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janitorhutcherson · 1 year ago

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Marked Only for Me (Olderbf!Mike Schmidt NSFW)

hii!! okay, i have never written smut before, so i am begging you all to plz be patient with me! this is very long, so my apologies.this is a part of my olderbf!mike series, so hope u guys likeee. also, for this let's make the assumption mike went to college and all of that before his security jobs. he just had burn out and was there, hence why he's working for a major company with what would be little experience. anyways, lmk what u think!

summary: mike comes home and needs to blow off some steam

warnings: nudity, sex, name calling, hair pulling, choking, marking, possessiveness, an implied free use situation, fluff at the end!!

word count: 2,925

nsfw after the cut!!

You were sitting at the kitchen table doing homework in the home you shared with your boyfriend, Mike. You're 20, a couple of years into college, drudging through math problems that make your head feel like it's sitting inside a frying pan. You had to admit this wasn't your ideal way to relax after a 10-hour shift at the bookstore you helped run. Things had been hectic with Black Friday, your store doing a special sale where everything was 50% off, and bookworms were coming out of random corners to fill their already overflowing shelves for cheap. Of course, being younger, you were the one who had to do the grunt work, carrying piles of books to and from inventory, dealing with the more demanding customers as your older coworkers would tell you that they "just couldn't handle kids these days" and that it'd certainly be better for the younger one to do it. Luckily, though, Abby was at a friend's house, meaning you didn't have distractions. You were as focused as could be with a cup of coffee beside you, the sunlight that was once beaming through the cracks of the blinds now completely gone. You were focused, your brain functioning as much as it would with the problems. Things were quiet.

...That is until Mike stormed in. He was frustrated, angry, an invisible red-hot aura beaming off him. His hair was messier than it typically was. The softness in his eyes was instead replaced with a cold look. His eyebrows were furrowed together on his forehead, his jaw sharp and defined as he gritted his teeth. Although this wasn't common, it wasn't necessarily rare either. Mike worked for a publishing company as a marketing manager. He'd gotten the job after a few months of hard work to make up for the slack on his resume after working at the mall and the pizzeria. He moved up the ladder quickly, his company admiring his friendly attitude and his somewhat shy but personable behavior. He loved his job much more than his past ones. He felt happier, got more time off, was less stressed, and was definitely safer. Even with that being said, sometimes shit just pissed him off.

Today's big issue was a meeting with his marketing team, which also involved the big guy over his head. He felt like he was criticized, demeaned, dragged through the mud, and all in front of the team he was supposed to be respected by, listened to. On a typical day, this might not have pissed him off so much. He might've mentally plotted the demise of his boss, but he wouldn't have caused the outburst he did at work, and today had been particularly awful. He'd been late, burned his breakfast, knicked himself while shaving, and even gotten into what he considered to be a little fight with you the night before. Even though you'd both settled the argument, made up, and kissed before bed, he had been thinking about it all day. He'd then spilled coffee on his brand new tie, leaving a stain, and then... that happened. Mike snapped. He yelled at his boss, showing his ass in front of everyone, causing a meeting in his boss's office to end with an inevitable write-up.

Now, he was home, trudging in all his bad energy, disrupting your study time. You couldn't even be frustrated with him, his demeanor proving he'd obviously had a bad day. You went to stand up to greet him with a hug, a kiss or two, but before you could, Mike stormed over to you, grabbing your arm harshly. You gasped, slightly thrown off by his sudden actions. He pulled you closer to him, his eyes locked on yours and his breath heavy against your neck.

"What the fuck, Mike?" you said, your eyebrows furrowed as you stared into his cold brown-green orbs.

"Listen to me," he grunted, his voice low and gravely. "I have had a very,��very bad day, and I need you to be a good girl for me, okay? I don't want no shit, no back talk, you'll listen to what I say.. do you understand?"

His hand still gripped your arm, his fingernails digging into your skin. You could feel yourself starting to drip, your panties feeling damp against your skin as your body buzzed with excitement. All you could do was nod your head, your eyes locked on his as they clouded over with lust. Mike snapped his fingers in your face, looking at you from underneath his eyebrows.

"Use your words," he demanded.

