#View Image (all): Employee

[employee1618152017]

[themeraldee]

I think a great awkward sex fic could be homelander making love for the first time.

Not losing his virginity, but having sex with someone he loves

anon you're sooooooo smart!!!! I love this idea so much. After being in such a funk this reignited me and I had to write it now!! It took a different turn at the end but I don't dictate what the characters do!! thank you for this idea and please enjoy 🩷

Imperfectly Perfect

[Masterlist] [AO3]

18+ Only | 2.7k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Awkward sex. Realistic sex. Embarrassing sex noises. Feelings of inadequacy. Homelander being a mild drama queen. Cunnilingus. Unprotected sex.

Looking back at it, it was meant to be perfect.

Homelander eagerly ushered you back to his penthouse after an incredible date out. He pulled out all the stops, renting out the top rated, most expensive restaurant just for you. He spent the entire night charming your pants off with his strangely charismatic and at times awkward self. 

Buzzing with anticipation he couldn’t wait to show you what else he had in store for you. You’ve changed his perception of everything. Ever since you’ve wormed your way into his heart, he’s locked the way out and threw away the key. You’ve made him feel like nobody else ever has and he thought it high time he repay the favor. That’s why tonight had to be perfect. 

He wanted to show you what awaits you in your shared future.

He had some poor Vought employees absolutely drown his penthouse with bouquets of rich red roses, rose petals strewn across most surfaces, candles illuminating every corner, highlighting the glittering gold of the picture frames adorning his walls. Smooth jazz played in the background at a low volume sealing the deal on what ended up feeling like a scene plucked from an elaborate Valentine’s day ad.

“Wow! This is—wow! Homelander, you didn’t have to do all this.” You looked around the space, taking in the change with a shock and awe on your face. This quickly turned into a beautiful bright smile that made Homelander feel like he was on top of the world. He’s obviously doing something right.

“Anything for my girl.” He pulled you in gently, making the dress he’s picked for you twirl prettily. “Come with me,” he pressed a kiss to your soft lips, letting them linger for a little while while he inhaled the scent of your perfume—also his choice—and the roses surrounding you both. At that moment he thought that tonight would be perfect, one for the books.

And now? It didn’t take long for it to already be turning into a disaster.

From his point of view at least.

You’re sitting at the edge of the bed, leaning back on your arms as you watch the show. You asked to watch him take off his suit, promising that you’d give him just as good of a show as he would. 

Prior to this he has taken his elaborate suit off thousands of times anytime he’d go to bed. Now he’s struggling as if both of his hands were left-handed and this was his first suit fitting. He’s so tense, his nerves tighter than a bow string making his hands shake while he unclasps the cape, immediately folding it on the rack out of habit before he continues unzipping his suit. His heart is beating like a drum in his ears, he wouldn’t be surprised if even your ordinary ones could pick up on it. 

It’s not that he’s never had sex. It’s just that the anticipation of what he’s built up in his head is making him overthink his every move. He needs you to know that he can be like this for you. Because the perfect mainstream image of romance is what every woman dreams of—right?

When the zipper gets stuck and doesn’t let him unzip like normal he panics internally. There were meant to be no hiccups today! 

Observant that you are, you stand up as soon as you see him struggle and swear and take the step closer to him. “Let me help you.” You put your hands on his before sliding them up his forearms, then shoulders before going down to rest on his chest.

“How about you let me undress you and then you undress me.” You give him a cheeky smile, trying to break the tension he put himself into. “Does that sound good?” You ask quietly and breathy as you undo the zipper he was struggling with. 

He nods curtly, feeling ashamed that he’s admitting to a fault on his part.

But with the continuous dreamy eye-contact you slowly help him out. Undoing clasps, and zippers of his convoluted uniform. 

He was less worried about you seeing him naked than he is about the whole performance of it all. He’s let you see him without the suit before. Early into your blooming relationship you’ve stumbled upon him covered in blood. It only made sense to take the shower together as you helped him wash all of it off. But even then, he didn’t want it to go further. He said he had plans and asked you to let him make it perfect. 

When he’s finally fully naked he pulls you in for a hot kiss. It’s almost in gratitude at helping him mend the situation and put it back on track. He walks you back to the bed pushing you on it. He’s only about half hard, which is unusual for him as Homelander easily gets a hard-on in a split second anytime you just look at him a certain way. So it’s a surprise that he’s not panting and leaking with the way you look tonight. 

Clearly, he’s still stuck in his head.

With each kiss he presses into your skin, tasting the softness of your every spot he gets more and more excited. Slowly melting into you with each little huff you let out as he kisses your body, undressing you in tandem. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He growls into your ear before kissing you flush on the lips. Hot and heavy, he licks into your mouth, moaning at the way you pull at his hair when you rake your fingers through it.

Just as you want to take some control back, treat him the same way he’s treating you, he stops you.

“Nuh, uh. Ladies first. Let me make you feel good.” He rumbles as he pushes your hands off his body. You look pleased at his words, giving him an excited little grin.

And just like that, he’s finally taking control of the situation again. He’s got a script in his head and he needs to follow it to a tee.

Down on his knees, he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. Already spreading your legs open, unabashedly inhaling the scent of you, already aroused and wet for him. He grins like a shark to himself. Without giving you much heads-up or taking it slow he just straight up buries himself in between your legs.

Just the smell of you had his cock finally turning rock hard, now with the taste of you he feels it twitching, drooling precum from the tip.

He’s licking you open, spreading you with his tongue. Like a mad man who doesn’t know where to focus first, with little rhythm he changes between strongly sucking at your clit, pointing his tongue sharply and running circles around your clit right before shoving his tongue into you, tongue-fucking you just like he imagines will leave your mind blown.

Except. 

“Little softer, please.” You sound out in between sweet little sighs. You’ve taken to running your nails through his hair, giving his scalp a little massage while he went to town on you.

“M’sorry.” He mumbles into your pussy as he quickly looks up at you. He slows down with his urgency though he’s a little peeved at the way he’s not been able to rock your world yet. 

“Don’t be—ah—it’s great. I just like it a little softer.” 

It’s great? Great?! It should be mind-blowing, incredible, glorious! Not just great. Immediately his ego takes a hit but he doesn’t outwardly show it. In his mind you should’ve been moaning and shaking for him, coming on his tongue while he got his fill of you. 

This doesn’t happen.

And while he’s doing better, making you moan a little louder, forcing small gasps out of you as he softens his tongue flat, gently laving over your clit before sucking on it softly. He’s not making you cum and that’s killing him.

You suddenly sharply tug on his hair and at first he thinks you’re getting close but you pull again and he looks up at you confused.

“Come up here.” You guide him up.

“But you didn’t finish.” He scrunches his eyebrows confused and for a second he looks like an innocent sweet puppy. 

“I don’t wanna come yet. I’m actually usually done after one orgasm so I reaaally want to have you inside me for the big finish you know?” You sign that off with a wolfish grin that he immediately eats up as he climbs up to devour you, making you taste yourself on his lips. 

With the thoughts of being inside you where it’s all soft and warm and really just made for his cock, he abandons his thoughts of inadequacy. 

And as much as you want to participate, Homelander keeps pushing you off, instead focusing on your body and all the places he hasn’t managed to kiss yet. 

When he swats your hand away from his cock again you ask. “Why won’t you let me return the favor?” 

“Another time.”

“But I wanna blow you! It’s not fair, why can’t I?” You keep pouting and you’re as adorable as you are annoying because as much as he’s sure your mouth will feel amazing he’s even more certain that your pussy will be fucking incredible. And he definitely won’t make it through both.

“Because I’ll bust, alright?” He swats your hands away instead pinning your wrists down onto the plush bedding making you yelp in surprise and arousal. He can sense the way that got you all excited. “Now just let me fuck you… please?” He says before kissing you again.

You automatically spread your legs. He kneels on the bed, sitting on his heels as his eyes immediately lock onto the sight of your pussy, still pretty and wet for him. A sight that makes his heart swell. Part of him was worried you wouldn’t want him with such voracity. He made sure to keep some lube on hand in case you wouldn’t get wet enough for it to be comfortable for you but he was preening that he managed to get you this wet. 

Homelander let one of his fingers glide down your slit, gathering the slick before pushing a finger in, immediately groaning at the intense heat of your cunt. He couldn’t wait to get his cock in you.

He gathers more slick that you seem to be making an abundance of but this time he gives his cock a few strokes, giving it a nice, wet coating. “So perfect for me.” He whispers out more to himself than you before he shuffles closer, holding his cock in his hand, rubbing it up and down your slit before eagerly pushing in.

The sheer tight heat of you has him gasping, you’d almost think he was in pain if it wasn’t for the blissed out look on his face.

When he sinks all the way in, he takes in your pretty face, your softly parted lips, gently flushed face and a look in your eyes that he’s sure he’ll never forget. You look at him with such love and adoration it’s impossible for him to stop the, “I love you,” that comes out of him before he kisses you.

“I love you too.” You say with a bright smile when he lets you breathe.

 He thinks at this moment, there’s no way this could be anything less than perfect.

Getting lost in the sensation he picks up the pace. He fucks into your faster and harder with each stroke and it’s not bad but it’s too too much from the get go. Homelander doesn’t see this. In his head he wants to make you cum before he himself finishes which with his track record might not be a very long time.

“Hey hey hey, slow down. You don’t need to go all hard and fast so quickly okay?” You say with a breathless little laugh, looking a bit rattled from the way he’s been fucking you into the mattress.

Fuck. He fucked up again. He’s disappointing you. That thought makes his heart hurt and jaw clench. But Homelander doesn’t let it show as he just nods at you, kissing his tension away, trying to get his head back into enjoying himself as much as he should.

But the universe isn’t kind to him and when he eases himself back into you, pressing his body against your sweat-covered one, the glide of skin on skin well… It makes a sound that could only be described as a fart!

You burst into giggles at the comical sound and you seem to think that’s it but Homelander is mortified. His eyes widen and he gasps, pushing himself off your sweat-slick skin. “That wasn’t—I didn’t—”

When he tries to explain that it wasn’t him it just makes you laugh harder.

He doesn’t get it—you’re laughing! It’s so incredibly embarrassing and it’s ruining the vision he had for the night. Tonight was about him finally opening up to you, letting you feel just how strongly he feels about you and it’s been a disaster from the start.

He feels himself softening inside you so he pulls out before you notice and he grumpily pulls away from you, turning to sit at the edge of the bed to sulk.

Your giggles died out as soon as you noticed him pull away. “Baby? Don’t be upset. I’m not laughing at you.” You sit up, reaching over to him, moving closer. 

“It’s fucking embarrassing! Tonight was meant to be—well not like this!” He’s upset and he’s trying to take it out on you as if pretending that it’s your fault is gonna soothe his hurt ego.

“It’s okay. It’s normal, it happens. It’s literally just skin on skin. Bodies make funny sounds!” You try to soothe him by rubbing his arms and shoulder, occasionally pressing a kiss to his head or side of his neck.

“You shouldn’t be laughing at it like this whole thing doesn’t matter.” He said with a bite in his tone, almost accusing you of not sharing his feelings.

“I’m laughing because this does matter to me. I’m comfortable around you. You make me feel at ease and let my guard down. I’m laughing precisely because I love you.”

He doesn’t respond and you continue soothing his hurt feelings.

“It’s beautiful, the way you’ve prepared this place. But do you wanna hear a secret?” You move closer to him and turn his head with your finger. “It’d be just as romantic without all of it. Even if the first time we had sex was in a broom closet. Or whatever. The point is—it’s you. That makes it all so special.”

He sighs with palpable relief and he nuzzles his head into the hand you placed on his cheek. He could just about devour you for being so amazing. 

“I just wanted it to be perfect for you.” He admits his insecurity, giving you the ammunition to rip his heart in two if you wanted to. He knows you hear the ‘I want to be perfect for you,’ he’s really trying to convey. 

“It is perfect. Tonight, the whole thing. Everything that’s happened. It’s been perfect. I’ve been loving every second of it.” You kiss him on the lips and he melts. He turns so he can embrace you with the kiss, feeling the tension finally slip away. With no expectations, he can enjoy you the way he should have from the start.

“Come on, lie down. Stop thinking.” It’s your turn to press him into the mattress as he lies on his back staring up at you with pure adoration.

Just like that, after seeing you on top of him all pretty and loving his cock is back at full hardness. You finally wrap your hand around it, giving it a few strokes before you lower yourself down on him.

“We’re getting to know our bodies. You learn what I like, I learn what you like. None of this thinking of what it should be like. Okay?” He nods at you although he’s very preoccupied with taking in the incredible feeling of you wrapped hotly around him, sending his mind into a frenzy.

You bounce on him, showing him exactly how you like it, what angle and what pace and in the meanwhile you coo sweet, soothing words. Clearly seeing just how much work his hurt ego will need to get back to normal. 

And somehow, in the end, it’s so much more perfect than he could ever imagine it to be.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story): @infinetlyforgotten 

[devotedfem]

«American Psycho»

Synopsis: In the 80's, there's a group of wealthy succesful wall streeter men that are disgustingly greedy. They maintain an appearance of perfection, but they're narcissistic, egomaniacal, competitive and murderers. Unlucky for you, they got infatuated on you, competing with each other to have you.

Hyung line (poly) x f. Reader

4.6K words.

Genre: inspired by American psycho (2000) | yander-ish.

Tags: American psycho au, power imbalance, 80's New York, Period Typical Sexism, murder, rich and powerful hyung line, classic wealthy corporate men, greed for money, college student reader, reader has grey morals, a little bit of gore but just at the beginning, savage capitalism, overworking, yandere hyung line, they're not good people, psychopaths and evil hyung line (but they have a soft spot for reader), end game poly relationship, possessive behavior, dubious consent (because of power imbalance), double penetration (you've been warned lol).

From the series masterlist; Final girl.

Navigation Masterlist.

a/n: this contain very sensitive and triggering topics, like classism and sexism, the movie was inspired by a book that wanted to critize the image of the priviledge american man. I don't agree with any of the triggering topics here, this is fiction, so please read with caution.

Seokjin put off his face mask to apply his expensive cream on his skin. His face was straight and indifferent, bored even. He styled his hair with gel and he put on his luxurious dress suit, ignoring the gagged sounds of the annoying man tied to a chair in his penthouse.

Seokjin stared down at him without lowering his chin, lifting a brow with displeasure. That man looked too dirty for his polished place.

He grabbed his brand-new axe, covering his body with a plastic protective suit.

The tied and gagged man widened his eyes with horror, shaking his head and wailing with fear, getting nothing in return but a bored expression from Seokjin.

“This will teach you to not bother me. You’re not on the same level as me, you thought you could outdo me? Playing your tricks in my company? Don’t you know what I’m capable of?” Something evil and dark gleamed in his eyes, it was the only emotion he showed since the tied man met him. And it was frightening.

The polished porcelain floor got stained by blood, sparking Seokjin’s evil face. The man’s head rolled out of his body to Seokjin’s brand-new dress shoes.

The taller wrinkled his nose with disgust, annoyed because he has to change his favorite shoes.

“What a burden,” he whispered to himself with a deep sigh.

Meanwhile, in the building next door was Yoongi nursing a drink of his expensive whisky. His mahogany office was barely illuminated because of the curtains hiding the view of New York. Some of his employees say between whispers that the CEO acted like a vampire.

“I-I did what you asked me to, sir,” the employee in front of him trembled with anxiety, intimidated by Yoongi’s heavy gaze.

Yoongi lifted a corner of his lips in a disdain way, his eyes darkening with anger.

“And you think that following my orders like a moron means that you did a good job?” He spat furious, throwing his whiskey glass, shattering it next to the employee’s head.

The man shrinks violently, and he did something pitiful even for Yoongi’s taste. The man dropped to his knees, looking at his boss with pleading eyes.

“Please don’t fire me, I need this job to pay my bills or I’ll be on the streets,” he said with desperation and teared eyes.

Flames of satisfaction and power raises to Yoongi’s lungs. He enjoyed watching the kind of power he holds over other people, it was a shame that his employees were so dumb and inefficient, because he did pay very well to them. So, to him it was reasonable to be demanding, after all it was his money at stake.

Yoongi walked slowly towards the knelt man, with a smirk growing on his lips. Then he took out his gun silencer shooting the man to the head, making his body fall to the side silently.

“One less idiot,” he murmured to himself, nursing another glass of whiskey.

And there it was Namjoon and Hoseok, the feared duo of executives. They were ruthless on their work, the definition of competitive successful man. The greedy representation of privileged man who are at the top of the food chain in the patriarchal New York society of the 80’s.

They were at an executive meeting, looking at each other with knowing smirks, making everyone in the room nervous and tense. Because they haven’t said a single word since the proposal of their work partners.

And they still kept quiet at the end of the meeting, glancing at everyone with boredom, getting out of the room without saying goodbye. After all they have better things to do.

“What a bunch of idiots,” Hoseok huffs rolling his eyes with annoyance. Namjoon chuckled nodding his head.

“I already send the order to kill them,” Namjoon said with a grin.

Anyone that dares to do as much as wasting their time, will get erased.

And there it was you.

A New York student that has to deal with college and rent.

This city was expensive, and you were just a middle-class girl with dreams. You worked many parts time jobs to support yourself and prove to your family that you don’t need to marry a man to be happy, you can be an independent woman.

Well, that was easier to say than to do, it was hard to pay your bills and tuition without anyone’s help. You were exhausted and full of debts. You sighed deep, maybe if you marry rich then you wouldn’t have to worry about these things, but you were too proud to admit that out loud. You have to be the change you want to see in the world, don’t you? You say that to yourself to feel better, and to not to be on the verge of mental breakdown.

You feel like crying, until some miracle happened to you.

You founded 3 job offers as an assistant for 4 men. And the best part of it? Is that the four of them gave you the job. And the pay was quite generous.

They don’t have to know that you’ll be the assistant of other people at the same time, you’ll manage. You’d do anything for money at this point, even if that means overworking yourself.

You got ready for your first day, wearing your nicest pencil skirt and doing your hair in a slick bun. You looked pretty decent, ready to be eaten by corporate men.

You divide your schedule in three, you spent all night making the perfect schedule. You were lucky that those men worked in nearby buildings, otherwise your plan would’ve been impossible.

7:00 am to 11:00 am; Kim Seokjin.

You sighed deep, trying to control your nerves. You knew that the rich men of wall street are insufferable and labor exploiters, so you did prepare mentally for any kind of abuse, you need the money.

You knocked once, twice, but you didn’t receive an answer.

You waited 15 minutes in front of Seokjin’s door, you wanted to cry and break down the door. Your time was gold, literally.

And then a tall handsome man greets you, his face was impassive and serious, like if he has a stick up his ass. But you couldn’t help but feel a little bit intimidated by his heavy and cold gaze fixated on you. He stared down at your body without lowering his chin, with square shoulders and a straight posture. He looked composed in a frightening way. You gulped nervous, trying to give him a smile and swallow your insults.

“Good morning Mr. Kim, it’s a pleasure to meet you, i-“

You were interrupted by him rudely turning around and leaving you alone in the hallway, standing with your lips parted like a fish.

What an ass.

He was way worse than you think.

You sighed deep entering his penthouse, you have no choice but to bear with his attitude, the pay was too good unfortunately.

You cleared your throat taking your notebook out of your bag.

“So, Mr. Kim, I need to know more details about your daily routine and schedule, anything will help,” you said clicking your pen and looking at him expectably.

He arched a brow, looking genuinely pissed. You frowned confused, you didn’t know why that man was so annoyed by your existence.

“I didn’t hire you to be this irritating, stop asking questions and figure it out,” he almost snarled the last words, turning around to fix his tie in front of his living room mirror.

You again, parted your lips. You bit your tongue hard, tasting your iron blood. You wanted to punch that rude ass man, but you just couldn’t. You were powerless right now.

So you sighed again, with a fake and tense smile on your face.

“I’m sorry if I bothered you Mr. Kim, I just want to make my job right. If you please could provide me with your valuable information so I can do the best job you definitely deserve.”

Seokjin went rigid at your words, turning around to look at you with fury and disbelief in his eyes, it was the first emotion he showed to you.

“Are you… are you being sarcastic to me? Don’t fucking get smart with me!”

You widened your eyes at his shout, it was such a rare sight to see him this affected. You won’t lie, it was a bit funny to watch how you can get under his skin so easily. But offending him wasn’t your intention, you don’t want to get fire on your first day of work.

“I would never, sir,” you said trying to not sound bitter, but Seokjin’s narrowed eyes told you that he didn’t believe you.

“Watch your mouth.” He barked, and you almost roll your eyes.

“Please, I just need to know some details of your schedule, then you will never hear my annoying voice again, i swear. I just want to do a good job for a man like you,” your eye almost twitch by your own disgusting words, you felt like a bootlicker, but you have no choice.

Your dignity will not pay your bills.

That eased Seokjin’s tensed shoulder, his eyes softening just a little bit.

“Fine,” he said rolling his eyes.

And he did help you with information about his schedule, you made a list of his priorities and things you should do and not do. Your smile was too big to hide, you definitely can handle this! Not even a jerk like Seokjin will stop you from earning that good money.

“Thanks! I’ll be out of your hair Mr. Kim, you won’t even notice I’m here,” you said grinning ear to ear, maybe you looked insane smiling so happily at a man that treated you so poorly, but you didn’t care.

Seokjin blinked a little taken aback, but you watched how a small smile curled up on his lips.

“It’ll be difficult not to,” he teased you before turning around and fixing his tie again. You stand there speechless.

Surprisingly, it was way creepier to watch him tease you and smile instead of insulting you.

The moment that your watch struck 11 in the morning, you literally ran to the next building where your next boss works.

His building was cold and almost empty, the people there were pretty quiet and distant, you felt shivers when you knocked Mr. Yoongi’s door.

“Come in,” a deep voice said at the other side of the door. At least he doesn’t ignore you like Seokjin.

You entered his office, forcing yourself not to drool by the beauty and luxury of this place. Everything looked so expensive.

“Hello Mr. Yoongi. I’m your new assistant, it’s nice to meet you.” You felt a little bit intimidated by the heavy and dark gaze of Yoongi, his pale face and black suit made him look like a vampire.

Until now, he didn’t act rude towards you, but he sure as hell didn’t seem nice.

He was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, not breaking his piercing stare from you. One of his hands was holding a liquor glass, that must have been the first red flag.

