you worked so hard for it, now can we?” His tone is mocking, but he kisses you softly nonetheless.

A group of cadets walk past the door, their voices filling the empty room, and Caleb can’t help loving the way you tense up, scared to be caught by such runts. Your pulse quickens under his lips, and he kisses it to soothe you.

“Let’s get you home so I can clean you up, okay?” His eyes travel across your torn panties and dirty clothes on the ground, before he hands you his jacket. Your fingertips touch as you take the jacket from him, and he grabs your wrist. His head leans down to brush his lips across the top of your hand before letting go. “Put that on, Princess. I don’t want anyone seeing you like that. That’s only for my eyes.”

Caleb’s wink has you shoving his shoulder before wrapping yourself up in his large jacket. Once closed, it fully covers you up and Caleb can’t help the way his cock hardens at the way you look in his colonel coat. He sweeps you up into his arm bridal style before his cock comes up with other ideas.

Your hands wrap around his neck, fingertips messing with the short hairs at his nape.

“Who's taking me home? The Colonel or my best friend?” You try to ask teasingly but the worry and sadness seeps into your tone.

His gaze softens as a regretful smile graces his handsome face.

“Hopefully, just Caleb.”

You don’t say anything further. Not now. The moment is too raw, emotions too high. For now, you want to relish in his warmth and devotion, everything else can be worried about tomorrow. Today, you have the love of your life back and that’s enough.

He’s enough.

#love and deepspace #lads caleb #caleb #caleb x mc #caleb lads #colonel caleb #love and deepspace x reader #caleb x reader #lads smut #lnds #lnds caleb #pure filth

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hivemuthur · 3 months ago

Text

In Thy Name - Ch.1. - Dark Entries

viktorxfemale!reader nothing filthy yet but will be :v, gothic AU

Reader is a highly renown linguist hired by Viktor, a paranormal investigator, for a case he cannot crack himself.

MASTERLIST next chapter ->

word count: 5,7K

author's note: Story time, it's boring, you can skip it. So: one day my cat dies. I start to write. Then, another day a person asks, can you write a Bridgerton AU? And I'm like yeh, sure, why not. It swells in my hands until I can't control it. From it blooms a crushing amount of beautiful artworks from you guys. Then, a person says, I like Victorian Era the most. The rest is history. I'm convinced that's how covid has started. If I ever end up doing a McDonald's AU hire a hitman and kill me painfully, make me fucking suffer. So, here you go, a gothic AU :') Playlist here! @rennethen and @mithrava thank you for beta-reading! And art, of course, by @cringemaster3!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Surrounded by the scent of dust and the faint aroma of melting wax, you lurk in the academy’s library. What was once a sanctuary of solace now fails to provide the comfort you so desperately seek. In your hands, an envelope rests—its paper crisp and unmoved, despite the wear of its long journey. The wax seal bears the mark of a sharp V, devoid of ornamentation, one corner slightly crumpled, though you are certain you are the only one to notice.

Hidden among the towering rows of books, you grasp a letter knife, its blade gleaming faintly in the light of the candelabras. You regard it as though it were a life you were about to claim— as if it were not merely paper that would yield to your blade, but something far darker, its insides spilling only words, no organs to be bled.

Wincing, expecting red to spill from its violently torn mouth, nevertheless, you open the letter, still unbelieving that the V might mean what your mind has conjured. The paper inside is equally crisp, as though it had arrived directly from the pocket it was kept in, folded neatly, and its bloody insides glare at you in sharp, elegant strokes of a fountain pen.

13th of October 1851

Greetings,

I trust this letter finds you in good health, though it is with some urgency that I extend my proposal to you. I have been made aware of your commendable accomplishments in the field of linguistics, and I am of the belief that your expertise would prove invaluable for a certain task that I currently undertake.

Should you be amenable, I wish to offer you a temporary contract under the following terms:

A fair monetary payment, the sum of which can be discussed upon your acceptance.

Provision of food and shelter for the duration of your engagement.

The understanding that your services will be required until the task at hand is resolved.

This offer shall remain valid for a period of ten days from the receipt of this letter. After this period, the proposition will no longer stand, and I shall seek other avenues to fulfil the task.

Should you accept, I expect you at your earliest convenience.

Yours sincerely,

Viktor Velesny

You read the letter thrice, your hands trembling ever so slightly as you unfurl its edges, the sharp, crisp folds of parchment yielding to your touch. The words blur, then sharpen in your vision, each stroke of ink etching itself deeper into your mind with every passing glance. The third reading is out loud, your voice sounding foreign to you, hoarse and thick from hours of silence in the library. You had feared opening it for seven days, dread mingling with an eagerness you could not wholly suppress. The envelope, now empty of its contents, still weighed heavily in your palm. With only three days left, you knew tonight was the last opportunity to make a decision. You could either close the book on it entirely or surrender yourself to whatever unknown awaited you at his mansion.

For days you had worked relentlessly, pushing your research on ancient Greek texts to its absolute limits, your fingers aching from the effort. But it had not been clairvoyance that drove you to finish; no, it was the whispers that travelled faster than any letter. Gossip—blistering, scalding gossip—had swept through the academic halls like wildfire, and the tale of Viktor Velesny seeking external aid, however vague and fleeting, had reached your ears before he’d even put ink to parchment. The notion of this strange request—coming from a man whose reputation already stirred both dread and intrigue—had made its way to you before you even realised it.

You pointed a figurative finger to three other colleagues, even though you knew, deep down, that this particular invitation would ultimately find its way to you. It had to. As it arrived, your heart quickened in a strange mixture of fear and excitement, your colleagues' inquisitive eyes watching, perhaps with the faintest trace of envy or disbelief. Some were astonished at your consideration, others appalled you hadn't immediately leapt at the opportunity. That look—the one that lingered long after they caught wind of this peculiar summons—reminded you of the well-known truth: people were intrigued by the unknown, yet they feared it just the same.

And Viktor Velesny? The subject of this gossip? His reputation preceded him like a ghost, each whisper darker than the last.

Some spoke of him as a conman, a trickster who built his name on the broken backs of others’ credulity. He was said to be a charlatan, one who sold illusions of grandeur, pretending at knowledge he did not possess, preying on those desperate enough to trust his word. He was known to swindle patrons with false promises, only to disappear as swiftly as he’d arrived, leaving behind a trail of victims too ashamed to speak of their losses. His name was tied to failed endeavours, to reputations destroyed, to whispered accusations of dishonesty that always seemed to vanish into thin air, just as quickly as they were spoken.

Others, however, viewed him as a mad scientist, a delusional visionary whose fevered mind spun tales of grandiose ambition. The more extreme among his critics claimed he was a man who flirted with the very edge of reason, throwing his humanity aside for the sake of uncovering the forbidden knowledge that could undo the natural laws themselves. His obsession with the occult, with science, with all things esoteric and unnatural, bordered on madness. They spoke of experiments gone awry, of strange and twisted works that few dared to witness. Was he truly a genius, or was he simply a madman too lost in his own pursuit of the unknown?

And then there were the darker rumours—the faintest voices murmuring of a man of no honour, a man who would descend into the deepest circles of hell to fulfil his sickening ambitions. Dangerous. Delusional. A man who had supposedly sold his very soul to the devil in exchange for powers beyond mortal comprehension. Few dared to speak these words aloud, for to do so was to risk their reputation—or worse, their very sanity. Those who whispered of his brilliance did so in hushed tones, almost afraid that the mere utterance of his name would invite calamity. Some believed he was more than human, that he had crossed a threshold no one should ever cross, and that to aid him was to invite a curse upon oneself.

Your cheek is relentlessly chewed, your lips reddened from being constantly pressed together as you try to read this mysterious man’s intentions, deciphering them only from the curvature of the letters he’s bled in ink. From what you can comprehend, this is a linguistic investigation into something he cannot complete on his own. The unknown time frames for the endeavour unnerve you especially, but what excites you—this feeling crowns over all others—is the challenge.

An opportunity like that comes perhaps once in a lifetime, and the thought of spending another couple of decades—if you were so lucky—waiting for another after letting this one slip from your grasp fills you with no hope.

With trembling fingers, you dip the pen into the ink jar and scribble only a few words, the quiver in your hand preventing you from writing more.

20th of October 1851

Dear Mr. Velesny,

I accept.

Yours sincerely,

Jane Hathorne

Your name is signed with a flourish countering Viktor’s reserve with letters. Then, you blow out the candles and call for a messenger.

***

You spend the following day wrapping up last-minute errands and packing your trunk. The woman in you mourns all the garments you cannot fit, while the researcher side scolds her, insisting on taking as many books and papers as possible. They eventually reach a compromise by introducing another trunk to your previously planned, limited inventory.

It is only when you are about to step into the carriage that one of your colleagues comes running into the rain after you. The sound of your name echoes across the academy courtyard, and a few heads twist on their necks as eyes snap and ears perk up, eager to drink in the latest gossip.

“Have I forgotten something?” you ask, startled.

“No, I—” John, one of the few souls kind enough not to talk behind your back, stumbles out of the building’s mouth, chasing after you as if his life depends on it. “Are you certain you wish to go?”

“Oh. Yes, quite certain.”

“What if—” He hesitates, eyes darting with concern.

“What if? Do you fear for my health?”

“I’ve heard terrible things about him, you know,” he says, voice low but urgent.

“You and me both,” you reply with a sardonic smile. “And great things. And absolutely ridiculous things. So, if half of everything is true, he adds up to an utterly mediocre man.”

John looks unsure, wringing his hands as the rain soaks his coat. “Will you write?”

“Weekly. I will,” you promise, forcing a more reassuring smile. “You needn’t worry.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but finally nods, his concern still written across his face. “I’ll hold you to that.”

With a final nod, you step into the carriage, leaving behind the academy—and John’s worried gaze—just as the rain begins to fall heavier. In its warm cloister, you drown in what you do best—research.

The texts before you vary in nature, some profoundly enlightening, others more dubious in their claims. There are scientific treatises, dense and methodical, dissecting the latest advancements in physiology and human anatomy—works penned by Viktor himself, sharp and logical, written with a mind that had clearly observed and analysed the minutiae of life with a surgeon's precision. You find his approach to medicine both bold and exhilarating, especially in his attempts to bridge the gap between the known and the unknown.

Interspersed with these are his more obscure writings, some of which veer into the realms of the occult. One text, On the Nature of the Soul and Its Astral Travels, delves into theories of spiritual manifestations and possession—strange, perhaps, but compelling in its rational structure. Another, The Resurrection of the Dead: The Theory of Reanimation, blends pseudoscience with arcane knowledge, positing that the key to immortality lies in unlocking the hidden potentials of the human body, a claim that strains credulity, yet has an undeniable allure.

Alongside these, you pore over an assortment of occult texts that were allegedly penned under Viktor’s tutelage or at least influenced by his growing fascination with the supernatural. The Aether and Its Influence on the Material World, written in florid prose, is far less scientific than his medical texts, but nonetheless an intoxicating read. You find yourself drawn to the rhythm of the language, and even as you question the plausibility of the claims within, you cannot help but be captivated by the intensity of the author's convictions.

And then there are the darker ones—tales of demonology, possession, and the dead who walk amongst us. The Unseen World: The Threshold Between Life and Death is a chilling account of the various occult practices that Viktor had reportedly studied, exploring ghostly apparitions and the interaction between the living and the dead. Some of it makes sense, neatly fitting into the framework of what you know of the natural world. But others… well, they stretch the boundaries of reason so far that they threaten to snap.

What connects them all, however, is their sheer passion. The fervour with which they are written grips you, pulling you deeper into the labyrinth of Viktor's thoughts and obsessions. Whether grounded in science or swirling in the more dubious realms of the supernatural, each text is a window into a mind that pursues knowledge with an almost feverish determination, unafraid to venture into realms others might consider madness. You find yourself lost in them, turning page after page, unable to pull away from the intense, consuming brilliance that flows through every sentence.

Impressed, is what you are at first. As a linguist, of course, most of all, you admire his ability with words, drawing his reader right into the realms of his mind. Intimidated, comes second, as Viktor begins to grow in your thoughts into a man who will indeed stop at nothing to satiate his passion and curiosity.

One of the treaties bears a picture—it is a portrait of Viktor, you presume. His expression is intense, almost ferocious in its focus, the kind of look that suggests he is not just observing the world, but dissecting it with a hunger that goes beyond simple understanding. His eyes are bright, sharp, as if they could see straight through to the very marrow of things, and they stare out of the page with an unsettling intensity. His features are aristocratic—high cheekbones, a square jaw, and sharply defined nose with a slight curve to it. His dark hair is neatly combed back, but there is a wildness to the way it catches the light, as if it rebels against being tamed, much like its owner. Two dark spots mark his face, decorating his undereye, and oh—his lips. Those you don’t dare to look at for too long.

The portrait captures him in an almost unnatural stillness, the kind of quiet that precedes a storm. His posture is upright, rigid, a man of discipline. Yet, his hands—gloved, resting on a cane—seem poised on the verge of motion. The background is dimly lit, offering no distractions, leaving Viktor’s imposing figure to dominate the frame. The entire picture is bathed in shadow, except for a faint light that seems to follow the contour of his face, highlighting the sharpness of his features and the gleam in his eyes.

It's a haunting image. An impression of a man driven by something darker, deeper—an insatiable desire for knowledge, perhaps, or something far more dangerous. There is an undeniable allure in the way he is depicted, a magnetic pull that you cannot put a finger on.

You trace a gloved touch through the paper, trying to read more into it. Your heart flutters when the carriage jolts over a cat’s head, and the parchment falls from your hand. With your mind full of ideas and presumptions, you decide to lean against the window and spend the rest of your journey memorizing the images flashing past.

And those, too, grow progressively more unfamiliar. The landscape outside the window unfolds like a painting, drenched in the muted light of the fading afternoon. The sky, heavy with brooding clouds, casts a pallor over the earth, as though the very air trembles in anticipation of something inevitable. The fields roll in endless waves of withered grass, their once-vibrant green now a weary brown, hanging on to life with a final breath before the frost comes to claim them. The hills, distant and indifferent, stretch out like weary bones, sloping gently, only to fall into a vast, oppressive nothingness—a barren, lifeless expanse that stretches endlessly before you. The land seems to sag under its own weight, as if the very earth itself has given up hope, awaiting the final kiss of winter's cold embrace.

The gloom thickens, devouring what little warmth remains in the air, until the world outside becomes a blank canvas—void, desolate, and endless. In the midst of this eerie silence, a dark shape slowly begins to emerge on the horizon, its form rising like a spectre from the desolation. A shadow, strong and commanding, breaks the monotony of the emptiness—the shape of Viktor’s home. Its silhouette looms against the darkening sky, an imposing presence rising out of the desolation, a dark monument to something unknown. Its walls, heavy with the weight of secrets, stand like a watchful sentry, ready to consume you whole.

It stands alone—a place that seems to absorb the very light around it, as if it exists in a perpetual twilight. The closer it draws, the more foreboding it becomes, pulling you into its vast, dark heart. And as the carriage moves ever closer, you wonder if the land itself, stretching out in weary despair, is simply a reflection of what lies within.

Your chin slides off your hand as the carriage approaches the main gates. A tall, stiff butler steps out, holding a black umbrella, ready to escort you the ten steps that part you from your future. He keeps his gaze lowered as he walks toward the vehicle, opens the door for you, and—before greeting you—swings the umbrella open.

“My lady,” he says, bowing his head. “Allow me to escort you. Master Velesny awaits you.”

“Oh, I take it the messenger got here safely?” you ask, taking his hand as you step out of the carriage onto the muddy ground.

“Yes, and he arrived with haste, for which Master Velesny is grateful,” the butler replies with practiced politeness and signals to two young footmen to take care of your bags. “I see you come prepared, my lady. Allow the boys to handle your luggage.”

“Ah, yes, forgive me—I couldn’t decide which books would be useful,” you say, neglecting to mention that one trunk is, in fact, full of velvets, not books. “May I ask your name?” you say, craning your neck, trying to take the house in.

Beyond the rim, the mansion looms—a stark silhouette against the slate-grey sky. Its façade, once grand, is softened by time; ivy clings to the stone, withered by autumn’s touch, its skeletal tendrils retreating from the ornate window frames. The first floor boasts tall, pointed arch windows, their leaded glass darkened by the overcast day. Above, a row of smaller lancet windows punctuates the steeply pitched roofline, lending the structure a solemn air. At its highest point, a narrow tower rises—a third level in miniature—its presence lending the house an air of quiet vigilance rather than menace. A pair of weathered statues flank the entrance, their faces softened by rain and years, watching as you step forward.

“Certainly, my lady. My name is Algernon Griffiths, and I have been in Master Velesny’s service for many years.” Butler’s voice makes your head snap back. He talks with pride as the rain drums against the stretched black membrane, and ensures you remain completely shielded from the drops, though his own shoulder is undoubtedly gathering dampness. “I am at your service whenever you may need me as well.”

“Thank you, Algernon, that’s—” You pause as you both step through the main door.

The hall is… intimidating and impressive at once. Something vaguely unsettling nestles in your throat at the strange shadows cast by the flickering candelabras, and you notice that not all of them are lit. Some remain empty of candles, while others hold fresh, unused wax, presumably reserved for the evening hours. Yet even in the husky daylight of this gloomy day, the space remains dark.

The ceiling stretches high above your head, where a wrought-iron chandelier hangs, its spiked ornamentation promising a clean kill to anyone unfortunate enough to be standing beneath it should it fall from its hook.

A curved double staircase straddles the far end of the hall, its dark wooden steps worn down at the edges near the winding handrail. The floor beneath your feet is polished to such a gloss that every sound bounces off it. And indeed, it is not the beauty of this space that has made you gasp, but the suffocating silence that presses against your ribs like a held breath.

“Master awaits you in the study, my lady,” Algernon urges gently, noticing your hesitation. “I assure you that you will be given a proper tour of the house and introduced to all the staff, but I’m afraid Mr. Velesny has insisted on escorting you upstairs as soon as you arrive.”

“Oh, certainly. Forgive me, it’s all very—” You gulp down the stale air and force a smile. “Enchanting.”

He nods, unimpressed, passes the umbrella to a footman, and extends his hand, motioning you up the staircase.

Your footsteps echo as you ascend, the creak of the worn wooden steps swallowed by the hush of the house. The balustrade curves beneath your gloved fingertips, polished but old, its edges softened by time and touch. The hall above yawns before you, lined with closed doors and dim sconces casting long, flickering shadows against the wallpaper—dark green, its pattern faded, some places curling at the seams.

The air is scented with books, wax and smoke, as if the house itself has been holding its breath for years. Your skirt brushes against the wooden floor, and the fabric's whisper is the only sound apart from the occasional groan of the planks beneath your feet.

At last, you reach a heavy wooden door, already ajar. Inside, dim afternoon light filters through the tall window, throwing pale, skeletal patterns across the floor. The scent of parchment and ink lingers here, richer, untainted by the cold draft of the corridor.

Algernon knocks anyway, his knuckles rapping lightly against the wood. “Master Velesny,” he announces, “your guest has arrived.”

Viktor stands by the window, his back to the door, gazing out into the grey afternoon. He does not turn fully, only angles his head, revealing his profile—sharp, as you’ve expected.

“Thank you, Algernon. That will be all for now.”

It is the sound that catches you off guard—something neither his writings nor the picture you studied in the carriage could have prepared you for. Heavy, thick, a slow roll of his tongue as it wraps around the vowels, his accent settling into the room tangibly. It complements his visage perfectly, and suddenly, you are grateful for the house’s silence, allowing his voice to echo undisturbed.

With a polite nod, Algernon steps back, retreating down the hall. The door closes with a soft click, sealing you inside the study.

As soon as it does, his shoulders slacken, and he turns to face you. His hands, bare, rest atop the handle of a cane. His stance is uneven, weight shifted onto one leg, his hips set at an angle beneath a pair of tightly fitted high-waisted trousers. A ruby velvet vest, its surface pressed with winding patterns, hugs his chest, and beneath it, a crisp white shirt peeks through. No cravat, you note—his high collar instead nudges against the sharp line of his jaw.

His throat peaks from thick material—a long, pale column, crowned by a chin that hangs low from his cheeks. His face is all sharp planes and hollowed angles, the skin stretched over pronounced bones beneath deep, sunken eyes. His brows, thick and furrowed, lend him an air of permanent concentration as he studies you—or, at least, you presume that he does.

And his eyes—oh. No picture, dulled in shades of grey, could have prepared you for them. Two rings of amber glide over your body, sharp and bright, like mead set aflame. Embarrassed, you drop your gaze, and it lands on his leg, hugged tightly by a contraption of metal and leather.

You shift, rid yourself of your cape, and wrap it around your forearms, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of his gaze. If there are thoughts stirring behind those eyes, he does not betray them. His expression remains unreadable, sculpted into something close to stone.

"You took your time to reply," he says finally, blinking as slowly as an owl would. His voice curls around each syllable, daring.

"I... I had to run some errands before accepting," you reply, forcing yourself to maintain his gaze. Then, steadying your breath, you add, "I have met the deadline, have I not?"

"You have, for which I am grateful," he murmurs, his tone dipping lower. He takes a few measured steps toward you, graceful, you notice. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches for your hand, fingers cool as they close around yours. He lifts it to his lips, the warmth of his breath pressing through the fabric of your glove.

"It is a pleasure to meet you in the flesh, my lady," he mutters against your knuckles, eyes still locked onto yours when lips come to press against the thin leather.

"Have we met in the spirit, then, without my knowledge?" you ask, your voice lighter than you intend, a thread of uncertainty winding through it.