"Yes sir, I understand," you stuttered out, your cheeks flushing red. Mike's face was now pleased, his entire demeanor softening a little. His hand stayed wrapped around your arm as he tugged you into the living room, pushing you roughly onto the couch. You huffed from the impact, your eyes widening as Mike dropped to his knees before you. He slid your sweatpants off, prying your knees open to reveal your see-through pink panties soaked beyond belief. His eyes were hungry, his mouth open, almost drooling as he looked directly into your eyes.

"All for me, babydoll?" he teased, his hand sliding in between your legs as he drew small circles around your clothed clit. You nodded your head as a whimper escaped your lips, the aching in between your legs only growing worse.

"What did I tell you?" he said, his words sharp as he smacked the inside of your thigh.

"Yes sir," you corrected, your words wavering after the impact from his hand. Mike nodded, satisfied with your answer, as he slowly slid your panties down your thighs, wasting no time. You gasped once again as the cold air hit your wet cunt. Mike exhaled sharply, taking a moment to admire you in front of him. His eyes trailed up to your pathetic look, your already-glazed-over eyes, down to your barely clothed chest, only a sports bra covering your breasts he loved so much, then down to in between your legs, where you were so wet, and all just for him. His lips trailed up to your tummy, sucking on the skin in different areas, from above your abdomen all the way up to right below where your sports bra stayed, purple marks forming.

He then dove in without hesitation, his large hands gripping your sides as he leaned in, moving one hand to take his index and middle finger to spread your pussy lips. His mouth instantly attached to your clit. You yelped as you bucked your hips forward, his lips meeting the sensitive area. Mike pinched your thigh, a sign to quiet down until he said to do otherwise, two of his fingers reaching out to be shoved into your mouth.

“Suck,” he demanded, his fingers going as far back down your throat as they could. You did what you were told, sucking on his fingers and drawing your own circles with your tongue. His tongue drew tiny and slow circles against the set of nerves, your hands reaching down to tangle in his hair from desperation. God, he loved eating you out. The way you yelped, quivered, shook underneath him, your hands tangled in his hair to keep yourself from going over the edge. He fucking loved it, you were the perfect cure to his anger, calming, something he could take it out on in a productive way that made everyone feel good. Your whines were suppressed as you bit your lip, your teeth digging into the softer skin. Mike pulled away for a moment, his eyes locking with yours once again as he admired your face, your now swollen lips.

“You know what, baby? Be as loud as you want for me now, princess,” he mumbled, going back to attacking your wet cunt. Slurping sounds filled the living room mixed with your moans and whimpers as his tongue slid up and down your slit, his lips wrapping around your clit to suck as hard as possible when his tongue wasn’t fucking inside of you. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. His cock was rock hard inside of his work pants, his own face flustered as he rocked back and forth against himself. His tongue continued to lap at your clit as he slid two of his large fingers in and out of you, your walls clenching around them. You could feel yourself drawing close and Mike could tell. Your thighs attempted to clench around his head, but before they could his calloused hands pried them open, holding them apart. Just as your eyes began to clamp shut, your thighs shaking as the knot in your stomach started to untie, Mike pulled away. You gasped as he slipped his fingers out, furrowing your eyebrows as you stared at him with an angry glare. He chuckled as he stood up, raising his eyebrows up and down as he leaned down, his hand lifting your chin up.

“Poor baby, was all ready to finish for me, hm? You were gonna be ‘Mikey’s little slut,’ weren’t you? That’s what you tell me you are, right? My little slut?” he teased, no remorse behind his eyes. You huffed, punching his arm before crossing your arm, too out of it to say anything from the knot that remained in your stomach but too angry to take initiative.

“Awh, don’t be mad, princess,” he snickered, shaking his head as he leaned further down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “You really think I’m done with you?”

