#V-Task Academy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wireddless · 10 months

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.

6K notes · View notes

vellichor-of-the-solivagant · 10 months

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

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

1K notes · View notes

violet-eng · 6 months

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

917 notes · View notes

phoward89 · 5 months

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

362 notes · View notes

vbecker10 · 1 month

Note

Hi V!

How are you? I have add and i havent seen very many fics with someone who has add/adhd so i wanted to send this to you since i know you will do amazing with it! I have a fic idea request for you:

You are a new recruit to join the avangers one day you are in the gym with steve learning a new skill but you can't focuse or follow details instructions thanks to your add/adhd later on you are in your room trying to get a list of to dos but you get frustrated/can't get the chores done/distracted

Easily Distracted (Part 1)

Part 2 / Part 3 (in progress)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader (Y/N) - reader has ADHD

Summary: You've recently graduated from the SHIELD Training Academy and you couldn't be more excited or more nervous to start working as a probationary agent. You study and train, trying every way possible to prepare yourself for your evaluation in three months but your ADHD threatens to derail your progress, and so does Loki. Captain Rogers sees you struggling to succeed and steps in to help you in any way he can.

Warnings: Self-doubt, Loki being an ass, mild swearing (which Steve does not approve of), feeling like giving up

Background: Female reader has ADHD (Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder) with the following symptoms: inattention, hyperactivity, difficulty listening and finishing tasks, losing important things frequently, becoming distracted or sidetracked easily, trouble following instructions, difficulty staying organized and managing time

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this request @animnerd! I absolutely love it. Sorry it took me so long, I kept getting distracted while I worked on this one which I think is super ironic lol. We talked about this a bunch and I ended up tweaking the ask a bit to make it a longer story 🙂 I really hope you like this 💚

Thank you so much for these amazing dividers @jiyascepter I absolutely love them!

Also, this is officially my first Steve Rogers x reader fic so I hope you all like it! I just ended up tagging a few people from my Loki list cause I don't have a Steve list 🫣

Day 1

You take a seat in the middle of the bus and huff a sigh of relief that you are finally on your way. The Avengers Tower is just under half an hour from your small, one bedroom apartment but it's all you can afford right now. It's only for a few months, you remind yourself with a hopeful smile.

Pulling your backpack onto your lap, you unzip the largest pocket and begin to double cheek that you have everything. One of the more annoying parts of your ADHD is how unorganized it can make you feel, this often results in you forgetting or losing things. The more important the item is, the easier it is for you to misplace it apparently. You mumble to yourself quietly as you feel around for your laptop, pens, ID badge and various other items you thought would be helpful today.

You sit back, bag still unzipped with your hands frozen as you think, I can't believe it's actually my first day as a probationary agent for SHIELD! I'm going to meet the Avengers and train with them, go on missions with them- your thoughts suddenly shift and you slump in your seat. If I make it to the end of the three month probationary period.

You survived the two year long SHIELD Training Academy, but just barely. Having ADHD made following detailed instructions, focusing on long lectures and completing multi-step tasks extremely difficult. You struggled daily but never gave up, passing all of your exams and earning one of twenty probationary positions available in the New York office.

I can do three more months, you think positively, looking out the window of the bus as the city passes slowly. The next three months will be full of nonstop procedural meetings, group and one on one training sessions and skill assessments until your written exam and field evaluation. Three months to find out if I'm assigned a post as a field agent, an analyst or if I'm going to be fired and have to work mall security for the rest of my life, you think as the bus comes to a brief stop.

You're mind has wandered so far that you don't notice the announcement the driver makes until the bus starts moving again. Looking up from your still wide open bag, you see the Tower get further away and you immediately panic as you realize you missed your stop. You zip your bag quickly and run up the aisle. The driver rolls his eyes at your plea to be let off and opens the door at the next red light. You thank him and take off running the five blocks back, knowing you were already late when you left your apartment.

------------------------------------------------

You push through the most annoying revolving doors ever designed and step into the lobby of the Tower. Without stopping, you head for the elevators but a security officer gets up from his desk and yells for you to stop.

"Sorry," you walk back towards him, opening your bag as you dig around for your temporary ID badge. "I work here, I'm new," you explain with an awkward smile.

Happy sighs, sensing your nerves and says, "You need to take a breath and slow down. Scan your badge here then put it on, picture out and don't take it off while you're inside the building."

You nod, trying to take a deep breath as you set your ID badge in the scanner. It flashes red and Happy motions with his hand for you to flip it over. You laugh nervously and flip your ID but the screen lights up red again and you look at him with an awkward shrug. He takes the badge from you, rotates it, scans it and hands it back to you.

"Thanks," you put the lanyard around your neck, fidgeting with it immediately.

"Probationary agent orientation is on the tenth floor with Captain Rogers," he tells you and you nod, looking towards the elevators. "Good luck," he waves at you when you take off and you hear him mutter, "You're gonna need it."

------------------------------------------------

"You're late," the tall, blonde super soldier says, crossing his muscular arms over his chest when you open the door to the small conference room. The nineteen other probationary agents in your unit turn to look at you as you stand frozen in the doorway.

"I know, I'm sorry, I-" you try to explain, panting hard from running down the hallway.

"I don't want excuses. You are expected to be on time," Captain Rogers says sternly, cutting off your words. He motions to an empty seat in the front of the room, his eyes tracking your path to the chair.

You nod and sit quickly, nearly knocking over the vacant chair with your bag. "Sorry," you offer a hushed apology to the surrounding agents who mumble and whisper to each other. You know most of them from the academy, although not well as you had been too focused on trying to pass to make any friends. They are clearly surprised you were accepted into this program and to be honest, you still are too.

"Agent Y/L/N, is it?" he asks, looking up from his clipboard as he flips back and forth between the pages. You are too absorbed in unpacking your laptop from your bag to realize he is speaking to you. He takes a few steps towards you, waiting for you to look up and acknowledge him but you don't. "Agent Y/L/N," he says a bit louder, towering over you.

You let out a startled gasp and sit up straight, nearly knocking over the coffee of the person next to you when you bump the table. "Yeah?" you ask without thinking and he raises his eyebrow in response, waiting for you to correct yourself. "Um," you clear your throat. "Yes sir, Captain Rogers."

He grips the clipboard tightly with one hand and leans down towards you, his blue eyes never leaving yours. "You will not be late again, understood?"

"Yes sir," you nod in agreement, looking up at the super soldier.

He sighs and turns away from you, clearly annoyed but ready to move on thankfully.

By the time you've set up your laptop, Captain Rogers has started to erase all the information that was written on the large white board. You hold back a groan and try to type the remaining notes as quickly as possible, already knowing you'll need to reorganize them later.

------------------------------------------------

By the end of the day, you have officially gotten lost 3 times, been late to all but one of your meetings and left your ID badge in the woman's bathroom twice because the lanyard annoyed you.

You sigh deeply, placing your bag on one of the desks in the furthest corner of the library. You pull out the chair and prepare to settle in for a long night of review like you did every night in the academy. You need to organize all of your notes and study the map of the Tower. You take out your headphones and search on your phone for the right playlist, hoping the music will help you focus.

You open your laptop and think, tomorrow has to be better than today or I won't even make the 1 month mark.

Day 2

A loud banging sound wakes you suddenly and sit up right in surprise, breathing rapidly. You look around, your hands gripping the desk and you spot Loki leaning against a nearby bookshelf with an open book in his hands. He looks down, flipping through the pages slowly seemingly unaware of whatever woke you. You rub your eyes and wonder what made that sound then suddenly it occurs to you that you are still in the library.

"Good morning agent," Loki says, closing his book and tucking it under his arm.

You stretch your back and use one hand to hide a yawn before realizing he smiling at you. "Oh, morning," you respond a bit wary of his friendly expression. You hadn't met Loki yet but you had heard stories about him, everyone in the academy had. You look around for your phone but it's not on the desk, you must have knocked onto the floor while you slept.

"I would have thought you had somewhere to be this morning," he says in a smooth voice.

You see your phone on the floor, pushed back to the wall. "What?" you ask, barely paying attention to him as you get up from the chair and crawl under the desk to reach for your phone.

"It's nearly 10am agent," he says and you lift your head quickly, slamming it on the underside of the desk.

"Fuck!" you yelp and rub your head with one hand, the other grabs your phone and you get to your feet. You gather your belongs as fast as you can, shoving everything into your bag without noticing the smirk that spreads across Loki's face.

------------------------------------------------

The second the elevator doors open, you run down the hall towards the gym for your first one on one training session with Captain Rogers. You were already terrified about it, you didn't need to be late too.

You arrive at the gym, completely out of breath and swear when you pull on the door handle and it doesn't budge. "What the hell?" you ask, pulling the handle again then remember you need to swipe your ID badge. You reach for it but the lanyard is missing from your neck. "You've got to be kidding me," you mumble then kneel on the ground, taking off your bag and setting it in front of you. Pulling the contents out, you quickly lose hope that you'll find it.

The door opens and you look up from the ground at Captain Rogers. "Oh, you're here early," he checks his watch.