His lips curl into the shadow of a smirk. "Ah, if you wish to go that far," he muses, rising and tilting his head, yet not letting go of your palm. "I am familiar with your work. And if I allow myself some presumptions"—his thumb brushes briefly along the side of your hand—"such as this: if you are as meticulous in your spirit as you are in your craft, then I would expect you have done your share of research on me." His eyes glint. "Therefore, our spirits have met. Metaphorically, of course."

"Bold of you to presume this much, Mr. Velesny," you counter, though there is no denying the way his words have wound their way beneath your skin. Presumptuous and cunning, this man has your curiosity piqued.

"Have you expected me to be anything but?" His lips quirk at one corner, the ghost of amusement there before it fades into something gentler. "And please—call me Viktor."

You speak your name in response, and the moment it leaves your lips, his fingers tighten ever so slightly around yours. A slow squeeze. He smiles then, small but certain, as if tasting victory in the syllables.

Then, your hand is free, and Viktor turns toward the desk. Only now do you take in the room as it is—a cavernous space, dim, just as the rest of the house. Heavy drapes of deep burgundy frame mullioned windows, drawn back just enough to let in a reluctant sliver of day.

To your left, a fireplace yawns, unlit, its carved mantel adorned with a single brass candelabrum and a clock that ticks with an unsettling steadiness. The dark wood panelling along the walls bears the weight of countless bookshelves, their spines pressed tightly together, some worn to near illegibility, others pristine, their gilt titles catching what little light the room allows.

Viktor’s desk, positioned near the window, is a grand but cluttered thing—an ocean of scattered papers, maps, and instruments of his trade, the chaos strangely at odds with the meticulousness of the man himself. An oil lamp with a green glass shade casts a dull glow over the mess, illuminating the glint of a letter opener resting atop a half-folded letter.

A chair sits across from his own, clearly set for you. “Take a seat, please. This won’t take long,” Viktor says, gesturing with a tilt of his head. “You must be weary from your travels. I will leave the debrief for tomorrow, but I would like you to take a look at what we are dealing with.”

The we rings pleasantly in your ears—infuriatingly so—as you gather your skirts and lower yourself onto the chair. The leather creaks softly beneath you. Viktor does not sit. Instead, he leans over you, one hand braced on the cane, the other pointing a long, precise finger at the papers sprawled before you. His proximity is unexpected, his scent even more so—fresh, unadorned, untouched by perfume or powder. Like moss in an undisturbed forest. Freshwater drawn from a deep spring. Skin sunbathed and warm.

An insistent tap of his finger against the desk pulls you from your daze. You blink and focus on the papers. Letters—familiar yet unplaceable—are scrawled across countless sheets, some rough and uncertain, others more refined, as if Viktor had been attempting to capture them with increasing accuracy.

“This… looks like some proto-Slavic dialect,” you say slowly, tracing the edge of a page with your fingertip. Your brow furrows. “Forgive my bluntness, but have I wrongly assumed your accent to be Slavic?”

“Not at all. I am,” Viktor confirms, his voice smooth and clipped. His gaze flicks to the documents. “But this is no known language to me. I am at my wit’s end. Otherwise, I would not be calling for aid, as you may know.”

You nod, intrigued. “I have brought some books with me. We could compare sources tomorrow?”

“That would be perfect,” he says dryly, as if he’s expected you to do exactly that.

“How did you come across this?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“I was called upon for a job. Usual business. Seemed like a mediocre haunting at first.”

“Mediocre?” You tilt your head. “Are you truly this well-versed in ghosts, Viktor?”

His lips twitch, but it is not quite a smile. “Ah. By mediocre, I mean possibly a con,” he corrects. He shifts, standing upright again, his hands folding over the handle of his cane. “A family member trying to scare their relatives. A neighbour hoping to chase people away from valuable land. Hauntings of that sort are what I usually come across.”

“Usually, but not always?” you ask, studying him.

“Not always,” he replies offering nothing more.

“So… are you a myth buster, then?” you tease, watching him closely.

“No,” he says without hesitation, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “I am a truth seeker.”

His gaze is sharp—challenging—but something beneath it feels measured, a shield. You sense a restraint in him, a man who has learned to temper his own excitement, to speak in careful tones that reveal nothing. And you wonder—when was the last time he had the opportunity to speak with someone as an equal?

“But I suppose you have heard many names granted to me,” he continues, tone even. “A con man. A devil worshiper. A mad scientist.”

“I’ve also heard of your brilliance,” you offer quietly

“Ah,” his lips curve, knowing. You hope he doesn’t read it as a pity. “And which one do you think to be true?”

“I do not know yet.” You hold his gaze. “I suppose I will have to find out for myself?”

“That you will, hopefully.” He exhales, straightening, the flicker of an expression unknown to you vanishing as he retreats behind composure once more. “I shall keep you no longer. Algernon will give you a short tour and escort you to your rooms. Your luggage should already be there.”

It’s a gentle but firm dismissal, and soon after, Algernon returns, inclining his head and ushering you politely through the study door.

As he guides you down the dimly lit corridor, his steps are even, his voice smooth and practiced. “I shall show you the most necessary rooms first. There will be time for a proper exploration tomorrow, but for tonight, I believe you will wish to settle in, my lady.”

The first door he gestures toward reveals a vast library, lined floor to ceiling with shelves of aged leather-bound tomes. A single chandelier sways faintly above, its candlelight flickering against dark wood and gold filigree. A sturdy desk sits by the window, and near the hearth, two deep armchairs face one another, waiting for occupants who never came. The scent of dust fills the air.

Next is the music room. Though smaller than the library, it holds an air of quiet grandeur. A grand piano dominates the centre, its polished surface reflecting the dim light. A violin and cello rest nearby, their strings long untouched, and in the corner, a harp stands draped with a fine sheet, as if to protect it from time itself.

“The guest quarters are also on this floor,” Algernon notes, leading you past a series of doors. “Though I do not expect they will be occupied anytime soon.” He moves along without pausing.

Descending the staircase, the house’s shadows stretch in strange ways, the flickering sconces offering little comfort against the vastness of the halls. The dining room is stately yet stark—long enough to seat far more than its apparent master keeps for company. The drawing room, in contrast, is lived-in, with a decanter of dark amber liquid resting on a side table, books left slightly out of place on a chaise, and a few logs stacked beside the fireplace.

At last, Algernon stops by a set of wide glass doors leading into the winter garden. The panes are fogged, obscuring what lies beyond, but the skeletal shapes of vines press against the glass. “You may visit the garden tomorrow during daylight,” he says, his voice lowering slightly. “But not tonight. The day has been especially dark.”

His words are peculiar, but you say nothing.

When you come back one storey, Algernon points to another set of stairs, far less impressive than the main staircase. “The master’s chambers are upstairs,” he states simply, and you wonder why on earth Viktor would choose to climb two stories daily when he clearly uses the cane not only as an accessory.

As you continue, one door remains conspicuously closed, and Algernon makes no mention of it, his stride never faltering.

Instead, he turns to you. “The household staff is minimal but sufficient. A maid will attend to you in the mornings and evenings, should you require assistance.”

At last, he stops before your own quarters and steps aside, allowing you to enter first.

Your bedroom is unexpectedly inviting, with a large canopy bed draped in heavy fabric, its dark wood carved with intricate detailing. A fireplace rests along one wall, unlit, but stacked with fresh logs. A writing desk sits beneath a wide window, its curtains drawn, and across from it, a modest yet elegant wardrobe stands ready for use. A faint scent of lavender lingers in the air—perhaps a lingering touch from the maid who prepared it for you.

Algernon lingers just outside. “Dinner is served at six. If you require anything further, do not hesitate to ring.” A pause, then with a slight bow, he departs, closing the door behind him with a quiet finality.

And for the first time since your arrival, you are alone.

Wasting no time, you sit on the bed and kick your shoes off. You sigh deeply and heavily, stacking the events of today in your head. Viktor is... nothing and everything you expected. Driven, yes. Eager, even more than you anticipated. And still, he manages to remain reserved, as if torn between reaching out and closing in on himself. A sadness of some kind lingers around him, but you try to withhold your pity. Is he the demon they paint him to be, or the genius you wish him to be? You do not know, but you itch to find out.

#my writing #viktor arcane #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader #viktor x reader smut #viktor smut #viktor x f!reader #viktor x oc #arcane #arcane fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor nation #in thy name

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bitchface24-7 · 6 months ago

Note

Oops my hand slipped and I’m back again (for the 3rd day in a row (I think I have a problem))

So following the trend of me seeing too many fanfics of smthn I don’t vibe with, I’ve noticed that a lot of Jayce and/or Viktor x reader fics have the reader as a scientist (makes sense writing-wise, provides a lot of opportunity for characters to interact and bond)

Problem is, I am dogshit at science. I was good at most subjects in high school, but science? Nearly failed. I was good at math and word problems too which made it even more confusing to me but it is what it is ig. So I was hoping for another JayVik x reader where this time, the reader is an artist

Now I primarily draw OCs and people (usually digital or w/ marker) so I’d like smthn leaning towards that but frankly you can do whatever

I just think it’s be funny if, while Jayce n Viktor do their cool nerd shit, the reader is fully unhelpful and doodling in their sketchbook. Quality time except I’m drawing sexualized men (gender equality) and my hot boyfriends are solving global trade or whatever

(Mayhaps also drawing them for studies and anatomy practice and showing them because I like forcing ppl to look at my art >:)) )

Again, take as long as you need to write this, hope you’re doing good :))

MY MUSES - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: after escaping Noxus with your best friend Mel, you've cherished the peace of Piltover compared to the wartime of Noxus. You were able to flourish in the city of progress with your artistry. It was the way you and Mel found solace in your old home. Now, you've been commissioned by the council to paint a portrait of the Hextech duo.

warnings: talks of wartime, insecurities, awkward talk, becoming friends with J + V, anatomy practice, complimenting your two boys, fluff, Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

p.s. I understand your frustration, even I've fallen into “make reader a scientist to make life a little easier.” I hope y'all enjoy artist reader!

You're painting in your studio at the Academy when the door is opened, and you smell the delicious fragrance of vanilla, cardamom, and sandalwood, it’s Mel.

You put your paintbrush down and turn to look at your best friend, a smile beaming on your face. You get up and go for a hug before stopping yourself, your clothes are stained with paint and you don’t want to ruin Mel’s pretty white dress.

She fondly rolls her eyes and pulls you into a hug anyway. Mel’s not a very touchy person. It was seen as a weakness is Noxus. She’s only really touchy with you, you’ve been her friend for as long as you can remember. She wholeheartedly trusts you.

And you know how rare that is.

“Hello dove. How’re you today?”

You scrunch your nose at the nickname, it was a nickname given to you when you were much younger. “It’s because you don’t see the glory of war. You’re gentle. Something I desperately need in my life.” Mel had explained, her Medarda Mask no where in sight.

“I’m good. I’m almost done the landscape you commissioned for the council room.”

Mel’s smile widens the tiniest bit, but her gaze is downcast. This isn’t a social call. She’s been tasked to ask you something.

“Mel, I understand. Just, tell me what you need from me.”

A sigh escapes the gorgeous woman, “The council has requested a portrait to be made of the two Hextech innovators, Viktor and Jayce Talis.”

You raise your brows in confusion, “Okay… why is that a bad thing?”

Mel leans on a clean section of your work station, a hand coming up to rub her forehead, “They’re constantly working. They don’t see the prospect of taking a break. If you were to paint them, you’d have to paint them in the lab; as they do dangerous experiments. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

You place your hand over top Mel’s hand that’s braced against the desk, “I’ll be okay. I can’t imagine they’d let anyone get hurt.”

Mel nods sagely, the hand that was rubbing her forehead is now placed over your hand. She’s now cupping your one hand and rubbing her thumb over your knuckles.

“I’ll tell them what the council has demanded. When will you be free to paint them?”

You look over to the almost finished landscape painting sitting on your easel, “Give me a week.”

Mel nods, gives you one last hug, and leaves your studio to break the news to Viktor and Jayce.

You just hope they’re nice to you.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The week passed by in a flash, and here you are. Standing in front of two very large doors that make you feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

You don’t understand why you’re so nervous. You’ve painted portraits of the top-class in Piltover. The cream of the crop. The top one percent, and you were fine. You were mentally rolling your eyes every few minutes, but you were fine.

You’re now asked to paint two scientists and you feel like you’re going to have a stroke.

At least Mel gave you some advice in regards to both men, “Jayce is quite kind, easy-going, and easy to talk to. You’ll make quick friends with him as you are. His partner Viktor on the other hand… is a different story. He’s cordial, but stubborn. He’s quite witty with a sass that almost matches mine. He’d prefer it if you skipped the flowery talk and just got straight to the point. He’s not a fan of the mind numbing politics of Piltover. Say what you mean or don’t say anything at all.”

With that mantra repeating in your head, you knock on the doors to their lab.

“Come in!” A voice exclaims, “We cannot leave our stations, the gems may become volatile if we do.” Another voice adds, this time with an unfamiliar accent.

You lightly push open the doors and are stunned by the state of the lab. Papers everywhere, equations on a blackboard you don’t even want to attempt to understand, ink stains, scraps of metal.

You suppose this is their version of an art studio.

“Oh!” The first voice you heard exclaims, “You must be Mel’s friend, the one who’s been commissioned to paint us. I’m Jayce. The one brooding over there with goggles on his face is Viktor.”

A scoff, “I am not brooding. I simply do not see the purpose of a portrait being made of us. It takes time away from our research!”

You cut in, reminding yourself of Mel’s advice, “The council has ordered it. Besides, I need to study you two for a little bit. Understand your anatomy and proportions. Then when I have a clear understanding, we’ll take one day out of your schedule to get the painting done.”

Viktor raises his goggles, putting them into is hair and the most beautiful pair of eyes you’ve ever seen narrows onto you, “You’ll only need one day to paint us?”

“The weather is constantly changing. That means so is my light source, my shadows, my colours.” You explain easily, “If we spend the whole day together, I’ll be able to easily get the portrait done and you two can go back to work. Sound good?”

Viktor purses his lips before nodding, Jayce just looks between the two of you with a small smile. He thought that would’ve taken a lot longer.

Guess you’re pretty special.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

One Week Later.

Their work is fascinating. You don’t understand quite a bit of it, but their enthusiasm and passion make up for your lack of knowledge.

Here they are trying to solve most of the worlds problems and you’re sketching them in your sketchbook with hearts in your eyes.

You focus on their bodies, how they bend, contort, their planes and shadows. How light glows onto them.

You focus on their unique features. Jayce’s sharp canines, Viktor’s cheekbones and moles. Jayce’s broad chest and Viktor’s cane and brace.

Those two points are especially important. They’re so detailed. And they’re a part of Viktor, you’re not going to erase something so vital to him as a human being to make the portrait “nicer to look at” according to the upper echelon of Piltover.

You’re so lost in your thoughts you don’t feel a presence come up behind you, “Whatcha doing?”

You jolt, putting a hand to your heart as your pencil drops to the ground, “By Janna Jayce! You scared me!”

A boisterous laugh permeates the lab, “You we’re so focused, I couldn’t help but wonder what you were doing.”

“We’ll… I was drawing my two very beautiful muses.”

There’s a small silence in the lab.

“Your—“ Viktor starts, then clears his throat as Jayce stands there, stunned, “Your beautiful muses?”

You nod, not realizing their disbelief, “Of course. The two of you have such beautiful features. Jayce is quite tall, with broad shoulders, a tiny waist, and strong legs. A nice hair cut, strong brows, big eyes, and pink lips. You, Viktor on the other hand—“

You’re cut off by said man, “Are not as conventional—“

You cut him off this time, “Are also tall, lean, lithe, with long beautiful legs. You have a face carved out of marble, messy hair, eyes that look like liquid gold, beauty marks, and a nice pale complexion that compliments Jayce’s tan. You’re both quite handsome, just is different ways.”

The two men are stunned into silence, and it takes a few minutes before you realize what you said. You feel your face heat up as you try to hide behind your sketch book. Viktor lightly smiles at that as Jayce laughs and forces your sketch book back down onto your lap.

“You know, I’ve never heard such an honest compliment before.”

“Neither have I.”

You feel like killing yourself. Maybe jumping out of one of the lab windows will do the trick.

“So,” Viktor’s interrupts your dark humorous thoughts, “Do you feel prepared to paint the portrait?”

You look the two men dead in the eye, even as embarrassment consumes you.

“Yes.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A day is set and you bring all your art supplies that you need into the lab. You even set up a place for the portrait to be.

The setting will be in front of their main work station, the hexcore and hexgems glittering in the background. You brought a comfortable armchair for Viktor to sit on, you know these paintings can take some time and you don’t want to over-exert his leg. You assume Jayce can stand for a few hours, placed right next to Viktor.

As you explain your thought process to them, the more excited they seem. And to think, they didn’t want to do this originally.

“Ok, get comfortable. Viktor you can put your cane to rest against one of the arms of the chair. Jayce, can you place your hand on the top of the headrest? Perfect. You two comfortable?”

You get nods and yes’ as your answer.

With that, you start to paints them.

You ensure to be as diligent as possible. You start with the boys, adding bits and pieces to the background as you go. You make sure to her the green in Jayce’s eyes, the beauty marks on Viktor’s face. The house Talis emblem on Jayce’s jacket; the intricacies of Viktor’s cane and leg brace. The purple and blue glows of the Hextech give the painting an almost magical feeling.

You have to say, this may be your best portrait yet.

A couple hours pass and you deem the painting complete. The two boys sigh, Jayce cracks his back as Viktor cracks his neck. Most of the painting was done is silence, a few tiny conversations sprinkled throughout the process.

You didn’t want them to move.

The two come to where you’re sitting and gaze at the portrait in awe. It’s… them. It looks so life like, as good as a picture. But it’s softer, it looks beautiful.

And they look phenomenal.

“Are you sure that’s us?” Viktor jokes, pointing at the painting, “Those men are incredibly handsome.”

You cock an eyebrow at him, “Now you know what to say when you look in a mirror. That’s how you look, and it’s how you’ll be remembered.”

Jayce smiles and puts a hand on both your and Viktor’s shoulders. Viktor looks touched at the sentiment.

“You should move your art stuff to be here. Permanently.” Jayce states easily.

You almost choke on your own spit, “Pardon? Why would I do that?”

“Because we'd miss you,” Viktor replies a cocky look on his face.

You huff out a laugh, “Ill be of no help to you. I'm not a science brain. I'd just be in the lab drawing you two constantly.”

“We’d pose for you.” Jayce jokes

“Even if I wanted to practice nude anatomy?”

Viktor hums, “Not in the lab obviously, but yes even then.”

You smile at them, “It’s a deal then.”

And to think you were scared they wouldn't be nice to you. You just obtained two pretty muses (hopefully for the rest of your life.)

TADA!!! This was such a cute request. I hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. Pebble, you keep those requests coming (and everyone else who requests too 🫵😏)

I have like four requests now in my inbox and I squealed when I saw it. I've never had so many requests before. Usually my inbox has like… spam and fishing schemes. So this is amazing to me!!

#arcane #viktor arcane #jayce arcane #jayce talis #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #viktor imagine #viktor x reader #jayce imagine #jayce x reader #jayvik x reader #fem!reader #male!reader #gender neutral reader #banners by cafekitsune

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vellichor-of-the-solivagant · 2 years ago

Text

With Them, Who Swallowed a Star

PAIRING: Professor!Task Force 141 X F!Student!Reader WORD COUNT 5.3k CONTENT WARNING: NSFW! group sex, age gap, fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex, handjobs, facefucking/blowjobs, unprotected sex, p in v, anal sex, slight usage of nicknames, reader is a pianist/student, tf141 are professors, smut with plot SYNOPSIS: A musician is a storyteller in their own ways. You had told yours and captured the sights of men you never expected to pull when you stepped inside an academy. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I tried to be poetic. This fried my brain and I'm not going to write something like this again. That's a lie because I have a series that has 5 love interests. This one was supposed to have Graves as well since he's actually my inspiration for writing this shit, but I ended up not adding him. I might do it on Drabbles if someone asks though. And yes, I have changed my username from DontFearTheReaperAzura. Here's the Masterlist for more! Also on Archive of Our Own / DISCORD SERVER

Your fingers fluttered slightly as you lifted your hands to the keys, blocking out the rustling from others as they sat in the grand auditorium. Long and drawn, you began to tell a tale you had held for a long time. Notes swam in the air, old friends that played with your tresses and caressed your skin.

The story started slowly, the sound of the beginning, the beginning of the end. Longing clashed with trepidation, your fingers sang a song of despair. You swayed with the music, lost in the whims of unspoken words—of a world you owned. Quicker and quicker, the notes climbed in sync with your heart, growing joyful in hopes of masking the mournful melody surrounding you.

It filled the emptiness deep within your chest for a moment, before like the heavens shed tears upon a barren land, you showed—you poured out the lore of your world, and with heavy reluctance to leave what you created, you played the last few notes.

For a few moments, you kept your eyes closed, and when a series of claps reached your ears, only then you opened them. You were shackled back to reality just as you held back your work.

You looked at the people, who in your eyes were nothing but shadows at the beginning, now enamored, yearning for the rest. You knew they felt it, too. Pulled, as though you were the center of the system. Like the Sun, a star.

And one man stuck out more than others, gazing at you, blue eyes almost ravenous. But it didn’t last for long, just like a song in the wind, he faded among the standing crowd, drowned out in the flurry of praise.