“Before we start, you have to know that if you do as much as bother me, or screw up your work, I’m going to finish you. Literally and figurately.” He threatened with a gulp of his drink. His dark gaze piercing you while the liquor went down his throat.

Your chest deflated with disappointment, your hope of working with a decent man crashed immediately.

You weren’t scared at all by his threat. You know these types of man are powerful and dangerous, you couldn’t risk pissing off one of them without consequences, you live in a patriarchal society so you won’t be fooled by the thought that they’ll play fair. You weren’t dumb, and you know how to play your cards right.

“Good to know Mr. Yoongi. I appreciate when my bosses are direct with me, makes my job easier. Could you please tell me more details about your schedule? So I can get to work and not waste more of your time.” Your clicked pen was the only sound in the quiet office.

Yoongi’s eyes widened just for a split second. But he composed himself by clearing his throat and giving you information that would make your work easier.

You get to work in silence in Yoongi’s office, you felt his heavy stare on your body, but you ignored him, focused on your papers.

It was a bit creepy the way his eyes would follow you across the office, but you can bear a creep man if he pays as half as good as Yoongi do.

Unbeknownst to you, the paled man smirked devilish to himself, he liked you. And that was more dangerous than his dislike.

You almost jumped when the clock struck 3 in the afternoon.

Your stomach twisted a little, you gulped your anxiety down. It was time to meet your next bosses, they were two executives. If dealing with one rich man in 4 hours was difficult, imagine dealing with two at the same time. You won’t lie, you feel nervous.

Namjoon and Hoseok building were different from your other bosses, this place was full of people running everywhere, it looked so chaotic. But at least you won’t get bored.

Nobody paid attention to you, and you had to ask to like 10 people for where your bosses at.

They were in a meeting. Great, just great.

You waited patiently for them to finish. And when they got out of the meeting room, you rush to them crossing their paths. They stopped immediately, the taller one has an irritated expression and the shorter looked offended by your presence.

“Hi good evening. Sorry for startle you both, I’m the new assistant y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said a little bit out of breath but that didn’t stop you from smiling at them.

“Excuse me?” The taller arched a brow.

You frowned not understanding the offense.

“Uhmm, sorry?”

The shorter one rolled his eyes with irritation.

“Are you fucking dumb? Who told you that you have any right to bother us? Know your place and go with the others employees and figured it out.” He dismissed you with narrowed eyes.

You stood there frozen, and they ignored you walking past you.

But you composed yourself quickly, their attitude wasn’t nothing new.

And again, you joined them on their walk to God knows where, you were praying to not pushing it too hard and get fired.

“It wasn’t my intention to bother such busy and important men like you, I just wanted to introduce myself and get information to do a good job and to be out of your hairs for an unlimited time.” This time your voice sounded breathless, you were exhausted.

The shorter one snorted in disbelief, his eyes flamed with something wicked.

“Is this thing being sarcastic to us?” He asked looking at you but not speaking directly to you.

Your chest sting with offense at him calling you a thing, but you swallowed your bitter emotions.

“I’m y/n,” you replied with a tense smile, not biting the bait.

“Y/n, get the fuck out of our sights unless you want to disappear, and not only from this company,” the taller one threatened with a dark glint in his eyes. You shivered slightly, he was wider and bigger than the other, looking way more dangerous.

Men and their big egos.

“I… I’m sorry for being this bold and rude. I don’t want to waste your time really, I just want to make a good job, that’s my only purpose. I promise to be out of your sight if you could spare me some minutes of your time, I will make it worth it.”

Silence. An uncomfortable hush.

“Very well then,” said the shorter one, tilting his head to the side and watching you head to toes. A wicked smile curled his lips, and you chose to ignore the alarm bells ringing at the back of your head.

“Follow us,” the taller ordered with a deep voice.

At the end of the day you were exhausted, you made it, you survived corporate exploiters men.

The following weeks went rather smoothly. Yes, they were rude and annoying, but you got used to them. You can’t say that you like them, but you tolerate them (for the sake of your rent and bills of course).

Seokjin underneath his cold and indifferent behavior was like a spoiled brat, sassy and rude, but a little bit endearing at some times.

“Y/n, fix it,” he almost whine looking down at you with frowned lips.

You chuckled rolling your eyes.

“I’m gonna start to think that you just want me near you,” you teased, a little bit bold yes, but over time you learned that Seokjin liked to tease way worse.

His eyes glinted with mischievousness, the corner of his lips curling like the cheshire cat.

“You sure wish that was true, don’t you?”

“Of course,” you replied laughing.

It was all jokes between you two, you got used to this type of interaction with your boss. Sometimes he did get a little too friendly for your like, but you really didn’t care. This job was temporary anyway.

And there it was Yoongi, the intimidating vampire-like boss that in the inside was like a bratty cat.

His feline eyes liked to be fixated on you, watching your every move like an actual cat for your amusement. You didn’t mind his heavy attention on you, he was wary with his employees like any other rich man from wall street. You got used to him too.

“Here are the papers you asked me for, sir,” you said airily, you had everything perfectly arranged, leaving no room for mistakes.

Yoongi hummed, looking at the papers and then looking at you again with eyes full of mischief.

“Are you sure it’s that all I asked for?” He didn’t break his piercing eyes from you, many people get intimidated by his stare but not you.

“Yes, of course,” you said smiling and he nodded to himself.

“There’s one thing you haven’t done.”

You didn’t say anything back, you were sure you did everything.

“And that would be…?”

“Having a drink with me, you never do that when I ask you to.” He asked nonchalant with his eyes on his drink, but you knew he was being serious.

“That’s not professional,” you said and he chuckled at your response.

You sighed biting your bottom lip, indecisive. Your goal was to be on their good side after all.

You said nothing when you sit in front of him crossing your leg over the other, the same way he does when he’s drinking. You smirked when he startled a little, but he tried to hide his surprise by a cough.

He poured you whiskey and you took a sip of your drink, trying not to wrinkle your face by the bitter taste. But Yoongi noticed and laughed, you widened your eyes at the sound. It was the first time you listened to his laugh and it was contagious because you chuckle with him.

Namjoon and Hoseok despite seeming intimidating the first time you met them, they were pretty chill and funny when the three of you become a little more closer.

They were in a meeting, and you were by their sides writing down the relevant things they say.

“See that guy over there? Look how he’s falling asleep,” Namjoon whispered near your ear, too close for your liking. However, you follow his gaze watching the older man’s head tilting to the side with sleepiness. You bit a laugh, the poor man had his eyes half lidded with boredom.

At your other side was Hoseok, he had his gaze fixated on the guy speaking, but he looked at you when he heard your little chuckle, a mischievous smirk curled on his lips. You said “sorry” quietly, but he only winked at you before turning his attention again to the man, returning to his cold expression.

When the three of you get out of the meeting room, Namjoon and Hoseok started to make fun of the guy’s speech and the older man’s attempt of being awake. You laughed genuinely for the first time around them.

“Those two don’t know what awaits them.” Namjoon’s words made your smile fall slowly, erasing any hint of amusement. You almost forgot the kind of men you work for.

“Are you going to… fire them?” You asked quietly, gripping tightly your notebook.

Namjoon only shrugged his shoulders, but you noticed the evil glint in his eyes.

“Firing them is too soft coming from us,” Hoseok replied instead, not without smiling at you. But this time his smile turned your stomach sick.

You chose not to ask more questions. Sometimes being ignorant it’s a blessing.

You settle into a routine with your bosses for a couple of months.

But as they say… lies has no legs. They started to notice that your attention wasn’t completely on them.

Seokjin was the first to notice.

That morning he was staring down at you with narrow eyes, even when you tried to joke with him while fixing his tie he ignored you without breaking his piercing eyes from you.

“You said the other day that you work only for me, is that correct?” His voice sounded harsh, and he stared down at you with dark eyes. You gulped nervously, your smile trembling a little.

“Yes, it’s the truth.”

He didn’t say anything back and you didn’t meet his eyes.

“Fine.”

You tried not to snap your eyes up at him with surprise. Does he really believe you?

But then, you felt Seokjin coming near your body, gripping your chin up to met his heavy gaze.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

He was standing too close to your body, his chest almost touching yours. The grip on your chin tightens when you didn’t reply right away.

“I… don’t,” you couldn’t help but be confused. It wasn’t his business if you have a boyfriend or not.

He nodded slowly, not breaking his eyes from you.

“Good. As long as you work for me, you can’t have a fiancé, neither another boss. I’m paying for your absolute time and attention. Do I make myself clear?”

Your lips parted and your eyes widened. You were shocked and confused, who does the thinks he is?

“Answer!” he barked furious.

“Yes,” you gritted between teeth.

What a jerk.

And Yoongi was the same.

He was sitting with his heavy gaze fixated on you as usual, but this time he wasn’t holding a glass of whiskey.

“Who else do you see after work?” he asked lifting a brow and tapping his foot.

None of your fucking business, you wanted to bark at him, but instead you bit your tongue.

“No one else, sir,” you couldn’t help but sound bitter.

He snorted with the corner of his lip curling up in a disdain way.

“I hope it’s true, because if not you’ll pay the consequences.”

This time you couldn’t bit your tongue back.

“What consequences? Firing me?”

You regretted opening your big mouth immediately.

Yoongi didn’t react, he simply stood up to walk towards you like a predator ready to pounce its prey.

“I usually don’t say this, but you’re a very valuable employee. If you want to keep a roof over your head, you have to be mine,” he growled the last word near your ear, although he was short, he towered over you, making you feel small with his closeness and strong fragrance.

You gulped, nodding without meeting his eyes. And he grinned wide. You swear you saw sharp teeth.

And Namjoon and Hoseok were even worse.

The both of them corned you against the desk of their office, the back of your knees hitting the corner of the desk. You gulped looking up at them.

“We wanted to ask you something, little bird,” said affectionally Hoseok, but you knew better than to fall for his smile.

“Are you fucking working for other people? Are you dating someone?” Namjoon raised his voice at the last words, staring down at you with narrowed eyes.

You widened your eyes and laughed humorless. They were psychos.

“What the-“

“Watch your mouth,” warned Hoseok, his lips turning a thin line.

“No, I’m not dating neither working for someone else. Happy?” you couldn’t help but sound angry.

The both of them went silent, looking at each other as if they’re having a mental conversation.

And they let you go.

You were on your way to your apartment. Their attitude today was the last straw, you got tired of them. You always noticed the red flags, ignoring the alarm bells and turning an eye blind.

You ignored Seokjin’s stains of blood, Yoongi’s silencer gun, and Namjoon and Hoseok erasing people. You told to yourself, out of sight out of mind. But that was your biggest mistake, you let your greed for money to blind you. For the first time you paid all of your bills without struggling, you ate well and wear the best clothes, and you didn’t worry for the tuition fee. But that doesn’t make you innocent or better than them, you were an accomplice, you were as greedy as them for money. You sold your morals in exchange of money, little money. You weren’t even rich.

Your chest stings painfully, and your eyes teared up. Your trembling lips let out ugly sobs, you were so ashamed of yourself.

You promised to yourself to be an independent woman but not be an accomplice of oppressors and criminals, but what choice did you have? Like people said, it’s eating or being eaten in this world.

It’s a man’s world, and you were simply a woman trying to survive.

You entered your dark apartment and grabbed your home phone, your bottom lip quivered when your mom answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Mom,” you sobbed, sitting on the floor and gripping tightly the phone.

“Y/n? Dear, what’s happening? Why are you crying, is everything okay?” Her worry only made you cry harder, you didn’t deserve it. She raised a better woman and you were a disappointment.

“I-i’m the worst, I want to go home mom… I’m sorry,” you whispered.

You tasted your salty tears, sniffling and hiccupping.

But then the phone was snatched from you.

You were so into your self-pity that you didn’t notice the four figures lurking in the dark.

The lights turn on, and you blinked confused screaming with terror when you saw all of your bosses staring at you.

Seokjin was the one who snatched and hang up the phone.

“Our little princess misses her mommy,” Seokjin coed with a fake pout, he lifted your body making you scream harder.

He took you to the couch where the others were sitting, the tall man sat you on his lap, gripping tightly your waist in a warning when you tried to squirm out of his grip.

“It’s okay princess, I can be your mommy or daddy if you want me to,” Seokjin mouthed your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. He sniffed your hair, hugging you tightly from your back.

You wanted to throw out.

“Let me go you sickos! I quit!” you screamed at the top of your lungs.

The apartment went painfully quiet. The tension can be cut with a knife.

But then Namjoon and Hoseok lips mouthed the skin of your neck, lapping each side of it.

You cried trying to move away, but they didn’t let you.

Yoongi squatted before you, with his lips brushing yours.

Their bodies were attached to every part of your body, not letting you breathe. Your senses full of them.

“Your ours,” whispered Yoongi against your lips.

And with dread you realized he was right.

You can read the +18 continuation on Patreon.

taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @cutequeen00 @nothingsreal420 @ririkookiemonster-archives @cannotalwaysbenight @loumin908 @devilzliaison @uniquecutie-puffs @polarnightmyg

[vilsoo]

𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑬 𝑶𝑵 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻 ⌇ NANAMI KENTO

nanami kento x fem!reader || WC: 5,660

𖤐 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. the owner of a five-star restaurant in kyoto seems to have his eyes on you as his regular, hiding his dark jealousy of your boyfriend. but there are many different ways to consume you as his and feast on his love for you forever…

𖤐 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. cannibalism, chef/restaurant owner nanami, poisoning, murder, infidelity/cheating, slight dubcon, eventual smut, kitchen sex, unprotected sex, jealousy, dark obsession, slight stalking, gore, mutilation.

𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫/𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] As you are getting seated, be mindful that this 4D simulation ride contains flashing scenes, special effects, and jarring motions. Please remember to stay seated and keep all arms and legs inside when the vehicle is in motion. Keep your 4D glasses on for a better experience. Any kind of photography is not allowed during the ride. And absolutely no eating, smoking, or drinking while riding. Thanks for your attention and cooperation. We hope you enjoy.

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“If you were on the menu, I’d eat you instead.”

The night your boyfriend uttered these words to you was the night the restaurant’s owner, Nanami Kento, lost his mind. Forcing himself to shrug a cold shoulder as condemning emotions threatened to boil inside him, he tried his best to stay composed. Was it a joke? An attempt at flirting? Regardless, such forbidden jealousy was enough to plague his mind like a vice that it made him clench his jaw.

Ever since you stepped foot into Nanami’s restaurant and became his regular, something brewed inside of him when he first saw you. A gorgeous woman with great taste in food; also elegant in style from the way you dolled yourself up for your dates every Friday night here. It’s as if the image of you was permanently cemented to his eyelids whenever he shuts his eyes. Nothing but a small secret crush, until, this fondness he has for you gradually developed into this forbidden, dangerous, dark, and twisted obsession.

Behind his charming and professional demeanor as the owner of a famous five-star restaurant in Kyoto, he was driven by the thought of consuming you.

Literally consuming you.

Something was wrong with him and he knew it. He knew how deeply unsettling and disturbing these kind of intrusive thoughts were. But god, if he were to indulge himself in his sexual appetite and have just one taste, just one taste of you— a piece of you, rather— no euphoric moment in the world would ever live up to what he’s been dreaming of.

Savoring you as his.

Nestled in a charming alleyway near the historic Gion district, Nanami’s rich and elegant restaurant was busy every weekend. It was hard to book reservations, but because you and your boyfriend were regulars, you get seated in less than 10 minutes. The diverse menu consists of a unique fusion of Japanese and Dutch cuisines, like sushi bitterballen, ramen stroopwafels, udon friknadel, and many other signature foods. For years, his fine-dining restaurant has had a great reputation. It was also recognized with numerous awards like Michelin stars and accolades from prestigious food critics. Designed as a sleek, modern high-rise restaurant with panoramic city views, plush velvet seating, and contemporary decor, the service still remains exemplary.

Nanami comes every Friday noon to observe his employees and maintain the restaurant, which is coincidentally the only time you come with your boyfriend. Of course, he takes good care of his chefs and the satisfaction of his guests, all while sneaking glances at you through the windows of the kitchen and watching you. Enjoying the food and laughing at whatever rubbish your boyfriend says to you, he keeps his professional facade while trying to hold every fiber of his being to not brutally murder him.

Sometimes Nanami would try to catch your attention with small talk whenever you stopped by the restrooms. Always complimenting your outfits and looks, asking how you think of the food, and just checking in on you overall. And you must admit; Mr. Nanami Kento is indeed a fine man. There was something about his luxurious aura and his warm presence that was so charming to you. He even dresses so impeccably; a tailored suit of deep midnight blue, complemented by an off white dress-shirt and his silk tie. It’s as if this man has the power to captivate anyone he speaks to. And even you felt a strange admiration for him the more you spoke with him…

It wasn’t until months later, the more you frequently visited the restaurant, the more you wanted to see Nanami. You’d often catch him sneaking glances at you, walking past your table just to banter with you in front of your boyfriend, and even serving your food on the house as a surprise. But you knew deep down, or maybe just presumed, that you were Nanami’s eye candy for those Friday evenings. And you couldn’t help but bask in the hint of attention he gives you— it’s even gotten to the point where you’d go to the restroom more often just to “bump into him.”

“Hey. Always happy to see you here again,” he greeted, standing by the corner as you got out from the hall to the restrooms. “You doing alright, miss Y/N?”

You beamed at the handsome man. “I’m doing good, Mr. Nanami. It’s also nice to see you, too.”

The hallway radiated a soft, gentle light from the chandelier sconces, creating this intimate atmosphere in this elegant restaurant. You can feel the way Nanami’s eyes shamelessly lingered on you, trailing from your sweet lips and down to the way your maxi dress hugged your skin. You were so goddamn beautiful; it was a shame that the only thing stopping him from pressing you against that black and gold marble wall and aggressively kissing you was your pathetic boyfriend.

“You know… as much as we love having you here on Fridays, I have something to offer you— if you don’t mind,” the man reckoned, immediately intriguing you.

“Oh? What is it?”

“This is the first and probably the last time I will ever do this, but if you want to learn our recipes at home, I can offer private cooking lessons. Not only does it save time and money coming all the way here every week, but you also have the luxury of making these recipes at your very own home anytime you want.”

“Private cooking lessons?” you ponder, looking around to see if anybody nearby was listening to such an exclusive offer, especially your boyfriend who was still waiting for you at the table.

All Nanami did was smile at your hint of interest. You couldn’t help but find odd comfort and reassurance in his warm smile, the way his offer was an expression of gratitude and genuine kindness just by your support. “Yes, ma’am. My method of teaching is preferably one-on-one, just like how I trained all my chefs here one-on-one. So it’d be best if you came alone, as long as your boyfriend is fine with it.”

“He doesn’t have to know,” you muttered, gazing at Nanami with the right kind of heat in your eyes. And suddenly, an uncontrollable eruption of erratic desire detonates within in his body.

Just by your unmatched beauty alone, and sensing that the intimate, ardent feelings you both had for each other was mutual, he’ll finally have a taste of you that he’s been so desperately ravaging for. You alone have beguiled him wholeheartedly as his object of obsession. He couldn’t believe how he maintained this insanity brewing inside of him as he stands before you.

Nanami slipped a card out from his breast pocket and handed it over, giving the address of his loft and his personal phone number. “Whenever you have time, you can always call for that private session. My address is also on here.”

Forbidden lust pools in your eyes from such an intense, unspoken yearning for each other. When your fingers graze with his as you reach out for the card, a shiver courses down your spine. Nanami can feel the infatuation spread in his limbs from the sensation of your fingertips, so soft and gentle, a tantalizing caress that sent his body ablaze. The way your skin and flesh felt from just a light graze was enough to make him drool.

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon, Mr. Nanami.”

You knew deep down how fucked up this all was. Tangled in these intense emotions of guilt, shame, and regret of what’s bound to happen during these private “cooking lessons.” But you try your best to convince yourself that this was exactly what you wanted; taking thrill in decepting your boyfriend behind his back, emerging into this temporary escape from your emotional constraints. You may have loved your boyfriend, but this tantalizing effect that Mr. Nanami has on you was something you were begging to explore more in depth…

When the next week rolls in and you give the feeble excuse to your boyfriend of having to work late at night, you arrived at Nanami’s loft. The modern exterior had a nice blend of Japanese architecture and modern elegance, with the wide windows capturing the skyline of Kyoto. Once you stepped inside, you felt like entering the building complex of a very rich and powerful CEO. Though Mr. Nanami may have radiated this kind of energy as a rich and elegant restaurant owner, he wasn’t too formal with the interior of his home. He had nice contemporary furniture with plush cushions and lovely decorations. The color palette features accents of natural tones like deep browns, beiges, greens, and grays.

As you ambled into the kitchen, you see his high-end quality appliances like a sleek induction cooktop, a built-in wall oven, and a discreetly hidden steel refrigerator and dishwasher. His quartz countertop already had the ingredients nicely organized, designed for cooking, casual dining, and maybe for something else... The lighting from the pendants hanging over the island was just as soft and intimate as his restaurant.

You watch as Nanami pours Château Mercian into a glass. “For you,” he offers. “Let me know if you need anything else before we begin.”

“I’m fine for now,” you feigned a smile as you took a sip, the rich flavors enveloping your senses and easing your anxiety. That feeling of guilt still lingered in your gut, and you were desperate to take your mind off the thought of ruining your relationship like this…

“Tonight, I’ll be showing you how to make the sushi bitterballen. I know that’s one of your favorites,” he murmurs fondly, the husk in his voice so bone-chilling and titillating to you. “Are you ready to begin?”

The warm, rich, and sultry tone of his voice reverberated in the back of your head, like dipping into radiant velvet and cream. Your body felt like it was caving in on you, striking erratically and so suddenly you weren’t in control of holding your own guard. The way he kept inching closer to you had your chest thundering, the forbidden lust and desire for him scorching your veins like wildfire.

Nanami offered an extra apron to you and started demonstrating on how to mix the cool sushi rice with chopped fish, cucumber, avocado, nori, soy sauce, rice vinegar, and sesame oil all well combined. Then with the mixture, you took small amounts to form them into balls to dredge them in flour, beaten eggs, and panko breadcrumbs. Preparing the food and cooking alongside with him has definitely eased your mind as you were heavily focused, but the more he kept invading your personal space, the more he kept touching you and even helping you from behind, you knew you couldn’t contain yourself. And Nanami couldn’t either; no matter how calm and nonchalant he tried to stay.