"I'm early?" you ask utterly confused, sitting back on your heels. You check your phone which you realize you haven't done yet. It's 7:45, an hour and 15 minutes before you even need to be at the Tower.

"Why are you on the ground?" he chuckles a bit, asking his own question in response.

"Oh, sorry sir," you look around at the mess surrounding you and haphazardly shove everything into your bag for the second time in fifteen minutes. "I can't find my ID badge," you admit, getting up off the ground. "Please don't report me, sir, I know where it is," you are suddenly filled with dread.

"I-" he starts to answer to but your attention is pulled away by the sound of two sets of approaching footsteps. You turn your head to see the two Asgardians heading towards you.

Loki smirks devilishly, "Nice to see you again agent."

"You've met?" Steve asks and you almost think he sounds a bit worried as he looks between you and Loki.

"Not formally, no," Loki says, "I ran into our young recruit sleeping in my favorite section of the library."

"You told me it was almost 10," you fold your arms over your chest as your annoyance bubbles to the surface.

"I have been known to lie, little one," he winks and you take an uncomfortable step away from him.

"Leave her alone, Laufeyson," Steve says, stepping between you and Loki. The God of Mischief shrugs, quickly losing interest in you.

"Well I haven't met her yet," Thor says cheerfully. He reaches out to shake your hand, gripping you tightly but not enough to hurt, "Thor."

"Yea, I know," you giggle a bit nervously as the God of Thunder continues to shakes your hand. "I'm Y/N," your eyes flicker to Captain Rogers and you correct yourself quickly. "Agent Y/L/N, probationary agent at the moment."

"Ah, one of Steve's recruites," Thor laughs warmly and pats Steve on the back hard enough to make the super soldier wince. "He'll take good care of you." Thor turns towards the door to the gym as Loki scans his ID badge and the door unlocks.

"Shit," you mumble under your breath, remembering that you misplaced your ID badge. Your outburst draws Steve's attention back to you.

"Language, please," he rubs his shoulder where Thor hit him.

"Right, sorry," you bite your lip knowing that's not the worst swear word you'll use today. "Ah, I mean, sorry sir," you correct yourself again. You had been terrible at remembering to speak properly to officers in the academy and it got you in a lot of trouble.

"You don't need to do that if we aren't in a formal setting," he says and you realize he seems much more relaxed and less terrifying than yesterday. "But why do you keep swearing?"

"I left my ID badge in the library," you point vaguely down the hall even though that's not the way to the library, "But I need my ID badge to get in the library and anywhere else for that matter."

"I'll go with you," he responds in a friendly tone, bending down to hand you a pen you had missed when you were cleaning up your belongings.

"You don't have to, I know you're busy," you tell him but he just smiles. "I'll just... stand awkwardly outside the library until someone shows up," your voice trails off.

"Right, that's a much better idea," he laughs as he starts walking towards the elevator and you put your bag over your shoulder, trying to catch up to him. "I have a feeling you're going to get lost if I let you go by yourself," he looks down at you as you move next to him.

"It's a big building," you try to defend yourself but he just laughs again, shaking his head lightly.

Day 7

"Agent Y/L/N, I would like to speak with you a moment," Loki says when everyone gets up at the end of his lecture.

"Me?" you ask nervously as you freeze in place.

"Is there another Agent Y/L/N here?" he asks in response and a few of your fellow agents laugh quietly.

"No," you answer sheepishly and he nods. You finish packing your laptop into your bag and put it over your shoulder, trying to swallow your fear. Loki makes you uncomfortable even at a distance so saying you're not thrilled about being alone with him is an understatement. The other agents file out of the room, talking amongst themselves, no doubt about you.

You slowly make your way to Loki, dread building with each step. He leans on the desk at the front of the room, his arms folded as he watches you approach. Your anxiousness makes him smile and you break eye contact first when you stumble over your own dragging feet.

"I have been watching you, agent," he tells you and you feel your heart pounding in your chest, "And you do not belong here."

"What?" you ask, you had no idea what Loki wanted to talk to you about but you didn't think this was it. "Yes I do. I-"

"You will not succeed here," he interrupts you and your mouth hangs open at his harsh statement. "I have seen how easily distracted you are, how confused you get with even basic instructions. You are late to everything, you still wander this building utterly lost and you cannot focus."

"I can do better," you tell him, your voice shaky as he lists all the flaws you've been trying to manage. "I made it through the academy, I can do this," you say, trying to convince yourself and the God of Mischief.

"I don't believe that is true," he says.

------------------------------------------------

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffing as you reread the email you've typed on your phone. The bus stops at a red light and you look out at the city, lowering your head when it begins to move again.

Sighing deeply, you adjust a spelling mistake then add your name to the bottom of the email. Closing your eyes for a moment, you remember your conversation with Loki a few hours ago as well as the whispered comments from the other agents in your unit. You open your eyes, wiping your tears once more and hit send.

Day 8

"What can I do for you Cap," Agent Hill asks from behind her desk.

"Have you seen Agent Y/L/N? She's usually late for our morning training session but it's been nearly half an hour," Steve says, stepping inside her office.

"Oh, you didn't hear?" she asks, then takes a sip of her coffee.

"Hear what?" Steve shrugs.

"She quit," Agent Hill informs him.

------------------------------------------------

You click through the pizza delivery app and order your usual, a TV show you're barely paying attention to plays in the background. You hit the order button and sit back, picking up a fidget cube you keep on your end table.

There is a knock on your door and you laugh as you get up, "Either the pizza guy is getting a big tip or-"

Your voice cuts off when you open the door and see Steve Rogers standing in the hall of your apartment building. "Hello Y/N," he says, his smile warm but it does little to calm the nerves that suddenly spread through you.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @mochie85 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @jiyascepter @eleniblue @muddyorbsblr @alyeskathewave @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @km-ffluv @biodegradable-glitter-fest @wolfsmom1 @hopefuldreamers-world @dracoswhorexx @anukulee @latriacy @trojanaurora @babygirl-panda19 @catsladen @stargazer-luna @gruftiela @bolontiku @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @crimson25 @lokiandbuckysdoll

182 notes · View notes

kennedyalike · 1 year

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

997 notes · View notes

mrsjavierpena · 9 months

Text

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"

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javi pena #javier pena narcos #narcos fanfiction #javier pena secretary #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #zaddy pedro #pedrohub #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction

362 notes · View notes

lively-potter · 8 months

Text

— nepenthe ; jjk

@lively-potter

— synopsis ;

in which solaris celeste vesper, a sad girl with an unfortunate upbringing meets a man far older than her and, within his presence, her sorrow fades into nothingness.

Also in which jeon jungkook finds the sun he so desperately needed in his life.

— genre ; age gap, they both fall but he falls harder in the beginning, angst, fluff, guaranteed HEA, CEO jungkook, mafia/gang vibes ( kinda/sorta )

— disclaimer ;

2024 © @LivelyPotter

You may not reproduce,

distribute/and or adapt

any part of this work

without my permission

I only own my original characters and the plot.

— warnings ;

violence, blood / gore, descriptive abuse, mature language, mature themes, fluff, angst, age gap. the MFC has been sheltered her entire life — and due to that, keep in mind she will have a slight childlike innocence. She cries a lot in the beginning ( and if you went though all the shit she did, you would too, as I won’t hear any complaints )

— playlist ;

— greedy ; tate mcrae

— yes or no ; jungkook

— closer to you ; jungkook

— somebody ; jungkook

— hate you ; jungkook

— lost ; BTS

— my time ; jungkook

— serendipity ; jimin

— stigma ; taehyung

— MAMA ; j-hope

— please don't change ; jungkook

— fever ; enhyphen

— spring day ; BTS

— love me again ; v

— mmmh ; kai

— after like ; Ive

— blood sweat & tears ; BTS

— lilac ; iu

— extra info ;

started ; January 19th, 2023

posted ; January 21st, 2023 ( on Wattpad )

completed ;

edited / revised ;

— extra info for those not familiar with the academy series by c.l. stone ;

I know I'm gaining more readers, those who aren't familiar with the academy, so I'll do a short explanation of what you'll be seeing from the academy!

In short, the academy series is a reverse harem/polyamory series set in Charleston, South Carolina.

( so you'll be seeing multiple men date the same women in this book, so don't be shocked lmfaoo ) most of this won’t happen until we are well into the story — but I’d hate to confuse all of you! I’d like every single one of you to enjoy and understand the story completely!

The academy ( that MFC won't be much involved or at all ) is basically a top secret organization that specializes in helping men, women, and children who are in an abusive relationship or homes and help them get out of that — most join the academy to help others in the same situations.

There are teams that work together and are basically a family in all but blood; and "family is a choice".

The men in teams are referred to as "dogs" and the female team members are referred to as "birds".

'Ghosts', whether birds or dogs, are children without much history to their names. They are priceless to the Academy.

The Academy's system works on a series of favor and financial debt. Everyone in the Academy starts out with financial debt. It's the value of the education an Academy student requires to become the best at what he does. If it was a private investigation training class or an eight-week boot camp, or you were starving and needed groceries to get through a human biology class, the Academy took care of it. Your debt can't just be paid off directly, it requires completing various Academy missions. Whatever it is, there is a price tag.