With that being said, Mike pushing you back on the couch. His right hand held you down as his lift struggled to unbutton his pants. He pulled his pants down, letting them fall around his ankles as he yanked his boxers off, his cock springing out. He stepped out of them, letting you go for a moment to unbutton his shirt before tossing it off as well. Mike then looked over to you, leaning forward, ripping your thin sports bra off of your chest, your breasts now exposed to him. He licked his lips, excitement overflowing his body. He crawled on top of you, attempting to make the two of you fit on the couch. His mouth attacked your nipples, biting and gnawing at your skin. His mouth moved up to your neck, sucking and prodding and biting until purple marks were left all around, ones you were all too aware would be impossible to hide later on. He moved down to your chest once again, marks all across your collarbone, your tits. Mike’s hands gripped onto your neck as he sat up, looking into your glossed over eyes. He pressed his lips to your ear, a soft kiss against your earlobe.

“’M about to fuck you so hard you see stars,” he said, his voice causing prickles to cover your skin. Then, without hesitation Mike slammed into you, his pace staggered. Your moans were as loud as could be, the sound of skin hitting against each other and the echoes of both of your voices filling the living room. His thrusts were sloppy as he felt himself starting to get close to the edge, his hands pushing your hips down and into the couch. Your entire body sunk into the cushions as he used everything in him, his cock abusing your poor cunt. You swore you saw stars until you felt his hand gently smack against your cheek, your eyes averting back to his gaze.

“You’re gonna look at me when I fuck you, princess,” he growled, his hand sliding up to your hair as he tugged. You grew close, clenching around his length, your thighs starting to shake. Your core was threatening to come undone.

“Fuck, Mikey, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum,” you whimpered out, closing your eyes as your head leaned back against the side of the couch.

“Cum for me, baby,” Mike stated. You did as he demanded, finishing around his cock as your liquids gushed against him. His thrusts grew sloppier before he pulled out, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that baby? You did so good for me, listening to what I said, letting me use your pretty cunt,” he stated, his thumb caressing your cheek. He then resituated, pulling you off the couch, pushing you onto the ground. You were now in the same position he was in earlier, completely fucked out. Your lips were dull from exhaustion, your cheeks red and your hair knotted in certain areas. Mike’s cock was directly in front of you, his hand guiding for you to suck on him. Your lips wrapped around his tip, the tip of your tongue licking his slit. You worked your mouth down his length, licking the sides. Mike’s moans became frantic, desperate as your mouth worked its magic. His hand tangled in your hair as he pushed your head up and down, thrusting up into your mouth.

“That’s it, baby, feels so good,” he grunted. With no warning, Mike pulled out, spilling his load all over your face. He twitched, his moans loud and low, your tongue stuck out to catch his cum. His body laid against the couch, feeling heavy as his head leaned against the back of his couch. A tired grin was on his lips as you also smiled up at him, licking yourself clean. Mike looked down at you, a chuckle releasing his lips. It was obvious all of the tension and anger was gone, as his once cold eyes were once again the soft loving brown they used to be. He looked at you with adoration, always amused by how gorgeous you were even after rigorous activity and getting your face painted.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, picking you up bridal style as he leaned down to kiss you, not caring about his own load that was now on his face. He sat you down on the bathroom counter, grabbing a washcloth out of the cabinet, running it under warm water. He started to wipe away all of the liquids covering your face, pressing kisses to your skin here and there, looking your body up and down as he admired all of the marks he left.

“You always know how to make me feel good and how to take care of me after,” you croaked out, your voice laced with exhaustion as you smiled. Mike smiled back at you, his hand tenderly touching your cheek before pushing your hair behind your ear.

“I love you, of course I want to make sure ‘m taking care of you,” he said softly. His lips once again pressed against yours. “Thank you for letting me… you know.. blow off some steam,” he said, wiggling his brows.

“Of course, honey. I was worried, though. Is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, leaning forward as you slid off of the counter, grabbing a new washcloth and beginning to wipe his face with it as well. Mike sighed, shaking his head as he looked at her with sad eyes.

“I just- I got into it pretty badly with my boss at work and got criticized, I felt like a wounded animal, like I had to fight. I’m so used to having to fight that I don’t know how to shut up and listen,” he mumbled. “It was so bad, Y/N, and I got written up after that awful day I had this morning… I just.. I don’t know. I do know I feel better now, and would feel even better if we cuddled for a bit and then went out for food?” he suggested, spilling his thoughts to you. You giggled, nodding your head as you reached up to press a kiss to him. You dragged him into your shared bedroom, the two of you cuddling up together under the blankets. You turned to your side, your eyes locked with his.