The way his hand overlapped yours as you were cooking and his darkened gaze tells you that there are parts of you that were unfamiliar to him. Parts of you that he would like to acquaint.

Explore.

Ravage.

Devour.

Eat.

There was nothing more tortuous than being plagued with guilt and desire tonight. You were both lost and saturated with vivid insights, raging with such fiery passion. Oh, how you wanted him to fuck you on this countertop. But God, how Nanami was depraved to explore you from skin to bone. Allowing him to inch closer, feeling his breath tickle the hairs in the back of your neck. He dared not to touch you— he fucking dared. But the moment your hand couldn’t help but caress his face, inhaling your scent, stealing the air he surrenders to— his stab of burning hunger for you cannot be tamed anymore.

“God… you’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “Tell me you want this. Tell me right now, or I will stop.”

“I’ve always… wanted you, Nanami. I want you more than ever right now.”

And just from hearing those words alone, there was no spiraling lust and sexual appetite in the world more uncontrollable and possessed than Nanami's.

Now his hands are finally on you, sliding down to your waist, taking in your body he’s been dreaming of touching, dreaming of tenderizing, that it made him violent. Your ravishing beauty intoxicated his blood stream like a madman. He even tasted his own blood at one point just by the thought of you. Both of you were facing two very different tormenting battles; you had your instincts shouting at you to just say no, to just go home… But your body kept faltering.

You knew everything about this was wrong. You knew the consequences would leave you more miserable if things were to escalate more. But everything about Mr. Nanami was so… irresistible. Everything that was ever wrong about this has never, never felt this good to you.

But for Nanami, who was blinded by the horribly sweet feeling of violence and the rapacious urge to fuck you like a cheating little whore in his kitchen, couldn’t contain himself any longer that he presses his lips onto yours. Your bodies melt together like caramel, pleasure rushing and swilling. Such forbidden lust for each other was boundless; you were enthralled, exhilarated, and liberated all at once. As you feel his hand slither down your stomach and into your pants, a flashing image of your loving boyfriend came across your mind.

“Wait, wait— stop,” you stammered, having to shove him off of you. “I— I’m sorry. I’m not thinking clearly right now…”

Nanami panted heavily, furrowing his eyebrows from having to control his delirium. “Hey, hey. If you want, we can take this slow. I didn’t mean to get very aggressive—“

“No, no. It’s just— I don’t know if I should be doing this,” you drawled, wallowing in the guilt overtaking you it almost made you feel sick. “This isn’t right. Gojo is still waiting for me at home, I really should just be thanking you for the—“

“Y/N, hey. You’ll be fine,” he asserted as he cupped your face, having to press your waist against the counter like you were trapped. “Forget about him just for tonight. Pursuing a man like that is no use for a beautiful girl like you. You deserve to be cherished. Loved. Adored. Taken care of. And I can give all that to you in ways he can’t…”

Your chest felt warm under his and your lips were barely touching the corner of his mouth. Your inhibition had already faltered the moment you easily cave into his touch, kissing you softly just for reassurance. A slow, soft, and delicate kiss until a gradual intensity of control rushed through, infected with such fervor that you desperately cling your arms around his neck and pull him closer to deepen the kiss.

Nanami’s sly hands tug on the seam of your top, and you lift your arms up for him to slip it off and toss it on the floor. Then you proceed to undo the buttons of his dress shirt, continuing to be raptured by his kisses and writhing in the sensation of his hands all over your bare skin. It wasn’t until he gets on his knees and parts your thighs slightly open, his head meeting at the level of your navel to pull your pants off, planting kisses on your stomach and all the way down to your panties.

“Get on the counter and keep your fucking legs open,” he commanded. “I’ve been wanting to do this to you the moment I saw you…”

Hesitating just the slightest, you still hoist yourself up, feeling the cool surface fusing onto your skin. When you lay on your back, you meet Nanami’s heated gaze right between your legs, sliding your panties aside and kissing your clit. His face is now buried into your pussy, plunging and flicking his tongue while licking up your arousal, humming in amusement while doing so. All of your senses surge with such nourishment that you throw your head back and grind to the pace of his insatiable tongue.

Never has your boyfriend ate you out like this, compared to Nanami who was feasting on your cunt that you’re holding onto the hair from his scalp for your dear life. The taste is sweet but the high is oppressive, and the desire in his ribs after finally discovering how you tasted made him unhinged. As if his eroticism speaks millions of sensual nightmares, he couldn’t wait to experience the depths of your beautiful anatomy, your rufescent flesh, your liver, your heart, all those precious guts and organs that makes of you… finally becoming one with him.

You couldn’t stop squirming, hips almost stuttering like a riptide when your orgasm was about to wash over you. “Fuck, Nanami! Please, slow down— I can’t take it!”

“Why? You’re gonna come already, I can feel it,” he coaxed, thrusting his fingers faster and harder as he sucks on your clit. “Let it out all over my face, beautiful. You deserve it.”

Your legs were locked on his shoulders and your back was arched in ecstacy as you can feel an earth-shattering orgasm rippling right through you. And at this point, Nanami was as vicious as an animal than a man, driven by the primal need of ravaging into you with his hard cock. As your juices coats all over his mouth and chin, your mind falls into a haze. Seeing your soul ascend from your body for a few moments, laying right on his counter with your cunt flexing over nothing, he took the opportunity to undo his belt and free his cock, rubbing it against you.

“You did so good for me, coming all over my face like that,” he praises into your ear. Just by his words and his breathless voice was enough to make your body crave for more of him. This is, after all, exactly what you came all the way here for; fulfilling that desire you have and indulging in something so filthy behind your boyfriend’s back.

If you only knew what Nanami’s plan was for you.

The anticipation and quenching desire worsened the throbbing ache in your cunt. Sure, he made a mess of you already, but he couldn’t wait to do it again, over and over, not until he’s finished with you. Once you nodded at him, Nanami pulled you to the edge of the counter by your legs, forcing them to stay open as he slides inside you. Your breath starts to eratically hitch from the sensation of getting stretched out from his size. Penetrating into you as if you were made for his cock to fuck. Made for his sexual appetite and greedy, disturbing desires. Made for your flesh to become one with his…

Your arms cling around his neck as he fucked into you, and you were both in complete wanton. Skin, flesh, and blood— Nanami took in everything that makes of you in cold calculation. Such filthy, cloying sounds you made as you threw your head back, eyes fluttering shut as you were trapped in a bliss. His lips brushed against your open neck, panting heavily and his animalistic groans filling your ears as your sweet scent invades him tremendously. But fuck, he couldn’t resist biting onto your neck as he thrusted harder, right by your carotid artery…

“There you go, cockslut. Taking my cock like the good girl you are.”

“You’re so beautiful. Fuck, your cunt feels so good tightening around me.”

“Soon you’ll be all mines once I’m done with you.”

… All mines?

His words flew past your head when you lay down on the counter and Nanami throws your legs over your shoulders, fucking you so viciously that he kept stroking your g-spot. You were lost in a fog of lust, stuck in this grip of desire, and at this point you could feel your orgasm blossoming. Your senses blurred. Your defenses shattered. Shameless, loud moans soaked into the air and reverberated through the walls; you wouldn’t be surprised if his neighbors heard.

Nanami’s eyes were dark with rapturous desire, surrendering to his unquenched, carnal hunger for you. He could create some of the finest Japanese-Dutch cuisines across the country, but you were just so perfect as his masterpiece. As if you were a muse for him as a professional chef, he knew that you were going to be the most perfect dish that no one will ever get to taste. Your delicate sweetness dripping like nectar from your pussy, the savory, meaty flavor of your beloved flesh, everything that makes of your body and soul once devoured by him were the finest ingredients he ever needed.

He needs to consume.

He needs to tear you apart with his teeth.

He wants your blood dripping all over his chin.

He needs to eat you.

Alive.

Just when both of your orgasms washed over you so suddenly, Nanami’s teeth sank so deep into your cartoid artery. At first, your brain couldn’t register it. How you screamed so loud, so raw, that it nearly tore Nanami’s eardrum. This tremendous, torturous pain stemming from your neck was enough to have the memories of your boyfriend flashing through your mind, tears starting to well in your eyes. But with his mouth buried into your neck and forcefully pinning your arms down from squirming away, you struggled to fight every rough, jagged bite penetrating your skin. Nanami was enthralled in his long-awaited bloodgasm, coming so deep in your pussy while tasting your blood gushing all over the counter.

You tried to fight back by shoving him away with your legs, but the more his teeth sank deeper, your strength started to stagger. He was brutal. Feral. Vicious. Wild. Untamed. Starving. You tried to scream, beg for him to stop, but you choked on your own blood. You started to fall paralyzed, delicate tears trickling down your face just by looking one last time into Nanami’s darkened gaze, the dangerous flaunt in his eyes like you were nothing but a piece of meat for him to knash on. You no longer knew this primal man, seeing your own blood dripping down his chin. The despair and betrayal spreads through your limbs, knowing that you can’t fight your way out of this in your helpless state.

The pulse in your neck gradually slowed, a sign that your life was beginning to fade. All Nanami felt was sex and ecstasy as he was about to become one with you like forming a scabrous bond. He is the type of man who can never feel close enough to someone. A mere embrace, not even rough sex could ever fulfill him other than your sweet flesh and veins and blood intertwining. You were like the tenderest morsel, the sweetest delicacy he has ever savored in his years. Yearning for the taste of you in every way has never been this intoxicating, as you are now his most cherished dish, devouring you with the deepest adoration.

It would take an entire army of men to pull Nanami away from this maddening hunger for you that he would rather suffocate within your flesh. But he couldn’t ruin you much further. Not yet. Just as you slowly died on his countertop, he gave one look at you one last time, analyzing every inch and every crevice of your body like you truly were his masterpiece of fine dining. A beautiful meal he could make out of you right now, the thought of cooking and tenderizing your organs and eating you like some writhing sea-shape into his gaping maw overbeared his senses just by how delicious you tasted for him.

It was time.

It was finally time.

He cleared his counter and cleaned everything else in his kitchen, leaving your dead, gorgeous body laying there displayed for him like a buffet. A brand new knife he unsheathed from his drawer, sharpened very precisely for cutting into your skin and mutilating your limbs with no imperfections. He proceeded to slice thoroughly, just like every animal meat he’s ever touched, wanting to save you and marinate most parts of you for future meals. He started with your arms, saving the tough meat from your forearms for soups and the upper arm to slow cook like lamb shanks. Then your ribs, which is his favorite meal that he couldn’t wait to grill for barbecue some day. And then to your neck, which was perfect for hungarian goulash.

There were so many parts of you that he managed to chop up and save for BBQ steak, scotch filet, slow roasts, and soups for future recipes. And then there was the rest of you that he couldn’t wait to eat raw, like your heart. Your lungs. Your spleen. Your thighs. Your eyeballs.

But of course, there were parts of you that he couldn’t eat. The human brain may seen fatty and tasty to some, but it’s enough to kill your braincells if ever ingested. Liver is also toxic; with too much of its Vitamin A, it’s enough to weaken your body, make you nauseous, and induce general body aches and pains.

He had a plate of your fresh heart right before him, seated at his dining table. Taking his knife and fork, he chopped a fine piece for him to eat. As powerful as an orgasm fulfilling him, kindling flames of carnal ecstasy and desire, he’s never had anything so delectable that the taste of you ripped through him like wildfire. You were perfect. You tasted orgasmic. Ravaging and ravishing in your flavor that he couldn’t wait to eat the rest of you. And now that you were apart of him, together forever, nothing was going to separate this beautifully morbid union.

But it wasn’t until another wicked idea comes across his head.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

It’s only been a day since you’ve gone “missing.” You weren’t answering when your boyfriend, Gojo, tried calling you; absolutely worried that you didn’t make it home last night. But when he finally received a text sent from your phone saying to meet him back at the restaurant at a specific time, he was relieved that you were okay.

But something wasn’t right.

The restaurant was empty. Most of the chairs were stacked on top of the table and there weren’t many employees. Somehow a hostess allowed him in and directed him over to a single table in the center of the restaurant, the table candles brightly lit and a single chandelier illuminating right above him. It was quiet. Uneasy. A little bone-chilling to be the only one sitting in this restaurant all alone with a hostess. He tried calling for you, but the service appeared to be down. He looked around and was about to get up from his seat until the kitchen doors swing wide open.

A tall man with neatly styled blond hair and glasses steps out with a tray of food, dressed in a waiter attire with a white apron. Gojo halted, drawing his eyebrows together in bewilderment as the he walks over towards his table and gently sets the tray down, revealing a large bowl of hot soup that he’s never seen on the menu before.

“Apologies for the inconvenience. I believe I also haven’t properly introduced myself,” the man spoke so eloquently. “I am Nanami Kento. The owner of this restaurant.”

“Oh.” Gojo was still slightly frazzled with confusion, nervous eyes darting every corner and avoiding eye contact with Mr. Nanami just to find you. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, sir, but have you seen my girl? We’re regulars here. And where is everybody?”

“Your girlfriend is already here.” Nanami’s gaze grows cold and aloof as if the frames of his glasses grew dark, unable to recognize his eyes. “And because you two are my regulars, I decided to give you the extra special treatment and booked you for today only. Everything is on the house, including this soup. Tell me what you think.”

Gojo inhaled the bowl of soup, taking in the aroma of hints of vegetables like onions, carrots, potatoes, herbs, and other spices. But there was an unfamiliar, pungent scent that he couldn’t quite put his finger on…

“Wait, is this new? I don’t think I’ve ordered the soup from here like this before. What is it?”

“This is the Rich Liver & Potato Gratin,” Nanami deadpanned, trying his hardest to contain himself from how much of a nuisance your boyfriend is to him. “It was just added as my latest rendition to the menu and you will be the first to try.“

Gojo hummed in response, now piqued with curiosity from the slight reassurance. He took his soup spoon and delved it in the bowl, picking up a pieces of liver and the chopped potatoes. He gently blows on it before taking it to his lips and slurping it, the savory broth enveloping his body with warmth.

“Fuck. Holy shit this is amazing.” With every spoonful, his entire body relaxed, and a sense of nourishment washed over him. “What did you put in this, sir? Is this like beef broth with pork liver?”

“No, sir. It’s your girlfriend.”

Just as he swallowed a piece of the “liver” from his “soup,” a horrifying clarity washed over him after his brain thoroughly registered his sentence. At first, Gojo was in denial. He frowned. Then hefted out a weak chuckle. Then he threw his head back in maniacal laughter that his spit and tiny pieces of his food landed on the table from chewing with his mouth open. “What! I didn’t know you were this fucking funny, man. I mean, I’d say this tastes just as good as my girl. Is that what you mean?”

“No, sir. I completely made this with just her remains.”

“Wait, what?” Gojo scoffed, and Nanami tried his best to contain every fiber of his being from literally stabbing him repeatedly until that cocky grin disappears from his face. Hopefully the affect wouldn’t take too long to kick in before your dumb boyfriend’s brain could finally click.

“This soup that I presented for you… is made out of your girlfriend’s liver. Her beautiful flesh that I cut out of her precisely, all cooked and ready just for you. But do be warned…”

The aftertaste suddenly became grotesquely rich and acrid to Gojo, lingering disturbingly in his mouth with an unsettling metallic tang. It wasn’t until the horrifying realization dawned on him slowly, making him feel physically nauseous. A creeping unease settled in his stomach. He could feel the pain gradually intensify into this gnawing pain as Mr. Nanami’s words reverberated like a distant echo in his mind. Sweat started to break out on his forehead. His stomach couldn’t stop twisting and contorting erratically that he clutched on his abdomen.

“… and because of overdose of Vitamin A, the human liver is too toxic to be consumed. At least I was nice enough to share her distasteful leftovers to you,” he spoke lowly, ominous and threatening. “It was just like you wanted. Eating your beloved girlfriend if she was on our menu.”

Gojo’s numb body collapsed to the floor, the cold tiles pressing against his pale face. The Rich Liver & Potato Gratin that has never tasted so delicious to him was nothing but a cruel, insidious poison. Darkness edged into his sight and his consciousness wavered, a sign that his life was fading greatly.

Nanami stared blankly at his dead body as if he was unamused, but inside he was finally relieved that he’s no longer alive to pester him or anybody else. He had enough money to cover the whole crime scene, including the mysterious disappearance of you. Hell, even his employees under his wing would take care of the situation for him, like his hostess that cleaned up the mess on his floor and the chefs taking care of his body and getting rid of him forever.

As the weeks progressed, Nanami still made meals out of your flesh that he’s been storing in his freezer. On Saturday night he made ribs with Korean BBQ inspiration. And the moment he indulged in your ribs served sliced, rolled in romaine lettuce leaves with white rice, browned garlic slices, gochujang, along with the sweet and savory sesame and soy sauce marinade, he almost came in his pants seated at his dining table from just how beautiful you tasted.

And eventually, if he were to run out of your flesh one day, at least he got to keep your beautifully decapitated head in his freezer like a trophy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] Please remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop. Then collect your belongings, watch your head, and step carefully out the vehicle. Don’t forget to dispose your 4D glasses at the bins before you exit. On behalf of all of our crew, thanks for riding with us, and we hope you have a happy and memorable visit here at Horrorland!

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐎 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access. will be cross- posted on my ao3 soon.

𖤐 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @screampied @gloomiigloom @cloudi-eyes333 @isuckatmakingusernamess @aestheticgals-blog @lik0 @shintax-error @oneyedwillie @st0nedbitch @yaeil @alittletiredcry @salems-trial @kenniekenns @celcstia @thescorpiohottie @jnoppy @drowning-dee @meepmidget @chocolategirl38 @kidding3 @ggukiespace @migueloharacumslut @writtenbyawoman @iss-chromatica @zionysuss @colortheoryrocks @bigg1ow @slutforaz @unknown-borealis @doestalker @ghostlvmi @deftoneslut004 @yongi-lee @glittergagged @virgobitch00

[rizsu]

ꪆ୧ ── ROMANTIC LIFE ┊ INSIDER'S VIEW ﹑ JJK. ⤿ starring: megumi fushiguro as main male lead.

꒰ heart to him ﹢ a sneak peek into what's probably the very beginning of your relationship with megumi — how it started, to be exact. just two highschool students who found themselves a little attracted to each other.

𖧷 · love, ‘su: megumi = 2nd year student, you = 3rd year. both start as strangers into friends into (potential) lovers. split into two ‘chapters’ to break it up.

꒰১ CHAPTER ONE ﹕ it all started when…

“...pretty.”

“damn, for real?! i’ve been trying to work on my manliness. thanks, bro.”

megumi’s immediately snapped out of his trance. he zoned out of the conversation minutes ago, preferring to focus on the encounter he had with a stranger earlier.

being immersed in his head, he had no idea he’d begun to get vocal. from sighs that reek of longing to random compliments as seen before. the three friends that circled around his desk didn’t mind his absence in the conversation — rather, they played into it. whenever he said something entirely unrelated, they’d respond as if they’re the ones he’s daydreaming about.

somehow, megumi failed to notice until itadori responded to him.

“no.” is what megumi replied. with one eyebrow raised, he quickly looked up and down itadori’s frame.

“but you called itadori pretty, dude!”

“can it.” his defences rose. “i wasn’t talking about him.”

a collective “oh?” came from everyone — even the students who weren’t a part of the group’s conversation. the boys leaned in closer, eyes set on megumi.

“is this perhaps fushiguro’s first love scenario?!” tichi gasped, already trying to piece together what an interaction between megumi and a love interest would look like.

“ah.” itadori folds his arms across his chest, nodding with eyes closed. “so i’m not ugly!”

the other friend kept quiet, waiting for megumi to reveal more information.

as for the main character in the moment, megumi’s ears flushed a particular shade of red — one that usually indicates embarrassment. a heat overtook his body; being the centre of attention for his group and the long-eared classmates certainly wasn’t the most ideal situation for him.

but megumi must keep his cool. he has an image to maintain — the image of “that one guy who’s always unimpressed.”

reaching a hand to scratch the sides of his neck, he gave a sigh before satisfying everyone’s curiosity.

“it’s a girl…”

“gender reveal!”

“anyway, she’s a third year.”

silence unfolds. megumi doesn’t continue after that, and the crowd doesn’t give their input — all except for a fellow classmate who’s definitely going to put the two together. as someone who has connections with the third-year students, he’s going to be megumi’s fairy godmother.

“well, well, well.”

heads turn to the voice — even megumi’s eyes met the owner’s.

“what’s her name? if you say it, i can make connections. the third years are graduating in a few months — time is not on your side,” tacho says, walking towards megumi with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

quite a dramatic entrance for someone who’s on cleaning duties after class.

“dude, do you think you’re in a show?” the unfortunate twin brother of tacho, tichi, sighs.

ignoring his brother, tacho leans down to megumi, maintaining eye contact with the boy. not just any eye contact though, the eye contact that screams business! boss to employee eye contact!

“i’m not telling.” megumi refused.

“boohoo, you’re lame.” tacho fakes a cry.

“but,” megumi continues, regaining his position as the centre of attention. “if i manage to talk to her and don’t get her number… i’ll tell you.”

“deal?” tacho’s ears perked up. he liked what he heard.

“deal.”

“pinky promise?”

“what are we, eight?” megumi frowned almost immediately.

there’s finally something for the second-year students of class 2B to look forward to. the love story progression between megumi fushiguro and the mysterious third-year student.

P.O.V SWITCH ⟡ THIRD-YEAR STUDENT, Y/N.

“psst, y/n!” a crumpled page hits the back of your head.

“what?!” you whisper-yelled, turning around to face the culprit.

“what’s the answer for question forty-five? is it b or d?” the culprit asked with urgency and desperation. the first multiple-choice mock exam of the week is certainly handing his ass back to him.

your expression flatlined — you should’ve known it wasn’t anything important.

“don’t you have your phone on you?! just cheat.” not-so-good advice was exchanged through whispering.

“that’s too much work!”