Favors though are the real core of the Academy. Favors are anything that doesn't have a price - usually family problems within the Academy that other members can't handle alone. New members owe ten favors immediately, with the maximum owed being thirty. The value of a task in favors varies depending on the task.

All Academy trials are comprised of the same parties: the whole team, plus five randomly selected members from other teams, presided over by a manager who has collected all the data. There is no age minimum for the randomly selected members, the only requirement is that they had to be past initiation and a full member of the Academy. The ultimate goal at a trial is to keep the family together as much as possible.

Each team has two leads. The first is the main contact for the Academy, they track the jobs the members go on, and let them know what jobs are available. The second is the family lead, who keeps track of all the team members, and makes sure that everything runs smoothly for them - ensuring they have food, bills are paid on time, and everyone that needs a job has one.

Most of this information is from the academy wiki site ( 'cause it's fuckin' complicated to explain it all )

but I want you all to be able to understand it enough to enjoy the story without being confused!

Most of the time, I'll explain through River and my other characters.

I hope this makes sense!

River won't be very involved in the academy, but there will be mentions and most of River's story revolves around, not only Jungkook and Moon, but River's brothers, friends, and family!

Please let me know if there is anything that you'll misunderstand and I'll explain to the best of my ability!

✨ HAPPY READING ✨

— find me on Wattpad at @/LivelyPotter! The first two chapters of Nepenthe are already out!

Also, do any of you mind giving me some pointers on how to post more aesthetic chapters or a master list on here?? I’m so lost and new to this app! 😂😂😭

#jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook #jjk #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x original character #bts jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook fluff #soft girl #pinkcore #jeon jungguk

127 notes · View notes

maryangelex · 1 year

Text

To Be Alone With You

Simon “Ghost” Riley x f! Original Character

A/N: Hello!! This is my first time writing fanfiction ever and I'm so obsessed with Ghost I thought I'd give it a shot. This is written with an OC in mind, but I'm writing it with nothing descriptive so it can be read as reader-insert, only mentions callsign "Angel" and some character background for plot purposes. Unless y’all would like to read about my OC! Anyways, enjoy, and let me know what ya think!!!!

Summary: A new member gets added to task force 141, and Ghost can’t keep himself together for long.

Warnings: NSFW! MDNI! Third-person POV, Smut, p in v sex (fantasy), masturbation, strong language, horny ass pining, descriptive language, combat injury, blood, military inaccuracy, game inaccuracy, OOC Ghost (?), not proofread, first fic

The 141 Task Force was a well-established team, led by Captain Price, Lieutenant "Ghost" Riley, and Sergeants "Soap" MacTavish and "Gaz" Garrick. As a team, they dove head-first into danger, every risk necessary to be taken, and they did a damn fine job every time. Regardless, Laswell thought this new mission in Las Almas called for new additions to the force.

"She goes by 'Angel'", Laswell states, sliding a file across the table to Price.

"Right," he responds, opening the manila folder with extensive records and information on the new member. "I can see why with a face like that. Looks like a sweetheart," he scoffed.

"She was top of her class in the Naval Academy and a Navy SEAL, one of the handful of women on the job," she started, "She's just as skilled as your boys Garrick and MacTavish, maybe better. She's taken down guys the size of your Lieutenant"

Laswell would've only noticed someone with actual talent, and Price knew this, he trusted her well enough to know she was a no-bullshit kind of woman. And given the information in the file in his hands, Angel sure was an ironic callsign.

"I trust you, Kate, so I know this dove's not gonna disappoint", he said glancing up at Laswell.

A lot of hope and expectations laid on her shoulders on Price’s behalf. Ghost had been notified about the new member upon his arrival with Soap in Las Almas. The two of them emerged from the evac and touched down on their new base. Friendly introductions were made between their other two new members for their time being in Las Almas, Rudy and Alejandro; then she came along, introduced by Price to the task force.

Soap looked like a kid on Christmas morning, fawning over her all giddy and jovial. It was like he’d never seen a girl before, she thought. He made multiple charming and flirtatious remarks at their first introduction, no shame in that one that’s for sure. But she liked the amicable dialogue, she knew they’d get along with him bringing some light to being in the suck.

Meanwhile there was Ghost, stoic and rigid. He shook her hand and gave her a cold yet approving handshake and introduced himself. Of course she already knew all about him, or at least what the gossip and folktales about him said he was; a direct, quiet, intimidating bloke that could kill with a glare and had an arsenal of skills, absolute killing machine with only his whit and sick dry humor saving him from being nonhuman. All she did was gawk at all 6’4 feet of him and get sucked into his expressive yet mysterious eyes. She’d never been so starstruck by a man before yet she kept her composure in front of him. Yet her mind couldn’t help but wander like a high school girl catching the first glimpse of her crush.

Ghost was a man of few words in general, but especially with people he’d just met or started working with. He kept it professional and distant, mainly because he never knew how long they’d last in a mission, so he kept his expectations low for everyone. Angel was an exception though, she piqued his interest. He had read her file handed over to him by Price prior to meeting her, and they both shared the same interest in her and her skills on the field: sharp sniper, close quarter combat expert, trained medic, the list went on with what she was capable of. The difference was how much more intensely Ghost had looked at her file. He would never admit it, but in reality he was captivated. In a professional level of course, nothing else.

Missions together went smoothly. She proved her skills and more time and time again. She made a good pair with Soap since they were out to work together the most often. Same as her with Gaz, they were a match made in heaven when it came to recon and agility missions. The three of them were insufferable, though, pestering and bickering with each other like triplets both in the field and off duty. Ghost was being driven mad, he already had enough with MacTavish annoying him through the radio, now he had to deal with Angel adding fuel to the fire. She did make him smile, though, sometimes even made him hold back laughs but God forbid anyone in the team knew he was a bit keen on her. Thank God for his mask hiding that away from everyone.

The team was cohesive with her as a new member for the months to come. Ghost didn’t think much of anything, not much of her besides quiet admiration and camaraderie, especially since she mainly worked with Soap. No big deal.

Except, after a mission gone awry and things getting sticky making the team struggle to get out alive, and Price having to chew out Angel and Soap for being careless, he decided it was best to change partnerships. Now, Soap was assigned to work with Price, and Angel with the Lieutenant, to teach her a thing or two and keep both of them in check under better supervision.

This is when shit hit the fan for Ghost, when he first stepped into the murky waters that were his feelings, the ones he didn’t even know he had.

Working with Angel was odd to him. He expected for it to be like how he worked with Soap, coordinated with the occasional friendly and comical banter they shared over radio. And it was like that with Angel in the beginning, the two made an amazing pair given their similarities in skill, traits, and resourcefulness.

It was too good of a match, though. Things were starting to get heavy for Ghost. He was starting to care too much about her, to get too protective of her in the field, the distance was getting shorter between them each mission.

On a supposedly easy intel mission, shit had gotten ugly really fast and really badly for them.

“Fuck, L.T.,” she panted, the two of them hiding behind a column of the building they were trapped in, getting shot at from all directions. “I’m hit, get my med pack will ya?”

“Fuckin’ hell, kid, you’re the medic, not me” he growled, rummaging through her gear for the first aid kit.

“No worries L.T. it’s not even that bad” she said with a breathy chuckle. The wound was oozing and spurting blood from her abdomen, her hand pressed against it keeping the pressure as best she could. She looked up at Ghost, who was fumbling with the kit finding a bandage to replace her hand on the wound with. He returned the gaze but his was colder and reprimanding, as if saying this is not the time to fuck around.

He pressed his much larger hand on her abdomen and although not visible he was concerned, a bit scared even. What the fuck was this? He’s never been this scared about a partner. He’s lost enough to not care as much anymore, to be used to it by now. So why was he so breathless and shaken by this girl’s injury?

“I’ll guide you, Ghost. The bullet went through. It looks real ugly with all this gushing but it hit my flank. See? Nothin’ important got hit” she said to him reassuringly, lifting herself up from the floor and lightly twisting to show him the hole the bullet went through on the right side of her waist. The two meet their gaze, his softened by her reassurance.

The two made it out of the building and back to the evac. Angel had guided Simon to tend to the wound and patch her up, and in return he basically carried her out of there.

That night back in HQ had Simon stressing, not because of the mission, not because of Angel’s injury, but because he was so god damn confused about what was clouding his mind so much. This new feeling he had. He felt restless and dazed by it. He felt like he failed that mission entirely by allowing Angel to get hurt, a new instinct to protect awoke in him. That night he couldn’t sleep, no amount of cigarettes out the window of his dorm calmed him down or made him make sense of these newfound feelings and fears.

From then on he was her shadow, and their distance became shorter as a result. Cheeky remarks, overly friendly banter sometimes escalating to flirty insults and jokes. Then came the light touches between the two, accidental of course. And his symptoms got worse each day.

His sleepless nights went from worries and memories of the battlefield to that of what a teenage boy would worry about.