You breathed out a sigh as you stared at the towering structure before you, now your second hell—in replacement of the ramshackle place you call home—after you had gotten a scholarship to this prestigious university after years of a couple of years of working your ass off. Students rushed past you on their way in and out of their classes, but you stood frozen.

Suddenly you felt awfully unprepared for this unfamiliar place, of socializing and strangers, and of university. Of life. What did Google say about socializing with people your age again? How about impressing a professor? Good lord.

You shrugged off your thoughts and sauntered to your class. A large lecture hall welcomed your sight and you found an empty seat at the front row. Not the perfect place for observation of the whole place, but good for listening to the professor.

The sound of expensive shoes echoed throughout the hushed room and you kept your eyes down as you took out your notebook and pen. As the quiet dragged on, you glanced at the professor and found your brows raising at his sight.

He was tall, seemed to be fit, and in his thirties. He had a few wrinkles, a beard, and brown hair, but no sign of graying.

Above all, you could remember those eyes. An endless swirl of blue. The man at the concert hall.

You put your gaze down as the professor looked down on you, your heart hammered against your ribs, sudden nervousness springing in your nerves. You wished he wouldn’t recognize you, but at the same time, you hoped he did.

Yet, the silence remained, and in curiosity, you looked back up. Your breath hitched as your eyes met his, gaze shining with something you couldn’t decipher, and a smile formed on his lips.

You forced yourself to mirror it and batted a glance at the door. You wanted to get out.

The professor introduced himself as Jonathan Price, and told the class a few things about himself, before diving straight into the first lesson of Philosophy.

Time seemed to flow fast throughout his class and you kept your fingers busy, writing down his words. He was easy to understand, bringing out intricate details in his lesson, and asked questions now and then if he was going too fast while walking around the room.

You couldn’t help but notice his slacks fit in a certain area. Then again, that thing wouldn’t give you a brain cell even if you suck it off.

The bell chimed and you gathered and stuffed your notebook and pen inside your bag, jolting up to your feet. But as you approached the exit, his canorous voice called out to you.

“Pardon me, young lady.”

You turned to face the professor, keeping a respectable distance from him, which he closed off, only standing a couple of feet from you.

“Yes, sir?” You asked in a small voice when he remained silent, his eyes studying you with disconcerting intensity, just like how he gazed at you at your performance.

Finally, after an uncomfortable silence, he asked. “What’s your name?”

You spoke of your name in a steady voice, equally confused and intimidated, you gripped on the strap of your bag. Everyone had already left, now bringing quietness to the hall.

He smiled once again, his head tilting a bit to the side. “A pretty name.” His voice sent goosebumps on your skin, making you breathe in deeply, inhaling the scent of his pleasant cologne. “Such a shame I couldn’t catch it after your performance a couple of weeks ago.”

He remembered you.

Your cheeks began to burn.

Oh, how he yearned to caress your tinted cheeks, place a kiss on them, and mutter praise against your soft skin.

“Ah, you were there, weren’t you, sir?” You offered him a smile and a pause. “I think I caught a glance of you in the front rows.”

“Correct.”

“Thank you for watching, sir,” you said, not knowing what to speak of next, and nodded at him, reaching out to the knob to leave. But he reached for the door, making you blink at his unexpected actions, caged between the door and him.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you,” he fessed, bodies now closer to yours that you almost touched, and you gulped. “You were magnificent.” He opened the door, a hand motioning at you. “See you on Wednesday. And I hope we see more of your performance.”

We?

You jolted awake at the loud laughter of a raucous group outside of your room and grunted at the sudden pang of pain in your head when you stood up. You glanced at the alarm clock by your bedside and muttered a crisp curse, hauling your bag. You burst out of your room, slipping past students in the hallway like a breeze, hurried apologies were called out to those poor victims she bumped into.

The morning had been long and tiring, and you decided to take a nap earlier, only to end up sleeping for a couple of hours. Now, you were about to get late for your next class, and the usual ten-minute walk turned into a five-minute run and an uncalled exercise.

You glanced from left to right in the hallway, glancing at your phone to make sure you were in the right building, and turned to the right, following the signs. You halted before a room, strangely closed even though the class was supposed to start in five minutes.

You used your phone as a mirror and patted down your hair, before turning the knob and opening the door. You walked into a softly lit room and realized the mistake you had made as you spotted a man splayed down on a couch across the room. A hand behind his head and over his stomach, and over the lower half of his face was a black mask.

Inside was a personal office, belonging to one of the professors.

You immediately turned away, about to exit the room when an angry voice echoed.

“Have you got no manners?” The man rose to sit, a scowl painted on his face.

For the nth time in your sorry life, you wanted to bury yourself alive. You dipped your head low in embarrassment. “I’m very sorry, sir. I thought this was the room my class was in. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You frantically fumbled on your phone, inputting the wrong password one time, and read your schedule.

You read the room number wrong.

Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

The professor fixed his crooked mask. “What class were you supposed to go to?”

“Uh, a math class of Mr. Simon Riley,” you read on your phone, keeping your head low.

A hum escaped past the man’s lips, making you glance up at him. His dark blond hair slightly ruffled from his apparent nap and coat a bit crooked. He ran his hand on his hair, fixed his coat, and patted down the invisible wrinkles on the fabric.

He stood up and you inched back, surprised at his stature. A tall man with broad shoulders and arms noticeably strong, (massive honkers) and eyes like a pool of honey, swirling like molten gold under the light.

“You’re in luck, sweetheart. I’m Simon Riley. You’re in my office, our class is in the next room.” Unlike earlier, his cold voice had turned a bit softer, but the fact that he was your professor made your sweat run cold.

You nodded, inwardly wincing at your dumbass. “Again, I apologize, sir.”

He stood before you, next to the opened door. Gladly, there were no students passing by in the hallway.

“What is your name, love?” he questioned, his hands going to his pockets. His eyes narrowed at the way your head dipped, refusing to meet his gaze. Like a meek little bunny, scared of the world and what all those pretty eyes could see.

He wanted to place a finger under your chin and lift your face up to look at him.

You never knew introducing yourself could feel like an interrogation until now. You told him your name, averting your gaze down at his shoes that shifted slightly. “Nice to meet you, Sir Riley. I’m sorry it wasn’t under the best circumstances.”

He hummed once again and stepped out of the office. “Pleasure’s all mine."

You followed him out of the room and he swiftly closed the door behind you, his being a bit closer to you than comfort.

With a nod, Professor Riley led you to the classroom. Dozens of students had already occupied the room and you silently made your way to a vacant seat on the second row, placing your bag next to you.

Just like Mr. Price, the masked professor went straight to the point, briefly introducing himself to the crowd, and began his lesson. He, too, was easy to understand, repeating the equations some couldn't get well, and was kind enough to let the class take a few minutes of break, before continuing. You had also come to notice he would fix his mask every once in a short while.

And when the bell chimed, he bid his students goodbye, yet called for your name. You halted on gathering your things as he approached you. His eyes glanced at the students who last left the room before he spoke.

"Feel free to come by my office whenever you have a question or need anything. Can't have you lose your way again, do we?" He asked, a bit of amusement in his voice as he leaned close.

You smiled at his offer. "Thank you, sir."

Sure as shooting, you asked him where your next room was for Chemistry. By good fortune, he knew where it was and who the professor would be.

"Ah, there he is." Sir Riley abruptly came to a stop, making you halt in your tracks as well and follow the direction of his gaze, to see a man with a mohawk.

"Simon!" The man jogged towards the two of you, a grin playing on his lips in contrast to the man who never took off his mask. Another person with blue optics, but his were bluer as though someone took a piece of the briny deep and placed it in his optics.

He kept a smile as his attention swept to you. "And who's the little bird?"

You frowned a bit at the nickname, nonetheless gave him your name, and watched his eyes light up with fascination. The man began to tell the pull he felt by the notes of your music, how enamored he was by the unspoken words of your tale.

He was there, too and Sir Riley was along with them.

Your face flushed as he ranted and they both noticed, taking note of the shades painted on your skin, bashful of the sudden recognition.

"He is John Mactavish, your Chemistry professor," Sir Riley piped in, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder, before bidding his farewell at the moment, marching down to his next class.

Left all alone with Professor Mactavish, you turned to him. He grinned at you and he beckoned at you to follow him. The man was, well, talkative and wasted not a second expressing his applause of your performance and how he never expected to see you in the university.

You could only mutter small words and nod, already feeling exhausted. But it was pleasant to hear him compliment you. You could get used to it.

And you could get used to his enthusiasm for teaching. His first lesson went straight to an experiment and dragged you to his side as his assistant, instructing you to mix chemicals. Occasionally, his fingers brushed over yours as you passed vials.

Your eyes met, and sparks flew all around.

Literal spark.

And fire.

Professor Mactavish pulled you to the side, hand remaining on your arm as the chemicals were set ablaze.

With a couple of ticks of the clock, a giggle erupted from your lips and like there was a pull, his chuckles followed.

In the sea of awes, his laughter floated on the surface.

You sprinted on the hall, navigating through the winding routes of the structures, and arrived at one of the most exquisite auditoriums you had ever set eyes on. Your eyes took in the magnificent chandeliers and the divine paintings stretched across the ceiling.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled you from your stupor.

“Are you just going to stand there?” a voice called for your attention to where he stood near the stage. The man basked in the warm glow of the concert hall, skin as though molten caramel, and eyes like embers.

“Oh, forgive me, sir.” You straightened yourself up like a soldier before a superior. “I was just, well, this place is beautiful.” You couldn’t help but glance around once again.

“Isn’t it?” A soft smile crawled its way to his lips and he approached you. “I am Mr. Garrick and you are . . .” your name rolled out of his tongue like a serenade, gentle to the ears, a sight to see the way his lips moved, and he extended a hand to you.

You clasped it gently before realization dawned on you. “Pardon me, Garrick as in the Kyle Garrick?”

In a flash of a moment, something sparkled in his eyes and searched yours. “Yes, it is me.”

You nearly squealed and ran around the room in excitement. “Oh my God. Wow. I-I’m a huge fan, sir. You were such a huge inspiration to me—and, and, I wished I could have watched your performance at the concert before, but I was busy preparing for mine. Oh, that must be why Mr. Price, Mr. Riley, and Mr. MacTavish were there! You are friends!” Your words tumbled out of delight.

"Yes, well, thank you for the kind words." His hand sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, his smile becoming wider.

You gazed at him for a few moments before you snapped out of it, your brain slapping it to your face that you just rambled in front of this gentleman. "I'm very sorry, that was unprofessional of me."

"No need for apologies. But I do want to get a feel of your play today as soon as possible." A hand landed on your back, his warmth slipping through the fabric as he led you towards the grand piano patiently waiting for you at the stage.

Your fingers itched in anticipation.

Sir Garrick gave you a comforting smile and sat on the front row seat. "Feel free to play whatever your heart desires."

What your heart desires.

With a shaky breath, once again, you began to tell a tale, the notes sounding like a human voice as it wove its sonorous song.

A ballad to tie what dream your heart made. An andante at first and increased tempo at each heartbeat.

Lightning striking and thunder howling, Kyle was consumed with the way you swayed from one note to another. He couldn't peel his eyes off you as though you had him in your grasp, a puppet for you to control. And only when the last of the music hung in the air, could he snap free of the strings.

He walked towards you and dropped to his knee, taking one of your hands in his palm. "You were truly astonishing."

"I'm telling you, she was marvelous," Kyle exclaimed, pacing around Price's office and pointing at his fellow professors. "Blimey, if only you guys were there the other day, you'd feel chills."

Simon kept a straight face as he sat on the couch, legs spread, his knees bumping with Johnny who took a seat beside him, sipping from his mug of coffee. Whilst, Jonathan inclined on his chair behind a mahogany desk, decorated with intricate carvings and souvenirs he had gathered as they traveled across continents.

"I get that you're delighted, but could you quiet down?" Price grumbled on his desk, a pang of pain shooting his head.

"No, I am not shutting up." Kyle raised a hand, shaking his head. "She recognized my name. My name.” He pointed at himself.

“Anyone would recognize your name if they’re yer fan or hater,” Johnny quipped and placed the mug down on the coffee table.

Kyle turned to him. “You don’t get it, mate. She said she’s a fan of mine. I was a huge inspiration to her—”

“Was a huge inspiration to her,” Simon echoed, leaning back against the couch. “Used to be, not anymore.”

Kyle glared and stomped towards the masked man, grabbing his collar when the other merely raised his brows in a challenge. “I swear to God, Simon, I swear to—”

“I swear to God if you three don’t shut the fuck up—” Price paused, straightening himself from his chair as Kyle shook Simon, and glared at them— “I’ll have you asinine blokes chopped into bits!”

Kyle let go of Simon, who simply fixed his crooked collar and tie, and raised a brow at the man behind the desk. He sat down on a vacant chair, his eyes not leaving Price, and asked, “Are you jealous she recognized me, Price?” he was answered with another glare, which he shrugged at. “Or not.” He definitely is.

For a few moments, they sat in silence, each lost in their train of thought. All centered on a certain lady, whom they had watched from afar, now within their grasp. They only acted as though it was their first time meeting you.

Each born to a wealthy family, presented interesting things which soon died down as they broke them down into pieces, they had grown bored. And had found that there were only a few they could put their trust in this world. Though not related by blood, they shared everything since they were younger. They knew one another strengths and weaknesses. Their faults. Their passions.

Their desires.

A knock pulled them out of their reveries.

Johnny being the closest to the door, got up and opened it. A smile was brought to his face as he found you. “Hello, bonnie. C’mon in.” He swung the door open, a hand motioning at you.

You hesitantly stepped in as you saw your professors inside the office, eyes all settled on you. You put a hand on your other arm to hold down your nervousness as the door behind you shut.

Four men who were strangely overly friendly to you. You could think of a couple of reasons. The first being a musician they had watched and the second, being their student.

A hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you further in, making your face flush. “Have a seat,” Sir MacTavish waved a hand at the sofa, where he and Simon sat.

You kept your gaze low as you obeyed him, sitting between him and your math professor, red cheeks going in a deeper shade as you met Kyle’s gaze. Embarrassed, you finally faced Price, and asked, “What is it that you called me for, Professor?”

Price put his elbows over his desk and intertwined his fingers. “We have a proposition for you . . .” Your name rolled sensually out of his tongue.

The proposition was to be their assistant. Given their overlapping schedules these days, it was hard for them to handle them. At first, you refused the offer, telling them you had a part-time job to do, along with practicing your skills in piano. But they had already thought about that and said they could pay you for your work.

A tempting proposal. Perfect for a student like you who got into this prestigious school through a scholarship.

You tapped your pen on the table and heaved a sound sigh, slouching on the chair. You were in a cafe near the school, in an attempt to change the atmosphere and help you write a report for Sir MacTavish's and Sir Price’s classes, but it didn’t seem to be helping at the moment. A pleasant music came from your earphones to block out the background noises and you closed your eyes to lull yourself.

When you opened your eyes, you jolted up your seat. “Shit!” your hands immediately flew to your potty mouth and straightened your spine at the sight of one of your professors, Simon, across the table. “Ah, uh, I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t notice you—”

“Why do you apologize so often?” his rough voice was low and he placed a cup of tea on the table. His eyes landed on your notebook, full of notes, written clean as though it was printed.

You pursed your lips, unable to think of an answer, and ran your tongue over the soft flesh, catching Simon’s attention. “I . . .”

Simon glanced around the empty cafe, the only other person within the area was the staff over the counter, who kept her eyes on her phone. And you had perfectly picked a secluded spot. He looked back at you and reached out a hand, placing it under your chin. He lifted your face to bring your eyes to his.

Your heart raced at his actions.

“An angel as brilliant as you are should carry yourself with confidence, sweetheart.” His thumb caressed your lips. “Perhaps, we could teach you that.”

Your lips parted at his touch, warmth pooling at your stomach. You knew this was strange—wrong, and yet you didn’t want him to stop.

But he let go and leaned back, and you found yourself gripping on your thigh. “Have you thought of our proposal last week?”

You nodded, clearing your throat. “I have, sir.”

“What do you say?”

“The offer is good, and I don’t think it will clash with my schedule under normal circumstances, either.” You paused, letting him wait for your answer as you gazed into his caramel eyes. “I’ll take it, professor.”

You were fond of puzzles. You were interested in mysteries. And you were drawn to danger.

Being their assistant had more perks than you initially thought it was. You talked with them about their terms and added some of yours, and they seemed to be pretty considerate about it.

Maybe, a bit too much.

You had moved to an apartment they got you, so you wouldn’t be distracted by your roommates. When you had breaks, they would call you to their offices and give you desserts and snacks.

And more often than not, their touches lingered, turning into hugs, caressing, and pinching when in private. To close, seemingly the start of a taboo, a risk, and yet when Professor Price had you pinned between him and Professor Garrick in his office one late night when most of the people at school had gone home, you didn't want them to stop.

You wanted the heat to rush over you, like a forest fire, unwavering.

Didn't pull back when he planted his lips on you. Didn't stop the very professor you looked up to as a musician to bunch up your skirt and grind his dick against your ass. Didn't stop even when the other two entered and Sir Price had his hand rubbing against your clothed cunt. Didn't stop when Professor Riley locked the door behind him as Sir Mactavish joined in.

Johnny’s snaked a hand around your waist, a bit harsher than the ones he’d always done, but you didn’t mind it. Not when his lips were gentle against yours, patient and exploring as he led you on his lap when he sat on your couch, stealing you from Price and Garrick. He drank on your gasp as you felt another pair of lips on your nape, dusting kisses along your flesh.

Simon breathed against your shoulder, hand grasping the swell of your breast and performed maddening massage that got your nipples pebbling under the fabric of your top. You flinched when he took them by fingers, the rolls languid, and shifted on the other man’s lap as you felt a poke underneath.

Johnny groaned against you, parting the breathtaking kiss. He removed you from his lap, only to turn you against him, now facing the professor who had shed his mask. His fingers dipped under the band of your panties, into your untouched bud and your wet folds. He rubbed with a hum, spreading your filth.

“You're so wet, hen,” he commented and inserted a digit, rubbing it against your slick walls.

Your teeth sunk to your lower lip, biting back a squeal at the sudden intrusion.

Simon placed his fingers under your chin and leaned down on you, his tongue running over your lips, something he had always wanted to do before. “Don't bite your lips. That's something we're supposed to do, yeah?” He whispered on your lips and explored your mouth, savoring the echoes of your pleasure, and left to plant his marks on your collarbones. Hands gathered your shirt and lifted it, exposing your chest to his sight.

His mouth dropped to the nipple, sucking while his hand went to work on the other.

Johnny began to pump faster, making you throw your head back to his chest, moaning out in pleasure as you shot a glance at other professors.

“You are not so innocent after all, hm?” Price took your jaw and ran his thumb over your lips, before pushing it in, muffling your cries.

“No one's that innocent nowadays, Price,” Garrick remarked, watching the frown on your face and the flutter of your lashes at every jerk of Johnny's hand made and Simon’s tongue did. His tongue ran over his lips, hand cupping over his hard-on, palming himself through his pants.

You began to suck on Price’s finger, making his dick twitch in his pants—his brain wondering how good your mouth would feel around him. He pulled his hand away to work down on his belt and pants, hands pulling out his shaft. He gave it a few pumps, chuckling when he noticed the way your tongue ran over your swollen lips before a groan escaped from it as Simon planted a bite on your neck and Johnny's thumb began to work on your clit.

Price brought his tip to your mouth. “Open up, dove,” he demanded and grunted as he pushed his shaft in, breath hitching at the warm feeling of your tongue and your throat. Your face twisted a bit at the taste of his precum. He let you adjust for a couple of seconds, hand going to the back of your head before he began to thrust.

One of your hands flew to hold onto his hip as you let him use your mouth, eyes fluttering closed and focusing on breathing through your nose. Out of the blue, Johnny pulled his fingers out and Simon stepped away, eliciting a whine from you. Vibrations ran down Price’s body and he groaned.

Unbuckling of belts echoed in the air, and you were pulled away from Price, making him curse. The next thing you knew, you were staring into the eyes of the man you had admired for so long.

“Sir—”

Kyle put his thumb over your lips, cutting off your words. “Not sir. Call me Kyle.” He positioned his cock under your cunt, rubbing the tip on your entrance.

You gasped at the sensation. “Kyle . . .” Your jaw slacked as he slowly went in, hands pulling you closer to his clothed body, fingers running on your flesh, gentle just as how he played his instruments.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, hands sliding down to your ass to guide you up and down on his length.

Now, he made music out of you.

It didn’t take a few ticks of the clock until they fucked you with all they had.

Simon’s cock was buried in the confines of your mouth, fingers tangled on your tresses, watching the curls of your lashes get soaked by the tears that rolled down on your cheeks as they relentlessly pounded on you—Kyle on your pussy, Price on your ass, and Johnny on your grasps. You had never felt so full, so complete.

You feel your legs shake—the sign you have reached the pinnacle of pleasure and exhaustion when Kyle hits the spot deep in you. You whined against Simon’s cock, groaning as beg for the overdue orgasm that they had been keeping from you.

You felt a hand slide down your thigh, finding your swollen clit, before the rough pads of the fingers rubbed aguishly gentle and slow. If they weren’t your professors, you would have cursed at whoever the one was doing it. But your wish had been heard and he picked up the pace until you were crying, arching your back.

But they weren’t done.

You felt Kyle and Price become rougher at each of their thrust, Simon tugging on your hair harder, and Johnny losing his rhythm on your hands, until they all pulled back, coating your skin with their cum.

You slumped on Kyle’s chest, limbs like a stringless puppet as you ride out the aftermath of your orgasm. Your heavy lids fell close, tired from the deed, but you fought back the drowsiness, not wanting to fall asleep in the state you were in.