“then choose b. ‘b’ as in bat. if you get it wrong, blame mai.”

the perfect third-year class experience: getting an answer from a friend who got it from a friend who got it from a— you get the point. mock exams aren’t always taken seriously, it might as well be a regular class.

although there wasn’t a need to cheat for the answers yourself, you were too lazy to debate whether the answer was this or that based on the previous mock exam. call that the curse of repeated questions.

with thirty-five minutes left on the clock, you circled the final answer before closing the booklet. there’s nothing more relaxing than taking a nap after finishing an exam. it’s not like you can leave anyway.

“if you’re finished, leave the classroom. don’t be noisy in the halls or you're getting failed.

…apparently you can now.

you wasted no time in getting out. leaving a friend in need hurts you, but he can consider it revenge for throwing a paper ball at your head.

stretching your limbs, you snuck up behind mai, lightly kicking behind her knees to surprise her.

“fuck— y/n!”

“hey, shhhhh. we’re in the halls~” you hushed her, reminding her of the warning the class received beforehand.

mai showed no sign of regret. she’s heard that warning ever since elementary school days — it’s nothing more than empty words.

“you believe that shit?” she asked, disappointment lacing her tone.

“do i look stupid in your eyes?” you asked, saddened at how your friend viewed you.

mai nodded, ignoring your offended reaction. tapping twice on her phone screen, she hummed and slid it back into her skirt’s pocket.

“my ex messaged.”

“i thought you blocked—”

“anyway, let’s go get an early lunch before the younger ones.”

mai cut you off from finishing your sentence. she completely forgot that she told you a lie.

-> 11:15 A.M ◟ under the oak tree.

two ladies enjoying the gentle breeze as leaves dance along the wind’s track. they were having a meal, appreciating the shade they got from the tree along with the silence that came from being dismissed during class time.

the two totally weren’t ignoring the complaints from the sole person who’s been going nonstop since he came out of the classroom. he’s not appreciating the wrong answers given to him from a friend who got it from a friend (×2).

“—she said it was c. can you believe that?! C?!”

“wait.” you sat up straight. “who said that?”

“the fucking teacher! were you even listening to me?!”

“no, not really…” you’re guilty as charged.

“teru, swear upon your life that she said the answer’s c.” mai spoke with authority.

“i swear, dude.”

the senior student life: friends saying “fuck” in a exhausted way together. the reaction of when you know you completely fucked up.

another moment of silence was enjoyed. this time, it was a silence where everyone came to terms with the possibility of failing the entire exam — it’s only the beginning of many, many mock exams to come.

clicking your tongue, you decide to break the silence.

“so, mai’s ex messaged her but didn’t she say she blocked him?”

gossip time!

“plain lie.” teru expressed disappointment.

“watch that tongue. he unblocked himself.” mai defended herself.

“and i can turn water back into wine.” teru refuted.

“let’s not jump mai now,” min said. “i saw y/n talking to some guy during our first break.”

all eyes on you now. you couldn’t put a face to the guy you were talking to, but you sure as hell won’t go down without defending yourself.

“tsk, tsk. and you’re talking about me?!” mai shakes her head, happy with the party forgetting about the supposed-to-have-been-blocked ex.

“min, you were silent all the time. when you finally speak you throw shots at me?! i was just helping him!”

“and i can part the ocean into two.” teru once again expresses sarcasm.

“zip it, terushima.” you glared at him. “i don’t even know the guy, okay? cut me some slack!”

“what year is he in?” min asked, stuffing her mouth with mini marshmallows.

“dunno. probably second? he’s kinda tall with insane bed hair but i don’t remember his face…” you bit your lips trying to recall his face, but you couldn’t.

“was his hair black?” again, min questions.

“yeah.”

“no tie, sleeves rolled up to the elbow?”

“i think… maybe?”

“it’s probably megumi fushiguro.” popping the final marshmallow into her mouth, she dusted her hands off, ignoring the surprised reactions.

“okay google. who even is that? why do you know the second years’ full names…” teru questioned min, judging her for her knowledge of the students.

“well, she’s in the student council… anyway, i wanna see this fushiguro.” mai’s interest has peaked. sleeves rolled up to the elbow with no tie? he’s probably a mischievous kid.

your response is a bit later than the other two. you were repeating the name ‘megumi fushiguro’ in your head.

“his name has a nice ring to it.” finally you spoke.

“he’s a second year!” teru’s shocked at your interest in him. just a moment ago you couldn’t put a face to him. you probably can’t put a face to the name either.

“just a year younger, no biggie.” you shrugged

“how are you gonna talk to him?” mai asked, wondering if you’d walk around the second year’s floor questioning everyone on who’s megumi fushiguro.

“who said anything about that?” you shook your head. “if i see him, i see him.”

“more like if you hear his name, you hear it.”

“terushima.”

min suddenly claps, outing the fire that would’ve ignited between you and the bitchy boy.

“i’ll give him y/n’s number, but you have to send screenshots.” she offered a trade.

“i would’ve done that anyway.”

P.O.V SWITCH ⟡ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO.

-> 02:30 P.M ◟ sudden after school meeting.

the lesson megumi learnt today was to never reveal anything to his friends again. he was kept hostage all day without a single chance to catch a glimpse at the newfound crush.

whenever they could’ve, the phrase you’d hear kids singing was sung to him: “megumi and a third-year student kissing in a tree! k.i.s.s.i.n.g!”

for the first time in his life, he experienced what it’s like to hate something from the very core of his heart. it got to the point where he sneaked away from the group to leave the school grounds alone. however, even that led to no peace. he was bothered once more.

“fushiguro?” someone called out to him, lightly patting his shoulder.

he didn’t show it, but he was certainly spooked. the increased racing of his heart provides evidence of such.

“yes? oh, it’s you, min.” he turned around, keeping his poker face. can’t be caught having expressions in the school grounds.

“yup. so, that third-year girl you met during the first break, here’s her number.”

min stuck a sticky note on the pocket of his shirt, ready to walk back to where her destination is.

“wait— are you close to her?” megumi mentally cringes. he acted on impulse.

“yeah, that’s my friend. bye now.”

and she’s gone, leaving a stunned megumi in the hallway. he can’t believe it was this easy to get your number. seeing that he’s alone… maybe he can do some victory moves.

“DAMN! she beat me to it.”

“tacho, can’t you ever be quiet?!”

“was that her? she's pretty...”

“nope, that’s the friend.”

never mind. he forgot he’s got four friends who are master spies — fueled by the fact that they can’t mind their business.

turning back around to the group, he puts a hand on his hip.

“are you guys serious?”

“as serious as you are, brother.” itadori’s hand rests on his chest, providing an answer on behalf of the others.

an exasperated sigh left megumi. one day he’ll consider transferring schools.

-> 06:38 P.M ◟ courage! dominance! bravery!

megumi’s a male. a male that lacks courage, dominance, and bravery when it comes to love-related situations. once he finished his after school routine, he got comfortable in bed and is currently staring at his phone, contemplating on whether he should send you a message or not.

after a serious meeting with himself and the voice in his head, he mustered up the courage to send you a message.

megumi: hey. this is megumi fushiguro, from second year (2B).

five minutes of silence before a “ding!” is heard. he purposefully set his phone to ring after he sent the message.

y/n: oh hello i’m y/n!!

y/n: third year (3A) as u probably already know

excitement overtook megumi and he’s not pleased with it. suddenly, he’s making a typo every two words, palms sweaty, and smiling.

y/n: what’s up hru

y/n: hope min didn’t scare you

—

megumi: i’m alright, just bored. wby?

megumi: she didn’t scare me. i was a bit stunned, though.

y/n is typing…

y/n: that’s good! i’m bored too

y/n: sick of these assignments </3

y/n: drop out before it’s too late you hear me?

y/n: ok don’t but it’s an option if you’re privileged enough

—

megumi: lol i’ll think about it.

megumi: thanks for the help earlier btw.

—

y/n: anytime bro igu

y/n: oh i gtg

y/n: i forgot my mom asked me to do smth oops

y/n: we can talk later or tmr in school okay

y/n: bye ^^

—

megumi: good luck, y/n. bye.

y/n is offline.

“wow...” he re-reads the conversation, looking at the amount of messages you sent compared to his. “she’s chatty.”

his excitement calmed down a little after you went offline. actually, it was replaced with annoyance. it’s almost as if the guys put a timer and recorder on his phone. they texted the exact minute he came off your chat.

(20+) new messages from ‘cool gc name’:

> tacho: megumi don’t leave us hanging

> tichi: call me curious george

> itadori: yo that min girl been on my mind

> tacho: lemme hook u up bro

> itadori: please bro

> toeni: hop on vc

> tichi: for what

> toeni: im too lazy to type

> tichi: boy bye

> itadori: need min to give me a minute of her time so i can express how she’s been on my mind

> tacho: that shit fire

> itadori: i’ll be a poet

> tichi: ???

> toeni: who’s min?

> tacho: girl who’s friends with other girl megumi likes

> toeni: oh right her

> toeni: she scary

> itadori: u dont talk to women anyway

> tichi: already on her defence itadori’s far from saving

> tacho: truly megumi’s best friend

“what the fuck.” megumi audibly shows his shock. from the sheer amount of messages incoming, he doesn’t want to get involved.

it’s too late, though. because everyone’s online, the others can see that everyone, including megumi, read the messages. caught red-handed.

> tacho: MEGUMI

> toeni: welcome back megumi. i removed your AFK.

> tichi: easy there discord addict

> toeni: pls hop on vc

> itadori: how’d it go? u messaged her?

—

megumi: i did. she’s chatty like you guys

—

> tacho: add her here she one of us

> tichi: absolutely not

> itadori: real this is a sacred gc

> itadori: unless u get min in here too

> tichi: brother you saw her for less than five minutes

> itadori: five MINutes that blessed my life

> toeni: betting fifty dollars megumi didn’t hold the convo

—

megumi: get off my dick? she had to go offline.

—

> toeni: that's what they all say

> tichi: don't listen to him he’s mad no one’s going on vc

> toeni: true :(

> tichi: too bad :((

> toeni: die

—

megumi: i’ll probably talk to her tmr. it’s late and she isn’t back yet.

—

> tacho: DUDE NO

> tacho: how does one cockblock their own talking stage

> itadori: here goes mr. always in a relationship

—

megumi: we just started “talking.” i don’t want to come off as a creep.

—

> toeni: couldn’t be me

> toeni: i would’ve spam tf out of her phone

> tichi: how to get blocked 101

> toeni: here we go

> toeni: another lesson from The Wise And The Righteous

tichi has kicked toeni out of the groupchat.

tacho has added toeni into the groupchat.

> toeni: LEGENDS NEVER DIE!!!!

> toeni: tacho i apologise for calling you a glittered horse all this time

tacho has kicked toeni out of the groupchat.

megumi: k i’m gonna sleep.

—

> itadori: ur probably gonna dream about miss 3rd yr

—

megumi: correct.

—

> itadori: WHAT

> tichi: oh

megumi is offline.

> tacho: he’s in too deep i fear

> toeni: he just like me fr

> tacho: how the fuck did u get back in

> toeni: please refer to the capitalised message i sent before getting kicked again

꒰১ CHAPTER TWO ﹕ good morning?!

P.O.V SWITCH ⟡ THIRD-YEAR STUDENT, Y/N.

it’s not a proper morning unless your mother blinds your vision with the lightbulb of heaven, mai spamming your messages, teru asking for your mom’s breakfast, and min stealing your hoodie for herself.

truly, this is peak highschool friendship. you couldn’t have asked for more. in the classroom 7:30 A.M on the dot with the air conditioner’s cranked up to the coldest. you were copying assignment answers from another classmate and the group scrolled through the chat with megumi.

“he’s the type to text with actual grammar,” mai says, pulling her lollipop out of her mouth with a “pop” sound.

“short ass conversation.” teru does what he’s best at: judging.

“you guys actually texted this morning?” min’s surprised. “when it’s with us you just dip the convo and never text until it’s some random hour where everyone’s asleep.”

“i told you i usually dip to play games!”

“lies and more lies.” mai clicks her tongue. “anyway, teru did you read their convo?”

“barely. the awkwardness pained me.”

“here, read it.”

teru hesitantly took hold of your phone, scrolling back to the beginning of today’s chat with megumi. with a gulp of fear, he reads the messages.

y/n: im back

y/n: well the next day

y/n: still counts!

—

megumi: morning. welcome back.

—

y/n: oh right good morning!!

y/n: what r u doing

y/n: im fucking up this sandwich

—

megumi: nothing really. i’m on my bed.

—

y/n: did u eat breakfast

“did you eat breakfast?!? this cliché.”

“shut up and read quietly, teru!” embarrassment hit you at that moment.

megumi: no. i don’t particularly like breakfast.

megumi: well, not this early into the morning.

—

y/n: ur more of a brunch guy ???

—

megumi: preferably. what about you?

—

y/n: me personally i just eat if im hungry

y/n: even during class i sneak in some bites

—

megumi: really? you sound like a fun deskmate.

—

y/n: aww ty!! you sound like a reserved guy

y/n: wish u were my deskmate. the one i have just sleeps

y/n: mind u shes apart of the student council

—

megumi: min?

—

y/n: yes!! gotta be principal’s niece privileges

y/n: i love her tho she's very nice

—

megumi: she is. you are too.

“were you guys flirting or just being honest?”

“bro, i don’t even know.”

y/n: i will definitely meet u today

y/n: somehow

y/n: gtg now see u later

—

megumi: bye.

teru swipes off the app, closes your phone, and places it face down on your desk. his expression seems serious — all three of you girls are silent.

“i’ve got to see what this dude’s like,” he begins. “so, i’ll be hanging around outside all day with the guys.”

“yes! be useful for once and get some intel.” mai’s now eager. she raises a hand to hold teru’s to which he accepts with the same enthusiasm.

you remained silent, wondering if you should make up a bullshit excuse to visit megumi’s classroom. realistically speaking, you can visit whatever classroom you like as a third-year student, but you don’t want to come off as abrupt.

“what’s on your mind, y/n?” min asks, poking your arm.

“i kinda wanna see megumi — given that i don’t remember his face at all.”

“ah.” both girls react the same way, nodding at your words.

“why not text him?” mai suggests.

“nah, too early for that.” you decline.

“well, we can walk around where the second years usually are. or we can just wait on teru.” mai revealed plan b and plan c.

you and min agreed, opting for the second one. you’ve got eight hours of class school anyway, there’s time to see him “by chance.”

-> 10:02 A.M ◟ first break of the day.

two minutes into your break and you felt your phone vibrate. you slid it slightly out of your pocket — just enough to where you can read the time and notifications.

(1) new message from terushima: lemme borrow five dollars

instagram: follower request from @tachosandcheese , @itadoredbull

+99 new emails.

“anything important? did he message?” min teases, eyeing your phone.

“who’s tachosandcheese and itadoredbull?” mai asks, slightly impressed by the usernames.

“no clue and no, he didn’t text.” you press your phone’s power button. “i’ll view those two insta accounts later.”

shrugging, you stood up from your chair, stretching your limbs before you make a move to the cafeteria.

“she’s already gone— mai, can’t we stay here?”

“get your lazy ass up, min.”

“i hate you both.”

P.O.V SWITCH ⟡ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO.

-> 10:02 A.M ◟ in the gym.

megumi and the four friends are currently downing entire water bottles in one go. having physical education class first thing in the morning isn’t what they’d look forward to. this break is hardly a break. they have yet another p.e class awaiting them after.

once they calmed down, tacho started up a conversation.

“so, i was talking to itadori last night right?”

they hum in response.

“and we found min’s instagram profile.”

“doesn’t surprise me.” toeni shrugs.

“yeah, did you find the one for megumi’s?” tichi says what megumi wanted to.

“well,” itadori unlocks his phone, showing the group a screenshot of an instagram account. “we think this is her.”

the group leans in, studying your supposed profile’s aesthetic.

“that’s a private private account, for real. it doesn’t look like there’s her name anywhere.” toeni’s the first to say something.

they all look at megumi, waiting for him to clarify. he’s the only one who knows your name.

“it’s not there.” he satisfies their curiosity again.

“dude, if we requested the wrong profile i’ll deactivate.”

“i’m with you on that one, itadori.”

they all continue to gossip, taking turns to tell a story until the class of hell begun once more. hopefully they can hold out until lunch break… hopefully.

-> 02:36 P.M ◟ end of school: not so unsuccessful.

the thing megumi looked forward to the most did not happen. he’s trying to not dwell on it too much — you’re a senior student, chances of you being busy are high.

somehow, it seems as if megumi has a skill for meeting your friends after school but not you. this time he was stopped by a guy who quickly informed him of the completely platonic relationship between him and you.

the information given to megumi by the friend, teru, was quite helpful — if megumi had the balls that is.

“if you’re looking to meet her alone, go to that large oak tree, she’s always there.”

advice he’s going to hold dearly. he won’t go directly (at least not right now) but he’ll get a view of you from a spot closer.

double tapping on his phone’s screen, he unlocks it before locking it back immediately. he wants to text, but school just finished. he will wait another four hours.

it’s not like he’ll be free to talk anyway. his friends decided that he needs to experience going on dates. there’s an unfortunate busy schedule of arcade and night market business later.

P.O.V SWITCH ⟡ THIRD-YEAR STUDENT, Y/N.

you’ve nothing to do — literally. chores are completed, no assignments, finished end-game content on your games, watched everything that interested you — quite literally nothing to do.

it’s eight p.m. you lost count on the amount of times you changed positions in bed and let out sighs of boredom. you’d call your friends but that’ll just end up with you all complaining about boredom.

at times like this you wished you had a boyfriend or something of the sort to be entertained by.

…

megumi.

but he hasn’t texted. should you do it first? he did text first initially.

grabbing your phone, opened megumi’s chat, ready to send a few messages.

y/n: hey wyd rn

megumi is typing…

megumi: hi. i’m at a night market with my friends.

megumi: the reception’s a bit bad.

megumi: the messages aren’t sending fast enough.

—

y/n: woah was that ur first triple text???

y/n: go megumi go!

—

megumi: you’re rubbing off on me a bit.

—

y/n: glad to hear my influence is strong

—

megumi: are you bored?

—

y/n: bored to the point of death

y/n: how’d u know

—

megumi: [photo attachment]

megumi: would you like one?

megumi: sorry. the messages aren’t sending in order.

megumi: but which keychain do you like?

—

y/n: thats ok dw

y/n: as for the keychains uhhh

y/n: i cant choose u do it

—

megumi: are you sure?

—

y/n: yeah do it

megumi is typing…

“how bad is the reception over there… he’s been typing for a hot minute,” you mumbled, unaware of the smile settled on your face.

megumi: nvm. it won’t send.

megumi: i’ll send a voice message.

—

y/n: fine by me bro

megumi’s message made you realise you also somewhat forgot what his voice sounded like. your boredom has officially been defeated.

megumi: [+ voice message: 00:20s]

“hi, y/n – if that’s how you pronounce it. i’ll buy you the black keychain since it'll match anything. i’m not sure if you’d want any— is that the girl? hi we’re megumi’s friends!! i’m tac— fuck off, tacho. as i was saying – it’s megumi speaking by the way – would you like anything else?”

the chaos of the voice message got a laugh out of you. you could’ve heard a faint “he’s so mean!” at the end of it – it was probably the tacho guy.

—

y/n: mmmm i dont want anything really

y/n: just buy two of what ur getting

y/n: we’ll match

—

megumi: sure.

megumi: talk to you later or when i get back.

megumi: sorry about my friends.

—

y/n: it’s okkkkkk they seem fun

y/n: mine would’ve stolen my phone during the voice message

—

megumi: seems like our friend groups are alike.

megumi: later. sleep well if you’re going to sleep.

—

y/n: and you stay safe!!

megumi is offline.

and the boredom returns. man, you really do need a little entertainment from a guy. just look at how megumi kept you smiling when he’s only met you once. tragic.

‘if tomorrow’s saturday…’ the voice in your head ponders, trying to piece together a potential date. it appears you have a gift or two to collect; maybe — just maybe you can further this short talking stage. you’re too impatient for it anyway.

[m-ayo-o]

2: who do you think you are, to give orders as you please?

m.list pt. 1 puppy visits u at work gn reader x sub toji cw: public toy use, anal play wc: 3k

Your phone has been vibrating in your pocket all morning. It’s him. You know it’s him.

zzt zzt - another text.

zzt zzt - one more.

You should really turn the damn thing off.

zzzzzt zzzzzt zzzzzt - he’s ringing you - zzzzt, zzz–

“Hey, sweet thing. I’m a little busy right now.”

You decide to answer the phone in front of the board of directors you summoned for a meeting. You are the CEO, after all, you can do whatever you want.

“Need to see you. Today.”

“How demanding,” you comment, lowering your voice a little.

There’s a momentary silence on the other end of the phone while your directors start murmuring and tittering; probably discussing something mundane like which secretary they’re fucking.

“Please. Let me see you.”

A little devilish smirk crosses your face, with plans ever so evil and cunning starting to simmer.

“Ok. Come visit me at work, in say–” you hold the phone with your shoulder and tug up the sleeve of your jacket, bringing your watch into view, “an hour and a half.”

You hope this dreary meeting will be concluded before then. 

“Oh and Toji,” you stop him before hanging up, “don’t wear anything special. Just your usual shitty clothes.”

You shove your phone away and get on with the tedious meeting, your thoughts straying from the uninspired, bland conversation your directors are providing.

Your thoughts stray, imagining what you did to your play thing last time; how you strapped him up, how you made him beg... you can't wait to see him again.

But the meeting drags on and on– you recline back in the leather chair, tapping at your watch and starting to yawn, when you realise it’s nearly time.

You lift your heavy eyes from the swathes of paperwork you’re sifting through, finding a familiar large figure on the other side of the office through the glass panes of the meeting room.

He’s here. 

You catch a glimpse of your secretary trying to usher him away, but he persists. You see his lips moving, starting to point to where he can see you in the meeting room.

She can’t exactly escort him out of the building. And he’s clearly on his best behaviour, being too polite to call security– you audibly snort at the image.

As if they could handle him.

You notice the way her eyes flit about when he gets closer to her. He bends down and brushes her shoulder, easily getting her all flustered and awkward. 

She guides him to the tall glass panel of the door, knocking almost inaudibly before entering to whisper in your ear that someone is here to visit, and that she can ask him to leave if you’d prefer.

“Leave? Oh no, he’s right on time. Send him in.”

So she leaves, and he enters.

In those shabby, loose pants, his trademark slutty t-shirt that exposes his entire upper body, and the strong odour he carries in with him.