He wanted her, and it was so hard for him to admit that to himself. He wanted her closer to him, he wanted the light touches between the two to become more comfortable, heavier, needier. He wanted her carnally. He thought about the times she was paired up with Johnny, how the two of them clicked and it sent him into a spiral. What if she laid awake at night the same way as him, but thinking about Soap? Or Gaz? Hell, even Price? Or none at all, and he was just horny and pining for her like a creep.

He thought of the softness of her skin when they touched, when she tended to his wounds how feathery her fingers felt in comparison to his calloused ones or the cold ones of any other nurse back at the base. How he hair swung in a braid when he was watching her back during missions. How she smelled when she was close to him, she smelled womanly with the salty tinge of her sweat from busting her ass on the field. It made him feral to think of her at the hands of another man, but he felt so stupid for it because it was the most plausible thing to happen, more so than for her to reciprocate his feelings, or at least for her to let him fuck her, at least once to get it out of his system.

Simon’s new nightly routine was of pacing around HQ finding something to busy himself with like paperwork or a smoke outside. He made his way back to his dorm after enough busywork and attempts to tire himself out. When he went to open the door to his room, she was there, leaning against the arch, and standing there as if waiting for him, with a sly smile plastered on her face.

“Can’t sleep?” She questioned.

“I could ask you the same thing”, he said, standing parallel to her.

She moved from the door as if inviting him to open it, which he complied with.

“Maybe we can help tire each other out”

Next thing he knows she’s sitting naked on his bed, baring herself to him. He’s standing at the foot of the bed looking down at her, admiring the sight in front of him. She’s putting on a show for him, caressing her breasts, down to her stomach and the space between her legs.

“Open your legs, sweetheart,” he says huskily “I know you want me to see.”

She spreads her knees, exposing her soaked cunt that she tenderly and slowly strokes. He’s salivating at the sight, as she slides her fingers through her folds, teasing herself, with her other hand massing her breast, taking a nipple between her index and middle finger. He watches her moan and throw her head back as she circles her clit, slowly, applying the right amount of pressure that sets her body alight.

She goes at it for some time before dipping her fingers in her hole, saturating them in her slick before reaching out to his unmasked mouth which he takes in with a low hum at the taste of it.

Except none of that actually happened, which is proven by Simon waking up alone in the darkness of his room in a cold sweat. He’s in pure terror, his face hot and red under his mask. Fuck, did he just dream that? He’s even more mortified by the tent his rock hard dick is pitching under his sheets.

Fuck, this can’t be fucking happening.

He gets up from his bed immediately, beelining for his en-suite. There’s no fucking way he’s caving into dreams like that, he feels like that’s disrespectful to his teammate, like his body’s betraying him. He removes his mask, turns on the cold shower and steps in, ice cold water hitting his scalding skin. His head sinks between his shoulders, hands placed against the wall in front of him as he lets the water hit from above, as he looks down at his erection.

It’s not helping, it’s not going down.

All he thinks about is the image of Angel sat pretty and baring herself to him in his bed. Of her hands traveling over her body. He brings two fingers to his lips, imagining hers, imagining how sweet she must taste. He closes his eyes and he’s taken back to his dream.

Fuckkk, he thinks. Now it’s not just his body that’s betraying him it’s his whole damn self, he’s giving in completely as he wonders what’s next. As he wonders what would happen if he took those dainty tender hands with those pretty painted nails and wrapped them around his thick throbbing cock. What would happen if he let her stroke him slowly with a mix of her slick and his spit.

Simon brings his own hand in the shower down to his cock and he strokes himself with that scenario playing in his mind behind his closed eyelids. He relishes in the feeling of his hand stroking himself, slowly at first like he pictures Angel would, then increasing the speed.

He thinks about what it would be like to have her mouth on it instead. Oh her full juicy lips, red and smooth, how they’d stretch around his girth, inching down from tip to base.

“That’s it, pretty girl”, he whispers with his eyes still shut and his hand still relieving his cock in the shower.

He thinks about her gagging on his length as he’s encouraging her to take more and more in until the hilt, until it’s encapsulated by her throat. He squeezes his dick thinking about it as he strokes it some more, picturing her bobbing her head at the same rhythm and speed as he’s using on himself. He’d put his hand on that braid she’s always got and grasp it firmly as he commands her head and dictates how deep and fast she can suck him off.

He’s a mess in the shower, moaning lowly and groaning to himself. He lets his head rest on his forearm against the wall, the water running down his back and his hand squeezing and pulling at his cock. His mind wanders some more and now he’s picturing his spit-covered cock lining himself with her pussy, slowly spreading her open, loosening up the tightness of it, molding her to his length. She’d make the cutest noises, they’d drive him insane. Her moans and mewls shooting straight to his cock, making him twitch inside of her. She’d feel so warm, wrapping his dick in her sopping cavern, making him feel whole like she’s a missing piece to his puzzle.

Simon’s stroking himself faster now, panting under the water, cupping his balls with his other hand as he imagines pounding into Angel, imagines the sounds he can pull from her and thinking of the sight of her splayed out under him as his dick is buried deep inside of her, then pulled out and rammed back in, keeping up the speed of his hand.

He’s at it for a few moments more, moving his hips and thrusting himself into his own hands as if he was fucking her. Until he starts to feel that burning pressure at the pit of his stomach, as his balls feel tighter with his release about to happen. And then he snaps. White hot ropes of cum shoot out of his cock, dripping into his hands and out onto the tile of the shower, flowing down the drain. He’s gasping and groaning, cursing at himself as his thighs vibrate from his orgasm. His mind a haze but fuck, he feels good. Like a moment of catharsis.

Now the struggle is gonna be looking at Angel without thinking of his late night activities. Now he’s given into his desires and carries more of the burden of wanting her without being able to have her.

A/N: WELP… Please leave some thoughts if you got this far, thanks for reading <3 divider credit to @cafekitsune

186 notes · View notes

leo-interactive-fiction · 9 months

Note

Hey, Leo! Hope you're doing alright. I was reading through the blog in chronological order because I wanted to see how much the characters have changed over the course of Triaina's development, and I realized that your answers to some of the old questions have probably changed, too! So, I wanted to bring up the old "what habits do the TA RO's have?" ask and ask you about if they've developed new habits or if their old habits are still accurate.

It's been a while since the start of the blog, and the characters have gone through plenty of evolutions and revisions as I solidified them into my writing. I don't remember the specifics of what exactly my old answers were for that ask, but I'm sure there's probably some things I say that may be the same, while others could be completely different nowadays haha.

Let's see...

E: They have a habit of eating when they're stressed and are fairly particular to certain candies. Their hyperactive lifestyle paired with an extreme metabolism gives them something of a second stomach despite their small stature, so they can end up eating quite a bit more than you'd think. They also have a habit of sticking to an early rising schedule, often being the first one up and about even though classes are hours from starting.

R: They have a habit of getting lost in their own thoughts, and there are often times where they will grow silent and despondent for a second while they think. Unfortunately, it is rare for them to expand on what their thoughts actually were. They also have a small quirk of looking at the ground when they're bored, and collecting rocks they think can be carved.

L: They often lose themselves in rambling when they talk about a topic of interest. Although the servants of their estate in Hospur wouldn't dare to stop them when they'd go on one of these long-winded speeches, they quickly came to realize not everyone held the same passion for discussion, and have attempted to moderate themselves if they find themselves leading a conversation for too long. They also have a habit of reading out loud and performing the motions of the book they're currently reading, an outcome of being isolated in their estate for as long as they have.

V: They make a steadfast habit of cleaning and maintaining their weapon and other equipment. Theyre very methodical in their cleaning process and always do it the exact same way every time, even down to where they place the parts on the table. They also have a habit of sleeping anywhere but on the bed provided by the academy.

P: They clearly have a cussing habit, but besides that they make a habit of doing constant physical conditioning. They also have a habit of tunnel visioning, and focusing very narrowly on one thing at a time when they get emotional.

M: Sleeping.

Ra: You. Also photography, courtesy of the state of the art phone provided to each student by the academy. Again, also of you.

S: They have a habit of doing everything as fast as possible, even at the risk of horrid catastrophy. Whether it's because they have a short attention span, they're used to racing, or they simply can't be assed, no one knows. They also habitually break personal barriers, a general result of the tight-knit communal lifestyle they're used to in Orden.

F: Despite their high stature, they have a habit of tailoring and fixing their own clothing rather than sending it in for someone else to do. They also make a habit of tending the small garden they've collected in their room, and may even dismiss certain meetings and events to make time for that task.

Thank ya for the ask! I'll have to find the old ask for this question and see what's changed since then haha

#triaina academy #romance options

84 notes · View notes

vtaskacademy · 4 months

Text

Free Online Trading Course In Baner

V-Task Academy is your gateway to mastering online trading skills conveniently and effectively. Situated in the vibrant locale of Pimple Saudagar, we offer Free Online Trading course In Baner a comprehensive online trading course tailored to empower individuals with the knowledge and confidence to navigate the dynamic financial markets.

At V-Task Academy, we understand the significance of developing trading expertise in today’s economic landscape. Our carefully crafted course curriculum covers every aspect of trading, ensuring a solid foundation for beginners and valuable insights for seasoned traders alike.