“I love you, Mike, so much. And I’m so, so unbelievably proud of you. Thank you, for always making me feel good too, for taking care of me, for being such a good brother to Abby, just… thank you,” you said softly. Mike looked back at you lovingly, his appreciation for you apparent.

“I love you, princess, you don’t even know how much,” he mumbled. His eyes were heavy. He leaned over and set an alarm for an hour from now, the two of you planning on a night of dinner out and grocery shopping. He curled his arm around you lazily, your body limp and exhausted against his as you yawned.

“Oh, and baby?” he asked. You hummed, lifting your head to meet his eyes. “Wear a crop top when we go out, I want everyone to see you all marked up.” You giggled as you laid your head down, drifting off to sleep.

When you two went out, you did just that, wearing a cropped scoop neck shirt with a low-rise flowy skirt. He showed off any marks you’d left, too, your possessive boyfriend holding you close anytime someone’s eyes linger too long. Mike was strange, possessive, and sometimes a little of what most would say was unsettling, but to you, he was the love of your life, the man who made you feel good, the one who fucked you until you couldn’t think. You loved him, and you always would, blessing you with a lifelong supply of angry sex and aftercare cuddles.

#josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #mike schmidt smut #olderbf!mike

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

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wait your new hotch blurb got me thinking what about they got secretly married and everyone knows that hotch is married they just don’t know it’s to bau!reader because he seemed very genuine in the wanting privacy so (after complaining) they respected that, and maybe one of the team members sees hotch and bau!reader kissing in the hallway of a hotel or something and confront him about cheating on his wife

"How could you cheat on your wife?"

Penelope's harsh, degrading accusation hits Aaron directly in the chest, through the layers of stoicism that he's come to forge over the years of working in criminal investigation and straight to his heart.

All Hotch can manage is a, "What?", and Penelope's eyes dim further.

"Don't do that, Hotch. I saw you. I saw you and Y/N kissing in your office. How could you do that to your wife?"

She looks so crestfallen that Aaron's chest actually aches, so unprepared to see the famously bubbly Penelope Garcia close to tears. Close to tears because of him, no less.

Aaron might have chosen his words more carefully if he hadn't been so startled by Penelope's unusual devastation, but his jumbled brain forgoes its job and his mouth takes over, uttering the thoughtless statement, "That's- that's what she's there for."

And in his mind, it's true, if not the complete truth. You are there for him to kiss, you're there to be kissed and loved and appreciated and cherished, but he's momentarily forgotten that Penelope doesn't know that you and his mystery wife are the same person, and his words so easily warp into possessiveness and disregard.

Her face contorts into a mixture of disgust and rage that could take out a serial killer, and he seriously considers recruiting her as Chief Lecturer of the BAU, "Hotch? How- how could you say that? That your wife is just- just some thing to wait on you while you run off with someone else? You- Aaron, I can't believe you, I thought you were better than that!"

She tries storming away, tears budding in her eyes but Aaron catches her elbow, ignoring the way she flails and squirms at his touch.

"Let go of me!" She tearily demands, but he grabs her by the other arm now, holding both of her shoulders.

"No, Penelope, listen-" He tries, reminding himself to send her to Derek later for a self-defense lesson, because the weak shoves that she's pushing at his chest with do very little.

"No! No, I'm tired of listening to men," She shrieks, "You were supposed to be better than that, Aaron! I trusted you, you were supposed to be the kind of man that I could admire, and- but you're not! You're just like the rest of them, you're some egotistical, possessive, heavy-handed, domineering son of a-!"

"Y/N is my wife." Aaron cuts her off, his voice slightly raised, but not harsh. Never harsh, not to the sniffling mess of ruffles and glitter in his arms that handed him her resume on pink stationary all those years ago.

She falls silent, finally, but her lips still tremble. Aaron squeezes her arms tighter, not rough but comforting, "Y/N is my wife. We married privately late last year. We kept it secret for safety reasons, but I'll admit we didn't need to hide it from all of you. I was not cheating on my wife, I would never-" He thinks momentarily of Haley, of the gut-wrenching sound of her cell phone ringing with a call she wasn't brave enough to answer in front of him, "I would never do that to Y/N."