To you, the sight of him is exciting, his smell almost… arousing. 

But for your colleagues, the experience is quite overwhelming. They’re not used to seeing such men in their day to day lives. You notice them staring a little before you decide to break the silence.

“This is Toji.”

No further explanation.

You stand and approach the man, smoothing out the creases of your immaculate suit, and place a hand on his arm.

“Let’s take a break. Coffee in ten?”

You receive nods and positive murmurs as they gawk, watching you two step out of the meeting room. 

Needless to say, their topic of debate is going to revolve around your likely relationship, how huge he is… and what on earth you’re doing inviting a man like him to a place like this.

You lead Toji, who is looking uncharacteristically self-conscious, to your private office. 

You don’t exactly blame him, with your employees starting to stare and whisper. And they’re all dressed to the nines– you pay them well enough to afford luxurious work attire, so you demand that to be the standard in your office. And the dress code is stringent, down to the finer details such as accessories, hair and makeup. You once fired a woman for turning up wearing foundation a shade off her natural skin tone. You didn’t think it was too harsh– in this industry it’s good to keep people on their toes.

However, it’s all getting a bit much for Toji, making him feel cheap, dirty, and terribly out of place.

You can tell by his awkward glances and the way he appears to be swallowing down his pride with each nervous gulp.

When you’re behind the closed door of your office he seems to relax a little; the tension fades from his shoulders and his expression slackens again.

Not yet, Toji.

You press him against the thick wood of your office door, your hand splayed over the muscular expanse of his stomach.

“What was so important, that you had to visit me at work, pup?”

He feels an incredible rush through his chest, from hearing the pet name alone. He really is pathetic.

“Just– needed to see you.”

You watch him clench and unclench his jaw, looking away from your eyes.

“Come to whore yourself out again?”

There’s a chip in the steel of his exterior that he’s trying to hold up. But to you, that steel may as well be ice.

You could shatter him. You could melt him. With a touch.

And where your hand is pressing on his abs is starting to heat up nicely.

“I– I–”

The way you quirk your eyebrow up at him brings his gaze back down to your face.

“I need you.”

There it is.

“Hm,” a little smile plays on your lips. 

Yes, and I need you too. 

But you’ll never admit it; the way his need fuels your desire is almost embarrassing. 

But you’ve never had anyone like him… under your control. So you’re not exactly going to let go if all it takes is an unnoticeable percentage of your earnings to keep him in check. 

“Come,” you pinch at the black material of his shirt, tugging him closer to your broad, wooden desk.

“Here,” you place him facing the desk, “down.”

He bends, looking somewhat reluctant, until your hand snakes up the muscles of his back to provide a little encouragement.

“That’s it.” He plants his massive hands on the wood, lowering his body slowly, until you’ve got his ass pushing out and his chest resting on the expensive wood.

“Now,” you trace a hand up his spine, settling in his black strands, “we’re going for coffee with my useless directors in– five minutes.”

Oh, how time flies when you’re having fun. 

“I’m afraid that means I’ll have to rush this next part ever so slightly.”

You keep one hand in his hair, ensuring his face remains pressed against the wood, reaching the other into your desk drawer.

You retrieve two items, place them on the side, and start moving your hand down his back again, reaching the waistband of those baggy pants.

You tug them off with his boxers, making him flinch a little as his bare ass is exposed. 

“Stay still.”

The next sensation he gets is cool, wet and…

“Ghh– ah! Here? Really?”

He feels your lubed up fingers sliding over the tight ring of his ass. You push and press and work the muscle till he lets you in with a moan. You slide in and out, teasing out those little gasps that you love, then add another finger.

“Hmm,” you hum with pleasure, watching him settle into the rhythm, just before you pull out and wipe yourself clean– using his shirt, “I think you’re ready now.”

You select the next item, wetting it with lube and inserting it into his perfectly prepped hole. 

“Ahhh, ahh–” it’s bigger than your fingers. But he can take it.

You push it in nice and deep, then pull away.

“Time for coffee.”

“Y-you’re just gonna– leave that inside?”

“Yes? Is that an issue?” You quip, patting your hands dry of the harsh, alcohol filled hand sanitiser.

He struggles with the realisation for a second, then pushes his heavy body off your desk and tugs his pants up. 

⋆

Coffee is going well. Your subordinates are trying to dodge around the dark haired, proverbial elephant in the room, but their eyes still linger over him. He shifts and fidgets in the too small chair, feeling uncomfortable from their staring once again. 

Or maybe it’s the toy you shoved up his ass? You couldn’t care less. Either way, this is incredibly amusing.

You watch him try to answer their occasional questions, not returning much in the way of conversation himself.

“So, you work in the city, uh…” your CTO trails off.

“Toji. Yeah, I work here.”

He’s working right now. 

“And what exactly… do you do?”

He pauses, his green eyes darting up and down the woman’s face.

“For work?” She presses.

“I’m, uh–”

I’m a filthy whore. 

I kill people for money. 

I’ll do anything for money. 

“I’m a– ah! a, a driver.” 

The woman gives him an odd look, before rejoining the conversation with her colleagues.

You’re just quietly observing, tapping on your phone and leaning back with your legs crossed, watching the situation unfold.

Toji gets up, excusing himself. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Where are– mm, the bathrooms?” He asks you quietly.

You give him a smirk and point in their direction before returning to your phone.

He gets into the private cubicle, pulls down his pants and spreads his cheeks– trying to feel what you put inside him.

zzzzzzzzzzz 

He can hear the quiet buzzing noise in the stillness of the bathroom.

ZZZZZZZZZZ

The intensity suddenly increases.

Ding

His phone lights up in his pocket– but that’s the least of his worries.

His fingers press into the tight ring of his ass– he can feel it now, buzzing through his core and igniting that erogenous zone deep in his tummy.

“Ugh, uuuh–” 

He struggles and prods around back there, incidentally adding to his pleasure, before he huffs in defeat. His fingers are just too thick and clumsy, he can’t even get the thing out.

He stands in the cubicle, feeling the pleasure start to spread to his cock.

“Fuck,” he lets out an erotic sigh, looking down at the swell in his pants. 

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

The buzzing is relentless. He leans his body up against the panel of the cubicle in a desperate attempt to cool himself down.

He pulls his phone from his pocket.

don’t you dare take that out. come back and finish your coffee, pup.

He groans and readjusts his pants. Surely he can handle this, right? 

⋆

Wrong.

Not ten minutes into his return, with the hubbub of the break room dampening the sound of the vibrator, your puppy is turning into a massive horny mess.

You bet his shorts are getting sticky by now.

His big hands rest crossed over his lap, his thighs pressed together in an attempt to hide his huge bulge.

“nhh–” he lets little sighs slip his lips. They’re barely audible. But to you, those sounds are music to your ears.

He’s slowly getting louder as you dial up the intensity. He’s biting his lip, his eyelids starting to flutter closed from the pleasure, and you watch that pink tint cover his cheekbones.

You notice his hips start to twitch as he swallows and gulps, fidgeting around helplessly. He looks like he’s going to break out in a sweat, and all you can do is sit and admire the scene.

You flick and toy with the intensity of the remote controlled vibrator with your phone. It’s quite clever, really, allowing you to give him undulating pulses of pleasure, making his hips wiggle with that dumb expression on his face, all without touching him. 

He tries to hide it, nodding stiffly when anyone speaks to him.

But you keep playing, switching to sharp jolts now, making him jump and squirm in the chair. Then you bring it down, slow and steady, building him up again.

His hips start to twitch and he looks directly at you, his eyes flying wide with the shock of his impending orgasm. He shakes his head, desperately urging you to stop before he cums himself in front of your employees.

But where would be the fun in that?

You kick it up a notch and watch his eyes roll back. He barely stifles a groan, his hand flying up to slap over his mouth, startling your colleagues.

“Nhg- mhh-” he breathes heavily and presses his eyes closed for a moment. But he should know by now, you’re relentless. So you watch him stare at you in disbelief as the toy just keeps pulsing.

You torture him for a while, then round up your coffee break, dismissing your colleagues and leading him back to your office.

“Come on, pup. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

⋆

In the privacy of your office, you push him up against the door and start tugging down his pants and boxers. He tries to hide his face from the sheer embarrassment of shooting his load without being touched… from anal stimulation alone. Before you, he never knew he could do that. 

But he can and he will. 

Every time, without fail.

And the sight of the sticky, wet mess in his pants is starting to effect you. 

He’s getting the better of you. 

Day by day, it’s getting worse… your infatuation with his body is going to be the death of you. Or bankrupt you, at best. 

You’ve tugged his sweats down over his muscly thighs and you’re starting to kneel on the floor below him. 

His cock is still pretty swollen– you know he’s a shower, but with this girth, you can tell he’s still semi-hard. 

“Sure came a lot, didn’t you?” 

His beefy hands clench and tremor on the cold wood– you left the vibrator on a low setting while you inspect his cock. 

He nods carefully. He doesn’t want to encourage you anymore. He dreads the overstimulation but for that, he will get a bonus. 

The white liquid coats his shaft– it had nowhere else to go. So it lies slick over his skin, dripping back down to his balls. And his boxers could barely contain it.

You pull at the fabric until you’re getting him to step completely out of his clothes. You hold up his boxers in your hand and admire the mess. 

“So wet. Almost came through your sweats, didn’t you?”

He winces a little– it was close. When he felt the cum spurting out his tip he just closed his eyes and hoped that no one else could see it. He felt it pouring all over his boxers. It was so wet and dirty that if he sat there for a moment longer it would’ve seeped through the sweatpants as well. 

“That would’ve been embarrassing.”

You shake your head and gaze at the drippy mess of his cock. 

“Aren’t you so glad I brought you back here?”

You look up at him now, pressing him to answer. 

He nods rigidly. 

He can do better. 

With his boxers in your hand, you bring the material up to his cock and wrap it around the sticky member. You don’t want to get your hands dirty. 

“You know what grateful puppies say to their owners, don’t you?”

You start wiping his cock up and down, holding him tight through the black material. 

He’s pressed so close to the wooden door, trying to edge back, trying to reject the pleasure, but his cock is filling up again and you’ve got him under your thumb one more time. 

And he knows you’re going to regale him with how humiliating it must’ve been to ejaculate in public. You’re going to jerk him off through his underwear, using his own cum as lube.

And he’s going to thank you for it. 

“What do you say?” 

Your hand is gliding up his thick cock that’s about to burst again, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time, asking him how much he enjoyed being pleasured in front of your employees. 

“Th-thank you–” he chokes it out and your eyes light up. 

His whole body is yours. His mouth is yours. You can make him say whatever you want. 

“D-do it again– again, I– want them to watch–” 

But your puppy is getting ahead of himself. 

You wipe his cock clean and remove your hand. 

His hands jolt away from the door, desperately needing to wrap around himself to get out another milky load. 

“Wait.”

He whines and his hands dig into his thighs. 

You watch his cock bounce with his pulse. You want him to cum like this. 

You use your phone to slide the vibrator setting up until an intense buzzing can be heard in your office. It’s vibrating against the wood, sounding through his tight muscles. 

His thighs start to shake and he groans, his eyebrows knitting together with that beautiful pleasured look, his hands clenching around nothing. 

“Ngh– I– I– ‘m mm– ughh–” 

He can barely get any words out. 

You stand up now, tracing a hand over his abs as they tense, his hips rutting wildly into the air. 

“Good boy, you can cum now~”

“Th-thank you—thanggyouu—” 

And you peer down his body and watch his cock erupt one more time. 

It’s like a fucking fountain. You really do wonder about his stamina sometimes. But you don’t question it, just keeping your eyes fixed on the drooling cum, slick and hot, the buck of his hips slowing until the liquid comes out in little dribbles, once again, making a huge mess of himself. 

And the wooden floor of your office. 

“Bend over.”

He’s barely had a second to recover. 

“On your knees.”

You deliver a harsh slap to his ass. 

“Make a mess of my office, you clean it up.”

Once he’s done and finally clean, he fidgets about and mentions taking the vibrator out. 

“Keep it.”

You wonder how far the connection will last from your phone. 

And you send him on his way with another hefty payment along with promises to fulfil his fantasy. 

He tried to backtrack, but you heard him. 

He wants them to watch.

toji | chapters m.list

[pahtoosh]

mind reader

[image ID: a distraught Sebastian Stan looking at a sheet of paper. the paper has three sections. the first has three boxes labeled "yes", "no", and the last one with ellipses. the second one has three boxes labeled "please", "hugs", and "kisses". the last section has scribbles. the first section is in black and white and uses a mature font, while the second section is colorful and uses a playful font. /.end ID]

masterlist

18+

wc: ~1000 words

warnings: crowded mall. reader goes nonverbal. fluff

a/n: this was requested by @valetim09 ! thank you so much for your patience <3 I also want to add that everyone has a different experience with going nonverbal. this story is a reflection of my own. if anyone has a different experience and would like to share, I'd love to listen so I can write something different next time!

pairing: mafia!daddy!bucky x gn!little!reader

summary: Bucky takes you to the mall and you go nonverbal.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

“Just one more store okay? You’re doing so good for me, bubba.” Bucky praised. 

You took a deep breath, a difficult feat while your Daddy had you speed walking across the mall. He led you to a store full of bath and shower products. The storefront was brightly decorated for the holiday season, twinkle lights dangled behind animal statues posing with bottles of soap. This display would normally have you tugging on Bucky’s sleeve, begging to take a look, but today it was just another addition to your overstimulation. 

“Okay we just need to grab washcloths, lotion, and the bubble bath set for your little friend.” He squinted at the list.

“Sweetheart, which scent did you want to get for them? We’ve got bubblegum and blueberry written down but they’re also crossed out.”

He looked to you for a response but figured you might be distracted by the display shelf in front of you. 

“It’s okay, we’ll just get both. Let’s keep moving.” He darted back and forth between aisles, trying to gather everything as quickly as possible. Your daddy was so distracted, he didn’t notice how overwhelmed you were getting. All the different, potent scents in the store were no help. For the moment, the only thing you could do was hold onto Bucky’s sleeve with one hand and use your other to cover your nose. 

It took Bucky a while to find the items. By the time you finished checking out and walked back into the mall, it had gotten significantly more crowded. Ever the strategist, your daddy held all the shopping bags in his vibranium arm so he could wrap his other arm around you and move both of your bodies as one to a faster exit. 

He let out a relieved exhale once entering the parking lot. “Oh man, that crowd was crazy, wasn’t it?” Bucky loosened his grip so he could look at you. You were clearly listening, but didn’t respond. 

He looked at you curiously. “What happened to my little chatterbug?”

You simply tugged his shirt and pointed to the car. 

“Okay, we’ll go home, baby. I know that’s what you’ve been wanting.” Bucky looked both ways before stepping off the sidewalk and walking to the car with you. 

He helped you buckle into your seat and placed the shopping bags in the trunk before sitting in the driver’s seat. Some days Bucky would have a chauffeur so that he could sit in the backseat with you, but today was not one of those days. 

After making sure it was safe to go, he wasted no time before pulling out of the lot and driving home. Bucky wanted to ask you if something was wrong, but he knew you’d be more comfortable discussing it at home. He settled for softly playing your favorite music and glancing at you in the rear view mirror once in a while. 

When you reached the house, one of Bucky’s employees put away the shopping bags as he led you upstairs. 

“You doin’ okay, baby?” He asked, holding your hand as you two walked towards your room. 

You shook your head. 

“Can you use your big kid words and tell Daddy what’s going on?”

You shook your head again. He helped you sit on your bed while he stood in front of you. 

“Okay then,” Bucky said, placing a hand on his chin. He looked at you carefully, as if he could tell what you were thinking if he just looked hard enough.

“Are you feeling extra tiny today?”

You shrugged, still looking up at Bucky unblinkingly. 

“Did something happen at the mall?”

You shrugged again. 

“Let’s try something new, sweetheart.” He went to your desk and picked up a crayon and a sheet of paper. “Can Daddy use these?”

You nodded. 

Bucky crouched down at your desk while he wrote on the paper. As with everything he did, he looked completely focused. His concentration face was a familiar sight when paired with the large oak desk in his office, but it looked a little silly and out of place with your bright, plastic table. The only seats available were a few floor cushions. He settled for sitting on the floor as to not mess up your cushions with his “outside pants”. You craned your neck trying to see what your daddy was up to. You could just barely make out a few letters before he was finished. He drew a few more lines, then handed you the sheet of paper with a hard book underneath and a new crayon. 

“Daddy made some ‘buttons’ for you, okay. You press this one to say yes, this one for no, and this one for I’m not sure. This spot is for you to make your own buttons. And this spot is if you want to write more. Does this help?”

You pointed at the “yes” button. 

His eyes lit up, then he complimented you for being such a fast learner. 

“Can you tell Daddy why you aren’t speaking right now?”

“Mall. Too much,” you wrote. 

“You got overwhelmed at the mall, bubba? And now talking is too much?”

“Yes.”

He let the crease in his brow deepen before taking a breath and relaxing his features. “I know we were supposed to have dinner with Natty and your little friends today, but how about we push those plans to another day? We’ll have a quiet night with just us. See if we can calm this baby down.”

You gave him a small smile. “Yes.” Then you created a new button. “Please.”

Bucky chuckled. “Even when you’re not speaking you’re still the smartest, most polite baby in the entire world. Can I give you some kisses?”

“Yes.”

He peppered your face with kisses until you were giggling and smiling so hard it hurt. You took things easy for the rest of the night, just watching tv, eating the dinner Bucky made, and listening to him read a book. You kept the button sheet that Bucky made in a special folder in case something like this happened again. After you added two new buttons labeled “cuddles” and “kisses” of course.

[affableramen]

୨୧ Pantalone in a relationship with you ༄ 🎀

Ship: Pantalone & You, the Reader 🌙

Special tags: not nsfw yet. Safe for any read

Note: the Reader is implied fem. Also, in case you prefer Dom/Sub and BDSM relationship type, this thread isn’t fit for you.

Ur not just his employee, ur first and foremost his girlfriend (or wife😉)

˙✧˖ He asks you to be present on important business meetings with him

Pantalone feels secure when he has you by his side, after all he was longing to keep you close for a long time. And seeing you follow him brings him utter joy. Not only your presence cuts his image less lonely old man-ish figure, but having you present drives a hope that you’d correct or add some ideas into his project if by any means he fails. It’s some sort of soul repair for him.

˙✧˖ He seeks advice from you

Pantalone cherishes your opinion and respects your views and decisions. Even if he had already subconsciously decided how he is going to assert certain powers, he will quietly, even subtly ask your opinion. There are times when you have huge arguments with him over wealth gap and social issues. It often results with him spilling all his pent up anger and stress into you, as he has distinct anger issues. However, as he cools down, he always, always, al-ways, comes back to you. First asking forgiveness for his outburst and then engaging into the proper conversation about the issue with you in a much calmer manner.

˙✧˖ He eats and drinks A LOT with you

Pantalone is a simple person. He was raised in destitution and used to eat trash. You may say he has some sort of immunity to cringe. However, apart from it, he loves quick and effortless food. Steamed rice still tastes wonderfully for him, after all these ears. His favourite will be the honey chicken you cook for him. Although he hates when you cook (not in a bad way), because he has a personal chef and doesn’t want you to spend time and ruin your hands, but you insist. Honey chicken from you is his comfort food. There are days where he would sit with you on the balcony, drinking nothing but beer, a cigarette in his mouth while he enjoys your home-cooked meal. And yes, he drinks beer with you, cause it’s comfy and satisfying. And wine reminds him of formal occasions that used to keep you and him on long distance.

That’s it for now. Tell me if you enjoyed reading my stuff and I’ll make a part 2!

[1u11ablues]

​❝ good morning. no, don’t get up, it’s raining, let’s stay in bed a little longer… ❞ (Company Boss Simon 'Ghost Riley' x Reader)

Warning: Implied nsfw.

Petrichor scented the room. Outside, the wind lilted, enticing you to ignore the cold air running in from the window. A siren tempting her victim to freeze to death. 

You wouldn’t care, typically, but the rain slanted in a way that aimed straight into the little room you’ve found yourself in.

You got up to gray. As is the typical colour pallette for the English, with their rain and their clouds and their rare sighting of sun. One could get sick of such things, eventually…

Strong arms slithered up around your waist.

Oh, right. You forgot why you were in this unfamiliar room to begin with.

A night out with your colleagues. Mr. Riley, your boss, making a surprise appearance. You, trying your best not to make it too obvious that you were crushing on him. Even going as far as to pick a seating as far away from the head of the table, but-

How were you to know that he likes to sit with his employees more?

Flashes of images greeted you as you remembered. Him never letting you pour your own drinks out. Making sure your water is always refilled. Him eating with one hand because his big arms made it hard for you to fit both of yours on the table to eat comfortably—and he insisted that you used both of yours.

God, maybe he’d noticed you stealing glances at the way his free hand rests on his thighs, how his fingers almost dipped in and pointing down where his trousers seemed to have trouble hiding a gift.

When your mind started heading towards sinful territories, you excused yourself. Said you were coming down with something. You decided to stop by the washroom to cool your overheated skin off before calling for a ride, but when you exited, was greeted by your boss with a first-aid pack that seemed tiny for his hands.

“Need anything from here?”

You should’ve just said no and dashed right out. But the people pleasing tendencies won that night.

“Paracetamol,” you simply said, reaching a palm out, expecting him to pop open two pills and send you home. Well, you didn’t expect him to actually stepped forward and placed the back of his knuckles against your temple, gauging your temperature.

Thank god you were actually feeling a little warm.

“There’s a clinic down the road. Let me,” and before you know it, your purse was in his hands, and he urged you with only his presence on your back.

When the clinic came into view, you finally admitted that you weren’t really that sick.

“We should check, just in case,” he spoke, the sight of your purse trapped underneath his arm and torso the only thing keeping you distracted from total humiliation right then and there.

“It’s fine, sir. A good night’s sleep is all I need,” you assured. Funny how life decided to laugh and throw in a heavy storm as extra.

“We can’t drive home in this weather,” he complained, hair wet from the downpour, and his arms on grand display. What is it with men and their habits of rolling the sleeves of their shirts up?

“There’s a motel right across,” your idiot mouth suggested, thinking it will only be a while to wait the rain out.

Well, now you’re wet and shivering and it’s almost midnight with no signs of the storm passing. In a one bed motel room with its fluffy duvet and warmer sheets than the death fabric clinging to you.