Here’s what you can expect from our course:

1. Introduction to Trading: Dive into the fundamentals of financial markets and explore the pivotal role trading plays in investment strategies.

2. Fundamentals of Online Trading: Familiarize yourself with online trading platforms and grasp essential terminology and concepts essential for successful trading.

3. Technical Analysis: Learn to decipher charts, recognize patterns, and leverage technical indicators to make informed trading decisions.

4. Fundamental Analysis: Gain insights into evaluating company financials, interpreting market news, and understanding their impact on trading dynamics.

5. Risk Management and Psychology: Develop vital risk management strategies and understand the psychological aspects influencing trading behavior.

Our course delivery is designed to accommodate your busy schedule:

– Engage in online lectures and video tutorials at your convenience.

– Participate in interactive quizzes and assignments to support your learning.

– Join live trading sessions and case studies to apply theoretical knowledge to real-world scenarios.

– Connect with fellow learners and experts through discussion forums and community support.

At V-Task Academy, our instructors are seasoned traders and financial experts with a wealth of experience. Rest assured, you’ll learn from the best in the industry.

Enrolling in our course is simple:

– Register online and gain instant access to course materials and resources.

– Ensure your device meets the technical requirements for seamless participation.

The benefits of our course extend far beyond acquiring trading skills:

– Enhance your understanding of financial markets and trading techniques.

– Develop practical skills through hands-on trading experience.

– Expand your network by connecting with like-minded individuals and experts.

– Receive a certification upon successful completion of the course, validating your newfound expertise.

Don’t just take our word for it. Hear from our satisfied participants and discover their success stories firsthand.

Whether you’re a beginner or an experienced trader, V-Task Academy is your trusted partner in your journey toward mastering online trading. Take the first step towards financial empowerment and enroll today!

For more information and enrollment details, visit our website or reach out to us directly. Unlock your trading potential with V-Task Academy. Let’s venture on this transformative journey together.

#At V-Task Academy #Whatsapp #Facebook #Instagram #Youtube #Blogger-b #Enroll Now #Faceb

0 notes

howlingday · 1 month

Note

Pokemon Au: Does Glyanda ever have to deal with ghost Pokemon randomly sneaking into beacon?

Another night, another patrol. The deputy headmistress of Beacon Academy had multiple collateral duties atop being second to the headmaster himself. She was the deputy headmistress, one of the Elite Four for the Kingdom of Vale, a professor at Beaon, and the director of night security.

That last one was just a fancy title for late night security guard.

Her tasking was simple. Every night, when all students are required to enter quiet conditions, in which all students not in their beds were to retain themselves to their dorms, where they shall either sleep or otherwise keep their dialogue to little above a whisper. This would be an otherwise simple task if it wasn't for the fact that a number of students...

"EEEEEEEEEK~!"

...had Ghost-Type Pokémon.

While it can be said that labeling Ghost-Type Pokémon as malicious entities who at best perform near harmless pranks and at worst put lives at risk can be considered an insensitive action made against the spectral companions of some students, these statements are also not without their own truths.

Entering Team CFVY's dorm, Glynda found Weiss Schnee's Froslass circling inside the dorm, causing snow to drift and fill the room. Tapping her Poké-Ball, Glynda let loose her nightly companion to scare off the scarer.

"K-K-Kyu~!"

With a swipe of their shadowy palm, Glynda's Mimikyu, nicknamed Kiki, had sent the Snow Land Pokémon floating off through a wall, leaving a patch of frost where it fled. Without another word, Kiki jumped through the wall to give chase.

"Is everyone alright?"

"Y-Yes, Professor." Velvet replied.

"I'm sorry you have been frightened while I was on watch."

"O-Oh, I'm not f-frightened!" Velvet explained. "I-It's just v-v-very cold!"

"If you weren't the one who screamed, then who-"

"Is it gone yet?!" Yatsuhashi called from the bathroom.

#rwby #Pokémon #rwby Pokémon au #glynda goodwitch #velvet scarlatina #yatsuhashi daichi #mimikyu #froslass

24 notes · View notes

mail-me-a-snail · 10 months

Note

Tell me about Vance 🫵

thank u for giving me this opportunity to introduce you to vance my love my light v(ance). it's. a long one. a very long one

vance is a gay transgender man who grew up in a corporate family. his mother n father had met while working for arasaka counterintel during the 4th corpo war and had vance and his sister maya shortly after the war ended. they owe arasaka their comfortable, safe lives; if it weren't for their loyalty to the megacorp, they'd have been crammed into some rundown megabuilding alongside a thousand other poor, working class night citizens.

a lot of things started to change for vance when he turned 15. he realized he was transgender and confided this in maya, who had suggested his first chosen name: he started going by penn when he started his education at arasaka academy.

this was also the year he received an official, albeit beginner-level, cyberdeck. it's a hard implant for someone so young, but he had expressed an interest in tech and the NET years beforehand; why not let him hold the beauty of it in the palm of his hand?

he had jumped at the opportunity. he had always wanted it; why not accept it, now that he's been told he could have it?

he began to see his small world for its interlocking machinations. began to understand the little bits of code fluttering inside every piece of tech in the city. with the cyberdeck linked up to his neural systems, night city's buzzing got louder and louder, until the ever-present drone started keeping him up at night.

it would follow him throughout all his years in the academy—right until he graduated and arrived on arasaka's doorstep at the age of 19, newly transitioned and unaware of the other, freer paths the world might've had for him.

they took the beginner deck they had given him four years prior and began building him a new one.

a new deck required new implants. some of these were necessary, at first: a black steel spine to shoulder the weight of the deck, for example.

but over time, as vance excelled at every task they had given him, and then some—arasaka began to wonder: could they make him into something beautiful, in its intricacy, something impossible?

the average netrunner looks like their profession; technosights; jumpsuits; the seams for their cyberware running through their skin.

arasaka wanted to create something different—something covert. the most innocous of people; a tech weapon the nusa government themselves would kill to have (but how little they really knew).

vance's handlers proposed this plan to vance himself, there seated in arasaka's basement; they were, in some aspects, honest about what they wanted for him. they wanted him to be dangerous. they wanted him to be good. they vowed that they would be by his side throughout the whole process, the promise as loyal as vance had decided to be the first time he put on his uniform.

so he agreed—to all of it.

they started slow.

the steel spine traded for titanium; an expansive cyberdeck with more ram capacity; pulmonary implants to keep up the processing power; other organs traded for their mechanical counterparts, to ensure their safety when vance overclocks his systems.

vance became eerily familiar with arasaka's in-house chop shop. the ripperdoc there, boone vasco, put him under the knife time and time again—each major procedure had been carefully scheduled a few years apart. but vance wasn't just arasaka's pet project; on the side, he was their assassin. their ghost, trickling through the neon-drenched gutter that is night city, slaughtering anyone that needed zeroing.

a little hack there, an iron pressed up against someone ribs here.

he flatlined some disgruntled, middle-class corpo rat, some pencil pusher, who thought all it took to delta out of the corp had been booking the fuck out of the city with little else but both his family and several canisters of CHOOH2 in tow.

as far as anyone is concerned, maybe they did make it across the border.

or maybe they could've just made it, had they been faster; smarter; had they stayed to begin with.

maybe.

vance ran ops in and out of the nusa; his file will never see the light of day, not for all the eddies in the world. there's shit on there that'd start coups; destroy what little they've all built to keep. there are just some things that will always stay between him and the corp. they owe him that much.

when he wasn't out on the field, he was chasing novice netrunners out of arasaka's intranets.

eventually he had gained enough implants that the skin on his torso and back began to run warm—too warm. these were the days where he'd run ops feverish and slow. these were the days his own systems would fail him.

letting the machines breathe out in the open would've defeated vance's entire purpose; they had to get creative.

enough of these slip ups led to an entire torso's worth of a realskinn graft. arasaka had taken the market variant and specifically modified it so that it would allow vance (and his systems) to cool down faster. it's like a mesh rather than skin, soft enough to pass as the latter, but with pores big enough to remind one of the former.

they peeled the organic skin off his back and chest and replaced them—slowly, carefully—with this unique version of realskinn.

it took vance a long time to recover; for his body to accept this skin-like facade as its own.

because of the nature of his work, arasaka had thought it best to keep his existence a secret from the people beneath him in the pecking order. as far as they were concerned, vance was in a class of his own—just as adam smasher is his own unit, in a sense. still arasaka's; still a product of their patronage; just with a false sense of independence and superiority above everyone else, as if they're not all wearing the same tags.

vance had found a friend in someone like him; her name was veronica. she was a weapon, too—more blatantly, however, and certainly more of a physical, immediate threat that secrecy would've been a waste of more realskinn.

they often snuck out of work when they could—they took any and all measures to ensure that they didn't look anything like what arasaka had made them into. they went to bars. concerts. they breathed with the rest of night city—for the first time in a very long time.

the year is 2076. vance has been in arasaka's ranks for 12 years. he is 80% realskinn and the only truly organic parts left are on his arms, legs, and face. he is still arasaka's top dog; he is still their hound, loyal on a short leash. he still hears the world as loudly as they want him to.