“You did good, love,” Kyle cooed into your ear and planted a soft kiss on your temple.

Johnny leaned down and pressed a kiss on your shoulder. “Yer amazing, bonnie. Can’t wait to have more of ya.”

A hand caressed your flushed cheek, swiping the transparent mix of tears and sweat. “Let’s bring you back to your apartment, dove,” Price said in a gentle voice.

Gentle fingers scraped your scalp, gaining a hum from you, must be Simon with how his fingers feel on your head. An unspoken apology about the way he tugged on your locks.

Like the sky glowing, your skin glittered in the ruins they drew up. A masterpiece you were, vulnerable, vincible in their sight, like walls that had fallen. And yet as though a book which held thousands of words, they still had more things to know about you.

Like every start of a relationship. How fortresses were made. Each beginning of a story.

You basked in the echoes of their praise, letting their words bring you comfort and slowly help you regain your mind and strength.

Like after a fire, new maps were drawn. A new tale was written, with them, who swallowed a star.

Taglist: @itsyellow

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violet-eng · 1 year ago

Text

fem!reader studies Neuviotter! | Fluff 🧸 with Otter Neuvillette… 🔞with Human Neuvillette.

Summary: You're a Sumeru's researcher obsessed with Fontaine otters. So you basically adopt one... unfortunately it looks like that isn't an otter at all...

Warning: 🔞 MDNI. ALL SMUT IS WITH HUMAN NEUVILLETTE! Somnophilia, oral (fem! Receiving), p i v. Unprotected sex.

1.8k words.

Not edited.

⏜︵⊹︵⊹︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜⊹︵⏜︵⊹︵⏜

The prestige of your research precedes you. A diligent student with a flamboyant gait, brilliant ideals and precise knowledge. You arrive at Fontaine from the Sumeru Academy with a precedent never seen before, with your lively, attentive eyes and your notebooks covered in leather the same color as your eyes.

Word spreads immediately that the wise y/n, scholar of the Academia, has come to Fontaine to study a creature that has captured your attention to leave the green land for that of the primordial sea. Could it be that you want to study a mythical creature that lives in underwater caves? Or perhaps a glorious bird has captured your thirst for knowledge?

How surprised your guides were when you shouted with excitement, unable to contain your joy like a little girl, when you spotted a little otter poking its head out of the crystal clear water. You jumped up and down, unable to contain your happiness, exclaiming how amazed you were to see one so close.

Alone, you photograph the otter and go so far as to dive underwater with it, surprised more by how clever it is than by your new curious ability to breathe underwater. What a joy it is to find a group of creatures frolicking with a clam in their midst, spinning in the water and turning to look at you. You may have been down there for an hour.

Back on the surface, sitting on a rock with your feet in the water, you jot down the details in your notebook, tracing with the vague lines of a sketch the elusive shape of the little animals. Concentrating on your task, on defining the details of its snout, you notice on the other bank an otter, different from the others, grooming its head with its small hands.

You watch it carefully, the creature seems a little larger than the others, slender and almost like a gentleman...

"A gentleman otter," you whisper, enraptured by the delicate and magnificent figure grooming itself in front of you.

The otter makes sounds as he wipes his own face, lying on the surface of the water, carving his features and nose, while his two gnawing teeth peek through his pearly fur. Its small hands wash its own belly, almost ironing its fur as if it were the robe of a great lord. Deeply adorable. You hastily sketch the picture in front of you, not missing a tender detail of the cuddly toy floating carefree on the calm current.

The otter watches you with a lost look, black eyes that seem not to contain a single thought. The bliss of the ignorant. And you wave at him from your rock with a smile.

The otter swims toward you, and when he's within striking distance, he watches you, as if studying you.

"How smart you look," you say, clutching your notebook to your chest, "and very adorable. Look at you," you show him the drawing.

The otter stares at the paper with a certain analysis, but his unmistakable expression doesn't change. Then he seems to comb an invisible curl out of his furry head and approves your sketch with a formal nod.

"What a gentleman," you squeal, climbing down from your rock and returning to get your things. The otter emerges from the water, shaking his body to dry himself from the water, though he remains fluffy.

"I thought you were waterproof," you laugh at the sight of the expressionless furball, seemingly oblivious to his adorable embarrassment, "you're different, aren't you?" you approach him with a rag, trying to dry him.

You pull him onto your lap, paws up and his belly exposed as you dry his chest with your cloth, as if he were a baby. Then you wipe his little hands and then his paws. His face is now dry. The otter played with your bracelets, making funny noises and showing his little pearly teeth.

"Do you like it?" you ask, putting it down. The Otter nods enthusiastically. "It would look very cute on you," you add, taking off one of your bracelets and placing it around his neck.

The elastic of the bracelet is lost in his white fur, and the pendant stands out as if it were the clasp of a breastplate.

"You're missing a hat, and you could pass for another Fontaine gentleman," you exclaim, pleased with the result, as the otter poses like an elegant gentleman, his small chest puffed out, almost proud of how adorable he looks.

"It's getting dark, I should get back now. See you another day, Mr. Otter," you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder and waving your hand.

The otter hurries to follow in your footsteps, prancing subtly near you, his wet nose brushing against your ankle.

"You want to come with me, huh?" you kneel before him, and he touches your nose with his paw. "Fine, fine. We'll have a sleepover."

The place you're staying in is small but cozy, and it gets even cozier when you turn on the heat and put food on the table. The otter sits in a chair across from you, on a mountain of books, and tastes several of the snacks you've served him, though you see him going crazy over some consomme purete and the big glass of pure spring water you've served him.

"You like that, I noticed," you say.

"Burp," the otter replies with a burp that he seems to regret immediately.

"You have more manners than many people," you tell him, wiping his whiskers with a napkin.

"Okay, I'll brush your teeth and then off to bed," you say happily, with the idea of reading to the little animal before bedtime.

You sit him on your sink in front of the mirror, lift his jaw and brush his teeth with your toothbrush and toothpaste, first one side and then the other, make him drink some water and then spit it out, although he swallows it.

"Not your thing to waste water, apparently."

The otter nods.

Then you brush his head, chest, back, and tail, letting him groom himself, and when you try to remove the pin, he hides it in his small hands.

"Okay, okay... I'll leave it to you," you smile.

And then you lie in bed with him in your arms, illuminated by the dim light of your lamp, holding a book with an adventure story in it. You read aloud to him, stopping when you hear him whistling and snoring.

"Good night, Gentleman Otter," you kiss him on the forehead before turning off the light and going to sleep. ....

You're not one to dream, not at all, but ever since you came to Fontaine, you couldn't help but have these nightly fantasies about Iudex Neuvillette. That stoic and serious man, how good his face would look contorted with pleasure as you sucked his cock.

You had dreamed of a similar situation many times, you had dreamed of him against you as he pinned your frail figure against his desk and thrust into you, biting your lower lip. You had had your first fantasy after a trial, thinking how manly he would look behind you, his cock buried in your ass....

All those dreams had been vivid fantasies, and tonight's took the prize.

You lay on your bed, him biting your neck as he rests behind you, his hands playing with your breasts at his whim, his tongue sliding over your skin, enjoying the nectar of your pure complexion, his cock swollen against your clothed ass.

"Mmmmhhhh, Monsieur~" you moan, writhing in his grip.

The wonderful thing about these dreams is that you don't know how you get into these situations, but you know how to enjoy them. Because from one moment to the next, the oh so taciturn Iudex Neuvillette has his face buried between your legs, tasting your folds and your clit with his trained tongue.

"Right there~" you moan, arching your back as you feel the desire well up from his mouth, his tongue drawing lustful strokes across your sex, his deep sighs stoking the fires of your passion.

His hands wrap around your legs, and for a moment you swear it's real, the way his nails dig into your skin, leaving reddened marks in their wake, and his thumbs sink into your thighs, anchored to you with no intention of letting go.

Then you feel him thrust into you, opening your silken walls in his wake, his thick cock making its way to your center, molding your walls to his erect, large form. You feel him rub against you as your insides embrace him with little restraint.

You hear him moan and feel your legs rise up over his shoulders, his cool hands at your ankles pressing down on you, thrusting slowly but deliciously, almost as if you were made for him.

"Monsieur Neuvillette~" you moan, clutching the pillows, your hips bucking at the growing warmth in your belly, your hands seeking your own pleasure.

"Warmer than I thought," he whispers, "

it is almost like n your dreams... though this time it feels so real...

You look at him for the first time, his face sweaty, his cheeks flushed as his locks of white hair fall down your legs. His strong arms hugging you, his pecs rising and falling, holding breath... lower down, his chiseled abdomen twitching as his cock buries itself relentlessly inside you.

The sound of his balls against your skin blows your mind and makes you realize that it's not a dream, that Iudex Neuvillette is really fucking you (and very well, much better than you expected).

"Monsieur..." you try to sit up, but he has touched your cervix with his cock, and you do nothing but collapse under him, filled with the pleasure of his gentle thrusts.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks you reverently, in a tone of sublime courtesy and lofty superiority, as if he were not mercilessly fucking you at his whim while you sleep.

"Don't stop," you whimper between words, not wanting to waste the opportunity you've been dreaming of since the first time you saw him, "damn it," you exclaim at the wave of heat surging through your chest and legs as you hear him chuckle under his breath, quite pleased with what he's managing to make of your body.

The orgasm hits you warm and rough, just as Neuvillette did with his cock, careful not to leave his seed inside of you. And your breath comes back as you feel him caress your back as if to reward you.

You feel his lips on your forehead, and the way his arms hold you beside him as your eyelids droop at the inevitable.

"How did you get here?" you babble, half asleep, caressing his chest as he draws soft circles on your arm.

"You invited me," he whispers as he brings your hand to his neck where your bracelet encircles his skin and the charm falls to his chest.

"You'll explain it properly tomorrow," you murmur between confused shuffles...

#genshin impact smut #neuvilette smut #neuvilette x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #Neuviotter #otter #Otter Neuvillette #genshin #genshin x reader

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spectral-devotee · 4 months ago

Text

Spring will come

Original prompts by @ stmarchmm

Crossposted to AO3

Day 02: Breeding

Summary: Viktor's first rut arrives

“Have you locked the door?” Viktor asked for the umpteenth time from his spot in the master room’s nest where he laid spread over your legs. His head rested on just the right spot over your thighs so you could comb through his hair, as he always asked for you to do.

“Yes, V!” Jayce’s voice answered back from the kitchenette.

The soft blankets that enveloped you both stirred as he raised his torso, about to ask more questions to Jayce “Have you also—”

Your Beta’s steps approached and suddenly he was showing his half-naked torso through the door frame, shuting Viktor up for a minute.

“Yes, Viktor. We have enough food in the fridge, we all asked for heat-leave, we re-supplied all your medicines and put them in their designated place. Eda and I brought our own clothes, and the lube is in my drawer”

You felt your Alpha relax for a second before he opened his mouth again “Did you make sure—”

Now it was your turn to interrupt “We also made sure to lock the door to the lab back at the academy. We turned off all the valves and equipment too. Jayce helped me fix the light bulb, and we put away the tools into their respective cases. Everything is alright, Alpha. Leave it to us, you can rest now”

Your mate had not ever gone through a normal rut in his whole life. It was to be expected he would be somewhat apprehensive and nervous, so you and Jayce made a checklist of all the things your mate had in mind previous to his absence from the Academy.

You continued massaging him and his muscles gave in, finally letting all his weight fall on top of your legs.

To you, keeping track of all pending tasks was a small gesture but seeing Viktor now you were sure it meant a lot for him.

His skin felt feverish and his pheromones gave a weird mixture of desperation and comfort. You let him off into the nest gently and got up to help Jayce finish cleaning before Viktor’s rut officially started.

“I just wish this could be over easy for him. He’s been stressing over his rut the whole week” Jayce said as he stocked the pantry with some last-minute canned food he bought just in case the rut lasted more than the usual five days.

You approached him and gave him a peck on the cheek. It was cute when he worried about your mate “We’ve got this, Jayce-boy. Now, why don’t you join us in the nest? It’s getting cold out here”

Jayce immediately grabbed your hand and followed you into the bedroom.

…

You woke up to one of your mate’s hands roaming under your nightgown.

Just by the sheer size of his body rubbing against you and his calloused touch, you could tell it was your Beta. His fingers traced over your curves, stopping only to pull you to him.

For a moment his palms held tightly onto your hips, keeping you in place to feel his dick hardening against your backside. He did not miss how you started producing slick, wetting your shorts and the blankets underneath.

“Alpha wants you, ‘mega” He whispered to your ear, barely audible but firm enough to send shocks through your system.

Then another set of lips started peppering kisses along your neck and down to your chest. Every few kisses, you Alpha made sure to tease you by softly biting into your flesh. Viktor’s tongue then licked your scent gland, teasing the sensitive area.

“Off” Viktor said and, to your surprise, Jayce’s hands stopped just as they were about to reach your breasts and instead started lifting up your nightgown. Your arousal would most likely be obvious if only they could see how wet you already were under the silken clothes.

You were only left in your shorts, vulnerable to your Alpha’s intense glare and your Beta’s touch.

“You’re doing so well, baby. Letting your Beta prep you for our Alpha” Jayce took the chance to part your legs and guide your hands over to your nape, exposing your figure even further to Viktor. You were leaning entirely over Jayce’s bare torso, his skin hot and humid against your back.

Certainly it was a rare sight to see Jayce so… submissive to Viktor’s demands. Yes, he mostly respected the usual denomination hierarchy, but this was on a whole other level. His eyes were attentive to Viktor’s every move, an instinctual response to the pack’s Alpha.

Jayce’s desire to please him was palpable even if it was obvious how he wanted nothing more than to ravage you at that instant.

Viktor remained silent, observing the both of you as Jayce started trailing his hands over you again. Even though your Beta’s kisses remained chaste, the bulge poking at you from behind told a different tale of what he wanted to do to you.

Your Alpha’s expression was unreadable, but his scent screamed he was ready to pounce at the display Jayce and you were putting on for him.

You could get used to this kind of attention.

He took his time crawling over the blankets, softly tracing his fingers along your legs before reaching under and parting them before pulling you to him until your clothed pussy was flush against his lips and your head rested over Jayce’s herculean thighs.

Viktor inhaled your arousal as if his life depended on it. His nose rubbed on your sensitive nub, causing you to squirm but his grasp kept your hips in place for him. He backed away and you started missing the contact. You needed him inside you.

In an instant he removed your shorts, exposing your wet folds. You heard a sharp inhale behind you and you turned slightly to see Jayce’s cock standing proud and tall next to you. Yet his eyes were glued to Viktor’s face, waiting for some sort of signal to join.

That signal did not come as Viktor sunk his face in between your legs, first with open mouthed kisses along your pussy and then by his tongue licking and prodding your inner labia with a hunger unknown to you.

Before you knew it your hips were bucking to him in hopes of making your release come faster, but your Alpha’s stern gaze stopped you in your tracks. His furrowed brows let you know you would be coming only when he told you to come.

Deep in your fervor you noticed Jayce’s whimpers. It seemed like Viktor had prohibited him from touching his length or doing anything to relieve himself. Then you felt your mate’s tongue enter your hole, and prod at your gummy walls.

You mustered up the courage to go against your Alpha’s wishes and decided to take pity on your poor Beta who’s cock had gone without attention for long enough. You opened up your mouth and enveloped only his tip at the beginning. Your tongue swirled around this delicate cap, paying special attention to the underside of his glans.

Jayce’s hands got back on your body and started playing with your tits, kneading your mounds and stimulating your nipples between his fingers.

Viktor did not react to your actions, instead he decided to add two fingers inside your opening now that you were wet enough. His mouth moved up and his tongue focused on your clit, rubbing circles and applying more pressure according to your moans of pleasure.

Your mouth began going lower on Jayce’s fat cock, making sure not to forget the pulsating vein on the lower side of it. Your hands traced over his abs, grounding you while your mates did every possible thing to make you give yourself over to pleasure.

Viktor added another finger, making the heat inside you grow more and more. The continuous assault to your mound kept your back arched even as you were almost at the base of Jayce’s dick. His touch felt desperate, needy, frantic—

Then your orgasm shook you to your core.

You came back down huffing. All air had left your lungs as you exhaled in bliss. You were prepared for Viktor to enter you, knowing this was only the beginning of his rut, but he spoke directly to your Beta instead.

“Jayce, go first”

Your other mate turned his head in a hurry, clearly not expecting this either. “A- Are you sure, Vik? It is customary for Alphas to—”

“I want you to breed her first, Beta. You have not come yet, am I correct?” Jayce looked down at his bouncing cock. Viktor retracted back into the stack of discarded pillows behind him, his own erection standing with a half-knot. “Our little Omega here needs more preparation before I, or rather, we knock her up”

Viktor grabbed his dick and started pumping himself as he kept eye contact with Jayce “I want to see you breed her, Jayce. I need to see that beautiful pussy full and leaking with your come before my cock impales her and my knot plugs her up the whole night long”

Both you and Jayce stood aghast at his words, not sure if they had completely sank in for him the same way it had for your not-in-rut brains.

“I fully intend to make do of my promises, Beta. Won’t you listen to your Alpha, now?”

Something inside Jayce clicked and he ferociously kissed your Alpha before turning to you and finally kissing your mouth too, tasting himself in the process. While your lips parted and your tongues started exploring each other’s, Jayce slotted himself between your legs.

You lifted your hips to grant him easier access, an action which he fully took advantage of as he placed his hands over your bottom and rammed you into his pelvis.

For a second you feared he would enter you so suddenly, but he merely positioned you perfectly just so he could coat his member with your slick.

As he moved up and down your lower lips he kept rubbing against your sensitive clit. You angled yourself over your elbows and the sight of your Beta pleasuring himself with your folds turned out to be hotter than you would have thought. You could even see the small beads of pre cum seeping from his tip.

Only a few seconds later his dick was glistening with your mixed juices, a testament of your mutual arousement.

“Ready, Omega?” He set himself atop of you, his hands trapping you beneath him.

In response you only lifted your pussy to tease his member one last time as you turned to see Viktor lost at the sight of you “Fill me up, Beta, plea—”

Before you could finish your sentence Jayce pushed inside you up to the hilt. With how sensitive you were from your previous orgasm you felt every ridge and movement he made.

He stilled for a second, letting you get used to his size which was, in fact, very big for a Beta.

Your chest raised up and down with your labored breaths as he moved his hands to meet your hips. His thumbs laid right over your pelvic bone, softly massaging circles into your soft skin.

The gesture helped you take your mind off the fact that you felt like you were about to be torn in half just from the sheer size of his dick inside your wet cavern and you could do nothing but to take him. Not that you had any complaints, though.

Jayce started slow. Even when helped by your slick and arousal it was a tight fit, leaving little ground for you to do anything besides thanking all the gods that put this man in your path and cursing the time you had spent without having sex with him.

His grunts and moans queued you into hooking your legs behind him, making impossible any slip outside your pussy. Your mate took this to mean you were ready for him to move faster.

With renewed vigor, your Beta moved his legs even deeper beneath you, coercing your chest up. His hands left your hips and quickly went over to hold on to the arch he had created under your back. You had only a moment's notice before he started ramming into you.

“O…mega. Ghn– My… My Omega” His voice came in syllables. You, on the other hand, were barely even able to keep your eyes open. The force was brutal but the pleasure you were deriving from it far exceeded the pain. How this man was not an Alpha was beyond you.

Your tits bounced against his broad chest. Beads of sweat fell on you as your lover chased his undoing.

In an instant Jayce’s mouth was latching on to your right nipple. Not quite biting, but also not letting the force of his thrusts interrupt his suckling. “So… so full, our Omega”

“Yes, Jayce. Can you imagine her stomach all round with our pups?” Viktor’s voice rang to your side “We could even take turns stuffing her until she can’t fit any more of our cum inside her. You could take her right tit while I suck on her left” His eyes had a spark in them you had only seen a few times.

Inspiration? Enthusiasm? No, none of those fit the mood. Fulfillment maybe?

The mental image of you heavy with pups was not one Jayce imagined often, that was for sure. Never before did the thought ever cross his mind, but something about Viktor’s words made his instincts go into overdrive.

“Beta” You said, or rather croaked. He had been using your fanny for far too long, you were on the verge of an orgasm while still riding out the one Viktor gave you.

Jayce glanced down at you, your eyes puffy and face all red. You could feel your drool falling out of your mouth out of sheer pleasure “Beta, ah— ahh… p… please fill me up” He turned to look at Viktor, waiting for him to say anything.

He wanted, no, needed to be a good Beta and prep you good and full for his Alpha.

“Such a good Beta” Viktor crawled over closer again, taking your left breast into his hand, playing with your hardening nipple “Be a good Beta and fill her up, Jayce”

Jayce sunk deeper inside you, hitting all the right spots until the tip of his cock kissed your cervix.

The spring inside you threatened to come undone again when your Alpha came to lay down next to you. Softly, delicately, his mouth replaced his touch while his hand traveled downwards to your quim.

You moaned when you noticed your Alpha’s fingers rubbing circles around your unattended clit, the overstimulation bacomming too much.

With one last pinch and your Beta stilling inside you, you came for the second time.

You tried to catch your breath; a hard task considering your Beta was still moving inside you. With whatever little force you still had you tried to move him, but his arms held you close. The amount of cum he was expelling into your poor cervix was inhumane.

Jayce’s member kept pulsating a minute or two after you had come. You and Viktor remained lying in your nest. His other hand crept up to your face and his thumb traced over your cheeks.

Love.