“I think you should get in bed, love,” he suggested when he noticed you looking at it longingly. Also a wet and shivering mess, stood guard, looking outside the window. “Hang your wet clothes to dry and get warm under the blanket. I’ll leave soon as the rain stops.”

Neither of you seemed to be having the best of luck that night.

“Sir, I think you should do the same. It doesn’t seem like it’ll stop soon.”

“Fuck,” he cursed just as his lips began to pale, stripping down hurriedly before jumping into the bed beside you.

It took a while for him to warm up. Perhaps too long for your comfort.

“Are you still cold, sir?”

He nodded with a twitch of his jaw.

Worried, you pull the covers up until his head is covered. Having no other ideas on how to warm up a man that doesn’t involve touching him.

Eventually, you had to put that suggestion forward, anyway. You called down and requested for warm tea to be sent up, and after he’d downed a cup, braced yourself for your question.

“I’m plenty warm, sir. I’d like to share some of it with you, sir.” I’m not trying to take advantage of you, sir.

In hindsight, you should’ve expected the difficulty that comes with cuddling someone you’re attracted to, skin to skin. 

So something twitched. Jerked. Leaked and stained.

By then, the elephant is the room.

“I’m not known to keep a warmed woman wanting,” he joked with his arms under his head, “but there’s always a first time for everything.”

You scoffed.

“You say that as if your dick isn’t trying to lift the covers off me.”

“I never said I’m not. Wanting.”

“What happens in this room stays in this room?”

Neither of you couldn’t believe the words that naturally tumbled out of you. But it was too late to reel in the rampant thoughts that should’ve been spoken with your inside voice.

What happened next was a flash. It took all but seconds before he pulled you into a crashing kiss. Hovered over you as his lips trailed kisses down your body, stopping just before the apex of your thighs.

Foreplay was too intimate when you know this moment was stolen.

“You’re all but ready,” he echoed your thoughts before pushing in. 

That did the trick of stoking the furnace in him right up. He was no longer shivering from the cold, but from the high of his orgasm as it painted your stomach—both of you trying your best to keep the noise to a minimum. Everyone knows how thin motel walls are.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, settling into a sleepy embrace behind you after he’d cleaned you up. 

Fatigue and bliss kept you from overthinking. But now, in the wee hours of the morning—storm still somehow going strong—your worry blossomed.

Thoughts keep you from falling back into comfortable slumber until the arm pulls you up close to the body behind you. An ongoing heater now that he was able to warm himself up.

“Good morning,” a sleepy murmur came out of him.

Your shiver had nothing to do with the cold blasting into the room. You got up to try to close the windows back up, but stopped by his hold.

“No, don’t get up.”

“It’s raining, sir. I need to close the window before the room gets wet.”

He pressed you firm onto the bed. Sat up and jogged straight to the window to shut it close tight.

“Please, call me Simon,” he said, gazing straight into your eyes. “And please, let’s stay in bed a little longer. We’ll think about the consequences of this later.”

When life throws you a storm…

[likethe-month]

The Time Between Us

-Historical Yandere x Reader-

Yandere x Accidental Time Traveler Reader

This was so fun to write, and I have more for this particular story so I will probably post more soon.

Reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns

Warnings: Yandere/possessive behavior, outdated ideas about gender, mentions of mental health, outdated ideas about mental health,

-

You are a college student writing a history paper about big cities in America’s Gilded Age when the dusty old PC belonging to the school sends you back to 1881.

You find yourself in the same building and room, but 143 years into the past. A man walks in and is utterly shocked to see you sprawled out on the ground in your confused state.

His name is James Harrington, and he is an architect who visits the school archives room to do his work. He is of average height with dark brown hair with a matching mustache and brown eyes that seem to linger on your bare legs for extended periods of time.

He informs you that ladies usually wear a skirt, and you start to think this man has never seen a bare set of women’s legs.

Your comfortable shorts and T-shirt aren’t exactly considered “lady-like” in this day and age.

It takes a lot of convincing to convince James you’re telling the truth, and he finally believes you when you show him your smartphone.

He is absolutely buzzing with questions, and you attempt to answer as many as you can before you figure it’s time to try and find a way back to your time.

Holding the paper in front of your face, you retrace your steps back to where you were sitting when you were transported here and closed your eyes.

Back in front of the school PC, you breathed a sigh of relief. Today’s events called for a night in, so you headed back to your dorm room.

Against the more logical part of your brain telling you to stay away from the computer lab, you make the decision to return.

You still have work to do, after all!

Over the course of the week, you go back to 1881, and James is always in the room, anticipating your arrival. You both decide it would be safe for you to stay in the room and only talk to James until he can get you some proper attire.

When he does, you sneak into a restroom when James assures you no one else is around, and you change into an outfit consisting of a high-necked blouse and skirt.

James feels proud, and he tries unsuccessfully to hide the light dusting of red on his cheeks. He informs you that you look like a “proper lady.” A part of him misses the strange, unfamiliar clothing and hairstyle you don, however, and he tends to mistake your modern ways for eccentricity.

James will absolutely romanticize the differences between the two of you, viewing your confusion as innocence, and his image of you makes his stomach twist in a way he's never felt before.

Then, he lets you know that his employer is hosting a dinner for his employees. He invites you as his date, and you eagerly accept, not willing to turn down the opportunity to see a lavishly decorated house belonging a Gilded Age businessman.

On the carriage ride there, he instructed you over exactly what to say and how to behave. Having seen your fair share of historical dramas, you were only half-listening, your eyes taking in every detail of the carriage.

The dinner goes well, and you even impress your hosts with your knowledge and mannerisms.

James' boss, Mr. Whitney, pulls him aside after dinner while everyone in the parlor room is deep in their own conversations.

“She’s a unique woman, indeed, Mr. Harrington. You’d be wise to keep a girl like that in your future prospects.”

Those words seemed to change something in James. Suddenly, he looked at you in a completely different way. Initially, he was planning on trying to persuade you to stay with him in 1881. He now knew that a real man, a successful businessman like Mr. Whitney, would take away your ability to choose. James would have to keep you here.

When you finish your drink, he asks you to join him in the ballroom where the other guests are dancing, and you do so, jumping a bit when he wraps a hand around your waist without hesitation.

He whispers lowly into your ear about how glad he is that you were “sent to him” as the two of you dance.

You grimace to yourself at his words and decide then and there that it may be a good idea to stay in 2024.

When you return for the final time, you plan on taking a walk through the city with your period-appropriate clothes to take everything in one last time.

You go back to 1881 and enjoy the sights while your final moments in the past last. You return to the archives room to be met with a sight that makes your stomach drop down to your feet.

James is holding the building plan, observing it with cold, observant eyes. You’re not sure what to do here. He’s holding your only way back home in his hands, eyeing it in a very strange way…

“Hello, James,” you say carefully. “Have you had a chance to enjoy the sunshine today?”

He turns to you briefly to signal that he’s listening. “You do understand why I have to do this, don’t you?”

You freeze, feeling faint. “Do what?” you say, trying to not let your desperation show. “James, what are you doing?”

Without another word, he rips the paper in two, then into four, then six, eight, countless pieces.

It takes everything you have not to fall onto your knees. You were trapped. You were trapped in 1881.

He looks at you, but before a taunt can escape his lips, you lunge at him, a scream ripping from your throat. Hands suddenly apprehend your attack, and your held firmly in place by two policemen who seemed to come out of nowhere.

“It really is so unfortunate,” James says, sounding almost bored. “She’s gone completely mad. I’m not sure what warranted this sudden change in behavior. I’m glad I was able to contact the authorities before she hurt herself.”

“These cases of women gone into hysterics are common. She’ll receive the proper care at Somervault Mental Asylum,” one of the men says, grunting as you thrash and shriek.

“I’ll visit you soon, dearest. For now, just make sure to get better,” James says, grinning wolfishly at you once the social workers weren’t looking.

You’re hauled off to the asylum, and for just a second, you believe you really would fall into insanity.

[slaytthaphan]

plagued by images of all the id cards in the hallway during jimmy’s “judgement” breakdown. the fact we can clearly see daisuke and swansea who he obviously feels that as he has failed (but i’d argue he doesn’t feel responsible for their deaths fully at least not at first). But anya’s id card is ALWAYS hidden under jimmy’s and we can’t fully see him, we can only ever see a part of her card, the bottom of her hair never including her face; the same way we can only see the smallest part of anya when we interact with her as jimmy, never seeing her true face. Jimmy has forcibly removed a part of her whenever she can feel his presence leaving her a shadow of herself constantly feeling anxious and insecure in his company.

The same happens with curly’s card we only can see a part of his employee id number, i think this is because jimmy genuinely cannot face what he’s done to him, he feels as if he has to make things right but i dont ever think he lets go of that resentment he has of curly…a resentment that he carries through “caring” for him as he feeds him his pills (and i could talk about how he doesnt view anya as caring for him even though she is probably having to reapply his bandages or at least rewrap him and tend to his wounds through out the months after the crash but jimmy views her as worthless for not being able to complete just one part of his care despite everything else shes done). he cannot look at curly the same way after the crash because everything he liked, hated and was jealous about him has been removed from him, he is hallow husk of himself. he hates it.

[employee1618152017]

[mariacallous]

This is a gift article.

The truth is, it’s getting harder to describe the extent to which a meaningful percentage of Americans have dissociated from reality. As Hurricane Milton churned across the Gulf of Mexico last night, I saw an onslaught of outright conspiracy theorizing and utter nonsense racking up millions of views across the internet. The posts would be laughable if they weren’t taken by many people as gospel. Among them: Infowars’ Alex Jones, who claimed that Hurricanes Milton and Helene were “weather weapons” unleashed on the East Coast by the U.S. government, and “truth seeker” accounts on X that posted photos of condensation trails in the sky to baselessly allege that the government was “spraying Florida ahead of Hurricane Milton” in order to ensure maximum rainfall, “just like they did over Asheville!”

As Milton made landfall, causing a series of tornados, a verified account on X reposted a TikTok video of a massive funnel cloud with the caption “WHAT IS HAPPENING TO FLORIDA?!” The clip, which was eventually removed but had been viewed 662,000 times as of yesterday evening, turned out to be from a video of a CGI tornado that was originally published months ago. Scrolling through these platforms, watching them fill with false information, harebrained theories, and doctored images—all while panicked residents boarded up their houses, struggled to evacuate, and prayed that their worldly possessions wouldn’t be obliterated overnight—offered a portrait of American discourse almost too bleak to reckon with head-on.

Even in a decade marred by online grifters, shameless politicians, and an alternative right-wing-media complex pushing anti-science fringe theories, the events of the past few weeks stand out for their depravity and nihilism. As two catastrophic storms upended American cities, a patchwork network of influencers and fake-news peddlers have done their best to sow distrust, stoke resentment, and interfere with relief efforts. But this is more than just a misinformation crisis. To watch as real information is overwhelmed by crank theories and public servants battle death threats is to confront two alarming facts: first, that a durable ecosystem exists to ensconce citizens in an alternate reality, and second, that the people consuming and amplifying those lies are not helpless dupes but willing participants.

Some of the lies and obfuscation are politically motivated, such as the claim that FEMA is offering only $750 in total to hurricane victims who have lost their home. (In reality, FEMA offers $750 as immediate “Serious Needs Assistance” to help people get basic supplies such as food and water.) Donald Trump, J. D. Vance, and Fox News have all repeated that lie. Trump also posted (and later deleted) on Truth Social that FEMA money was given to undocumented migrants, which is untrue. Elon Musk, who owns X, claimed—without evidence—that FEMA was “actively blocking shipments and seizing goods and services locally and locking them away to state they are their own. It’s very real and scary how much they have taken control to stop people helping.” That post has been viewed more than 40 million times. Other influencers, such as the Trump sycophant Laura Loomer, have urged their followers to disrupt the disaster agency’s efforts to help hurricane victims. “Do not comply with FEMA,” she posted on X. “This is a matter of survival.”

The result of this fearmongering is what you might expect. Angry, embittered citizens have been harassing government officials in North Carolina, as well as FEMA employees. According to an analysis by the Institute for Strategic Dialogue, an extremism-research group, “Falsehoods around hurricane response have spawned credible threats and incitement to violence directed at the federal government,” including “calls to send militias to face down FEMA.” The study also found that 30 percent of the X posts analyzed by ISD “contained overt antisemitic hate, including abuse directed at public officials such as the Mayor of Asheville, North Carolina; the FEMA Director of Public Affairs; and the Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security.” The posts received a collective 17.1 million views as of October 7.

Online, first responders are pleading with residents, asking for their help to combat the flood of lies and conspiracy theories. FEMA Administrator Deanne Criswell said that the volume of misinformation could hamper relief efforts. “If it creates so much fear that my staff doesn’t want to go out in the field, then we’re not going to be in a position where we can help people,” she said in a news conference on Tuesday. In Pensacola, North Carolina, Assistant Fire Chief Bradley Boone vented his frustrations on Facebook: “I’m trying to rescue my community,” he said in a livestream. “I ain’t got time. I ain’t got time to chase down every Facebook rumor … We’ve been through enough.”

It is difficult to capture the nihilism of the current moment. The pandemic saw Americans, distrustful of authority, trying to discredit effective vaccines, spreading conspiracy theories, and attacking public-health officials. But what feels novel in the aftermath of this month’s hurricanes is how the people doing the lying aren’t even trying to hide the provenance of their bullshit. Similarly, those sharing the lies are happy to admit that they do not care whether what they’re pushing is real or not. Such was the case last week, when Republican politicians shared an AI-generated viral image of a little girl holding a puppy while supposedly fleeing Helene. Though the image was clearly fake and quickly debunked, some politicians remained defiant. “Y’all, I don’t know where this photo came from and honestly, it doesn’t matter,” Amy Kremer, who represents Georgia on the Republican National Committee, wrote after sharing the fake image. “I’m leaving it because it is emblematic of the trauma and pain people are living through right now.”

Kremer wasn’t alone. The journalist Parker Molloy compiled screenshots of people “acknowledging that this image is AI but still insisting that it’s real on some deeper level”—proof, Molloy noted, that we’re “living in the post-reality.” The technology writer Jason Koebler argued that we’ve entered the “‘Fuck It’ Era” of AI slop and political messaging, with AI-generated images being used to convey whatever partisan message suits the moment, regardless of truth.

This has all been building for more than a decade. On The Colbert Report, back in 2005, Stephen Colbert coined the word truthiness, which he defined as “the belief in what you feel to be true rather than what the facts will support.” This reality-fracturing is the result of an information ecosystem that is dominated by platforms that offer financial and attentional incentives to lie and enrage, and to turn every tragedy and large event into a shameless content-creation opportunity. This collides with a swath of people who would rather live in an alternate reality built on distrust and grievance than change their fundamental beliefs about the world. But the misinformation crisis is not always what we think it is.

So much of the conversation around misinformation suggests that its primary job is to persuade. But as Michael Caulfield, an information researcher at the University of Washington, has argued, “The primary use of ‘misinformation’ is not to change the beliefs of other people at all. Instead, the vast majority of misinformation is offered as a service for people to maintain their beliefs in face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.” This distinction is important, in part because it assigns agency to those who consume and share obviously fake information. What is clear from comments such as Kremer’s is that she is not a dupe; although she may come off as deeply incurious and shameless, she is publicly admitting to being an active participant in the far right’s world-building project, where feel is always greater than real.

What we’re witnessing online during and in the aftermath of these hurricanes is a group of people desperate to protect the dark, fictitious world they’ve built. Rather than deal with the realities of a warming planet hurling once-in-a-generation storms at them every few weeks, they’d rather malign and threaten meteorologists, who, in their minds, are “nothing but a trained subversive liar programmed to spew stupid shit to support the global warming bullshit,” as one X user put it. It is a strategy designed to silence voices of reason, because those voices threaten to expose the cracks in their current worldview. But their efforts are doomed, futile. As one dispirited meteorologist wrote on X this week, “Murdering meteorologists won’t stop hurricanes.” She followed with: “I can’t believe I just had to type that.”

What is clear is that a new framework is needed to describe this fracturing. Misinformation is too technical, too freighted, and, after almost a decade of Trump, too political. Nor does it explain what is really happening, which is nothing less than a cultural assault on any person or institution that operates in reality. If you are a weatherperson, you’re a target. The same goes for journalists, election workers, scientists, doctors, and first responders. These jobs are different, but the thing they share is that they all must attend to and describe the world as it is. This makes them dangerous to people who cannot abide by the agonizing constraints of reality, as well as those who have financial and political interests in keeping up the charade.

In one sense, these attacks—and their increased desperation—make sense. The world feels dark; for many people, it’s tempting to meet that with a retreat into the delusion that they’ve got everything figured out, that the powers that be have conspired against them directly. But in turning away, they exacerbate a crisis that has characterized the Trump era, one that will reverberate to Election Day and beyond. Americans are divided not just by political beliefs but by whether they believe in a shared reality—or desire one at all.

[kitasgloves]

An Unhealthy Obsession

tracklist

— ♬ "Oh, you don't know it yet but baby I've already got your heart"

— ♬ stalker! Ranpo Edogawa x Reader, SFW, gender-neutral reader, depictions of stalking and obsessive behavior, 3.1k words, no beta

— ♬ NOTE: I DO NOT CONDONE NOR ROMANTISIZE WHAT IS DEPICTED IN THIS STORY. EVERYTHING IS A WORK OF FICTION. READER'S DESCRETION IS ADVISED.

At an earlier age, Edogawa Ranpo viewed the world differently. He had separate perceptions of circumstances and ideas, often leaving him feeling like he was being cast out of society. It was difficult to understand and accept that you were different. It took a while to get used to seeing the world through different lenses. Fortunately for him, Ranpo has found the right person that taught him that his completely different perspective of the world and his unique intelligence wasn't something that he should feel ashamed about.

To think that he might have contributed to the idea of forming the Armed Detective Agency fills him with pride. He does enjoy lazing around and reminding people that he was the best detective in the world. Though he does come across as childish with his insatiable hunger for sweets and snacks or the constant need for praise from the president, Fukuzawa Yukichi, the same person who taught him to embrace his uniqueness. Ranpo was aware of the reputation he has built around with solving cases that the police have difficulty in handling and his laidback attitude that he displayed even in the face of danger. However, he cared less in maintaining his image, all that mattered to him was he was the best.

Although, for being the oldest detective in the Agency, Ranpo had a lot to learn. Discarding the fact that he had lost his parents from a very young age, and he had to fend for himself alone without anybody to guide him, sometimes the detective finds himself unwilling to learn certain things. Like a child not wanting to try broccoli for the first time. He's content with his vast knowledge of certain things, and the fact that people in the Agency all depended on him to save the day kept his pride fed.

Now, Ranpo was used to arguing with people because of their dumb (for lack of a nicer term) ideas. He's convinced that he's constantly surrounded by morons. He's accustomed to have different views from people. To someone it could appear as blue, but to Ranpo it's green.  They might see a painting, but Ranpo notices the intricate details and patterns. They might view it as a story, but Ranpo sees it as the window to the author's soul.

The exact moment you entered the detective's life, everything seems to burst into color. Ranpo was overwhelmed with sensations as he was left flabbergasted by your existence. You were the new employee at the café downstairs from the Agency. He couldn't fathom it at first. There was nothing remarkable about you, for all he sees from the surface was a decent individual. But when he put his glasses on, he realizes you're something more.

You were naturally inviting. You had specific tastes and preferences that an average person might not have. You strive to treat people as equally as possible and stood firm in your beliefs. The detective found you refreshing. It was like he's trying a new flavor for the first time. From his first encounter with you, Ranpo was impressed that you took note of his favorites from the café's menu. What made him gravitate towards you was your unique jokes that he surprisingly hasn't heard before. It was as though you lived in a different world before you entered his.

As time progressed, Ranpo observed and absorbed anything and everything about you. What could be a normal smile from you to him it seemed like sun has gifted him precious warmth. What could only be laugh, to him it sounded like a choir of angels blessing his ears. What could be a lingering touch of your hand, to him it felt like a touch of heaven. It was evident that Ranpo views you differently from everybody else.

They call it creeping, he says loving, it's the only way for him. Filling out papers, signing waivers, but he stays outside your reach. He names your mother and your father and the first pet that you keep. He knows your favorite place to dine at when your cheque comes in each week. He knows you do your wash on Sundays, and you separate your whites. And that your car needs a new tire 'cause last week he laid those spikes. He's got a million polaroids with all the dates penned in red ink. He snuck a walkie-talkie in your room to listen to you sleep.

Ranpo is aware that his views and actions would always seem different to others, so he doesn't bother in explaining anymore. Let them stay oblivious. He knows you see the world differently from him, but that doesn't mean he adores you less.

You just don't know it yet, but you love him, and he loves you the same. One day you and him will have a pretty wedding, and he'll be your everything. You and he will be together, yes forever, and will never ever part. Oh, you don't know it yet, but Ranpo thinks he already got your heart.

That's how crushes work, right? Ranpo has seen it all in movies and books. He's aware that he's infatuated with you, and that's normal, right? To know so much about the person you're pining on. To be interested in their habits and behaviors. And to slowly make attempts to woo that person. 

You think Ranpo was eccentric but harmless. He can come across as blunt when you're sharing an opinion, but you know he doesn't mean any harm in expressing his honest view. You do perceive him as someone who holds so much knowledge and intelligence that it's hard to argue with him. Though, you can't help but feel Ranpo constantly plotting something.

It wasn't suspicious at first, when he slid a lollipop towards you randomly and didn't say a word. You initially thought he was being friendly. Then you gained an idea that he wanted to be friends with you when he would approach you in places outside of work, convinced that it was pure coincidence. But then, a weird feeling started rising in your belly when Ranpo would display his knowledge about you during conversations. You are aware that he's like all-knowing or a genius, but how does he know so much about you?

Ranpo insisted on accompanying you to the mall to shop for new furniture for your house. You were looking for a new bed frame was complaining to him about getting that stupid flat tire when a bunch of stupid spikes was weirdly laid across your driveway. You're contemplating whether to get a queen-sized or a king-sized bed. You turned to Ranpo and asked for his opinion.