but one, slow night in the basement, his handlers begun to talk—not to him, but amongst themselves. they didn't know he had left a little virtual watchtower for himself in the mikoshi chamber; the one place where he wasn't allowed to be.

he had spent 12 years as their model of what the perfect netrunner should and could be: covert, dangerous, and a powerful piece of tech.

he had spent 12 years as the first in a potentially long line of others.

they could've started sooner, more efficiently; they could've rolled out 3 generations in 12 years, not just the one.

one of the techies claims trial-and-error; there had been many times where certain implants had made vance violently ill. they had had to roll back. his recovery had been a necessary delay time and time again.

another agrees: one generation for twelve, another 2 in half that time. why not stop complaining and start now, with all the information gathered thus far?

and what'll we do with him?

the techies gathered around the room didn't have to answer for vance to understand his own obsolescence.

he had given them 12 years of his life; he had given them the skin off his back; he had told himself that every time he chose arasaka, he was choosing out of his own desire to be good.

what good comes of something past its expiration date?

he hadn't been the only arasaka pet project to be thrown out. veronica, too, was going to have her implants traded out so that they may go to the faster, newer generation of her kind.

together, they worked fast; they pulled every string that they had had the foresight to weave around night city; they created a small team of mercs to ferry them out of arasaka HQ; among them was vance's contact, jackie welles.

not many mercs were open to going toe-to-toe with a megacorp like arasaka—but if vance scrambled all the data concerning himself and veronica from their escape, then no one would ever be the wiser. to anyone on the outside looking in, it'd just look like they were stealing equipment from a shipyard.

i won't go into too much detail about the escape; only that it was long, tedious, and had left its marks on the both of them—physically and mentally.

in 2076, veronica and vance disappeared from arasaka's ranks, carrying within themselves the unique, stolen implants that made them who they are.

in 2077, they were beginning to live their own lives again.

vance changed his appearance; scrubbed all traces of himself from the NET, if any at all; tried to find his footing in the city that had heard of him only in the bodies he had left behind.

he looked over his shoulder a lot, those first few weeks he had spent lying low in mama welles'. he had been averse to any and all touch; he still craved it, however. that soft affection that demanded of him nothing but to let himself have it.

the hand brushes from jackie; the way mama welles would pat his cheek or fix his hair (even if it didn't need fixing) now and again; how viktor had put his hand on vances knee after the latter had confided in him everything arasaka had done to him.

he had left his family behind. his sister.

but he had friends at the end of his corpo world, too.

moving among them, he had found something in himself that he had had never realized was there: that he has a lot of love to give, and no idea how to give it.

but he tries, anyway; that is the one act of free will arasaka can't take from him.

that's it from me! you can learn more by perusing vance's character tag (#vance) or! if you have any further questions I'd be more than happy to answer them :3

#asks #vance #4V #HOOWEE #if u made it this far thanks for reading!!!!#AUTISM BLAST 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

57 notes · View notes

previousloversandmuses · 1 year

Text

FREQUENCY: Episode 1 - A Soldier Boy Story

FREQUENCY: A Soldier Boy Story

EPISODE 1: “Frequency”

WORD COUNT: 5,118

PAIRING: Soldier Boy X Reader

WARNINGS: (NSFW) Mentions of suicide, mental illness, rape, and self harm. Foul language. Mentions of sex, or sexual innuendos.

A/N: This story is dark, and covers mature themes. The main character, as well as other major characters, are offensive in nature, and may offend some people. Please peruse with caution, and remember that this is fiction. Reader discretion is advised. Please message me for any questions, comments or concerns.

This is introductory, we do not meet Soldier Boy just yet. Please excuse any grammar or spelling errors.

Masterlist

I was pumped full of V at Vought Laboratories when I was born. My mother took a thousand dollar bribe for some dope in exchange for her newborn daughter. They placed me in a NICU unit, hooked my veins up, and hoped for the best.

The scientists were worried at first. I showed no physical symptoms of compound V. There were no laser eyes, no fire aura, no electricity flowing from my fingertips. They kept their tabs on me. Ran test after test. Colic. They said I had colic. I cried over everything. There was no consolation. They thought I was a lost cause. Ready to pretend like this test subject never existed. A late term abortion ex-utero. Thank God a few of the doctors started catching on.

It was door slams. Creaking floors. Burners boiling. Cleaning supplies. Microwave lunches. Music from a few floors down. The overhead lights. Open windows. High blood pressure. A baby crying. Tuna fish sandwiches. Bleh. Spoiled milk. Fireworks. Gunshots from the Police Academy in upstate New York. Ship horns. Cigarette smoke. Low blood sugar. An earthquake in Siberia. Nuclear detonation testing in the Pacific ocean. Car horns. Rush hour.

See, they didn’t notice my abnormalities because they weren’t seen by the naked eye. They weren’t paralyzing mind tricks. Compound V took every ounce of my five senses and shot them up with gasoline, tequila, adrenaline, cocaine. A high voltage defibrillator to my nervous system. As if my sinuses were stapled open. As if my eardrums were plucked out by tweezers. I heard everything, even with my ears plugged. I saw everything, even with my eyes closed. I tasted everything, even with my mouth shut. I was everything, everywhere, all at once, and for an infant, that can be overwhelming.

As I grew older, I was still kept in the lab until they were fully aware of my capabilities. Until they had studied every strand of DNA in my body.

I didn’t have super strength, I didn’t have superpowers. They made sure of that. One time they strapped me to a chair, sticking ekgs on my chest. I passed out before they could even run a test. I could never stand velcro.

Frequency is what I was called. My supe name, at least. They called me Freaq for short. Which I guess if you think about it, isn’t really a lie.

My hearing was my most valuable asset. What’s this radio frequency? They’d ask. Can you make out the voice in this? Is this a bomb or just a backpack? Listen in on this meeting. I need collateral. We have to know everything that’s said. Is this person lying? Is that person lying? Keep in mind, these were the tasks I was given at around six or seven. It was easier for them then too because I was so small. I would slide into the air vents and stay as quiet as I could, absorbing as much information as possible. I’d spew it back to them like a pawn.

Teen years the work really started. They’d be strong in their threats to others. People would get hurt. People would have their lives ruined. I’d spy on them for weeks, getting all the information I could. Listening in on their most intimate conversations. Their most profound, and personal moments. I’d spew it all back to Vought. And they’d use what I’d told them as collateral.

Thanks to my hearing, thanks to my sight, I was able to snipe better than any experienced veteran. I never even needed to use the scope. For the most part I would snap my fingers, or click my tongue, and sense the vibration of the objects around me. I’d shoot whatever I needed to right between the eyes. Everytime. To this day I still can't get the sound of hot, metal rounds, piercing through brain matter out of my head. Me stealing the life of a defenseless victim who unluckily got caught up in the mess. Even when I plugged my ears, screaming, nothing kept me safe from the deafening silence from their no longer beating heart. I was never caught.

I had been cursed. By God? By Vought? Who knows. Mothers mourning the loss of their stillborn child. Smelling the cancer in people who walked by me on the street, on the way to pick up their young child from school. Gang violence. Break ups. A father beating his son to a pulp for not taking out the trash that day. Suicide. A young woman, screaming, begging for him to stop. This takes a toll on a young kid. No one should be forced to listen to the struggles of others, we have enough to deal with on our own. Hell, I’m sure if I focused hard enough, I could've heard the sound of my mother crying out to me, sullen and alone, from her perch on a rundown curbside.

I had lost it, as expected. Cutting, acting out, pathetic suicide attempts. It got bad enough to where they had to isolate me off somewhere in Appalachia. Somewhere I could enjoy the peace and quiet. The nurturing lull of nature. Waterfalls, and animals, and the rustle of trees in the Eastern winds. Native music, and arts and crafts underneath a big, red harvest moon. I could see every crater out that far in the mountains. There was no light pollution. That was always the best part. If I looked hard enough, sometimes I could see Saturn's rings without a telescope. Of course they’d still call my handlers whenever they needed me, they weren’t that concerned for my wellbeing. But hey, at least I no longer had to deal with the sounds of the city on my off days.

I had learned to resent Vought, which is understandable, and honestly a given. I mean what did they expect? I was cursed, to say the least. Every day was torture, and unpredictabe, even when I was all the way out in West Virginia. Some nights I’d hear a distant shotgun fire, and torpedo into the heart of a beautiful buck, with a sleepy, quiet family waiting for him a few hundred yards away in a clearing.

I wanted nothing more than to watch these people crash and burn. To listen to each and every one of them take their last breath. The only deaths I could, or would ever enjoy. The sweetest sound I’d ever heard. I could get off to it. And I would surely avenge that. That was a promise.

After I turned eighteen I did end up getting a place back in the city. Which is where I am now. I cope with the overstimulation in my desperation for revenge. A desperation so wild and intense I would do anything. I would do absolutely anything to get what I want.