That was the spark behind his gaze.

You had no time to adjust before Jayce’s cock left your hole and was immediately substituted by Viktor’s. Indeed they did not let a single drop leak.

A different kind of fullness engulfed you. Your whimpers were silenced by Viktor’s tongue against your own.

Despite Jayce’s thorough prep, Viktor’s length still managed to get a reaction out of you. His half-formed knot was a welcome addition for your ruined pussy when you thought you could not feel any more full.

Viktor rolled you to your side while pumping into you, not missing a single beat. Jayce, on the other hand, rested for a moment before standing up and going to the bathroom. Most likely to clean himself up.

You turned to look at your mate. He was far more controlled now than you expected for an Alpha in rut. While centered on the pleasure, his eyes did not miss your gaze, opting to keep eye contact with you.

Not once did he expect full submission from you, as typical of others of his denomination. He was just like the time you had met him, sarcastic yet… warm and welcoming, familiar even.

“I did not take you for the family guy, Viktor” Your dry throat desperately needed water now. Maybe after this round you’d get up to find some.

“Shh, shh. Don’t strain yourself” His lips found your cheek and planted a kiss while his knot rubbed against your entrance, not quite in yet.

“I did not think of myself as one either, if I must be honest” His voice came out in huffs, his stamina lower than Jayce’s “-yet everytime I think about our future I cannot help but imagine giving you all you want”

A thrust hit your G-spot and Viktor kept trying to hit that gummy spot again and again.

“While I know not all Omegas want pups, I know yearning. Ghng— and I know that’s what I see in you whenever you think about o- our future” Your whimpers escaped your mouth once more as he continued hitting all the right spots “You don’t have to put your dreams a— ah- aside for our sake. You can ghnn… you can have everything you desire”

His hand moved over to your lower stomach and he pressed over the place where his cock was barely noticeable before pushing his whole length inside. While compassionate with your current sensitivity, he still made sure to rearrange your guts.

“M- ah… Maybe not right now, but we will give you your pups, Omega” He cooed to your ear.

You pressed your cheek to his as you felt his knot catch on the interior ring of your hole. The pulsating member became bigger and bigger until you had to spread your legs further apart, amazed at how big it would get. You couldn’t help but buck into him, your arousal about to give in once more.

His knot finally reached its full size, stretching your gummy walls to their limit and maybe even a little more. Your legs trembled as he kept pumping, even if his movements were futile. You moved your hands over to where he laid his own, surprising yourself by the fullness of your belly pouch.

Your Alpha’s hands started pawing that spot, almost as if wanting to encourage the seed to take.

Viktor kissed the side of your neck and bit your scent gland as he thrusted into you once more. His knot started pulsating, shooting more of his hot jets of cum into you. You could hardly distinguish whether it was your pussy milking him or the sheer intensity of your third orgasm, but either way you were spent. Your lower regions would need some time to recover from this exploitation.

White spots filled your vision and your ears rang with white noise, you recognized a familiar silhouette approaching quickly to the sight of you.

Jayce’s hands quickly positioned your head over a pillow and brought a glass of water to your lips. Your Beta made sure you drank enough water to not get dehydrated before putting away the glass and concerning himself with your Alpha.

You fell asleep to the sound of your mates covering up your bodies with a blanket and muttering sweet nothings before falling asleep themselves.

…

#viktor arcane #a/b/o dynamics #jayce talis #jayce x reader #viktor x reader #jayce x viktor #jayce arcane #reader insert #omegaverse #pekkwrites #smut

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phoward89 · 1 year ago

Text

Based on this ask

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is his own warning in and of itself. Cussing, obsession, masterbation (m & f), p in v (alluded to), Dark!Coriolanus, Young Politician!Coriolanus, Secretary!Reader

This one got away from me so it's a bit long. Whoops...

You're at your desk, logging into your computer to start the day whenever the door to the office opens and in walks your boss. Senator Coriolanus Snow. One of the youngest Head Gamemakers and Senators in the history of Panem. He's only 24 years old and he's already so successful.

Crazy, right?

Your older brother was in the same graduating class as him at the Academy. Rein was a slacker that wasn't in the top 24 while Coryo- uh Coriolanus- was the top student, won the Plinth prize, and even did a short stint as a Peacekeeper to serve the greater good of the country (like his father General Crassus Snow did before him) before attending the University as a double major in Political Science and Military Strategies. Oh and while attending the University he interned under Dr. Gaul, became an Assistant Gamemaker, and even became the Head Gamemaker himself when Dr. Gaul died in a tragic lab accident involving her mutts.

And he did all of that by age 20.

Age 20!

After graduating from the Academy, Rein was shoved into the Peacekeepers by your father, retired Colonel Javanis Halvir. Your brother was sent to 8 and he complained in all of his letters about it. Once he was eligible to take the Officer's Aptitude Exam, your father had ordered him to sign up. So, Rein took the test and became an officer. He got assigned to PK Base D-12.

And that's what your older brother accomplished by 20. Oh and he also knocked up a local barmaid from the Hobb, causing your father to have a stroke. Your mother found it very comical.

And then both of your parents told you that you needed to redeem the family name, blah blah blah, and pushed you to be the top student in the Academy. So, of course you ended up in the top 24. And you mentored a tribute, a 17 year old boy from 7, that won. He was very proficient with an ax. You didn't have to do too much mentoring, he basically just hacked everybody to bits…

But you still won the Plinth Prize anyways. And during the ceremony for the prize, instead of Strabo Plinth handing you over the Plinth Prize it was his heir instead.

Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow.

After handing you the prize he had asked you to have a glass of posca with him, causing your mother to glare angrily at the interaction. Your father on the other hand was ecstatic that Coryo-uh Coriolanus- wanted to talk to you. He served under General Snow in 12; thought that Coriolanus was a man cut from the same cloth as his father.

Anyways, once you and Coriolanus Snow got to talking he admitted that he was going into politics and would need a personal secretary; an assistant per say to help him with his day to day tasks such as scheduling meetings, etc. and much to your surprise, he offered you the job.

That was a couple of years ago.

So, yes, that's how you got your job. And you really liked your job. It wasn't that hard to do plus it made you feel important that such an accomplished and powerful man trusted you to manage his life.

If you only knew that Coriolanus, who's been insisting that you call him Coryo for roughly a year now, has been lusting after you since he saw you in a cute dress that hugged your body just right when he presented you the Plinth Prize 2 years ago. Also, your boss is a dark soul. A cold man. But he does have a soft spot for you.

And only for you.

Which is why he greets you with a wide, manic smile that makes the corners of his baby blues crinkle. “Good morning, Y/N.” The platinum blonde senator says while crossing the room, heading to your desk.

“Good morning, Senator Snow.” You politely smile, pulling up the excel document in order to print out the day's schedule for your boss. And talk about your boss, he's holding a bouquet of white roses in one hand and a tray of coffee along with a pastry bag in the other as he stops at your desk.

Coriolanus sets everything down, only to grab the vase on the corner of your desk and bring it over to the trash. All the while saying, “I brought you some fresh roses, courtesy of Grandma’am’s rooftop garden, to replace the wilted ones on your desk.”

The blonde politician did that every Monday for you. He brought fresh flowers for your office vase. A vase he gifted you for your one year work anniversary last year.

Dumping the contents of the vase out in the trash can, Coriolanus gestured to the coffees and brown paper bag on your desk, only to explain, “The barista at the coffee shop got my order wrong, so I had to do a second order, but since I already paid for the wrong order I figured I'd give it to you.”

“Oh, thank you, Coriolanus, Sir.” You simply smiled, grateful for the free coffee. You were going to put a pot on in the break room as soon as you printed out Snow's schedule, but getting an unexpected cup of coffee’s always nice.

Perhaps you'll pay it forward and treat him to coffee tomorrow. The gods know that you have his coffee order memorized.

It's black, just like his soul, with a couple of sugar packets. Not Splenda, not Sweet ‘n’ Low, not Truvia, but real sugar made from sugar cane grown down in 11. Oh and he always has a chocolate filled croissant too.

You also know his afternoon tea order by heart along with his dinner orders from a handful of takeout places he prefers. Hell, you even know his liquor order for after hours meetings. But it's your duty to know those things since, after all, you're his personal secretary.

Literally his right hand woman.

“Darling, how many times have I told you to, please, call me Coryo.” Your boss shook his head at you while bringing the empty vase to the nearby bathroom to fill up with water.

It must've been at least a hundred times by now, maybe more. But it felt weird to you calling your boss such a personal sounding nickname. You're both professional adults, if you call him by his name it should be Coriolanus. If not then you'll just refer to him as his title, since he's your boss.

“You know I can't call you Coryo, Coriolanus. It's not proper; you're my boss.” You remind the senator, who's dressed to the nines today in a perfectly tailored three piece black suit- complete with a white dress shirt and striped tie, as he walks out of the bathroom and back into your foyer office with the filled up vase in hand.

A vase that looked dwarfed by his large grip. “We've known each other for a couple of years now, darling. I'd like to think of us as being on friendly terms, wouldn't you?” Coriolanus asked, placing the vase down on your desk and arranging the flowers in them for you.

You clicked the print button on your computer, only to swivel your chair around to reach the ink jet printer behind you. “Yes, we're friendly, but you're still my boss.”

“And as your boss I'm now ordering you to call me Coryo.” He told you, pulling out the coffee that was yours, due to error, and setting it on your desk while you watched the printer spit out the paper with his daily schedule on it.

“Fine, I'll call you Coryo.” You gave in, grabbing the paper and swiveling back around to face your him.

“I got two croissants since I had to get my order remade, so it looks like you'll be getting one this morning, darling.” Coryo told you, opening up the paper bag and pulling out a pastry. He grabbed a napkin that was stuffed into the drink carrier and put it on your desk, next to your coffee, before depositing your croissant on it.

“Thank you.” You simply smile. Handing him over his schedule, you announce, “Here's your schedule for today.”

The platinum blonde gives you a closed lip smile and nods before stretching his hand out for the paper. “You've got a dinner meeting tonight at 7 o’clock sharp with a political sponsor.” You reminded him, your fingertips brushing, while he grabs the outstretched paper from you.

Briefly glancing over the paper in his hand, he asked, “Would you like to go with me?”

“What?”

“Dinner at 7 o’clock sharp. Would you like to go with me?”

Shaking your head, you politely decline his offer. “Oh no, I'm sorry, Coryo, Sir, but I can't go.”

“Why not? Got a boyfriend or something occupying your time?” The senator sharply asks, his baritone heavy with a tingle of jealousy.

Coriolanus prayed to every God he never believed in that you're single. If not, well he's going to go whack some unlucky bastard to free you up to be his girl. He's decided that he's tired of pinning over you; stalking you.

Coryo's ready to take things to the next level. He's ready to fucking corrupt you; make you his forever. He's going to be announcing his bid for the presidential runoff, the first step in becoming one of two candidates to face off for the presidency, and it's time for him to get into a relationship.

A public relationship.

And you're perfect for that. Coriolanus knows, without a doubt, that you'll make a perfect First Lady. That your beauty and slight innocence will be the perfect contrast to his cold, stoic, but regal stature. That you're a perfect fit for him.

Plus he's getting tired of paying for whores. Whores that he has to keep disposing of so that they can't blackmail him about his sexual appetite. Coriolanus prides himself of being from one of the founding families of Panem, from the Old Guard. He even runs on the Old Guard ticket; he can't have some disgruntled whore tarnishing his reputation.

It'd be much cheaper and easier to just get you into bed; fuck you in all the ways that he likes.

But he also has a soft spot for you. Coryo likes you. Okay, that's a lie. He's obsessed with you in such a dark, sick way that if he sees a man smile at you or get too close to you then he's killing that man. Yea, Senator Snow’s in love with you, or at least in his head he's in love with you.

It's more like an obsession.

“No.” You shook your head. “I don't have a boyfriend.” Well, you had an on-again, off-again thing going on with your neighbor across the hall from you, but since it's currently off Coryo doesn't need to know about that.

Coriolanus swore that he heard the heavens singing hymns upon hearing that you're single. Yes, now’s the perfect time for him to make you his.

“Then I'll have my driver pick you up for dinner tonight. Wear something nice.”

Once again, you decline him invitation. “You're my boss, I'm sorry, but I can't go with you tonight.”

Usually Coriolanus appreciates your professionalism and dedication to your job, but right now he loathes it. Why can't you just accept that he's taking you to his dinner meeting tonight. That he's showing you off on his arm for the entire Capitol to see.

Leaning against your desk, he gives you a piercing look with his icy eyes and tells you, “It's a very important business dinner with a political sponsor, Y/N, and you're my assistant.” A calculating look crosses the politician's face as he adds in, “It's actually, you might say, very vital that you attend dinner with me tonight.”

Well…

When he puts it that way.

“Okay, I'll go to dinner with you tonight.” You relent, causing a smug grin to appear on Coryo's face.

“Good.” Coryo grins, making his face light up like sunshine, as he grabs his coffee and pastry bag. “Since dinner's at 7, I'll have my driver pick you up at 6:45. That'll leave a 15 minute window to get to the restaurant.” The platinum blonde told you the plan before pivoting on his heel and striding over to his office. Pausing at his door, with his large hand hovering over the knob, he looked over his shoulder and told you, “Wear either a red or black dress, but preferably red.”, before opening up the door and disappearing inside of his office.

Oh, how did you get into this mess?

Coriolanus sat at his mahogany desk, going over documents for various bills that he could either sponsor or just straight up deny. Honestly, most of the shit that got dumped on his desk he denied. If it didn't pertain to the Capitol and the Capitolites then he just shoved the document in his shredder and made a note to vote no, well in the Senate it was ‘nah’, on it.

And Senator Snow was notorious for voting nah on everything.

As he sat in his office going over mindless matters, he couldn't help but wonder about what you'd look like all dolled up for dinner tonight. He knew that you had a few nice cocktail dresses to pick from, but the mystery of whether you'd listen to him and wear something black or preferably red versus another color altogether made his head spin a mile a minute. He hopes that you're a good little secretary and listen to him about the dress.

But what he really can't help fantasizing about is what you'll be wearing underneath your dress. He can't help picturing you in a bra and panty set that hugs your body in the right ways. The senator's daydreaming about delicate lace molded against your most private parts, that are hidden away only for your lover to see.

And just thinking about becoming your lover, stripping you out of not just your dress, but your soft, delicate lingerie has his pants growing tighter. So tight, in fact, that it was downright uncomfortable.

Letting out a barely audible groan, the platinum blonde stood up from his desk and went over to his door. For just a moment, he leaned his forehead against it and debated on whether or not to call you into his office; have you on your knees underneath his desk for him. But then he decided against it; locked his door instead and went over to his desk chair to take care of himself.

You're not some district whore, you deserve to be properly wined and dined first before he has you on your knees for him- choking on his cock with tears and mascara messily running down your cheeks.

Oh, just the thought of you with your pretty mouth around his large cock had said cock twitching in his pants.

Quickly, Coriolanus makes his way over to the small sofa that's in the corner of his office. He makes quick work of undoing his belt, only to tug his pants and boxer briefs down just enough for his cock to spring free before sitting on the sofa. Spitting in his hand, he leans back into the sofa and wraps his large hand around his cock.

He feels his dick throbbing angrily in his cold hand while sliding his thumb over his tip’s leaky slit. The platinum blonde bites back a moan, and closes his eyes- pretending that it's your hand wrapped around his shaft and your thumb teasing his cockhead. Fuck, how he craves your touch. Using his thumb to spread precum over his tip and down the length of his dick, he started to move his fist up and down in measured glides.

Coriolanus knows he should just rub one out as quick as possible since he's at work, but the fact that you- the object of all his fantasies- is right outside won't let him. Being in such close proximity to you feeds his fantasies and he has to have a proper handjob session.

Coriolanus has to indulge in the make believe notion that you're the one pumping his cock up and down, twisting your wrist slightly every now and then. That it's you playing with his cum heavy balls, making his toes curl in his socks and black floor shines, as the fist around his cock starts to slightly pick up pace.

Gods, he's getting lost in his fantasy of you pleasuring him with your hands, hell even your mouth- that he's sure will be aching from his cock unhinging your jaw when you suck him off- that the loud ringing of his office phone startles him.

“Goddamnit! Can't I fuck my fist in peace?” Coriolanus grumbled.

He's angry that his fantasy was broken; that he has to fist his cock faster than he wanted to.

The phone continued to ring off the hook as he furiously moved his hand up and down his dick. He bit his lip and bucked his hips, spurting his cum into his left hand. The one that he was using on his balls before the damn phone started ringing like crazy.

Letting out an aggravated sigh, he grabbed a few tissues from the box on the side table next to him and wiped off his hand. Standing up to right his boxer briefs and pants, he heard your heels echo down the hall. Great, just great, now you're on your way to his office because the phone’s ringing off the hook.

Quickly, Coriolanus tosses the tissues into the wastebin. Rushing to his desk, he grabs the phone, only to slam it down. Hard.

Hey, he made the excessive ringing stop. Whoever called should just stick to the after 3 rings, hang up and try again later rule. Coriolanus has more important things to do than listen to a phone ring endlessly.

More important things: like jacking off to daydreams and fantasies about his secretary.

His secretary that's knocking on his door and asking him if he's alright.

“I'm fine, my darling.” Coriolanus called out to you while crossing his office. He unlocked his door and opened it, only to give you a manipulative smile while feeding you the bullshit lie of, “I just zoned out reading a grant proposal and didn't realize the phone was ringing.”

“Are you sure you're alright?” You asked, only to follow it up with the offer of, “I can always read some of those grant proposals and take notes on them for you, if you want. That way you won't get so bored to death reading them that you miss important phone calls.”

“You'd do that, for me?” Coriolanus asked, feeling a bit touched by your offer. Oh, how he thinks you're an absolute sweetheart.

A perfect angel sent to him from the Lord above. And he's your golden angel too.

Lucifer, that is.

“Of course, Coryo. It's my job to help you with paperwork.”

And before another word could be shared between you two, his phone started ringing. Again.

“Oh, I'll leave you to your call. Just put whatever you want me to read for you on my desk later.”

“I will, darling.” Coriolanus smiles at you, watching you walk away before closing his door.

Storming over to his phone, he sees that the video option light is blinking. Sitting down, he answered the phone and pressed the button to turn on his video call screen. As soon as the face of the half-assed idiot that was one of the Junior Gamemakers appeared on the screen he immediately felt a migraine coming on.

“Senator Snow, are you neglecting Head Gamemaker duties in favor of politics? You never answered my call.” The redhead man with a bad combover had the audacity to tell his boss via the phone screen.

Poor soul must not value his life…

“There’s 3 fucking months before the games, that I'm designing, so there's no damn reason for you to call me and let the phone ring off the hook. Are you incompetent? If you had the common sense that God gave a mule the. You'd know I was busy with other matters and couldn't answer your ridiculous call.” Coriolanus seethed in a long winded rant. His veins were protruding from his pale neck; a red vein was angrily popping in his forehead too. But it was his eyes that held so much hate in their icy orbs.

The man on the phone screen, despite being a few years older then Senator Snow, was a complete incompetent idiot in Coriolanus' opinion. Age certainly didn't make him any wiser.

“I'm a very busy man; next time you pester me I'll have you thrown into a tank full of rabid mutts.” Coriolanus promised the Junior Gamemaker before hanging up, hard, on him.

Coriolanus pinches the bridge of his nose and slumps into his overstuffed leather office chair. Letting out a heavy sigh, he rubs his temples and tries to calm down by daydreaming about dinner with you tonight.

Your day went on as it usually does. You took calls and made appointments for Senator Snow. You also read and typed up some cliff notes for a few bills that Coryo left for you before he took off for lunch. He didn't say where he was going and you didn't ask.

When he came back from a power lunch, you knew he went somewhere for drinks cause you could smell a hint of whiskey radiating from his pores, he greeted you with a simple thin lipped smile and placed a container of food on your desk. He didn't tell you to take your lunch break, but the way he wordlessly moved his baby blues between you and the doggie bag he just dumped on your desk was more than enough to give you a hint that he wanted you to eat. So, you simply thanked him, before handing him some notes and taking the food he got you to the break room.

After lunch, the remainder of your day was mundane. Or at least it was until Coryo emerged from his office and strutted over to your desk. You didn't pay him any mind, figuring that he prolly just wanted the other bills back along with the notes you just finished up on them. So, when he perches himself on the corner of your desk, all the while suggesting, “Darling, why don't you leave early. You can pamper yourself with, say, a rosewater bubble bath before tonight's dinner. Yea?”, you're taken aback.

You're in total shock.

Your nose scrunched up, reminding Coriolanus of a little bunny rabbit, as you asked incredulously, “Excuse me, Senator Snow? You're sending me home early?” Softly, you trailed off, “To take a bubble bath…”, while tilting up a baffled arched eyebrow.

“A rosewater bubble bath.” The regal platinum man corrected with a long finger high up in the air. Leaning slightly, so that he towers over you as you sit behind your desk (and gets a nice little peek down your v-neck blouse at your modest cleavage), he tells you, “You're such a dedicated employee; I think you deserve to go home early and pamper yourself before I drag you out to a dinner with my potential political sponsor.”

And what he wasn't telling you was that Mr. Feathersworth was bringing his mistress along. Oh yea… So, technically, it's a couples dinner.

Really? He wants you to relax and pamper yourself before a dinner full of political talk? Wow. You weren't expecting that from your boss.

“My bath and beauty products are actually rose-vanilla scented, Coryo, not rosewater.” You told him, before you could even think better of it.