"Queen-sized bed, your room is too small for a king-sized bed"

He expresses with a lollipop in his mouth. You nodded in agreement. A king-sized bed would be too large for your room...wait, how does Ranpo know about that? You gulped and sent a cautious look from the corner of your eye towards the detective. You haven't invited Ranpo over to your place before, you're positive of it. You turned to him reluctantly.

"...How do you know that a king-sized bed is too big for my room?"

"Ultra Deduction"

The detective replies casually. Of course, he would say that. You heard from his co-workers that Ranpo possessed this powerful 'ability' called Ultra Deduction that would solve anything less than a minute. You doubted it at first, but you believed it later after the proof of all the cases he solved. You're getting suspicious about that 'ability' of his because he seems to know so much about you that it's uncanny.

The detective is aware of how distant you were growing from him the following days. You seem to avoid all form of conversation from him. He tried to get your attention once at work by throwing a tantrum and you only sent him a frown and glare. He couldn't figure it out. Did he do something wrong? Or rather...oh, it has to be it. You're getting suspicious of him. He should've known to keep certain things to himself. But Ranpo lacked self-control during moments with you.

To think that he could ask you hold your hand, feeds his urge to squeeze himself further into your life. To imagine the possibility of the one holding you close and the one you would be spending the rest of your life with, makes Ranpo giddy. All these emotions were so new yet so inviting and you were the sole source of it. Though he does admit that he needs a little bit of guidance to understand these feelings more.

"Did you need something from me, Ranpo?"

Fukuzawa raised a brow at the detective. Ranpo closed the door and timidly walked towards the president. He sat at one of the chairs and leaned close to the man. It gave the impression that he was about to tell him something important and confidential.

"President...have you ever had a crush on someone before?"

The President blinked once, and twice, before sighing. And here he thought Ranpo was going to talk about a case. Fukuzawa leaned back on his chair and relaxed his posture.

"I suppose so, when I was younger. I think everyone does, it's natural"

"Yeah, but how do you deal with having a crush on someone?"

Ranpo presses. Now, Fukuzawa was curious. He does think Ranpo is referring to himself and he had to hold back a smile at the idea of the greatest detective having trouble with having a crush. The President admits that he has rare experiences of this and based on the common knowledge he has about romance, he told Ranpo is that you either tell the person you like them or keep it to yourself. To the detective's dismay, Fukuzawa's answer doesn't seem to provide him with the answer he's looking for. So, he pouts childishly and leaves the office.

Confess or keep it to himself? Bah! What nonsense! He's not a schoolboy for goodness' sake! Surely, people deal with having crushes in their own unique way, and as Fukuzawa said, it was normal. People show love in various ways. Sending love letters might seem old-fashioned to some, but others might view it as genuine. Serenading someone in a public place might seem too much, but there will be people who would see it was romantic. And Ranpo could agree with a small demographic of people, but he thinks a lot of them won't agree with him.

Some call it stalking, he says walking just extremely close behind. He's sure if he sat down and asked you, well, you really wouldn't mind. You've got those eyes that drive him crazy. And he's got eyes to watch you sleep. He brought a pack lunch and some coffee for his stakeout in your tree, outside your house. Gotta be as quiet as a mouse, or else you'll call the police. And he'll get done for something stupid like disturbance of the peace. And piece by piece, he is collecting all the things you leave behind. And when you don't, he rummages through your bins to see what he can find.

You just don't know it yet, but you love him, and he loves you the same. One day you and him will have a pretty wedding, and he'll be your everything. You and he will be together, yes forever, and will never ever part. Oh, you don't know it yet, but Ranpo thinks he already got your heart.

Ranpo is convinced he's being romantic in his own special way. He's used to behaving differently from others, but he knows what he does doesn't come from a place of maliciousness. Through the items he snatched from your house complied into a collection, Ranpo expresses his yearning for you. The sight of your sleeping face that he watches outside your window makes his heart palpitate intensely in ways he couldn't comprehend. All his scheming just to get close to you without forcing himself in, stemmed from his uncontrollable infatuation. Ranpo just couldn't see an outcome where he won't end up with you, he has to end up with you, one way or another.

You felt restless. You kept waking up during the middle of the night in cold sweat and with the feeling of being watched. But no matter how many times you searched around your home, everything seemed to convince you that nothing was wrong. You could've sworn things were going missing around your house. Most of your clothes, used products, and even leftover snacks kept disappearing almost in a daily. As much as you want to sigh and trace it down to your fatigue lately, but you know you're not seeing things. All you need is proof of your suspicions. 

You decided to stay up at night and wait if someone was creeping within your home. Your paranoia seems to increase whenever you would hear sounds outside only to find out it was either the wind or some sort of stray animal. You were searching in every corner of your house, making sure you wouldn't miss a spot, hoping you'd find something out of the ordinary. You began to feel hopeless and exhausted at three in the morning. You ultimately gave in and decided to give everything a rest. Maybe you were unwell or getting sick?

But when you were about to collapse on your bed, you notice something carefully wedged between your books in your bookshelf. You could've passed it off as trick of the eye if you didn't go near to inspect it. Your heartrate went faster as you went closer before it comes to a screeching halt when you realized what it was. 

It was a small walkie-talkie. Somebody has fucking snuck into your room and hid a walkie-talkie in your bookshelf! Your body went cold as you gazed at the radio in your hands. This was the proof that you needed. You knew it! You weren't fucking crazy! You began to fall into delirious fits of laughter. But you were abruptly cut off by the static coming from the walkie-talkie. You yelped and dropped the radio on the floor. You clasped your hand against your mouth and gazed at it unblinkingly. The static lasted for almost a minute until you could hear soft sounds coming from it. You took a cautious step closer; the sound of your pounding heart rang in your ears.

With quivering hands, you went to pick up the walkie-talkie and pressed a button. Sweat dripped down from your brow as you swallowed.

"...Hello?"

"[Name]"

You know that voice. You've heard it call and whine for you countless of times at work. The fact that you know who it was and the fact he could have been the one who was stalking you the entire time, sent a chill down your spine. Your mouth went dry as you were unable to utter a reply.

"I know you can hear me, [Name]"

Ranpo's voice spoke from the other line of the walkie-talkie. You stood rooted on your spot, unblinking and having difficulty with processing the horror of the situation. Your mouth starts to shake as you try to respond.

"R—Ranpo?"

"You've found my little walkie talkie sooner than I anticipated"

The detective's tone sounded giddy that it made you clench your fist. It seemed to you that he wasn't comprehending the gravity of the situation and how fucked up it actually was. You should've known that something wasn't normal about Ranpo. You gritted your teeth and pressed your lips against the walkie-talkie.

"Were you the one stalking me?!"

"I'm not stalking you"

"Yes, you are! What you're doing is fucking stalking me!"

"I don't get why you're shouting at me"

You squeezed your temples. It's baffling how an intelligent man such as Ranpo didn't know what stalking meant. You gripped the radio in your hand.

"Listen here, what you're doing is fucked up. I could have you arrested for breaking and entering my home and stealing my stuff"

"You wouldn't do that"

The detective giggled from the other line. You were about to shout at him when you heard glass shattering from the downstairs of your home. You silently gasped as you raced to shut and lock your bedroom door. Your thoughts begin to race as you turned to the radio.

"Ranpo, was that you?"

There was no answer from the other line. Suddenly, the power gets cut out and you were shrouded in the dark. Panic settles in as you frantically went to hide in your closet. You could hear footsteps walking up the stairs as Ranpo chuckles in the other line.

"I know you're hiding in your room, right now"

He speaks. Tears begin to well up in your eyes, you mentally cursed yourself for leaving your phone charging with a dead battery in your nightstand. You let out a choked gasp when there was pounding in your bedroom door.

"Please open the door, [Name]"

Ranpo pleads through the walkie-talkie, but you don't respond since you were consumed with fear. You held back a scream behind your hands when your door gets kicked down violently. Eerie silence followed after.

"Oh, [Name]"

The detective cooed your name, your heard it both in the walkie-talkie and outside your closet. You were beyond petrified as you hear careful footsteps slowly approaching you. God, you felt so fucking stupid for trusting this man and letting him into your life. Ranpo clicks his tongue.

"You just don't know it yet, but you love me, and I love you the same"

He began as he tortured you with his deliberate footsteps towards your closet. Your body froze all over.

"One day we'll have a pretty wedding, and I'll be your everything"

Ranpo continued and he was three steps away from you. But you were silently sobbing uncontrollably, unable to process what he was saying.

"We'll be together, yes forever, we will never ever part"

Finally, he stops in front of your closet. Your breath stops but your heartbeat doesn't slow down. There was a deep chuckle from the outside the closet and on the other line of the walkie-talkie.

"Oh, you don't know it yet but baby I've already got your heart"

The closet door swings open, and it felt as though your soul was forcefully taken out of your body from the sheer terror you felt. Ranpo was smiling crookedly down at you with his emerald eyes shining in the dark. He was dressed in all black with the walkie-talkie in one hand. He smiles down at your shaking figure, gazing at the endless tears streaming down your eyes. He imagined that same look but with you at the altar, waiting to take his last name. Ranpo knows his unhealthy obsession has gotten out of hand, but there was no way he was letting you go. Whether you liked it or not.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[a-heart-attack-ow]

The Arrangement. Part One

1: 

Dust hung in the air. 

Flecks frozen in time as my breathing hitches. 

I never meant to be here. 

For things to get this far. 

The truth was, I’d done everything I could to protect my father. He’d made a lifetime of mistakes and gambled away other people’s money and fell into all the wrong crowds until, one day, he fucked over the worst family in Las Vegas. A family from old money, a family as close to royalty as they could get. The family didn’t lose much money because of my father, but even a dollar was too much for the Brock family empire. The same family that was out for blood the moment they learned their employee betrayed them. 

I was there the night they sent someone to break into my house. I’d come home earlier than normal as my night class had been canceled. I’d pulled into the driveway after getting home from University and heard the yelling the moment I stepped out of the car. I was there when I ran into the house, and found my father in the living room on his knees with a man holding a gun to his head. And it had been me who begged them to not hurt my father. I’d sworn to give them anything they wanted to spare him, but I never imagined they’d want this. 

I never imagined they’d want me standing in a wedding dress in the bedroom of the family’s only biological son. The man I’d married only three hours before. I could cry remembering how I’d gotten here. How I ended up with the 10 carat diamond black engagement ring and a wedding band with five carat diamonds embedded into the band. The ring was heavy and served as a constant reminder of who I now belonged to. A reminder of what would happen to my father if I did anything to ruin this arrangement. 

The Brock family was untouchable. They had more money than they would ever need and a massive pharmaceutical company behind them. Mr. Brock was also the CEO of 20 major hospitals in Las Vegas. On the surface they seemed nice enough, but there was something sinister that everyone who knew them couldn’t place. They’d been involved in countless scandals and always managed to avoid any of the legal trouble that had come their way. They’d been viewed as a family of kindness, faith, and pure opportunities, but when their son got into his teenage years that had changed. The Brock family’s only son had a constant place on the cover of tabloid magazines. Even now, at the age of 25 he was still constantly on the cover of the tabloids. 

The senior members of the family knew they had to do something to clean up his image. Something to switch the party boy behavior into something that reflected the family values their company preached. But I doubt anyone would’ve guessed that this was their plan for their son. 

To force him into an arranged marriage to save their reputation. 

Colby Brock…

…is my husband. 

I feel a chill move up my spine at the thought. To spare my father from murder, I had to marry the heir of the people who’d wanted him dead. The masked man had laughed in my face when I told him I would give him anything he wanted if he didn’t hurt my father. 

“I know just what I am going to do with you.”

He’d chuckled darkly, his blue eyes shining behind the black ski mask he’d been wearing. Nothing could’ve prepared me for this. I close my eyes at the thought, tears threatening to spill over. Suddenly, my wedding dress feels very hot and I need to get out of it. I reach around to the side of my dress to find the zipper of my strapless dress. The gown itself was made of the finest silk money could buy (or at least that’s why the stylist had told me), but I couldn’t bear to be in it a second longer. I shimmy out of the dress, the fabric lightly landing onto the ground. My long black hair hangs in my face as I make sure my feet can safely step out of the fabric without catching on the fabric. I make sure to slip off the high heels I’d been wearing and keep them in the pool of fabric on the floor. My bare feet find the heated wooden floors and I feel a sense of calm move over me now that the dress is off of my body. I don’t even care that I’m standing in the middle of the bedroom with only my bra and underwear on. I just care that I’m no longer in that dress. I brush the long black curls of my hair out of my face and breathe a deep sigh. For a moment I don’t feel the anxiety I’d been feeling for days, but then I hear a voice behind me that brings me back to reality in an instance. 

“Now this is a view I could get used to.” 

His voice causes me to freeze. I’d only heard that voice for the first time today. When he read off his scripted vows. I turn to face him slowly, my green eyes finding his pale blue gaze in the dark. I had been in such a rush to leave the wedding reception that I didn’t properly take in my surroundings. I knew I was standing in a bedroom, but now that I was looking at Colby, standing in the middle of a grand room, I realized how much luxury engulfed me in this moment. He is standing in the middle of his bedroom, his tux jacket hanging over his right arm and his button up shirt undone. He looks like he had fun at the reception and like he didn’t mind that I’d snuck out as quickly as I could. 

“I am sorry…”

I start faintly, a smirk spreading to his lips.

“... I should’ve gone somewhere private to change.” 

My voice sounds so small when I speak. I don’t know the man in front of me and a part of me is terrified about what will happen next. He takes two steps to the right, dropping his tuxedo jacket onto the loveseat next to his desk. The smirk never leaves his face when he does this, not even when he looks back at me. His eyes scan my body in appreciation, his approval evident in the way his eyes light up the longer he stares. 

“Well, my darling wife, what’s mine is yours. You can change wherever you like. Afterall, this is our bedroom. This is your new home, all 10,000 acres.” 

Amusement moves across his face as I study him. His words echo in my mind, I’d married into a wealthy family and now I was stuck in the middle of a large estate. I’d grown up on food stamps and in low-income housing. I didn’t even know how to exist in a place like this. He notices the way I am studying him and he chuckles. He’d been here before, in a position with a woman who was intimidated by the sheer scope of him and his lifestyle. 

“You did a good job today…”

He rasps. 

“...Wore the dress my mom picked out. Let Kris do your hair and makeup, and posed exactly as you’d been told to.  It’s like my parents picked you out of a catalog or something…”

He pauses once more, moving to sit on the edge of his loveseat. I can’t read him or what he’s thinking but I see the slightest look of frustration entering his eyes as he continues to speak. 

“...Your name is Emilia Chandler and you’ve received all A’s your whole life, got into college early and now, at 24 you’re already working on your Ph.D. in higher education. You spend weekends at local soup kitchens, help donate to children’s cancer organizations, and donate to charities that support domestic violence survivors. You’re like an American Princess Diana, but I’m not a prince Emilia and I have no intention of treating you like a princess.” 

His words fall from his lips quickly and they’re unforgiving as he gives me a moment to process what he’s just said to me. His eyes aren’t kind, but there’s an amusement in his eyes as he studies me. I hadn’t realized he’d been studying up on who I am. 

“I’m sorry if I offended you or something.”

I whisper, my eyes moving from his to the floor. He chuckles darkly at my words, his body leaning back into the fabric of the loveseat. 

“Darling, I’m not offended. You do what you’re told and we can get through this without any problems. You fuck me when asked, pop out a few kids, and pretend to be happy when we are at events or in photographs. But make no mistake, what we are is an arrangement made by people who know that a girl like you is sweet enough to make me digestible to the public.” 

No one had ever spoken to me like he was at this very moment. The rudeness and the entitlement laced into how he spoke made my blood boil but I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words hurt. I knew he wasn’t happy about the situation, because who would be happy about being forced to marry a person to save the reputation of your family. Who would want this? I know that I didn’t. 

“Come here…” 

He demands from the loveseat. I feel his eyes on me, willing me to move to him. Out of compliance I do as he’s asked and move to stand in front of him, my footsteps light along the hardwood. The same smirk he’d worn before has found itself back on his face as our gazes lock once more. I don’t know when he’s taken off his undershirt but he has and now his shirtless body is on full display. I note the tattoos and his extremely toned body before moving my eyes back to his. Without asking, his hands are on either side of my hips, pulling my body down to straddle his. 

“Sam was right when he told me you were a looker. That’s all I could think when you were walking down the aisle. It makes this arranged marriage thing worth it, knowing I, at least have an attractive girl to fuck.”

The lack of kindness he’d had before, remains evident in his biting comments. He was vile, hot as hell, but vile. 

“Sam?”

I ask as the hands that had been on my hips snake their way up my body. He pulls my waist in against his torso, our skin on skin in seconds. He chuckles at how my breathing hitches as he arranges how he wants my body to straddle his. He guides his fingertips to  reach around to undo my strapless bra. “Yes, Sam. He was my best man at the wedding.” 

With my chest now fully exposed to him, he groans. There’s a moment where I lock my eyes with his, a moment where I decide that I could just get this initial moment over with faster if I initiated something. I could feel his tension in the air around us both. He didn’t like being forced to marry, but he was going to take his situation and have fun with it. I think back to his comment about having children and feel relief at the fact that I still had my IUD. If his parents wanted grandchildren to keep the family line going, they wouldn’t be getting them anytime soon. 

The longer we look at each other I feel the tension building between us. Both of us were almost anticipating what the other was going to do. I could feel myself growing more restless the longer we looked at one-another, so I broke the tension and placed my lips against his. If he was going to make the best of this arrangement by using me then why couldn’t I do the same? My lips move slowly against his and he meets mine with equal pacing. He holds his body against mine the moment I deepen the kiss and suddenly he seems to need me like he’s been starved of physical touch his whole life. The longer we kiss the more I can’t seem to think straight. All I can think about is how I feel in the moment, how he feels against me. His skin is soft against my chest, comforting inviting all at once. Kissing him was far more pleasant than hearing him speak to me. There was a false sense of tenderness to him that had been lacking before. 

I feel his hands move to my chest, giving my breast a firm squeeze. The touch feels so good that I break the kiss and moan into the crook of his neck, unable to meet his gaze. I didn’t want to see the look of satisfaction on his face as I reacted like putty in his hands. He was molding me into what he wanted and I was shamelessly letting him. A dark chuckle passes his lips as he uses his right hand to stroke my breast, his thumb lightly tracing over my hardening nipple. His left hand moves down my torso slowly until he reaches my soaked underwear. 

“Is this all for me my darling?”

He groans into my neck, as he moves his fingertips to slide my underwear to one side. He wastes no time pumping two fingers into my aching core, the quick pace of his fingers is harsh but it feels so good. I allow a shaky breath to escape me as I breathe into his neck. I was going to cum if he kept up this pace and he knew it. 

“Such a good little wife you are…”

He groans when I dare to kiss his collar bone. He was magnetic and for whatever reason I felt this connection to him. It was purely sexual, but I enjoyed the way it made me feel. Feeling me get closer to the edge, he removes his fingers from my core, the loss making me feel empty. He pulls my hair and forces me to look at him. 

“...From this day forward you are mine…”

He practically growls the words at me, his jaw clenched as he studies me. I can’t speak when he says this, but I manage a small nod before he continues. 

“... You will never be anyone else’s.” 

Our eyes remain locked as he moves his hands to unbuckle his pants, lifting his body up enough to slide them down. He takes his boxers off at the same time as his dress pants and exposes himself to me. Completely unapologetically he smirks when I glance down at his hardened member. He’s bigger than anyone else I’ve ever had before, but I can’t help but want him inside of me as soon as possible. He wastes no time with my underwear, but instead of sliding them off he rips them off of my body. 

I’m not shocked by the aggressiveness nor am I shocked by the way that he moves his lips to mine in pure hunger. He knew what he wanted from me and he wasn’t afraid to take it. The kiss was frenzied and demanding as he deepened it, his tongue meeting mine. While he distracts my lips, his hands move my body against his, brushing his hardened cock against my slick core. He is setting my body to align with his and I brace myself to be impaled by him. I brace myself for the feeling of complete desire to overtake us both. 

He aligns himself with me with one quick thrust. A deep penetrating thrust that felt like utter perfection. My lips part as he thrusts again and again into me with quiet demand. A moan escapes my lips as he holds my body into place, his thrusts deeper and deeper. “I want to hear you say it…”

He groans into my lips. His pace was faster than it had been before. I feel like my head is spinning as he does this and I’m unsure of how I can respond to whatever he wants me to say. I didn’t think I could even form a coherent sentence. 

“...Say you’re mine and no one else’s. Say it and I might let you cum.”

There’s a veiled threat in his words, a smugness about him that told me he could feel how close I was to coming undone around his cock. A threat that told me I better verbally comply or I wouldn’t be able to release the pent up pleasure I felt. I could feel how close he was and I could tell that he needed to hear me say it, his ego would accept nothing less. 

“I am yours…”

I whimper as he thrusts into me so fast that I can hardly focus.

“... I am yours and no one else’s.”

The words fall from my lips mere seconds before he cums inside of me, his lips connecting with mine once more. He groans as his cock twitches inside of me. 

“Cum for me sweetheart.”

He rasps, giving me permission to let go. My body wastes no time responding to what he’s finally allowed me to do and it feels so good. 

Afterwards we sit on the loveseat, our chests rising and falling rapidly. We both strive to catch our breath, sitting in the silence of his room. It’s only when he guides my face to look up to his once more that he speaks one final time for the night. 

“Emilia Brock, we are going to have so much fucking fun together.”

*I have other parts in mind, please let me know if you would like to read more.*

[iamnotoriginalphil]

The Heat of the Moment (Kate Stewart x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Both you and Kate inhale something you probably shouldn't have

Words: 5.1k

Warnings: smut, sex pollen, fingering, oral, voyeurism kinda, boss/employee relationship, dom/sub undertones, praise kink, swearing

AN: Turns out I can't get enough of Kate so have another one

The bulb was pulsing. When you’d gotten the call about a greenhouse full of alien plants you’d been excited. Xenobiology was your jam. Now you were watching something slightly purple, slightly red, pulse like a heartbeat. 

“They are all plants, right?” you called to one of the other scientists.

“As far as we can tell. We haven’t seen anything that doesn’t seem to be. Why?” he called back.

“This one is… I think it’s about to release something,” you replied, staring at it.

A lithe body slid into your peripheral vision. Blonde hair and willowy frame, you knew who it was without looking. You kept your stare on the bulb, intent as you waited to see what would emerge. 