The Homelander would tour the labs after his graduation every once and a while as I was growing up. He’d be intimidating. Stiff, and brooding. No one would ever amount to the power he held. None of us would ever become the specimen that he was. I’d look up at him with innocent, wide eyes. His body always sounded different than everyone else's. His organs moved with a horsepower. It was like his body took diesel. No one's insides ever sounded like his. I could feel the vibration of his cells dividing from half a mile away. He was so enchanting to a little gifted girl like me.

“What’s this one?”

“Heightened senses, Sir.”

“All five?”

“Yes. We find her hearing very promising.”

He had hummed in response. Staring back at me with an emptiness I’d get to know very well. He had only gotten worse since then.

After I had moved back to New York, Vought would still use me on occasion, but for the most part they just saw me as damaged goods. I was invited to parties, and events multiple times, and got paraded around like a fucking circus freak. Advisors would bestow me upon rich donors. “Ooh, let me stand across the room! I want you to guess what I’m saying.” I’d shake my head. There was no “guessing”. It was a stupid game if you ask me. They could have stood twenty miles away and it still wouldn't be much of a challenge.

I had felt him before I heard him.

“Repetitive, huh?”

I didn't even have to look at the donor across the room to know he was saying "orange". He had the audacity to whisper too. Your money paid for this, I thought. Don’t you have a little faith in me being more than a party trick?

“Yes, actually.” I said, turning around to see the symbol of patriotism.

“I didn’t know you had moved back to the city.”

I looked at him with the same eyes I did all those years ago, and he still stared back at me just as broken.

“Yeah, I’ve been here for a few months now.”

He placed a hand on my lower back. My skin tingling from the brush of his augmented fingertips. He walked me over to one of the large windows that overlooked the skyline. I had worn a tight dress, which he had taken notice of.

“You’re not so little anymore.”

I had laughed at that.

“If I’m honest I can’t remember the last time I felt like it.”

He looked at me with a gleam of recognition. Realizing we weren’t so different. Sure, he could break my spine if he clapped too hard, but we were both stripped of the innocence we so desperately needed. John and I were never friends, we were just two children starved of loving parental affection.

And now, a few years later, I sit perched on his lap. My legs falling off either side of his sturdy frame. His hands don't touch me. But he is smiling softly. His eyes glazed over and heavy. His nose rubs mine as I whisper to him. My hips moving up and down on the heat of his crotch.

“Do you like what I’m wearing?”

He tilts his head down, his thumbs sliding across the trim of my black lace underwear. He hums, a goofy smile spreading across his face.

“I do,” I brush my lips against his, his teeth catching on the skin of my cupid's bow. “Although, I can’t help but think there is an ulterior motive here.”

My eyes shoot open, glaring at him. He's still smiling at me.

“I needed you…” I’m an awful liar.

He takes a deep breath in through his nostrils. Placing two big hands under my ass while he fixes his posture on the chair. He cradles the back of my head, lacing rough fingers into my hair. Pulling me back until I’m looking him in the eyes.

“What do you want?” He asks plainly. I sigh, rolling my eyes, trying to pry myself out of his grip. “You know this doesn’t work on me.”

He pulls me tighter, my hair follicles hanging on to my scalp by sheer luck. I whimper, the feeling knocking the breath out of me for a second.

“You come up here to see me, of all people, wearing this pretty little get up.”

He uses his other hand to pull my lower half closer into his, wrapping his arm around my waist. My ribs could turn to dust under this vice grip.

“You know what I’m here to ask for.”

“We’ve been over this so many times now.” He tsks at me. “Tell me what’s in it for me, and I’ll consider it.”

I glare at him. This routine is like clockwork by this point. I come to him with a plan for revenge and he shoots me down everytime. I know he agrees with me, I know he wants it just as bad as I do, but this is his leverage. He can be so fucking evil.

“Does the idea of getting back at these people not give you a hard on?”

He laughs at me, releasing his vice grip. I pull myself off of him, walking over to my jeans discarded on the floor.

“Now why would I, of all people, want to get back at Vought?”

I pull my tight jeans up, one leg at a time. He walks over to me, looking down as I button my pants.

“You would be fine without them. Fuckin’ buddhist monks have your photo up at shrines in the himalayas for Christs sake.”

I walk past him, grabbing my shirt from off the ground. He slaps my ass as I pass by.

“I’ll think about it.” He suggests. I roll my eyes- he won’t.

I pull my hair out of the neckline of my shirt. He stands in front of me, his gloved fingers pulling out my necklace. He adjusts it so the clasp is back where it needs to be. I look up at him through my lashes.

“Just the scientists that worked with Vogelbaum.” I whisper.

He brings his hand up to my chin, pinching it with his thumb. He places an out of character, gentle, chaste kiss to my lips.

“...And Stan Edgar, and all the other top Vought executives…” He teases.

“No!” I pout.

“Yes,” He taunts. “And last time I checked you are perfectly capable of taking these people out all by yourself, one at a time, without ever getting caught.”

He's trying to pull it out of me. He knows why I need his help. He’s so smug. He wants to hear me say it.

“Why do you really want my help?” He torments.

I sigh, moving to grab my purse from off the chair in the corner of his living room. He stops me, gripping my wrist tight into his hand. I glare at him. Anything but this, I think. I would never beg him for anything…but I do.

“The gala…in the Summer,” I mumble, defeated. “Everyone will be there, even the scientists.”

“Ah, yes, the gala. Being applauded for their efforts in the creation of Temp V.” He smiles. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”

I shake my head, making my way back over to his front door. He doesn’t stop me this time, too satisfied in his successful grilling.

“One of us has lasers for eyes, John, and it’s not me.”

“Why would I want to ruin my own party?”

Before I leave I turn to him, pointing my finger. My eyes welling up with tears. Why does he do this? Hes been fucked over by Vought more than I have.

“All of them are going to be there at the same time. In the same building. We could end this, we could fucking destroy these monsters, once and for all.”

He glowers at me.

“Compound V made me a hero.” He argues.

“Compound V made you despicable,” I counter. “You’d finally be a real man without them.”

I open the door, him tripping at my heels.

“Vought made me a God.”

“Made you a sad fuckin’ excuse for one. Come find me when you grow a pair of balls.”

I slam the door in his face.

I met Billy Butcher at a speakeasy a little over a year ago. He was downing a bottle of whiskey at the bar. It was only 2PM.

“William, I’m assuming,” I reached my hand out for a shake. “A little early for the bottle don't you think?”

He looked down at my gesture, ignored it, then slammed his booze back on the counter.

“Freak, I'm assuming?” He had added an obnoxious emphasis to the ‘K’.

I nodded, pursing my lips. Extending my awkward, unshook hand back into my pocket.

He reeked, and I mean, reeked. His insides had smelt like a nuclear bomb had gone off. His liver was already in the later stages of decomposition, to say the least. His eyes were sunken in, and dark around the edges. Irritated too. Like he'd been rubbing them raw.

I took note of his entire presence, leaning over to the left a tad to take in all sides of his bloated, depressed body. I looked closer. His right ear was oozing what looked like old blood. It was black, like tar. It didn’t smell like blood though. It was pungent and harsh, almost similar to ammonia- radiation, maybe? The nuclear bomb inside him, I considered.

“You have black rot coming out of your ear,” I stated plainly. He had reached his hand over to wipe it. “It’s disgusting, whatever it is. I’ve never smelt anything like that before. You should really think about getting that checked out.”

He ignored me, picking up a napkin, and wiping his tar-coated hand on it.

“Let's get down to business, ey?”

“Alright.” I added. Breathing through my mouth wouldn’t have helped either, I thought.

“Me and the boys are going to Herogasm.”

“Congratulations. I’d recommend cleaning those ears out before you go.” I said, unimpressed.

He rolled his eyes, then looked around the room. No one was in there besides a bartender, and an old man asleep at a rounded booth. He leaned in closer to me.

That's when I caught it- a familiar scent. I couldn’t put my finger on it. A certain chemical compound I remember smelling often during my recent visits to the tower.

“Look, to make a long story short, I got ten grand with your name on it, and a party infested with obnoxious supes. I need you to sit at high ground, and keep watch.”

“Why don’t you get one of your boys to do it?” I grill.

“None of ‘em have aim like you, sweetheart.” He said it with such a shit-eating grin.

I rolled my eyes, “I’m flattered, truly.”

He took a deep breath, getting even closer, I could feel his hot breath on my ear.

“We’re going to be...taking him out.”

I looked at him, hard. I squinted my eyes. Listening in on his slow, heavy heartbeat. His unrelenting, static blood pressure. He wasn’t lying, I thought. He knew better than to anyway.

“Good luck with that,” I chuckled, beginning to stand up to leave. Had he lost his mind? I thought. I didn’t have the time for this. Plus, thinking hard on it, I didn’t even know if I had wanted John to die. I had people to get revenge on, y’know?

“We have a weapon,” He added, yanking my arm back down, nearly pulling it out of its socket. “The same one that killed Soldier Boy.”

The blood had rushed out of my face then. He really was serious. I looked around, trying to focus on anything, but my thoughts were racing, and my eyes had gone cloudy.

“Want to know something even crazier?” He probed. “The weapon is Soldier Boy. The cunt was still alive. Had to fight a handful of Ivans to get the bastard out.”