It's a lot of new information to process, and Aaron grants Penelope all the time she needs to work through it. When her red-stained lips part again she breathes, "You married Y/N?"

"I did." Aaron nods, and though it's not the time to smile, he can't help that a ghostly one flits over his features at the mere thought of the day he'd married you, "I'll show you pictures when we're done here. Penelope, you can trust me. I don't blame you for accusing me- in fact, I'm glad that you did. I'm glad that your loyalty isn't blind. But Y/N is my wife, and that's why I kissed her."

A very wobbly, "Oh." Is all that Penelope can manage, and she sniffles again, staring at his tie rather than his face as he holds her steady in the hallway. He's glad that they've both shown up early for the day, but you're due to return with coffee for the three of you any minute now, and he offers her his pocket square to wipe beneath her eyes.

"You said-" She chokes out sheepishly, voice unsteady as she smears the tears off of her cheeks, "You said you have pictures?"

That's how you find them when you return, seated on the couch in his office peering down at his phone. You have to set the tray you'd been carrying down on Aaron's desktop before you can properly greet either of them, but you're immediately alarmed by the tears streaked over Garcia's cheeks when she stands to face you.

"You-" She starts, not giving you a second to speak, "-are a rat! You got married," She gushes, and Aaron chuckles deeply from beside her, standing and pocketing his phone.

"You got married to our boss, and you told me nothing," She hisses, but slumps so easily into your chest for a hug that you're more than willing to give her.

"I'm sorry, Penny," You gush, squeezing her tight, "We just- we were worried about safety. The more people we told, the more dangerous it would become, so we didn't share it with anyone. But- but we should have told the team, I know."

She sniffles and you draw back to pick up her drink from behind you, sugary and pink and topped with a thick layer of whipped cream, "I got you a drink. Forgive me?"

"Reluctantly," She tries scowling, but she's never been very good at it. She takes the drink from you huffily, jamming the straw inside and taking a drag at the thick liquid. It's barely nine in the morning, far too early for the concoction she's sipping, but she nods after she draws back from the straw.

"This is delicious," She decides, "And you two are traitors, and I'm telling everyone about this."

"You should," Aaron laughs, stepping up behind you to press his shoulder to your own. It's comforting just having him there, and you relax against him as Penelope takes her leave.

"I mean it," She warns, wiping another stray tear from her cheek and sipping at her strawberry drink, "I'm telling everyone. I'm- I'm gonna hire some guy to fly a plane over the city, and the banner is gonna say, 'Y//N Y/L/N and Aaron Hotchner got married without me'."

"That's fair," You nod, not bothering to bite back a grin as she lingers in the doorway of Aaron's office.

"And so help me god," She narrows her eyes at you, once more falling just short of intimidating, "If you try to take some extended-sick-leave time, and I find out you're hiding a pregnancy from me? No amount of frappuccinos in the world will make up for it!"

"Noted," You call out as she leaves, and Aaron's hand comes up to press against the near-indiscernible bulge of your belly before the door even clicks shut.

"She's good." Aaron observes, and you reach for your own non-caffeinated drink with a grin that's hard to drink through.

"Let's tell her about the baby at lunch," You propose, "I think she's more than earned a secret to keep."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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jiminomenon · 9 days ago

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bratty beginnings

pairing: model! yu jimin x assistant! female reader

word count: 851 words

summary: in which, y/n moves to seoul with nothing but hope, only to face rejection after rejection. when she lands a job as the assistant to infamous model yu jimin, she quickly learns that dealing with jimin’s bratty attitude is harder than it seems. but when y/n unexpectedly fights back, everything changes—including jimin.

from my series: the devil wears prada

a/n: ya’ll please send ask/requests for this story, or even thoughts.

the train ride to seoul felt like a dream, the kind that y/n wasn’t sure she wanted to wake up from. the provincial district she had called home for years was now just a blur outside the window, replaced by the towering skyscrapers and neon lights of the city. y/n clutched her suitcase tightly, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear. seoul was big, loud, and overwhelming, and y/n had no friends, no family, and no job waiting for her. just a dream and a whole lot of hope.