A smirk appears on Coryo's face and desire briefly flashed in his cerulean eyes. The imposing man favored roses; in fact it was his signature, so that fact that you used rose-vanilla scented bath and beauty products had his cold, black heart beating with warmth, life, and daresay love for you.

“Darling, you deserve to pamper yourself in that rose-vanilla bubble bath. We'll be in for quite a long evening; you don't want to be tense beforehand, now so you?”

Well…

When he puts it that way.

Sighing slightly, you gave in with, “Fine, I'll leave early and pamper myself with a bubble bath.”

“Rose-vanilla bubble bath.” Coriolanus corrected with a ghost of a smile tracing his lush lips. Patting your cheek, he tells you, “Go ahead and go, darling. I'll be fine here for a few more hours.”, before pushing himself off of your desk.

“Thank you. I'll see you later for that political dinner.” You genuinely smiled, grabbing your bag out from under your desk and shouldering it before standing up.

“Remember, my driver will be by at 6:45 sharp.”

“Oh, that's right. You need-” You began, intending to give Senator Snow your address, only to be cut off by a raised hand. “I have your address in my employee files, Y/N.” His baritone hung thickly in the air like honey stuck on a honeycomb; slowly dripping down, as he ordered, “Go home and pamper yourself; get all dolled up in something red, my darling rose.”

As you sat neck deep in your tub, surrounded by bubbles, thoughts of your boss floated around your head. You never really thought much about him, or at least you didn't til now. Yes, you always thought that he was easy on the eyes- platinum hair (you always secretly wondered if the carpet matches the drapes), striking crystal blue eyes, a prominent nose, sharp jawline, tall and lanky build. But you never truly fixated your attention on his looks, or at least until now that is.

You can't explain it, but the interaction you had with him before leaving the office had your blood racing. You're flustered with dirty thoughts. Things that you've never truly let yourself imagine about Senator Coriolanus Snow.

But now…

Well, now you find yourself closing your eyes and thinking about your boss while relaxing in your bath; trailing hand over your breasts while your other hand’s rubbing your clit; dipping two fingers in and out of your pussy.

It's best to get this out of your system now, before you're stuck going to dinner with him tonight.

“Coriolanus, I was expecting your driver to pick me up.” You gasp, hand tightly gripping the doorknob of your open door, as you're shocked by the sight of the tall platinum blonde standing in front of you- dressed impeccably in a deep crimson suit with a single red rose in his hand.

“Bentley drove me here.” Coriolanus informed you. “Now, what sort of gentleman would I be if I didn't walk up to your door to get you our dinner date?” He smirks, offering you the rose.

Your eyes widen at his words. “Dinner date…but I thought this was a professional dinner with a potential political backer, Senator Snow.” You tell him as you shakily take the offered rose from his large, outstretched hand.

“Yes, well, my darling, Mr. Feathersworth informed me that he's bringing along his mistress to Mizuna’s so I don't see why we can't mix some business with pleasure as well.”

Before you could utter a word, the door right across the hall and behind Coriolanus opened; out walked your on-off neighbor ex. Bastard was dressed like he's going out somewhere (or going out with someone). His sea-green eyes look over at you and lock Coriolanus back a bit curiously: portraying that he can't believe you're all dolled up and going out with someone so regal looking.

Deciding that you didn't like the look on your ex’s face, you put your hand on Coriolanus' label and press a quick kiss to his lips before telling him, “Let me put up this rose, Coryo, and then you can take me on our date.”

Coryo grabbed your face in one of his hands and kissed you again, this time his lips searing and hungry, before running his hand over your cheekbone and darkly smirking, “You can just take it along with us, darling. I'm taking you home with me tonight; it'd be such a shame for you to leave your rose alone on a side table all night.”

“You're taking me home with you?” You asked, finding this information entirely new to you.

At least your bronze haired ex wasn't standing behind Coryo; gawking at you anymore.

Pulling you out of your apartment and locking your doorknob, only to slam the door shut, he bluntly tells you, “I’d be a fool not to, Y/N, and, frankly, I'm anything, but a fool.” Coryo smoothly tell you while leading you down the hallway; towards the elevator bank.

And of course when you reach the elevator your ex is just stepping into it. Great, now you're going to be riding in an elevator with your on-off neighbor ex and your boss/sudden new fling.

Oh boy…

“After you, darling.” Coryo sweetly tells you, guiding you into the metal box while following right behind you.

You feel your ex’s eyes on you, burning a hole into the side of your face, as Coriolanus hits the buttons to both close the door and go to the lobby.

“Should've known you'd be cozy with Senator Snow, considering you're his personal secretary.” Flew out of your ex’s mouth as soon as he saw Coryo's large hand come to rest on the small of your back.

“Odysseus…” You chastise, nearly hissing at him.

Coriolanus snapped his head around so fast, it was as if it was going to spin off exorcist style, and narrowed his eyes at the bronze haired man next to you. “I can have you turned into an Avox for slander against Miss Y/N, so I’d mind that useless tongue of yours if I were you.”

“Coryo, calm down. My neighbor-”

“Ex” Odysseus supplied at the same time you uttered the word neighbor, causing Coriolanus’ face to turn into hardened stone.

“She doesn't belong to you anymore, Odysseus. My darling seems to have gotten tired of settling for beans and has upgraded to the filet mignon.” The senator told your ex in a smooth, but eerily cold tone. “You ought to consider yourself lucky that I won't be calling for your tongue, but I'm sure I'm we can agree to you not bothering my sweet girl anymore, can't we, Mister-”

“Odair. Name's Odysseus Odair, Senator Snow.” Your ex shot out, his voice fake and sugary, as he played with fire.

Snow melts, but fish fry. And unfortunately for Odysseus Odair he'd learn that the hard way after Senator Coriolanus Snow gets him exhiled to District 4 for the crimes of slander. Coriolanus' cold ass gives Poseidon Odair, Odysseus’ father, an ultimatum- either sign over his assets, investments, and company over to him and go into exhiled on 4 with his son or his son would be turned into an Avox for slander against you, the senator's personal secretary and girlfriend.

Coriolanus Snow was a cold ass to everyone except for you. Something that you'd come to discover in time. But right now it's not important.

No, right now what's important is keeping the senator from tearing your ex apart limb by limb.

Sensing that Coryo was starting to unravel (something that you've never seen and, frankly, didn't want to) you rubbed his shoulder while telling him, “Coryo, please, just let it go. You don't want to be in a bad mood before dinner with your political backer, do you?”

Coriolanus’ jaw twitched for a moment before he gave you a slight smile, “Of course, darling.”

Odysseus found Senator Snow's demanear changing into sweet and loving for you at the drop of a hat very alarming. Honestly, he thought it was downright scary that Snow went from menacing one minute to practically cooing at you the next.

As soon as the elevator came to a stop and the doors dinged open, your ex practically ran out of them. It made Coryo chuckle.

You and Coryo walked out of the elevator together, only to cross the lobby and head out of the building towards his car. His driver, Bentley, was standing by the black luxury sedan that was parked in front of the curb. Upon seeing you with the senator, he quickly opened the back door. You thanked him and let Coryo help you into the backseat.

“Oh, darling, I'm so sorry for not telling you earlier, but you look truly beautiful in your red dress.” Coryo told you, once he was settled in the back seat next to you.

“Thank you, Coryo. You look handsome yourself.” You replied with a smile as the driver took his place behind the wheel and pull the car away from your building.

“And tonight we'll make quite the debate as a stunning political couple.” The platinum blonde confidently told you as you rode to the high end restaurant the meeting with major political endorser Mr. Feathersworth, and his mistress, was taking place at.

Tonight is only the first of many spent at Coryo's side. It's safe to say that you're Senator Snow's darling sectary; that he has a soft spot for you. After all, he charmed you into becoming his girlfriend with the guise of attending a political dinner with him for work related purposes.

But you'd accept that dinner invitation again and again no matter what universe you're in because that dinner ended with Coryo fucking you in the backseat of his car. The poor driver nearly drove the car off a bridge and into the opposite lane of traffic he was so startled by what his boss and you were doing. Yes, the two of you still were clothed (for the most part) but Bentley knew that if he looked into the rearview mirror and saw something he wasn't supposed to then Snow would have his eyeballs pickled in a jar (literally!). And after fucking in the backseat of his car, a life was created with Coryo and you never left his side.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

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kennedyalike · 2 years ago

Note

ok this is so depraved but some noncon w manipulative leon x bsf reader or roommate reader where he for somewhat reason has to practice tying rope and convinces her to let him practice on her and assures her he wont do anything else but once he gets her tied up he undresses her and takes pics of her as blackmail and does whatever he wants to her

rope bunny

leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags: posessive!leon, he’s kinda yandere tbh, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, slight overstimulation, rough sex, manhandling, noncon, dubcon, ropes, bdsm, dom!leon, praise kink, praising, smut, rope kink, filming, explicit photograpghy, leon is a massive pervert, slight size kink

summary: leon asks for your help with a task from the force but it turns into something else~

word count: 4.2k

to anon: hii! im sorry i took so long with this but i hope you like it! i really like this idea and tbh i love me some noncon leon😩 i added a happy ending but idk if this is weird LMAOOO

He dotes on you everyday, without you ever even noticing. Oh, how you’re so oblivious and innocent. He just wants to have you all to himself. Just to steal you away from the whole world, to take care of you and finally make you realize what you’re missing out on.

You weren’t exactly oblivious, you just didn’t pay it any mind, deciding to tease him further. Being roommates with Leon for almost a year now, you knew him pretty well. Both of you attending the police academy, you figured a roommate wouldn’t hurt. He was sweet, brave, corny, a little awkward but so cute.

Leon was a good friend to you, helping you out, keeping the place clean, he was a true gentleman. For what you knew, of course. In all honesty, Leon was the oblivious one here. You noticed every time his eyes slowly gazed somewhere they weren’t supposed to. His stare felt like it was going to eat you alive one day.

Whenever you’re doing something around the house, he quietly observes all of your movements, eyes maybe focusing on the curve of your ass, or maybe the way your tits bounce when your arms push them together. He can’t help himself, you’re just so gorgeous and he swears he can’t keep his hands to himself any longer.

Maybe you even liked his gaze, doing small things on purpose. Wearing short skirts at home, bending over in front of him or wearing some tops that revealed yiur cleavage. Leon loved it all, but he was starting to grow impatient with your little games that he didn’t even know you were playing. You knew he liked you, but he didn’t know you liked him too. Being too focused on you and his training, he didn’t even notice the way you practically begged for his attention.

”What are you doing?” You asked with a giggle as you try to lighten up the mood. Leon looks up at you and shrugs. ”Just…looking over these photos.” He answers quietly, his deep voice grumbling a little bit. His hand is resting on his jaw as he leans himself on the table that was filled with documents, probably something from the academy.

You frown slightly from his answer before you fall silent too. As Leon focuses his stare on the papers in front of him, you focus yours on him. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and the fabric was resting just so his forearms were visible. His calloused hands were nibbling the paper's edge as his veins become more visible. You can’t look away, mind completely taking you away while you rest against the kitchen counter.

A low groan erupts from the man in front of you and you can’t stop your mind from going to that usual place. Wondering what would happen if you were brave enough to start something. How his hands would caress your body just like you both wished. You sigh slowly as you slightly shake your head, disowning the thoughts. If Leon only knew that you dreamed of him even when awake.

”I’m gonna take a small nap, wake me up at like…6pm.”

Leon huffed at the small pause in your sentence as you retracted to your room. He only nodded in response. He began thinking, in quietness after hearing small giggles and sounds of music come from your room. After a while, there was only silence. You had fallen asleep. He smirks to himself but quickly reassures himself he wouldn’t do anything like that.

He spends time pondering over his wants, no, his needs. He needs you and he can’t wait any longer. Leon decides he’s not going to let you say otherwise. He goes into his room momentarily to gather some rope. (He totally didn’t buy it just for the instance) He knocks on your door and slowly his hand twists the knob as he lets himself in your room.

Your curtains are closed and you’re still asleep, wrapped in blankets. He hovers above you and stares into your face. How beautiful, he thinks to himself. He owns you. He’s not going to let anyone else have you, ever. He hides the rope behind his back before his arm reaches out for your shoulder, gently stirring you awake from your previous slumber. With a whine, you start to flutter your eyes open.

Your room is dimly lit and in all your sleepiness, your eyes make out Leon’s figure in front of you. He sits on your bed slowly. ”Wake up, sweetheart.” The nickname would make you nervous and a blushly mess if you weren’t so tired still. You slowly sit up, lifting the blanket from your body as it pools around your lap. Now fully sat, you fix your hair and look at Leon with gentle eyes. ”Thanks for waking me up, Leon.”

”No problem, I have a question though…” He starts, and you can hear the unsureness in his voice as he nudges himself closer to you. A blush creeps on your face as you realize he’s never been this close to you before, at least not in your bed. ”Yeah?” You ask shyly as you pull the blanket up slightly, covering the skimpy crop top you wore. He looks away for a second before continuing. ”The professor actually gave me something interesting to work on, I was wondering if you’d help me out a little?” His blue eyes now stare straight into yours as you fiddle with the blanket edge. Eagerly, you nod immediately. ”Yes, what is it?”

He smirks a little bit, chuckles and reveals the rope from behind his back. A small inaudible gasp leaves your mouth and you look away with a slight flush on your cheeks. ”He said we need to practice tying something up, escaping being tied and all that.” He explained as he slowly started opening the rope from its package. You stare quietly at his big hands that were fiddling with the rope. Completely on board if you get to play around with ropes with him. ”Yeah? Do you need my help with some of this?” You ask shyly as he smirks again.

”Yeah. Let me try one thing.” Now completely awake and shaken with excitement as Leon launches slowly towards you. His actions take you by surprise and nervousness engulfs you as his cold hand slips under the blanket and grabs your wrist. ”Leon- I-I thought-” You began speaking unsurely as he grabbed both of your wrists, bringing them up to your chest. ”Shh, I’m not gonna do anything to you, just practicin’, sweetie.” His deep voice coos and you allow yourself to relax in his hold, reminding yourself that he’s just practicing.

”Just lay back a little.” He instructs you and you obey him nonetheless of your nervousness. Your body hits the soft bed behind you as you settle down and bring your arms up. Leon grips both of your wrists together with one hand, his hands are cold and slender as he pins yours atop your head. He brings the rope and wraps it around your wrists, tying them together very tightly. A small whine leaves your mouth as you close your eyes momentarily. ”Too tight?” He asks.

”No, it’s fine. Let me show you my skills of escaping these.” You joke to him with a small bubbly laugh. He scoffs under his breath and glances back at you. ”We’ll see about that one.” He says unamusedly as he tightens the rope and ties your wrists to the bed. You feel a light stretch on your arms as he ties them. His gaze feels hot, feels like it’s going to burn you alive soon. Leon’s hands slowly move from your arms, to your waist.

His eyes never leave your body, he doesn’t miss the way your back arches into his touch, letting his hands wander. His fingertips slowly graze around your chest, abdomen and your thighs. He examines your face closely, a red blush on your face that he wouldn’t miss usually, but with the dim light of your bedroom it goes unnoticed. Your back arches and you moan slightly when his strong hand caresses your thigh. ”Leon..?” You ask confusedly as you tighten your thighs together, trapping his hand between them. ”You like this?”

He calls out to you mockingly as he inches his fingertips towards your panties. The blanket long gone as his other arm completly reveals your body to him. A small crop top and panties on. Gosh. You look so cute, he wishes he could eat you alive. Your legs twitch and you gasp in surprise as his hand cups your pussy through your panties. ”Maybe I’ll leave you tied up forever if it means I can do this all day.” He mumbles to himself as he smirks while slowly rubbing your clit through your already dampened panties. Your thighs close even tighter as you squirm. ”Leon? W-what are you doing?”

”Shh, just relax for me, okay?” He calls out again as his hands grip your thighs, forcing them apart, revealing your crotch to him. You gasp again and start moving around, not liking the forcefulness. His grip only tightens as he holds you down on the bed, bringing another piece of the rope around your ankles, trying them together as you helplessly squirm under the bigger man.

”Leon, I’m uncomfortable..M-Maybe we should practice some other time..!” You desperatly request as he pulls the rope and ties it under the bed. You’re now completely trapped and at his mercy. ”Now, try and get out of those.” He says as he stands up, backing away from the bed to take a look at you. So pretty. Sprawled out on the bed in your nap clothes as desperate little whines leave your mouth when you try to escape this predicament.

You tug, pull, whine and squirm around for what feels like eternity. Your croptop already ridden up from your movements, exposing your soft belly to Leon’s hungry eyes that are enjoying the show infront of him. You almost think he’s cruel and that he’s doing this to embarrass you. Your limbs give out and you look at him with angry eyes, the sweat from your earlier nap clanking your thighs together as you finally give out, relaxing all of your body. ”Okay. You win. I can’t get out of these. Please, help me.” You quietly say as you accept defeat, looking at him with an annoyed look.

He only smirks and laughs a little bit, getting closer to you. ”Hmm…I quite like having you like this…” He starts as his hands grab your waist again, slowly teasing the fabric of your croptops edge as he pulls it up. Your breath hitches and you feel your muscles tensing again. ”Leon, take these out. It’s not funny.” You try once again.

He stops his movements and looks into your eyes, before getting on top of you on the bed. You squirm again as he climbs atop and pins you down with his bodyweight. The lighting extorts and you can see the way his biceps twitch as he holds himself above you. Leon’s blonde locks fluffy and messed up as he brings himself closer to your face. ”Oh sweetheart, I’ll never let you go. You’re mine, finally.” Before he allows you to even react, his hand is already gripping at your chin and neck, forcing you into a sloppy kiss with him.

His lips are practically devouring your face as he holds you tighter. To his surprise, you kiss him back and moan into the kiss. He leaves you wanting for more as he pulls his mouth from yours and lowers himself to your neck, biting, kissing and sucking little red marks on your collarbones. His hot breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine and you feel a heat forming between your legs. You want him as bad as he wants you. And you don’t want to accept it.

Your quiet moans that you try to silence by turning your head to the side don’t go unnoticed by Leon as he grips your chin again. ”Let me hear how much you love this, baby.” He growls as he sucks on the sensitive skin behind your ear. A lustful moan erupts from you and you’re even shocked at yourself as you notice the way you’re rubbing your thighs together. ”Good girl, just like that. Don’t fight it.”

He continues kissing your neck, sometimes pulling you into a heated kiss again. (Which you returned, every time) ”Leon..! Please, untie me.” You whisper in between kisses. ”Try harder.” He mocks you again and pulls back from you, still on top of you, his finger hooks around the strap of your croptop, slowly pulling it down from your shoulder, exposing more and more by the mere second. You nervously look at him with fear and desperateness in your eyes. Your breathing, heavier by the second was unstable as small tears start forming on your waterline.

”Leon, please..” You sob as he slowly undresses you, pulling your croptop over your head, exposing your bare chest to him. Nipples already hard from the previous endeavours, his both hands grab your tits, squeezing them and playing around with your nipples. His gaze is like a hypnosis, stuck on your tits as he does as he pleases, groping you against your will. Instead of screaming, you arch into his touch and moan at the sensation when his mouth connects with the skin of your areola.

”Please-” Your breath hitches as a tear falls down your cheek when he pinches your nipples, sucking and kissing all over your body. You’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore and neither is Leon. You hear him chuckle as he pulls back shortly, looking over at you before extending his hand to his pocket. You look at him in complete silence, tears still wetting your cheeks as you see him pull out his phone. ”Leon.. what are- No!” You start wiggling desperately and you can’t belive the smirk on Leon’s face.

”Pose a little, this is for me only, darling. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything if you behave for me.” He holds you in place with his other arm while scrolling on his phone. His hand grabs at your tit again as you hear the faint sound of a recording going on. ”Please…don’t” You beg with teary eyes as he films himself groping at you, he moves the camera to your face. ”Don’t cry beatiful, tell me how much you like it.” He mocks you and amidst all the feelings that were roaming your mind block out the feeling of his hand sneaking between your thighs. Another tear falls down your cheek as you open your eyes, looking up at his phone and that devious smirk plastered on his face. You feel embarrased and humiliated, but for some reason, it’s lighting a fire inside of you that you can’t shut down.

You feel his rough hand cup your pussy and you moan loudly. His smirk grows even more at your lewd sound as he slips his fingers in from the side. Two long fingers now rubbing your wet clit as you try to close your legs tighter. ”Come on, let it all out.” He presses a kiss on to your forehead as he slips his middle finger in your wet, needy hole. Another loud moan leaves your mouth and you unnoticeably start grinding into his hand, desperate for more as you look at Leon’s phone through teary eyes. It’s turning you on and he knows it. He nods at you and looks at you in the eyes as he shuts his phone off, drops it on the floor and practically attacks your lips. You immedietly kiss him back, no question. ”M’ sorry, my sweet baby.” He mumbles between the hungry kisses. You want to caress his cheeks and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You writhe as you try to pull your arms out of the rope.

”Leon, untie me. I want yo-” He shushed your begs with a kiss, soft lips entertwining roughly as his hands explore your body again. He’s pumping his middle finger in and out of your pussy with a slow rhythm. Leon quickly latches on to your neck again, sucking more crimson marks as he slips in another finger. His movements are going faster as his index finger joins in on the fun. The wet, tight walls of your pussy squeezing around his digits are making him go crazy. He was already hard as fuck in his pants as he grinded himself to your side.