“That's impossible,” I laughed, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Soldier Boy died in Nicaragua.”

“Ten thousand big ones for a few hours of your time, sweetheart.” He smiled.

I swallowed hard, grabbing his bottle from off the counter and taking a big swig.

“You have to make me a promise,” I held my finger in his face. “If homelander dies, you and your boys have to help me finish something.”

He put his hand out for a shake.

“Anything you need.” He grinned.

“Anything I need if he dies.” I nodded along, grabbing his hand, my mind off worrying, my eyes glazed over with fear.

“Anything you need when the cunt dies.”

And that’s when I had smelled it, the Temp V. My eyes widened at him. Now that explained why his organs were rotting. The bastard had been shooting up liquid radiation into his veins in a lame attempt to put up an equal fight. His grip tightened around mine, threatening to shatter my wrist.

“I’ll give you the address, you’ll need your own car. Don’t be seen by anyone.” He declared, beginning to stand up from his stool.

“I wasn't born yesterday,” I mocked. “And by the way, if you do any more of that Temp V, you can go ahead and sign your death certificate.”

As we all know, that plan never worked. Homelander survived, and Soldier Boy is off somewhere frozen solid, I’m assuming. I never ended up getting the chance to see either of them that day, my shitty car ended up breaking down on the side of the road only twenty miles out of the city. Maybe it was for the best, I thought. A lot of people died that day.

And so here I am, a year later, still willing to help him, but now for a different reason. If John wasn’t going to help me with my plan, Butcher and the boys surely will.

Butcher had told me to meet him at a sketchy apartment building in the Bronx, so here I was. Looking around, there isn't much to see. Piles of trash and hoards of rancid homeless people litter the streets. Gross, I think. Why can’t the city grant these invalids a communal shower or something? Doesn’t the mayor know some people can practically smell atoms?

Before I buzz in for him, I catch the wind and listen for their lingering voices upstairs. They are on the roof, and I think by the heartbeats I can count four- no- five. There are five of them, and one of them is definitely a woman. Her heart is delicate, small. But pumped full of V? I think. It thumps with an exertion only jacked supes would understand. Sounds like a panic attack waiting to happen, if you ask me.

“Any of you ever use one of these before?” A voice asks.

“Eh, maybe a rifle but not a scope.” Someone replies, an accent thick...present.

“Frenchie, hasn’t she had combat training?”

“Combat training, yes, but not a fucking sniper.”

“Butcher, would you come over here please? Hughie, would you grab him?”

A giant group of idiots, I think. Maybe this wasn’t the greatest idea after all. I pull my hands into a finger gun and shoot it into my open mouth. This is going to be a long night.

I walk over to the entrance, looking down at my phone. Butcher is taking too long to answer me. I slap the side of the code box, listening to the stops on the inside. A thicker metal, and rusted too. But I can still make it out. 1111? Really? No wonder everyone gets robbed on this side of town.

Typing in the code, I begin to saunter my way upstairs. I'm slouched over and panting by the time I reach the top floor. Man, it’s times like these where I wish I could’ve been V-blessed with some fucking stamina. Fuck you Vought. I slip my way out onto the rooftop. Everyone's heads fly around to see me as I walk towards the group.

“Could you guys be any fucking louder?” I ask, walking right up to Butcher. He smiles down at me.

“Glad to see you’re in a good mood this evening.”

I roll my eyes, “Too bad I could smell your insides rotting from half a mile away.” I pat him on the shoulder as I walk by, heading towards the man at the edge of the roof with a rifle.

“Butcher, what the fuck?” The scrawny one asks.

“He doesn’t bring too many girls around, huh?” I say.

“Who the fuck is this?” The French one questions.

Butcher smiles as I go up to the man holding the gun. I shoo him away, squatting down, and placing my finger on the trigger. I squint my eyes and look down the scope.

“Which one is it?” I ask.

Butcher comes over, squatting next to me, as well as the guy who was holding the gun before.

“Blue tie,” Says butcher. “Bad haircut.”

“Balding or buzzed?”

“Neither. Short mullet.” He adds.

I nod, and suddenly stand up, moving to another spot on the rooftop.

“What the fuck are you doing? I just spent two hours setting that spot up!”

“The glass is bulletproof,” I state. “Can’t you see the reflection?”

I start laughing then, “I mean, can’t you hear the way it sounds as the wind gusts off of it? There might as well be a sign.”

He looks at me quizzically, they all do. It usually takes a second for most people to recall my pathetic existence.

“This window here must've just been replaced, because it’s temporary. Not bulletproof, and frankly, not strong wind proof either. This thing is just asking to be shattered.”

I crouch down again, squinting my eyes, and looking down the scope. I hold my hand up, snapping quietly. In fractions of a second, I can feel, hear, and see sound waves bouncing off of every nearby surface. They rush through the open air towards the glass window, bouncing off, only then to reverberate around the inside. It wraps around the target's stature like a sheet in the wind. Bullseye. I pull the trigger, hitting him directly between the eyes. We all watch as all hell breaks loose within whatever party I just ruined.

I stand up, handing the rifle over to Butcher. I wipe my hands off on my pants.

“We have five minutes before a swat team barrels up here. Do you mind if we talk in private?”

Butcher nods, he and I both begin to walk downstairs. Everyone grabs their stuff, and from the scrawny boy I hear a snap, like he's finally put his finger on it.

“Frequency!” Ego boost, I think. “God, that makes so much sense.”

That recognition hasn’t happened in a while. I'm embarrassed to say I’m beginning to blush.

The french one nods to him, “A freak of fucking nature. That is a hell of a gift.”

A hell of a curse, he means. If only they knew the half of it. The boys chuckle as Butcher and I disappear into a dark alley. There are sirens in the distance.

“I need a favor.” I say, stopping and turning to him. The only thing illuminating us is a musty street light. It's hazy and orange. He looks down at me with damp skin. His body is trying it’s hardest to detoxify itself. There is no use.

“What's that, love?” He chuckles, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He brings one up to his lips, inhaling and lighting. He gestures the pack to me. I shake my head. I always end up tasting the pesticides.

“Look, I’ve asked everyone. You and your boys are the only thing I have left.”

“Well, spit it out then.” He coughs.

I take a deep breath, looking down at my shoe and kicking a little rock with the toe of it.

“I want revenge on Vought.”

“Get in line sweetheart.” I roll my eyes at him, why does everyone always say that?

“But listen, I have the perfect idea,” I explain. “Over the summer they will be throwing a huge event in celebration over the success of Temp-V. I’m sure almost, if not all of the major Vought scientists will be there. Oh, and executives too. And all of the supes we all hate as well.”

He watches me as I talk, just smoking his cigarette. He’s hard to read these days. His expression is always pained. Not surprising though, I can literally hear his body decomposing.

“I just- this is my best chance to get back at these people for cursing me. For making my life, and everyone else's life a living hell. Think about it, you can avenge your wife!"

“Why don’t you ask the big man in the sky?” He scoffs.

“I did, he said no.”

“Well, there is your answer from me.”

“I’m sorry?” I glare at him, appalled. “Last time I checked all you wanted to do was avenge your wife! Say 'fuck you' to Vought, and to Homelander. Why do you suddenly have cold feet?”

He reaches around me, placing an arm on my shoulder. He begins to walk me down the alleyway.

“If the cunt says no, then it’s a no. We show up there ready to blow a crater into the ground, he’ll be the first to know. You know better than I do that he ain’t gonna like it. Also, we got ties to the FBI and the CIA. The last thing they need is for their agents that are integrated within Vought to be a part of Supe 9/11.”

“You’re telling me the CIA isn't looking for an excuse to destroy these bastards?”

“They are,” He smiles. “Just in a way that won’t have a trail leading back to ‘em.”

We’re at the opening of the alley now. Police cars fly by as they respond to the murder I just committed a few blocks away. I should be in the clear, I’m hearing a lot of “Arab Supe-Terrorist” static over the vibrations of police radio.

“Get Soldier Boy back, thatll make it even easier for everyone. They can just blame it on him.”

“That’ll come back on ‘em too, Love. They have him hidden with a frostbitten dick at a military compound. If the cunt got out on their terms they’d never hear the end of it.”

Huzzah, I think. Now that is a good idea. I go to shake his hand. If he's gonna reject me too, I guess there is only one thing left to do.

“Where'd they end up keeping him anyway? My bets on upstate.” I question.

He squeezes my hand tight, smiling at me mischievously.

“I know better than to tell ‘ya that, sweetheart.”

I laugh, not genuinely, more out of frustration by this point.

“Right,” I say, beginning to walk off in the direction of my subway. “Let me know if you are ever need any of my services. You know where to reach me.”

He walks off the opposite way, his radioactive stench leaving a trail behind him. The plot thickens. Soldier Boy is upstate alright. And if no one is willing to help me, then I’ll just have to do it myself.

Masterlist | Episode 2

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy smut #soldier boy fanfic #soldier boy the boys #the boys fanfic #billy butcher #hughie campbell #homelander x reader #homelander smut #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #billy butcher x reader

289 notes · View notes