the first few days were a blur of job applications and rejections. y/n had applied everywhere—cafes, convenience stores, even a sketchy-looking karaoke bar—but no one wanted someone with no experience. the rejections piled up, and so did the doubt. maybe coming to seoul had been a mistake. maybe she wasn’t cut out for this.

but then, like a lifeline, she saw it: a job posting for an assistant position. no experience required. good pay. it sounded too good to be true, but y/n was desperate. she printed out her resume, put on her best outfit, and headed to the address listed.

the building was sleek and modern, all glass and steel, and the lobby was filled with people who looked like they belonged there. y/n, in her slightly wrinkled blouse and scuffed shoes, felt out of place. the receptionist gave her a once-over before directing her to the 15th floor. the elevator ride felt like an eternity, and y/n’s reflection in the mirrored walls looked as nervous as she felt.

when the doors slid open, chaos greeted her. people rushed back and forth, shouting orders, carrying racks of clothes, and balancing trays of coffee. in the center of it all stood yu jimin—karina. even in the midst of the madness, she was impossible to miss. tall, striking, with an aura that commanded attention. she was arguing with a stylist, her voice sharp and cutting.

“i said no pink! do you not understand basic instructions?”

the stylist stammered an apology, but jimin was already turning away, her eyes landing on y/n. she raised an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over y/n with a mix of curiosity and disdain.

“who are you?” she demanded, her tone making it clear she expected an immediate answer.

“i-i’m here for the assistant position,” y/n stammered, holding up her resume like a shield.

jimin plucked it from her hands, scanning it with a bored expression. “no experience. great. just what i need.” she sighed dramatically, tossing the resume onto a nearby table. “fine. you’re hired. don’t make me regret it.”

y/n blinked, stunned. “just like that?”

“just like that,” jimin said, already walking away. “you start now. keep up.”

the first few hours were a whirlwind. jimin was every bit as demanding and bratty as the rumors suggested, barking orders and criticizing everything y/n did.

“this coffee is too cold,” she snapped, shoving the cup back into y/n’s hands. “fix it.”

“why is this taking so long? are you incompetent?”

“do you even know how to do anything right?”

y/n’s patience was wearing thin. she had taken enough of jimin’s attitude, and something inside her snapped. when jimin threw another insult her way, y/n turned to her, her voice steady but firm.

“you know what? i’m not scared of you. i’ve had enough of your attitude. i get it, you’re a big shot model, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat people like garbage. i’m here to do a job, not be your punching bag. so either start treating me with some respect, or find someone else to boss around!”

the room fell silent. everyone stopped what they were doing, their eyes wide with shock. no one talked back to jimin. no one. the stylist who had been yelled at earlier looked like she was about to faint, and the photographer nervously adjusted his camera, as if preparing to capture the moment jimin exploded.

but jimin didn’t explode. instead, she stared at y/n for a long moment, her expression unreadable. then, to everyone’s surprise, she chuckled. it was a low, amused sound, and it sent a shiver down y/n’s spine.

“well, well,” jimin said, a smirk playing on her lips. “looks like you’ve got some fire in you after all.” she stepped closer, her eyes locking with y/n’s. “fine. you’ve got the job. don’t make me regret it.”

and with that, she turned and walked away, leaving y/n and the rest of the room in stunned silence. the stylist let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, and the photographer muttered something about needing a drink. y/n, meanwhile, stood there, her heart pounding, unsure whether she had just made the biggest mistake of her life or the best decision.

but as the days turned into weeks, y/n realized that maybe, just maybe, she had found her place in seoul after all. and maybe, just maybe, jimin wasn’t as bad as everyone made her out to be.

#aespa karina #karina #karina x reader #yoo jimin #yu jimin #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #yu jimin x reader #yoo jimin x reader #kpop x reader #kpop gg #kpop gg x reader #model! karina #bratty! karina

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gojossocks · 1 year ago

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"I want to go first." Satoru spoke out of the blue. "When we die."

You froze, your hand stopped stroking his hair. Satoru, with his head on your lap, seems to be in deep thought as he stares at your shared bedroom’s ceiling. His eyes then darted to yours when he noticed the lack of touch before raising his eyebrow at you, silently demanding you to continue, as if he didn’t drop a daunting subject right in front of your face.