“Do we know what’s caused this?” Kate asked.

“Maybe just enough time has passed,” you said.

The pulsing had grown faster, a hummingbird heartbeat. You lent towards it, Kate doing the same, shoulder to shoulder with you. Peering down at it, you felt a sense of anticipation.

You held your breath, waiting with an impatience you had grown used to. Kate froze beside you.

The bulb opened, petals spreading, and a waft of pollen was spat into your face. Coughing, you stumbled back, hands coming up to wipe the dust away from your skin. You could hear Kate coughing too, just close enough that she was still in your periphery. 

“Ma’am, are you okay?” one of the soldiers asked, stepping forward.

She held up a hand, straightening up, bright yellow pollen clinging to her eyelashes. With your sleeve, you wiped at your face, doing your best to clear your airways. 

“What was that?” you asked.

“Take a sample, bring it back to the lab,” Kate was saying to one of the scientists. 

“Ma’am?” 

One of the newer scientists was standing in front of you, a swab in hand. You blinked the pollen out of your eyes and offered your face to her. She was gentle, before handing you a wet wipe to get the rest off. You shook your head, flinging it into one of the containment bins before you followed Kate back outside.

“I know I like plants but I don’t really want them in me,” you said, shooting her a smile to indicate you were joking. 

Her eyes widened and a flush seemed to paint her cheeks before she coughed and looked away from you. Something about that had you licking your lips. You shook your head again, not willing to unpack that right now.

“Get these organisms back to the lab and interview those people. We need to know what was going on here,” Kate was saying with command dripping from every word.

A flush of warmth went through your body. You fanned at your skin, looking up to see if the sun had come out. Grey clouds met you and you figured it was nothing more than a flash of warmth over your skin.

Bundling into the back of the SUV, you sat beside Kate as the car pulled away from the site to return to the office. You pulled the scarf from around your throat, baring it to the air, hoping for some breeze against your skin. You took a deep breath, looking out the window at the world passing by.

“You okay?” Kate asked, voice gravelly, like stones being dragged against your skin. You shivered, shifting in your seat.

“Just a bit hot,” you replied, darting a glance over to her.

She was looking at you, eyes dark and you found your heart stuttering. When her gaze dragged over you, lingering on your neck, your breath caught. Your skin flushed, warmth moving through you, not making it any better. 

You found your own gaze dipping down to the expanse of skin on view from where she’d undone the first few buttons of her shirt. A tantalising shadow of cleavage held your attention. Your mouth began to water, an image of sinking your teeth into soft skin running through your mind. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d had such thoughts. How could it be in the face of Kate Stewart? She was the enigmatic temptation that only existed in fantasy. In control, beautiful, and whip smart. You’d gotten off to the thought of her plenty of times, in part because of how untouchable she was. The fantasy of having the forbidden fruit was one you were familiar with.

Who hasn’t fantasised about their fit boss before?

The way she was looking at you, cheeks flushing, lips parted, eyes molten, you were having a hard time remembering why it would be such a bad idea to lean over and kiss her. Why it would be a bad idea to slide your hand towards her and find her skin beneath your fingertips. Why it would be a bad idea to pull her body into yours until she was moaning in your ear.

“Can we have some air back here?” she called to the driver, still looking at you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Cool air washed over you, practically sizzling where it met your skin. You inhaled deeply, only then realising the air was thick with Kate’s perfume. Your head spun. Pressing your cheek to the glass of the window, you let out a soft sound at how cool it was against your burning skin, the relief instant. The strangled noise that came from the woman beside you only lit the fire again. 

The car pulled to a stop outside headquarters and you tumbled from the car, desperate for a breath of fresh air. Something not invaded by Kate. Something new and clean that wouldn’t make your head spin and need throb between your legs. You’d been drowning in her in that enclosed space and now you were having a hard time dealing with the after effects.

She strode in front of you, leading the way into the building. Your gaze dropped down to the way her slacks clung to the curves of her arse, hips swaying with each step. Your mouth grew dry, thoughts spiralling out from the moment. Images of grasping those hips, of behind her over, of your hand sliding over her skin until she was a quivering mess. 

You wanted to make her cum over and over again. 

“Ma’am.” One of the attendants from the medical unit fell into step with her, “we need to take you both in for assessment.”

“What for?” she asked.

“You inhaled an alien substance. It’s policy that we have to assess the potential impact,” she replied.

“We’re fine,” she snapped.

But when her eyes darted over to you, her eyes were blown wide and her cheeks were painted in a flush. Her tongue dragged over her lower lip and you followed it, wanting to taste it. Her breathing had grown shallow, your own following suit as you zeroed in on her. All you wanted to do was pin her against the closest surface and indulge in her.

“It’s standard procedure, ma’am,” the attendant said.

“Fine,” she ground out.

She stormed towards the lift, fingers clenching at her side. Standing at her shoulder, your eyes slid along the column of her throat. You wanted to lean forward, press your lips to her pulse point, taste her skin. Her head turned, just an inch and you thought maybe she’d heard the way your breathing had changed. Trapped in such a small space with her was turning your brain to slush. 

“Here you are, ma’am,” the attendant said, holding the door open to one of the examination rooms, “a doctor will be with you in a minute.”

The door was heavy as it closed the two of you in the small examination room. You sunk onto the thin mattress, watching Kate pace from one end of the room to the other like a caged lion. Every now and then her eyes would flick to you and her jaw would clench. Your fingers were twisting together and that throbbing need between your legs wasn’t going away. You pressed them together, trying not to focus on her long legs or the gap in her shirt. 

“This is ridiculous,” she ground out, “we’re fine.”

“Uh huh,” you agreed.

She paused, turning on her heels to look at you. You found yourself arching your back, pushing your chest out. Her eyes dipped down and her tongue dragged over her lower lip again. Your lips parted, looking at her from under lowered lashes. She took one of those steps towards you, the kind she took when facing up against an alien threat, like she was going to take exactly what she wanted from you. 

You wanted her to take it.

The door opened, a rush of cool air sweeping between you. You slumped back down as Kate turned away from you, the tension in the air easing. A man in a white lab coat entered, looking down at a tablet in his hands.

“These are some very interesting readings,” he said.

“You haven’t taken any readings yet,” Kate said.

“This room has scanners built into the wall. The technology came from that spaceship that was brought in last month,” he said, not even looking up from the tablet, “your temperatures are quite high and your levels of testosterone are growing with increased amygdala function. Along with the physical symptoms that are visible, it appears as if you’re both in a heightened state of sexual arousal.” 

The breath fled your lungs and when you looked at Kate she was refusing to look anyone in the eyes. Of course you knew you were uncomfortably horney for being in the workplace but you figured Kate was as in control as she always was. You’d never seen her so much as sweat. There was no way she was… was… 

You hoped she was. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kate said, brooking no arguments.

“I’m sorry ma’am but the readings don’t lie. It looks as if the pollen you inhaled has resulted in sexual arousal. We’re unsure what other symptoms may occur and so we want to keep you here under observation,” he said, finally looking up at the two of them. 

“I don’t have time for this,” she said.

“When it comes to medical situations, I can override your command, ma’am. We need to keep the two of you for observation,” he said, “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

The door slammed behind him before Kate could get another word out. She was slow as she turned to look at you, incredulous and annoyed. You were slow to stand.

“We’re fine. Everyone feels a bit… It's normal. They’re overblowing this whole situation,” she said.

“Kate,” you said.

Your fingers brushed the back of her hand and it was like you were struck by lightning. Your breath caught and she froze. When your lips caught your lower lip her eyes darted down to it, darkening.

“Stop it,” she ground out, jerking away from you. 

“We just wait it out,” you said, “it’ll go away. We’ll calm down and it will be like nothing happened.”

“Yes, exactly. If we just wait, they’ll let us out.”

You took your seat again, knee bobbing as you tried to stop looking at her. But it was so hard and she was so beautiful. And all you could think about was undressing her like a present and making her moan your name.

Each second felt like it was stretching on, taking an entire hour between heartbeats. She was pacing again and you were so in tune with every single movement. And your skin was so hot. You shucked off your coat, trying to get some air. Kate’s eyes darted over to you, freezing when she saw you less dressed than before. 

The way she said your name, half admonishment, half moan, sent a jolt of pleasure between your thighs. You took a shuddering breath. She stalked towards you, a glint of anger in her eyes. It was surprising how much you liked it.

“We’re not doing this,” she growled.

“Doing what?” you asked, tilting your chin up as stared at her.

Her fingertips lingered at your jaw, close enough that you could feel the ghost of them touching your skin. Your lips parted and your eyelashes fluttered. She made a soft sound, almost pained. 

“Kate,” you sighed.

“Don’t do that,” she groaned.

“I’m not doing anything,” you replied.

“You are and you know exactly what it’s doing to me,” she said.

“Then do something about it,” you said, taunting her, practically daring her. 

Her eyes flashed with something. Her hand grasped your chin, tight enough that you couldn’t pull away. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip again, watching her lean forward, lips pursing.

“We’re not,” she managed to grind out, “doing this.”

“Aren’t we?” you asked.

“No,” she told you.

“But I want to,” you said, almost a whine, “Kate, I really want to.”

“I know you do, sweetheart,” she murmured, and you felt your heart stutter.

She let you go and stepped back. You whimpered and she squeezed her eyes closed, as if fighting back against the urge to give in. Reaching out, you caught her hand, tugging her closer to you again. 

Your name was a warning on her lips and a thrill of excitement went through you. Her eyes darkened when you lent forward, right into her personal space, your lips brushing over the pulse point in her wrist. Her breath caught and you looked up at her from under your lashes. 

“I said we’re not doing this,” she said.

“You did,” you replied, “but I always get what I want. And what I want is you, Kate Stewart.”

You saw the moment something in her snapped. Both hands cupped your cheeks as she climbed into your lap, knees falling either side of your hips. She dragged you forward, lips crashing into yours. It was sweet relief against the burning desire in your veins. She moaned into your mouth as you dragged your hands up her legs, sliding them around her hips to grasp her arse and tug her closer. 

Her fingers slipped into your hair, tugging on it as she tipped your head back. Her tongue was in your mouth, hips already trying to grind against you. The noises she was making only made you want to know every single sound she could make. 

You shoved her coat from her shoulders, wanting to get under all those layers she was always in. You wanted to get to her skin. You wanted to touch every inch of her.

“This is such a bad idea,” she murmured against your mouth.

“I don’t care,” you replied, trailing kisses down to her throat, finally giving in to the temptation you’d been fighting for what felt like hours. 

Her head fell back, giving you more room as your teeth grazed her skin. The throaty moan only spurred you on. Running your tongue along her skin, her taste made you groan. You pressed closer, wanting to bury yourself in her. Right there, her scent was overwhelming, making you desperate for her. 

Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, determined to get to her skin. She knocked your hands away, ripping the shirt from her body, leaving you able to explore to your heart's content. Her bra didn’t last much longer, exposing her to your gaze. You took a moment to drink her in. Half naked and in your lap, you’d never seen something more beautiful. 

“Touch me,” she commanded and who were you to deny her anything?

Fingertips trailed up her skin, over her rib cage until you had each breast cupped in your hands. She arched into your touch as your thumbs brushed over her nipples. The groan from her only spurred you on. Leaning forward, you caught one hardened bud between lips. Her fingers were back in your hair, pressing you to her, keeping you in place as her hips began to rock again. 

You could spend hours just on her breasts, worshipping them, giving in to every single thought you’d ever spared on them. Without a bit of patience, she tugged you up, nipping at your lower lip. You licked into her mouth, tasting her as deeply as you could. She was everything, the only thing you wanted to spend your time on. Nothing else mattered more than getting her naked and making her moan your name.

The curse that tumbled from her lips as you rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger was addictive. You wanted more of it. To drown in it. To dedicate your life to it. 

“I want to taste you,” you groaned.

Her hands had found their way under your shirt, grasping you, touching you, driving you wild. 

“Take this off,” she demanded. 

Letting her go, you pulled the shirt over your head. She lent back, eyes trailing over your body. Reaching behind you, you unclasped your bra, throwing it aside. The way she was looking at you, the hunger in her eyes, unrestrained and out of control, it had you whimpering.

“Kate,” you whined.

“So beautiful,” she murmured, fingers trailing over your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake.

You lifted her, rolling to drop her on the mattress. Climbing up her body, you hovered above her, looking down at her. Lips finding their home on her neck again, you sucked until she made that little whine noise again, in the back of her throat, loud in the otherwise silent room. 

Trailing your mouth down, you took your time tasting her skin. With sure fingers, you unbuttoned her pants, not wanting to tease, just wanting your mouth on her. Pulling them down her long legs, you found her watching you. You slide your arms back up her legs, pressing open mouth kisses to her inner thighs. 

“Can I?” you asked, dragging your eyes up her body.

“If you don’t I’ll consider court marshalling you,” she replied. 

You dragged her knickers down her legs again before pausing for a moment. She was glistening, beautiful, dripping for you. Fingers buried in your hair, pressing you to her. Your tongue swiped through her folds. Her hips stuttered up into your mouth. Your hands slid up her legs, parting them further, spreading them to press closer. 

You feasted on her, drinking in every sound she made. The way she begged you was everything to you. It was heady having the boss splayed out beneath you, desperate for you, begging, at your mercy, and loving every moment of it.

Her fingers tightened in your hair, grinding against your face as you sucked on her clit. Your name sounded delicious when she moaned it, praising you as you gave her everything you had. If you had longer, you’d take your time, exploring every point of pleasure on her body. You’d take her apart and put her back together again. You’d get drunk on her and never grow tired of doing this with her. 

When she came, her fingers tightened painfully in your hair and your name was a long groan, the sweetest sound you’d ever heard. You lapped at her, easing her through it, wondering if she’d let you give her another orgasm. It would be your privilege. 

“Come here,” she demanded as her muscles relaxed. 

She tugged you up her body, kissing you deeply, tasting herself on your tongue. Her hands were sliding over your skin, leaving fire in their wake. Her leg pressed up, right where you wanted her, the throbbing need heightened. The strangled whine muffled against her lips only seemed to amuse her. The chuckle reverberated through your body. 

“Kate,” you whined, “please.”

“Alright, sweetheart. You’ve earned it,” she said.

Her hands shoved your trousers over your hips, throwing them aside. One long finger swirled through your wetness, gathering it before she began to slowly circle your clit. You hissed, head falling forward, pressing your forehead against her shoulder. Your hips rocked forward, trying to find more friction. 

Her other hand tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. Her finger pressed to your entrance and you whined again. Maybe she enjoyed your desperation as much as you’d enjoyed hers. The way she was looking at you, hooded eyes and smirk, suggested she did.

You rose, staring down at her as her finger pressed into you. Your breath caught, stuttering in your chest. Hips grinding down, you found her palm against your bundle of nerves. She was watching you like you were the greatest show on the planet, intent, making sure she didn’t miss a moment. 

The fire in your veins was growing. You were breathless and chasing your high. Another finger pressed into you, curling, reaching that spot that had you losing your mind. Your hips pressed down harder, head tilting back as your eyes closed, revelling in the feeling. She was so slow, almost tortuous. You felt like you would die if she didn’t speed up.

“Please,” you groaned, “Kate, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” she said.

You began riding her hand in earnest, uncaring that she could see how desperate you were. She was watching you, still flushed, looking like she wanted to devour you. You would let her. You’d give her anything if she kept making you feel that good. 

The wave broke over you, muscles tensing as you clenched around her fingers. She soothed you through it, thumb on your clit, stroking like it was her job. Trying to catch your breath, you fell forward, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. She kissed you back, slow and languorous, takinging her time to explore your mouth now the edge had been taking off. 

Except her fingers were still moving within you and your hips were meeting them thrust for thrust without your permission and the low moan got caught in your throat. You kept kissing her, deeper and deeper, following the rhythm of her fingers. Curling and stroking and stoking the fire again.

“I could spend all day doing this,” she murmured against your lips.

“I want to,” you said, “fuck, I want to spend forever doing this with you.”

“Do you?” There was so much hope in her voice.

“Kate.” Your forehead pressed to hers, “I’ve been thinking about this for months.”

“You have?” she asked, that devilish smirk making you shudder.

The tempo of her fingers increased, making your thoughts disappear. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip until you tasted blood. She paused, raising an expectant eyebrow at you.

“What?” you asked, looking down at her.

“Have you?” she prompted again.

“Oh.” You took a moment to remember what you’d said, “yes. I’ve wanted you for so long. I’ve dreamt about this. I’ve gotten off to the thought of you.”

“Now that is interesting.”

You let out a little shriek as she flipped the two of you, now hovering above as smirked down at you. Her fingers were still pumping in and out of you and she was watching you like you were exactly what she wanted. Heated and smouldering, her gaze was only making you breathless.

“Show me how much you want this,” she commanded.

Your hips were stuttering against her hand, legs curling around her waist, holding her close. A naked Kate, demanding you take your pleasure from her, looking at you like you were everything she wanted was not something you’d previously thought you’d get. But now, moaning her name, chasing your orgasm, you couldn’t believe how lucky you’d managed to get. 

Her lips were on your neck, soft and coaxing while her fingers were drawing you higher and higher. You couldn’t stop touching her, wanting every inch of her in your hands. Her teeth sunk into your skin and your nails dragged down her spine. The gratified noise was a reward all of its own. 

Pleasure melted through your veins, not the frantic desperation of the first time. Your hips kept lifting into her touch, nudging you along as you gave in to her. Melting into the mattress, you shuddered, legs tightening around her waist. Her tongue swirled over the bite mark left on her skin and she murmured your praises. 

“You’re incredible,” you sighed.

“You’re only saying that because I just gave you two back to back orgasms,” she replied, leaning back far enough to look you in the eye.

“I’ve been thinking that since I met you,” you replied.

She kissed you softly, almost reverently. Your eyes slipped closed, pulling her closer, tangling your legs together, pressing skin to skin. She held you, sliding an arm around your waist while you cupped her face. You sunk into it, melting against her, liquid in her arms. 

“Ma’am?”

You startled, the voice on the intercom loud after silence. Kate’s eyes widened, drawing back from you, sitting up. It was as if she’d suddenly remembered where she was, an arm coming up to cover her bare breasts. 

“We have the results back from the lab regarding the pollen. If you’re done, we can discuss our findings.”

It was that same doctor, the one who had locked you in to begin with. Embarrassment painted your cheeks and you were slow to sit up. Kate was looking at you with wide eyes, a sense of panic in her expression, a dawning sense of what you’d both done coming over the two of you.

“Oh God,” she breathed out.

“Kate?” You feared she was regretting sleeping with you, that she was about to tell you it was all a mistake.

“This was very unlike me,” she muttered.

She stood and even in your state of panic, you couldn’t help but admire her. Gloriously naked and beautiful as she collected the clothes you’d flung away, you let yourself watch her and enjoy the view.

“Kate?” you asked again.

“I don’t know what came over me.”

Kate.”

You grabbed her arm as she was pulling on her trousers. She looked down at you, still sitting on the thin mattress on your knees as you grasped her. She was frozen staring down at you.

“Do you regret it?” you asked.

“What?” She shook her head in confusion.

“Do you regret having sex with me?” you asked.

“Of course not,” she snapped, “I’ve been half in love with you for months now.”

A flush of warmth went through you.

“You have?” 

She paused, cupping both your cheeks in her hands. 

“I have,” she said, sounding so sincere that your heart skipped a bit. 

She pressed a quick kiss to your lips before she drew back, getting dressed again. She passed your own clothes back to you. You silently dressed, unable to keep the smile off your face. 

Once you were seated on the bed fully clothed, Kate standing by the far wall, you were finally able to take a full breath again. Taking stock of your body, you no longer felt hot or like you were going to go crazy if you couldn’t touch Kate for the first time all afternoon. In fact, you felt normal. Which made you wonder what had happened to create such a frenzy in you that you were willing to fuck your boss at work while under surveillance. Kate had been right. It was very out of character.

“Well, your vitals are stable again,” the doctor said as he entered the room. 

“Were they not before?” you asked, straightening your shirt.

“You were experiencing heightened sexual arousal. We believe this was caused by the pollen you both inhaled. It appears as if it’s some kind of alien aphrodisiac,” he said, looking up at them, “it would have impacted your executive functioning and decision making processes. It’s understandable that you gave in to your urges.”

“Alright, I think we get the picture,” Kate said, raising her hand to keep him from continuing.

“Did you have a visual and audio feed from the room?” you asked, needing to know for your own sanity.

“Of course not. Just biological readings,” he said.

“Oh thank God,” you said, relief sweeping through you.

“Yes, well, if we’re allowed to go, I’m sure we all have more important things to be getting on with,” Kate said.

“You’re free to go,” he said.

You trailed Kate from the examination room, ignoring the doctors who were watching you. When you’d imagined your first time with Kate, you hadn’t imagined an audience watching your biological readouts throughout. Especially not when it was your coworkers and you had to do a walk of shame past them to return to work.

The lift doors slid closed, trapping the two of you in the enclosed space together. Kate looked at you over her shoulder before softening, the commander mask slipping away.

“I'm sorry for that,” she said.

“For which bit?” you asked.

“The embarrassment, mostly.” The small smile she offered you made your heart flutter, “when I thought about this moment it was just the two of us. It’s regrettable it wasn’t.”

“What about the next moment?” you asked.

“You want to do this again?” she asked.

“What part about this being something I’ve wanted for a while makes you think I don’t?” you replied.

“I suppose I was worried you wanted this to only be a one time thing,” she said.

You tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, lingering on her jaw for a moment. Leaning forward, you pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips before you drew back.

“Kate Stewart, I want you for as long as you’ll have me,” you said.

“And if that’s forever?” she asked.

“I said what I said,” you replied.

She looked at you for a moment before a smile broke over her face.

“Let me take you to dinner,” she requested.

“You’re working late tonight,” you said.

“How do you know that?” She quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Because I’m working late tonight now that we have alien plants to study and people to interview,” you said.

“Tomorrow then,” she said.

“Tomorrow,” you agreed.

She pressed a kiss to your lips, sealing the deal, only drawing back moments before the doors opened again. You shared a smile with her, walking to your desk as you thought about everything you could do without an audience. And everything your future held. 

And if it was later found out the pollen only increased desire towards people you already wanted, well, no one was going to bring that up with either of you.