”Soon, baby. Let me have a taste first..” He mumbles again, almost inaudibly as he lowers his kisses down to the soft skin of your belly. His big hands are still cold to the touch as he retracts his fingers from your pussy. You moan at the loss of contact as you look down at him, trying to ground yourself between all of these feelings. His hands grab your hips tightly and he begins teasing your panties down your legs. You wiggle your hips a little in an attempt to get him to undress you faster. He backs away and in a swift movement he pulls his shirt over his head, exposing his hard trained abs to you. Your eyes now explore his body, thirsting over his muscular chest and huge biceps, he smirks and lowers his face to your pussy again.

Before he teases your panties fully off, he places a soft kiss on your clit through the damp fabric. You moan quietly as he pulls your panties down to your ankles and grabs your thighs, nudging them apart so roughly that it would for sure leave a bruised mark on your inner thighs. He’s like a hungry animal that hasn’t eaten in weeks and you feel like his prey, just a little thing forced into submission as you writhe under him. His warm tongue latches onto your clit as he sucks, kisses and licks between your folds, moving to give attention to your clit as his other hand retracts from your thighs and pushes two fingers into your hole.

You’re practically screaming, crying and moaning at the same time as you buck your hips into his face. Leon’s slippery tongue, lapping at your folds and pleasuring your clit feels like almost too much, you’re so close to exploding and you desperatly try to close your thighs. ”Mm-mm. None of that.” He hums as his hand parts your thighs again and the vibrations from his sound of unapproval send immense pleasure your way and you moan loudly. ”Oh, Leon! I-I’m gonna cum!” You moan his name in a continuing chant as he buries his face into your pussy, tasting all of your juices as you grind down.

He was so turned on by you and probably could come undone from just lapping at your pussy all day. He sucks on your clit as you gasp loudly and your legs shake a bit. He slows his movements down, brings his arms under your thighs to support your shaking for as he helps you though your orgasm with a gentle touch. He might’ve tied you up against your will, but he’s not a total asshole.

The orgasm washes over you slowly and your body shakes with pleasure as you moan his name quietly, almost sounding like you’re crying. (You are.) Your body sets down and you feel Leon untying your ankles. ”Relax, baby.” He coos as you start moving your legs slowly. You do as he says. He lifts himself back on top of you and meets your gaze. ”Kiss me, please.” You whine and he chuckles but obliges nevertheless. He kisses you again, this time more passionetly and lovingly as his hands grope at your tits again before slowly moving up, beginning to untie your hands. Only sounds from the connection of your mouths erupt as he unties you fully. Your hands fall to your sides tiredly as Leon’s lips move to your neck again.

He doesn’t expect you to yank away from him, or slap him, or resist at all, and he’s right. Your arms slowly wrap themselves around his neck and your hand caresses his cheek. You feel his strong jaw clenching under your palm as he joins you in a kiss again. His erection rubbing at your core through his pants. Oh he’s so sure his pants have a wet spot from all the precum his tip has leaked. He humps himself on your side. ”Leon…fuck me, please.” You shyly mumble to him as you move your hands to start unbuckling his belt. ”Fuck, I knew I’d have you begging. Good girl.” You moan at his praise and his hands move to your aid, he retracts from you for a second to pull his pants down, taking his briefs at the same time.

This time, you’re the one that’s staring at him hungrily as his big cock bursts free from its confinements and rests against his abdomen. So incredebly hard that it almost slaps against the skin of his lower stomach. He’s long but kind of girthy. Pale but the tip is a flushed tone. Leon sets himself on top of you again and his hands grip at your waist. ”Fuck, need to fuck you so bad.” He whines as he readjusts your position while stroking himself up and down a few times.

You don’t bother speaking, you just whimper as he lines the tip of his cock on your pussy. He looks down at your pussy that’s begging for his dick and he feels like he’s seen heaven. He slides his lenght along your folds, gathering the slick as he nudges his tip on your still sensitive clit. You gasp from the sensation and attempt to close your thighs before Leon spreads them further apart. ”How am I gonna fuck you if you close your legs on me, sweet baby?” He teases as he starts pushing himself into you.

A low groan and a whimper leaves his mouth as he humps into you. ”Ah! S’ big…Leon…” You moan while clicking your hips together when he starts banging into you at a rough speed. Your hands intertwine behind his neck as you pull him into a sloppy kiss. Both taking breaths and moaning into each others ears, the burning sensation turns into immense pleasure as he bullies his cock deeper into your hole. ”Fuck… Ah-” Leon whimpers and you can only moan in response as he lifts your legs higher, to your chest to give himself a new, deeper angle to fuck into you.

His cock is stretching you out and his hands are everywhere. Sometimes his finger is rubbing slow circles on your still sensitive clit, pushing you over the edge. Then his hands grip strongly at your waist, holding you in place while he ruthlessly ruts into you. Then his hands are groping your ass, tightly pulling your hips to connect his as you place sloppy kisses to his neck, pulling him closer to yourself while moaning.

Leon grabs at your side and nudges you to turn over on your stomach. ”Gon’ fuck you so hard.” He groans into your ear as your body complies in the heat of the moment. You turn to lay on your stomach, hands quickly supporting yourself as Leon lifts your hips up, already rutting back into you. You moan loudly and your hands give out. Leon is fucking you so hard your face is mushed against the pillow and you try to to desperately lift your hips up for him. ”So good, so fucking good, baby.” He praises and readjusts his hands under your hips, holding you up. His cold palm moves from the front to rub circles on your clit. ”Leon! M’ close!” You moan into the pillow while your arms settle under yourself, supporting your weight as you feel your second orgasm around the corner.

His cold palm presses on your lower stomach, he smirks when he feels himself pounding so deep into you. ”Fuck baby, tell me you want it-” He groans as his thrusts turn sloppier by the second. ”I want it so bad! I want you-! Please! Cum inside me, please!” You whimper almost inaudibly, voice hoarse from all the efforts. He ruts into you a few more sloppy thrusts before he feels your pussy walls sucking him in, clenching as your body goes limp and your orgasm takes over you. He pushes himself deep in you and releases his load. You both moan in union as you feel his hot cum fill your insides. He sighs and lets your body rest on the bed as he plops down next to you.

After catching your breath, you turn to him and shyly caress his cheek. He chuckles and pulls you ontop of him, hugging you. ”Don’t worry baby.” He presses a gentle kiss on top of your forehead and you hug him tighter. It was all settled. You were his and you would let him ruin you completely. He wouldn’t do that of course, he just likes it a little rough. ”Soo….you’re gonna finally make me your girlfriend?” You giggle. He scoffs and holds you tighter. ”Yes.”

#leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy smut #re4 leon #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil 4 #leon smut #resident evil leon #smut #resident evil 2

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allhailbuckybarnes · 22 hours ago

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the boss… (masterlist)

Moving to New York City from your small town of Paris, Tennessee was not an easy task. But as a young detective assistant directly graduated from your local police academy, you didn’t expect anything to be handed to you. You had to take.

When you get hired to assist a mysterious, tall, and ruggedly handsome detective named James Barnes, you expect to be taught the basics of the field. What you didn’t expect was to be thrown into active combat, pushed to your limits, and given morally gray choices within the first 24 hours on the job.

You definitely didn’t expect to grow feelings for him.

This job wasn’t predictable. It was adapt, or die. It doesn’t help that you have a rising suspicion that your boss isn’t as clean of a man as he came across on paperwork.

Will you survive? It’s been up to him from the start.

AU!Detective!BuckyBarnes x Assistant!Fem!Reader

Fic Warnings: 18+ Content (Minors DNI), SMUT, Unprotected P in V Sex, Rough Sex, Daddy Kink, Violence, Dirty Talk, Sexual Abuse, Power Imbalance, Oral Sex (F and M), Fingering, Handjobs, Shirtless Bucky Barnes, Psychological Manipulation, Shady Business Deals, Blood and Gore, Danger, Kidnapping, Torture, Murder, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Bucky is an Ass to Reader, Degrading, Learning to Love the Hard Way, Sexism, Spanking Kink, Praise Kink, Obsessive Behavior, Stalker Behavior, Choking

Specific Chapter Warnings to Come

pt. 1 - “I’m movin’ out” COMING SOON

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tinytweets12 · 1 year ago

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mrsjavierpena · 2 years ago

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not (un)expected | part 1

javier peña x f!secretary!reader

summary: Javier has one, only one very strict policy: to not ever fuck a co-worker; specially if that co-worker is his own secretary. but you make it such a hard promise to keep

chapter warnings: narcos' spoilers, smut, grinding, unprotected p in v, kind of exhibitionism, (light?) angst, a lot of cursing (its javier pena), kinda slow burn/slow start, unspecified age gap, work dynamics, reader has no name/descripition (but has hair long enough to pull), no use of 'y/n'

IMPORTANT: English is not my first language, i've done my best with grammar but there will be mistakes (fuck prepositions i hate them), so pls overlook those

wordcount: 7k

an: this is part one of a two part story; feel free to reblog and leave your comment. im so happy with the reception of this fic, its my first time posting something here, thank you guys so much for the support - also, if you want to be tagged in part two (really don't know when is coming out) just lmk in the comments.

hope you enjoy!

Javier was known for being an asshole.

Everyone in the office called him that; not to his face, of course, since he was the boss, but he knew, and honestly? He kind of did it on purpose. Being sent back to Colombia to be the CIA puppy didn't in fact thrilled him, but he also wasn't there to make friends. A little bit later than one month into his new position and Javier had already changed secretaries twice. Just by being himself.

The first one was a kind old lady that liked to talk a little bit too much for Javi's taste - which was none. To be fair, he tried to handle her. He listened to her talking of her yougest child finishing college, but she asked him if maybe he could get him a job at the deparment - what in the actual fuck? -, she felt the need to tell him that her older one and his wife were trying to have a baby - he wondered what gave her the impression he wanted to know that her son was fucking someone raw. She just wouldn't shut up. She left not much after a month, at his first snap - took him too long, to be honest.

The last one was a young man fresh out of the academy, who thanked him for the opportunity every time he saw him - which, since he was just outside his office, was pretty often. Despite how thankful he was for the job, he wasn't very interested in working, at least not as he was to flirting with another secretary in the floor below. But that wasn't the worst part, the kid had no idea what he was supposed to do and would go ask Javier for help for every task given to him - he swore he was shaking everytime. Javi didn't care that he was young and was learning, he didn't receive enough to raise a child at work. Didn't last a week.

Javier had headaches just by the thought of who would be sent next. With his current luck, it could be his ex-fiancée. He definitely didn't expect you knocking on his office door and introducing yourself as his new secretary. He was speechless for a moment; you were the combo of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life with a killing black pencil skirt, so tight it showed all your curves. You gave him a firm handshake and asked if he needed anything from you, and, when he denied, that was it. You went to your desk; didn't ask him questions, didn't tell him your whole life, didn't thank him for an opportunity he didn't give you, just went to do your work.

For a while, Javier was glad that you didn't give him any trouble, but that was until you quickly learned his habits. As soon as he arrived the office, you would receive him with a polite smile, a cup of black coffee and his schedule for the day. When he dove into files and forgot he was a person, you would bring him his lunch and wouldn't leave until he had at least a bite - as if he was a kid, what an absurd -, you would sense when he was stressed and would excuse yourself into his office with coffee and a pack of cigarettes and leave without saying a word.

He hated how much he appreciated that - even worse, how he liked that. It didn't take long for him to want to fuck you, to become obssessed with you. And it wasn't just him, he could see every other men in the department - single or not - turn their neck as they watched you pass by. But it was not just that you were hot, you were nice too; he would watch you from his office - not in a creepy way, though, he just didn't have anything much better to do - and you would distribute smiles and polite greetings to every soul that passed your desk, people would constantly stop by to small talk with you and you would let them be for five minutes or so before politely dismiss them to go back to work. Every fucking body there adored you.

Things had always been very professional between you both. Javi held back his flirty instinct and you- well, you didn't even seem interested in him at all. That was untill a very stressfull friday with Stechner giving him shit again. He left the building straigh to the bar, ready to drown himself on whiskey and find a quick fuck for the night, not expecting at all to find you aparently doing the same. Javier considered just ignoring you and go sitting with one of the women that turned their heads in his direction as soon as he entered, but something inside of him made him take the few steps to the bar and get the stool beside where you sat.

You almost spilled your drink when he approached.

"Sorry" you coughed "Wasn't expecting to see you here"

Your body language told him that you weren't comfortable with him there, he saw your backs getting as straight as when you were at work, and immediately regretted joining you.

"Well, that makes it two of us" he raised his hand to order his drink "What's the occasion?" he points to your drink with his chin.

Your grip on your glass seemed to tighten and you took one very long sip before answering dryly "I could ask you the same"

"Work" he raised his brows "It's always work"

"Did something happen after I left?" you pinched your brows.

"No, no, just people giving me shit"

"Oh, I see..." you sighed and silence fell between you.

"So..."

"Well..." you both started talking together and laughed akwardly.

"You go" you said.

"Am I bothering you? Cause I didn't mean to, I can sit somewhere else" he didn't even know why he was asking, he should've just said goodbye and left. He was already standing when your hand found his arm.

You sighed heavily "No, not at all, I'm sorry I gave that impression, sir" you seemed genuine, that's why he sat back "I'm just stressed"

Sir. Why were you calling him sir in a bar?

"Do you want to talk about it? If there's something bothering you we can discuss it and sol-"

"It's not work related" you were quick to interrupt "Work is, honestly, the simplest part of my life right now"

"Things must be pretty bad then, 'cause I see the amount of papers on your desk everyday" that made you chucke "The offer still stands, if you want to"

You took a big breath before dropping the bomb "Broke up with my boyfriend"

Now that was a new territory. He knew absolutly nothing about your life besides you moving to Colombia from the United States; he didn't know anything from your life back there, not your family, friends, definitely not about your boyfriend; and now, somehow, knowing you didn't have one anymore made it even harder for him not to want you.

"What happened?"

"Well, actually, it seems like we had already broken up a while ago and he just forgot to send the memo" you drank your whole half glass all at once ", since he was fucking every pussy that crossed his fucking way"

He was stunned. One thing about Javier was that he was never to deny any woman; honestly, he found every body attractive and apreciatted every woman that gave herself to him. He couldn't say he had a type, but you, with what he saw with your clothes on? He would fuck you every minute of everyday he could. It was absurd to believe someone would give up on you.

"Damn!" he couldn't help but say loudly, making your eyes go wide as if just then realising what you had just said.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling you this. I apologise, sir"

"You don't- don't apologise" he almost raised his hand to touch you, but stopped himself before "How did you find out?" you looked at him with raised brows "If you don't mind me asking"

"One of my friends called me last night and told me. She saw him at a bar with two women" you laughed, but there was no humor to be found.

"And you were still smiling at everyone at work today" he was impressed.

You smirked at him "Don't let my personal life mix with work, sir"

"Smart woman" he nods "We for sure have a reason to drink, then" waving his hand to the barman "Let me buy you one"

You don't even bother to refuse.

After three more glasses of what he found out was tequila, your shoulders were much more relaxed and so was your tongue. He found out that you and your ex had been dating for six years when you got the opportunity of job and had to move; two months had passed already.

"And you know what the worst part is?" your laugh is dry "I don't even feel bad because my heart is broken or any shit like that, it's just that is so fucking humiliating" you groaned with your hands on your face "I'm from a small town, you know, by now every soul there knows what he's been doing"

He had to laugh "That's what you're worried about?" you looked at him with false ofense.

"It's my honor we're talking about here!" he laughed even more "It's silly, I know..." you sigh shakly as you take another sip of your drink "But it is humbiling, being cheated on"

"I can't fucking believe anyone could ever cheat on you" he thought. At least he thought he did, but by the way you were looking at him - pinched brows and a curious look in your face, he had to have said it out loud "I mean, only shitty people cheat on nice people. Only shitty people cheat, that's it."

You nodded after a few seconds of silence "You're right, sir"

"You should stop calling me sir"

"I don't think so"

"Why not? We're already half drunk together at a shitty bar"

"Because you're still my boss"

Without any response to that, he looks at you. Really looks at you. Your eyes glassy from the alcohol, red puffy lips looking more appealing than ever... It would have been so easy to just lean in and kiss you. When his eyes came back to yours, it almost seemed like they were on his lips too, that you were leaning in too, that you desired him as much as he desired you and... Then it was not there anymore. Suddenly, you seemed farther than ever, backs as streight as always and eyes avoiding his.

"I should go home"

He agreed. He put you on a cab. He wished you a goodnight.

Then went back to the bar to find someone to not spend the night alone.

The next Monday, though, you seemed even more professional than ever. Wouldn't be around him more than the necessary, wouldn't look him in the eyes and it fucking bothered him.

"Yes, sir?" you entered his office after he called your name.

He sighs as he looked you up and down, his eyes lingering to your skirt pressing against your tights "How are you?"

"I'm fine" you hesitated "Why do you ask? Is something wrong?"

"Lying to me, 's all" your eyes went wide "Listen, last night-"

Your nostrils flared, your hands clenching into fists; you took a deep breath before interrupting him "I am fine"

"Ok, then" he raised his hands in defensiveness "It's just that last night-"

"Last night I was drunk!" you passed your hands through your face "I said things I shouldn't have and I am embarressed and would very much appreciate if we pretended that it never happened"

Javier was silent for a moment. He understandood your apprehension, but damn if he wasn't dismayed by it.

"Alright, 'm sorry I brought it up. But just to let you know, you don't have anything to be embarressed for, you have my word that I wouldn't hold any if that against you and..." and it was nice to talk to you "Yeah, don't worry about that"

You looked at him for a few seconds before nodding "You need anything else, sir?"

Many things, yeah. For starters, you calling him by his name; second, being able to have a casual conversation with you when alcohol isn't envolved and third, your fucking clothes off because he got embarrassingly hard just by looking at you. But instead, he only denied and you left before any other word could leave his mouth.

Javi knew it was for the best. Fucking you would be no good - well, he'd bet it would be hot as shit, but too much trouble for a one night stand. He had a whole city to fool around with, to be focused in someone from his work place, his own secretary, was nonsense. You never even gave him any hint you wanted him, if anything, the actual opposite; you told him yourself last night, personal life away from work.

Javi made sure to remember all that.

➫

He didn't keep those thoughts for long, though.

A few days later, you met at a bar once again. A better one this time and with half of the office joined. It was Feistl's birthday and he invited the whole department for drinks. Nobody could hide their surprise when Javi aproached them; usually, he wouldn't attend this type of gathering, in his rarely free times, he better prefered the company of a good whiskey and a woman, and his colleagues knew that. His employee had invited him just to be polite and that was clear, but he knew you were going to be there, Javi just wanted one more opportunity to prove to himself that you didn't feel the same way he did, that he didn't have the same effect on you that you had on him. Once that prooved, he could move on. So he was there on a mission, trying to be the most discrete he could as he watched you from afar.

The two of you seemed to be the reflexion of each other from across the table, tense bodies and drinks in hand, the only difference being you talking with your colleagues and him not making the effort. To his defense, people weren't trying to talk to him either. Honestly, Javier kind of felt like it wasn't just that they were surprised to see him there, it felt like they didn't want him there at all by some looks he was receiving.

He was okay with that, he guessed, he would much rather analyse your behavior outside work. You didn't seem to change much, honestly; maybe your smile were a little bit more genuine, but the conversations were pretty much the same he heard you have back in the office and it could have been the larger amount of alcohol in your system that night, yeah, but you seemed more relaxed alone with him.

After half an hour there, Javi couldn't bring himself to talk to you, you seemed too interested in a conversation about the new coffee pot in the scullery with another secretary. He was getting frustrated, in another times he would interrupt the other woman and flirt with you effortlessly; it probably had to do with the environment, you were surronded by co-workers, or maybe he was losing his touch - it was almost like he was too afraid to make the move.

Javi decided to leave soon after one hour there. He congratulated Feistl for his birthday, said goodbye to whoever recognized his leaving, paid his bill and passed through the door.

"Hey" he turned around at the sound of your voice, seeing you walking towards him "Are you ok?"

He ran his hand over his chin "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know" you shrugged "you kind of ran out of the bar"

"'S fine, you should go back inside" Javi pointed at the entrace with his chin.

You tilt your head to the side "I don't really believe you"

"I'm not asking you to" he crossed his arms "And, what, you wanna talk now? You've been quiet at work all week"

"We're not at work, though, are we?" you were quick to answer.

Javi looked you up and down "No, we're not"

"You know" you took a few steps forward ", it's not like they don't like you, they are just kind of scared of you"

Were you watching him too? Why would you say that? How would you notice?

He furrowed his eyebrows "Scared of me? Why?"

You looked at him with yours raised "You know how you act at work, don't you?"

Javi sighed and looked away. He did act like an asshole at work, it didn't seem to bother you, though. Your gazes met again as silence fell between the two of you and he decided to take the few steps left to get you as close as you never got before.

"Are you scared of me?"

You kept your eyes locked as you answered "No. You're not as bad as you think you are" you licked your lips "At least not with me"

The air thickend between the two of you, the only sound being the noises of a night in Colombia. There was no way you were not feeling that too, the way your bodies seemed to linger to each other's direction. He's sure he's not imagining the way your breath heaved, how your chest expansed, the brightness in your eyes.

No, that was real, he was not mistaking it.

A voice broke the tension, you taking a few steps back to a safe distant from him. You both looked in the direction of the sound: a woman was calling you, the same woman you talked all night, at the entrance of the bar, a few feet away from where the both of you stood.

"Maybe if you went back there and paid the next round..." he swore he saw expectancy in your eyes.

"Maybe another time" you nodded; you both knew it wouldn't happen.

You looked at him one last time before walking away "Good night, sir"

Javi nodded even though you weren't looking anymore and his eyes followed the sweet swing of your hips as you made your way back to the bar. He could hear the woman asking what it was about:

"Nothing" you answered.