Leaving with no other choice, you sighed and resumed your administration which earned a satisfied hum from your boyfriend. He closed his eyes contentedly then he spoke once more, “Can you promise that for me, baby?”

“I..” for some reason, you find it hard to speak. This was the hardest favor Satoru has asked of you. Can you really endure it? You didn’t want to imagine a world without seeing his bright smile, let alone live it. But then your trail of thoughts were cut off when he nudged your arm and intertwined his hand with yours, the one resting on his stomach. “Why are you saying this, Satoru?”

“I don’t think I can live a second without you. I think I’ll finally lose my shit if I do. ” He said, and there’s a hint of playfulness in his tone but you know his words hold so much more weight than what he makes it out to be. He’s just trying not to make you sad, you know it. Then he proceeded to whine, Satoru-style, dramatically, “please baby, you gotta promise.”

You pursed your lips and focus your attention on combing his locks again. You were about to protest but you saw the unease resting on Satoru’s face, and you knew that he would respect and obey your wishes if you said no.

Come to think of it, Satoru has lost so many loved ones in his life. He had failed to protect them even with the title of being the strongest. And it had broken him, despite his cheery disposition in front of people. The only reason he had endured is because you were there for him.

You are quite literally his whole world and the thought of him treading this world alone with no one to shoulder his burdens with hurts you more than losing him first.

Okay, you thought. You would endure the grief for him so that he doesn’t have to anymore. You let out a defeated sigh and you leaned in to kiss his forehead. “Okay, I promise. You can go first.”

Your words must’ve soothed him because the smile on his face resurfaced again and he went back to his cheery self, and it doesn’t feel forceful this time.

“I love you, you know? I bet I’d be a really hot ghost following you around.”

“Creep.”

wanna read more?

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader fluff #gojo fluff #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fic #gojo x reader hurt/comfort #gojo satoru fluff #gojo drabbles #gojo x reader angst #gojo satoru x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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wntrswolf · 7 months ago

Text

an arsonist's lullaby

✧ pair: benjicot "davos" blackwood (fancast) x freader!targaryen

✧ theme/warning(s): dark, heavy angst turned fluff — tw: mentions of hallucinations, anxiety / progressive panic attack(s). + all characters are of age! (18+) | contains hotd spoilers!

✧ word count: 2.7k

✧ a/n: this one-shot is a gift for @ithilwen-blackwood! firstly, thank you for tagging me on your request! it sparked a drive in me that i thought had left years ago, i had a great pleasure writing this one. secondly, given the prompt, i hope you, and the other pretty readers, enjoy reading my version. c: thank you!!!

✧ summary: to dream is to escape, granting a momentary nirvana as one falls into the refuge of imagination. yet, for the princess, a night in the supposedly cursed fortress of the riverlands, dreams became not mere fantasies but glimpses of destiny that would seal unwritten fate.

Daemon’s voice roars in the vastness of the dining hall. “We shall make camp before night falls. Come the morrow’s light, we resume our travels. See to it you are rested, we have yet a journey ahead of us.” Your father meets your gaze and nods solemnly, signalling his dismissal. You return the gesture with a faint smile, acknowledging his silent command to depart.

The murmurs of the troop swelled, each hastening to claim their place within the grim walls of Harrenhal. You remained steadfast, observing the weariness that were etched on the faces of the scrambling men around you. Gradually, the ache in your body began to throb, a reminder that the arduous journey had also taken its toll on your body. Despite the envy others held with their perceptions, it was not an easy task being a dragon rider—for an adult dragon, it was a feat far from simple.

Celestrya, much like her namesake, is a magnificent dragon. Her iridescent scales of aquamarine and amethyst create a mesmerising display of colours as she glides through the heavens. Yet, behind the deceptive beauty of your winged serpent lies a stubborn and formidable nature. Beneath her elegant appearance lies a fierce determination and commanding presence that demands respect from all who crossed her path.

Your gaze swept the hall a final time, assuring all was in order before you sought your own repose. However, capturing your attention was the distorted shadow that stood by the hearth. The wavering figure you always came to see ensnared you yet again with its haunting presence, engulfing you in its deafening whispers. As was your custom, you sought to evade the encroaching darkness, only to collide with another in your haste escape. Unaware you had been holding your breath, you gasped heavily, abruptly jolting back to reality.