He would disagree.

➫

Javier was in a terrible, terrible mood. Things weren't going how he thought they would go, not even close to it. Feistl got a good lead about the Rodriguez brothers, one worth following, and he could do nothing about it; had to look to his subordinate and say no to his face. In the beggining, Javi had plans on reediming himself by catching Los Pepes, making amends with the city and it's people by arresting those who he felt like helped to ascend. He felt like a failure, and by the look on Feistl face, he thought so too. To worsen everything, as if it could get any, he had a huge, massive amount of piles to go through.

He lifted his eyes from the paper for the first time in hours when you knocked at the door. He knew your shift had ended a couple of hours ago, but you decided to finish the paperwork of the day so it wouldn't affect his own work the next morning, even though you couldn't have finished it on time because of the extra work put over you. It was something he frequently saw you doing, leaving much later than the others.

"I am leaving, sir. Is there something I could do for you?"

He scratched his chin and sighed heavily "Well, if you could make this fucking paperwork disappear I would built a statue of you"

You exiled a short laugh "I'm afraid that's not possible, sir"

"No, it's not" he reclined on his chair and looked at your body on the frame for a few seconds "Have a goodnight"

You nodded and left. He stood up to get a drink right after, hearing some noises outside that must have been you grabing your stuff. You were probably the last person on the floor besides him, and soon enough he would be alone, like he had been for so many nights, working until late, only able to go home to shower and come back. It wasn't much trouble, though, it's not like he could sleep even if he had the time.

A soft knock on the door surprised him, glass and bottle on each hand.

"Sorry to bother again" you said with only your head in the room after he told you to come in "But do you want help?"

He looked at you, at the pile and then at you again "You wanna help me with that?" you nodded "Why?"

"Nothing better to do" you shruged.

He should've said no. Should've told you to go home and have some rest.

He should have, yes.

"Have a sit" he pointed to the couch with the piles of papers he's been on for the last three hours.

You closed the door behind you and something on his skin tingled. You had never been this alone.

"Want a drink?" you didn't hesitate in accepting, as if waiting for him to offer.

Javier poured you one too and handed you the glass, something you thanked him for as you took a sip and he sitted beside you. You two stayed in silence reading, the only sound being the papers as you tossed them around.

"Can I give you an unasked opinion, sir?"

He almost laughed at that "Go ahead"

"You're separating these by topics, I see" he nodded "Taking one paper at the time and seeing what they are and then doing them separetly " he nodded again "I think it would be quicker if we made piles by the specific topics you have"

"You mean..."

"I mean" suddenly you stood up from the couch and knelt on the floor. Fortunally you didn't see his eyes going wide as you took a pile in your hands and put it beside you "You have a huge office, you should put the files on display and organize them better" you looked at him while taking the other piles "You helping?"

He smirked and hushed to help you. He liked this side of you; more relaxed, kind of bossy, tongue more loose... It was a shame you only showed him when there was alcohol running through your system.

"This, if you don't mind me saying, is how I organize the piles on your desk when I bring them to you, but you seem to prefer the hardest way"

Fuck, he was getting hard.

It was nuts. Absolutly nuts. What the fuck was happening, what effect was that you had on him? You did nothing but say a few dirty words without intention. Completely. Nuts.

"I do prefer the hard way" came out of his mouth before he could control it. If you didn't notice the double meaning or chose to ignore it, he didn't know "But I never noticed, no" he sighed "Honestly, I don't even know how it got to this point"

The paperwork, somehow, did accumulate, even though all he did of his life was working.

"I understand, I can see how you get lost in work" your focus was on the papers and you didn't seem to notice how he shifted on his place on the floor, trying to hide the beggining of an erection.

With your efficiency and new way of working, one hour and a half later and almost the whole paperwork gone, you're on your third glass and him on his fourth. He's used to drinking whiskey, but it was still alcohol, and it was making his skin buzz. You had already took off your blazer - his own gone hours ago - , wearing a thin blouse with a very modest neckline; your legs were crossed, making your skirt move up a little, and he was going crazy with just the tiny amount of skin you were showing.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead" you didn't even move your eyes from the paper.

"Why didn't you go home?"

You don't talk for a few seconds and he took the opportunity to stare "There's nothing waiting for me at home"

That got him thinking about your moving there. To go from a small town in the countryside to a city like Bogotá, not knowing a soul; you had acquaintances, yes, but he saw you that day at the bar, they surely were people you liked to be with, but were not friends of yours. Javi had been there, too, actually, if he would be honest with himself, he was still in the same situation. When he moved to Medellín, he had those people he could go out with and grab a drink after work, but that was all; at least until Steve came into the picture, the person he never thought he would befriend with, the only real friend he'd had in years.

"Yeah, I kind of get that" your eyes meet "Work until late for a reason"

"I guess we both need to get a life, then" you smirked.

"Cheers to that" he raised his glass to you, you did the same until it clicked with his "So, life... How is yours going?" he tried to act nonchalant by moving his eyes on the paper in his hand "With that ex-boyfriend thing and all"

Your laugh was low "Don't do that"

"Do what?" he raised his eyes again to find yours still on him.

You tilted your head to the side "Don't go down that road when we're like this"

"Like what?" he caught the exact moment your eyes fell to his lips, so he casually wet them with his tongue. If he wasn't so absorbed by the thickness in the air, he would have laughed at the way your eyes shut and your head fell back to rest on the couch.

"Drunk and... Not thinking straight"

Javi raised his eyebrows "I like the winding thoughts I'm having, though"

"Yeah" the look you gave him made him shiver.

Without breaking eye contact, Javi belted down his drink to gain courage and slowly moved his body until you were pressed side by side, giving you time to get your space again if you wanted to.

"This fine?" his voice was barely louder than a whisper.

You nodded.

"What if I wanted to kiss you right now?" he rested one forearm on the couch to lean his face closer to yours.

You gulped as you stared into his eyes "Then I think you should do it before we-"

He didn't give you the time to finish your sentence before his lips were on yours. Your lips were soft, he could taste the whiskey on your tongue as well with the gums you would chew all day. His right hand went straight to your jawline to lead the kiss. It was not a lulled kiss, neither a gentle one, Javier was ruthless, taking out on your lips all the built up tension from the last few months. He couldn't believe it was finally happening. You were quick to follow his pace, your fingers grasping his shirt and pulling him even closer. The first moan you let out get Javi even more eagered, his hand passing down your body to grab your ass. You took advantage of his action and, before he knew, you were climbing up his lap, knees on each side of his torso, and once you were fully sitted on his lap, you both couldn't contain a moan. At that point, your skirt barely covered half your ass; because of that, he figured that you wouldn't mind his hands slowly rubbing up your tights until they reached the fabric and rolled it up your waist.

Javi parted your mouths to take a good look at you on his lap, his eyes wandered from your heavy eyelids, your lips puffy and red from the kisses, your blouse-covered chest raising and falling as fast as his until they got to the black thong you were wearing and he couldn't help but moan "Oh, fuck me"

"You like them?" your mouth came down his neck to give him wet kisses.

"How wouldn't I?" he held you by the nape of the neck and brought your mouths together again "I've wanted this for so long"

You released some kind of laughter "I know"

"Oh, do you?" he raised his brows.

"You're not exactly subtle for an agent" you murmured between kisses.

He snorts "Well, thanks for the insight"

Javi couldn't resist the urge to touch you through the tiny piece of fabric and you moaned at the pressure at your clitoris, but he moaned too at the wetness he found.

Javi didn't ask you how long you had wanted him, you were grinding on his lap at that moment and that was all that mattered. But he wished you had said it, that you had desired him as much as he had desired you, that all this time he had been imagining this moment, you were imagining it too.

"Fuck baby, you are so wet already" his tongue licked a stripe on your neck "All this for me?"

You answer was muffled by a moan; it seemed positive, but before he could confirm you were linking your mouths again in a searing kiss.

You started moving your hips on his erection and you both moaned at the pressure. Suddenly, his torso is being pushed down to the ground, chests pressed against each other, your fingers tangled his hair and pushed and he fucking whimpered.

Jesus Christ, he was in heaven and was not even inside of you yet.

You grinded furiously against him and he found it absolutly beautiful how you were using him to pleasure yourself and was not embarressed to do so. So. Fucking. Hot.

He felt like he was coming in any second.

"Fuck, you keep doing that and will have me cumming on my fucking pants, bebita"

"Oh, say it again!"

"What? That I'm within seconds to cumming?"

You moaned loudly at that "No- I mean, that too, that's hot, but- oh fuck"

"Bebita?" he felt you shiver at the pet name and chuckled "You like that, huh?"

You grabbed the nape of his neck and lowered your head to crush your lips to his again, tongues fighting heatedly. Javi started to feel that heat boiling at the bottom of his stomach, his hips grinded against yours and the pressure were just perfect; by the sounds you were making, you were as close as he was. Javi reached for you ass and grabbed it with both of his hands and squeezed, adding even more pressure to the grindness. At last, he sucked the pulse in your neck and you started to shake above him; that combined with the sweet noises that came out of you, he was gone.

You collapse on top of him, fingers unconsciously running through his hair; his members were sore and he was so tired and satisfied that he could sleep right there. The both fo you took deep breaths while your head rested on the gap of his neck and his on the floor.

"I can't remember the last time I did this" he was the first to break the silence.

"I actually do this everyday to my pillow" you mumbered humurously and he moaned.

"Shit, you're gonna be the death of me" his hand ran up and down from your ass to your backs, loving the feeling of your curves.

You raised your head to find his eyes and the moment was gone. You both realizing what you just had done, the before contentedness in him that was mirrowed in your eyes then turning into panic.

"Shit" you clumsly stood up. You put your skirt down as quickly as you could.

"It's getting late" it was already late when you came to his office "I should go" you should stay, he wanted to say.

But instead he only nodded. He knew it was for the best. He shouldn't have let it come this far.

You quickly get your stuff and wishes him a goodnight. His eyes don't leave you until you pass through the door, yours, though, don't meet him once.

He stayed there on the floor, cum staining his pants, and even though he was fully clothed, the room had never felt colder.

➫

The next day was pure craziness. After you left his office, Javi went home, took a shower and lied in bed thinking of what had just happened between the two of you and what would happen from then on until he had to come back to work. Before he could even get to his office, you intercepted him with a cup of coffee and the news of a surprise and excruciating slow meeting with the ambassador, which led to another one with the CIA and then the atrocious combination of them both together. By the time Javi was freed from hell, everybody else were already leaving; due to your situation, he thaught that would be your case too, so he was surprised to see you still on your desk.

"I was waiting to see if you would need something else from me before I left" was your answer to the question on his face.

"I think I'm heading home too, actually" after a day like that, he felt like maybe he could even get some sleep.

He had work to do, yeah, and usually it didn't matter to him if his mind wasnt in the right place - it rarely was anyways -, but he knew nothing productive would result from working in that state. Javi also wanted to talk to you; he had so many thing in his mind, what he thought about during that whole previous night: he wanted you. So bad he didn't even know how to express it, so much he let himself cum in his pants just to get the little you were wailing to give to him. And he was concerned about what your reaction to that would be, because it was obvious that you wanted him too, but your actions showed him that you didn't want to want him. All those thoughts were consuming him, but it would have to wait for another day, he didn't think that was the right time, not at work. Maybe he could invite you for drinks and talk things through or-

"I was wondering if we could talk, too" you interrupt his thoughts "About yesterday"

If Javi wasn't a trained professional, he probably would've had his mouth opened in absolut shock. It was like you read his mind.

"Of course" you both looked around the department, the couple people remaining already preparing to leave. Still, he opened his office door and nodded for you to come in.

You were flustered, nervous even. Javi didn't know what to expect from that talk, he wished you would cave in to your needs and fuck him already, but he felt like you wouldn't be easy on him. Honestly, he couldn't read you.

The both of you stood akwardly in the middle of the room, door closed behind you. He waited patiantly for you to start talking, for you to take the lead of the conversation.

"So" you sighed "I wanted to apologise"

His face contorted in a deep frown "What for? You have nothing to apologise"

"I do, yes" you shook your head "It was completely irresponsible and unprofessional and we shouldn't have done that"

If you said you were embarressed last time, about the things you had said on the bar, Javi didn't know what you could possibly be feeling at that moment: your face was getting red, your eyes wouldn't meet his, your hands squeezed each other in your front; he kind of felt bad he was the cause of your discomfort.

"You didn't do anything by yourself"

"I jumped on you like a crazy-ass-horny woman!" over your shoulder, you look outside to see if there was anyone to witness your voice raising; there wasn't.

Javi could barely contain the smirk forcing itself upon his mouth at the memory of you riding him in that very same floor, just a few steps from where you stood. He really couldn't contain the beggining of an erection, though.

"And I loved that" you looked at him as if he was crazy for saying it "I did!" he took a few steps in your direction "And honestly, if anyone should be blamed it's me, I'm the boss, aren't I? The authority in the room or some shit like that"

The way you look at him said that you agreed, that he should be blamed too, should've had more self control, but you didn't say it and that made him smile, the way you still tried to keep your composure at work.

You sighed "Still, it wasn't right and I'm sorry"

"I'm not" he took another step towards you.

"It's not the point, sir"

"I don't think you are that sorry either" your brows raised in surprise "And fucking quit calling me 'sir' now, there's just us in here" another step.

"I'm just-" you shrugged "I'm trying to be professional, that's all"

"Baby we're a little too late for that now"

"Jesus Christ" you pinched the bridge of your nose, he could feel the frustration exhaling from you "You don't like to make things easy, do you?"

"What's the fun in that?" the joke landed flat "I have a proposal"

That got your attention "I don't think I like where this is going"

"Well, that's the thing" he took one more step "I think you do. You fucking grinded on me on this floor until we both came. You want me. What are you so afraid of?"

"You're my fucking boss!" your exasperation made him want to laugh and scream out of frustration at the same time "I like this job, I want to keep it"

"I would never put your job in risk"

"You can't be sure" it was true, Javi barely had a say in anything, but he would do anything in his power for you not to lose your job, especially because of him "And even if this" you pointed between the two of you "didn't make me lose it, it would be living hell if people found out"

"I can be discreet"

You crossed your arms "You're not taking me seriously"

"I am, I promise that I am" he really was "I just- You gave me a taste of what it would look like and now I'm starving for more" he scratched his chin, a little embarressed he let that slip out "I would do anything to have you for one night, we don't have to take work to the bedroom"

"Oh" you snorted "there's a bedroom in the scene now?"

"What?" he raised his brows "You thought I was fucking you in my office?" you went silent "You fucking did"

Javi is no romantic man, he thought about fucking you in every place possible, in the bathroom there, against the nearest wall, but when truly thinking about taking you, it would always be in a bedroom, somewhere you both would be able to take your time.

"Do you fantasize about it?" a step closer "Do you touch yourself thinking about me?" your eyes wouldn't meet his, so he carefully took your chin and angled your head until they did "Where?"

You gulped "Where what?"

"Where did you imagine?" his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Your desk"

"Fucking dirty woman" he smirked "I'm gonna fuck you on my desk, bebita" he took you by the waist, colliding your body to his "And on my couch" his nose traveled from your cheek to your neck "On the fucking window so eveyone can see how pretty you will look with my cock deep inside of you"

"Shit" your voice broke, breathless.

"Do you want it? Huh? To be full of my cock?" you nodded "I want words"

"Yes" you puffed.

"Yes what?"

You looked at him with a defiant look "Yes, sir"

He had to laugh "You are the worst"

His lips collided with yours with so much fierceness he was surprised they didn't start bleeding. His hands were all over your body, your breasts, your back, your ass. You pulled his hair with both hands and he moaned. Javi wanted you so bad it hurt. He decided to be bold and lifted you skirt to your waist, then placed you sitted on the edge of his desk, each of your legs on each side of his hips, pushing everything that was on your way to the floor, paying no attention to anything that wasn't you.

"I hate how you kiss me" you mumbled frustrated between kisses and he pinched his brows.

"You have a very distinct way to hate things"

"You just do it so well" your hands covered his cheeks "Makes me want to do this everyday"

Javi couldn't help but to smirk "I don't see why we can't"

"Yes, you do"

"All I see is a gorgeous woman with tasteful lips" he reached your covered mound and passed a finger through your folds, making you moan loudly ", wet lips" he smirked "telling me she wants to kiss me foverer"

You snorted "I didn't say that"

"That's what I heard"

"You are so cocky" you rolled your eyes.

"Damn right I am" Javi pressed his erection to your thigh.

"Yeah, I felt it yesterday" your hands went to unbuckle his belt, quickly reaching for his cock through his underwear and pumping him a couple of times "You're big, sir"

Javi moaned and threw his head back, enjoying the feeling, barely believing it was finally happening. You put down every piece of cloth in your way to his thighs, put your own panties to the side and started to guide him to your entrance.

"You think is gonna be that easy?" he murmured in your ear, dodging his dick to press on your clit instead, making you moan at the contact, but also groan out of frustration.

"After all this time, it should be"

"You know what I want to hear, baby" he peppered kisses on your neck while still grinding his dick from your clit to your entrance, you were so wet he knew you would have no difficulty to take him.

"Put this thing inside of me, already" you tried to move your hips to get more friction, frustration consuming you.

Even though Javi had a purpose of you to stop calling him 'sir', he could barely hold himself from sliping inside of you, so that's what he did. Your moan as he slowly made space for him inside of you will forever be in his mind. Javi cursed under his breath as your walls squeezed him and he had to take a moment to absorb the feeling. So warm, so wet, so tight, he was in heaven. But you were impatiant.

"Please, move"

"Say my name and I will"

"Why are you so attached to this?" you pinched your brows.

He did the same "Why are you so against saying it?"

You licked a stripe on his neck "To piss you off"

"That's okay" he smirked "You don't have to say it, I'm gonna make you scream it" he held your legs and roughly pushed inside expecting to hit your special place; by the way you gasped and grabbed him, he got it just right "Found it"

Javi ran his nose through your neck and your skin bristled "You're so sensitive here, aren't you, bebita?"

"I'm starting to think that you make me sensitive everywhere"

He laughed and stopped his movements again "Now that's a confession"

"What can I say?" you huffed "It seems like you make my mind go blank when you have your huge dick inside of me and won't. fucking. move"

He laughed and started to slowly take it out just to push it in again at the same speed.

"You're gonna fucking kill me" you whined "Please, faster"

"Are you needy, baby?" he licked your neck "I can feel you squeeze me. You're desperate for my cock, huh?"

"Yes"

"Yes, what?

"Yes, sir"

He increased the speed and you moaned louder "Unbelievable" his hips were reletless and he felt you getting tighter and tighter "You're almost there, aren't you, baby?" you couldn't speak, mouth half opened and nails digging into the skin of his arm "You like it rough, don't you?"

Then he stopped.

"What the fuck?" your voice is hoarsed.

"I'm fucking you slow, baby, is that a crime?" his smile was smudge

"You're evil" you whined, hips moving to find relief.

"I am evil? Who are you to talk about evil? You're fucking teasing me here, bebita. That's so wrong" he started to move slowly again "Just say my name and I'll let you cum"

You nodded your head no.

"Say it"

"No"

"Fucking say. It." he changed the angle to repeatedly hit that spot inside of you and pulled your hair until your back arched.

"Oh my God, Javi!" you screamed as you came hard on his dick, eyes closed tight, mouth opened and body tremblimg.

His name coming out of your mouth was like music to Javi's ears, and hearing it for the first time fomented something insane inside of him. He licked his thumb and pressed it hard against your clit, your eyes widened in surprise and he got a strangled sound out of your mouth as you came again, your body violently shaking under his hands.

"Oh shit, that's it, baby. You're fucking milking me. Shit, shit, shit."

His name was now floating through your lips like a hymn, and he loved to hear it.

"I'm gonna cum"

His words seemed to wake you from your trance "On my mouth"

"Shit" he steped away and out of you and one second later you were on the floor, knelt before him. You grabbed his dick with one hand, put the tip in your mouth and that's all it took for him to cum the hardest he had in his life. You sucked it, greedy until he had nothing more to give you "Let me see it, baby" he asked with a hoarsed voice, asking you to open your mouth, showing that you had swalloed it all "Fucking dirty woman"

You smirked and rested your forehead on his thigh, exausted.

"Come 'ere" he took your hand on his and got you to your feet, holding you against him by your waist "Can you walk?"

"I think I can learn how to do it again, yeah" he chuckled.

Javi lowered your skirt before sitting you on his desk again "How are you getting home?" he asked quietly as he slowly buttoned up your blouse, trying not to startle you and have you running away again.

"I'm taking a cab" you more gently than not stopped his fingers to continue the work yourself.

"Let me take you home" he fished your panties from the floor and put it in his pocked as he wore his pants again

"You don't have to"

"I know I don't. But I'm kind of worried if you will be capable to support yourself for enough time to call a cab after I fucked you this good"

You released the louder chuckle he had ever heard you give as you stood up "You're the absolute worst, Javier."

He started to get hard to the sound of his name on your lips.

"See? Perfectly stable" one of your eyebrows was raised and all he wanted to do was to kiss your attitude away.

"I guess I'll have to fuck you harder next time, then"

"I guess"

You both went quiet as you made your way out of the building and to his car, you only speaking to give him instructions to get to your place.

"There will be a next time, right?" he spoke as you left the car.

How silly of him to think that fucking you once would be enough, would make all the consuming desire go away, if something, it only made him want you more.

You took your time to look at him, as if staring directly to his soul and gave him a small smile.

"Good night, Javi"

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