“Princess,” the young man spoke, “my apologies.” The firm grasp on your arms steadied you, preventing any falter, while your palms pressed against his chest. Slightly breathless, your eyes scanned for the shadow that had mysteriously disappeared.

“Princess?”

You hummed in response, your voice barely above a whisper, “Oh, my apologies.” You steadied your breathing, glancing up at the young man to realise the close proximity between you. In a moment of fluster, you withdrew from his grasp.

“No,” he says as he scratched behind his head, “the fault lies with me. I failed to watch my path.” his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. As you regain your composure, you recognise the young man before you as belonging to House Blackwood, evident from his attire and the sigil pin securing his burgundy-black cape.

“Should my father and I be concerned, then?” you quipped with a nervous chuckle escaping your throat, eager to lighten the mood of the exchange and conceal your own tension. Playing with the thread on your dress—a familiar nervous tic—you continued, "I mean, a lapse in attention seems trivial, but in these times of impending war, every misstep carries weight.” a subtle smile gracing your lips.

He responds with a nervous chuckle, striving to maintain his composure. "Forgive me, my lady, but I assure you, House Blackwood stands ready for whatever battles may come—and I have seen to it myself.” He spoke his words earnestly, eyes reassuring you that he indeed spoke truth—a revelation of his confidence in both his army and himself.

You chuckle.

“It was but a jest,” you offered him a warm smile, "Nonetheless, I am heartened to hear of your preparations. I believe our houses make a strong alliance, Sir…”

“Benjicot Blackwood, my lady.”

“Ah, the Lord of Raventree.” you acknowledged respectfully. “I extend my deepest sympathies, and I thank you for standing as a stalwart ally in our cause. It means much to us.”

“Thank you, my lady. If anything, it is an honor.”

“Daenyra,” you replied softly, setting aside formalities in the presence of the young Lord.

What had prompted this departure from convention? You did not know. Could it be that despite his fierce demeanour, you saw a glimpse of vulnerability? his vulnerability. Perhaps you saw in him a fledgling lord who had witnessed the brutal toll of conflict—on his kin, his men, and even those he had been compelled to confront in his duties. A fledgling thrusted into authority unexpectedly—an experience you both share.

“It has been a long day,” you continued with a chuckle, “I believe I have had my fill of the formalities for now," feeling your nerves starting to settle.

“Of course, my la–” he began, but stopped short under your playful glare, “Ahem, Daenyra… Daenyra.” His voice softened, the repetition of your name becoming more natural on his tongue. The young man had uttered your name many a time, yet with your insistence that he address you by your name, simply your name, made him feel acknowledged.

You both chuckled.

“Although, pardon the intrusion, I hope it does not mean to offend,” he continued cautiously, “but were you alright? When I bumped into you, you—”

He had.

He had noticed.

“Princess Daenyra,” a slender, raven-haired woman called out, interrupting your exchange with the Blackwood Lord. You thanked her mentally; wondering if it was deliberate or mere happenstance, but chose not to dwell on it. Turning towards the woman who commanded your attention, you were immediately captivated by her mystical aura and hauntingly beautiful features. “The camp is set. We shall have you escorted to your quarters.” she announced, her sharp blue eyes locking intensely with yours, leaving an impression that lingered in your mind.

“Yes, of course,” you breathed, turning to the young Lord, prepared to bid him goodnight. “I apologise, Lord Benjicot–”

“Benji,” he corrected in haste. You were slightly taken aback, finding the informality endearing—as it reflected your own.

“I apologise, Benji. It has indeed been quite a journey, and we are weary and in need of rest,” you replied, your nervous tic making a subtle appearance again. Glancing around, you realise that it was just you, Benji, and a few other swordsmen left in the dining hall. With a slight huff, you added, “I shall see you in the morn, then?”

“Y-yes… my lady– D-Daenyra…” he stuttered, inwardly chagrined at his stumble. Despite his embarrassment, you bestowed one last smile and nod before pivoting on your heel, the echoes of your departing footsteps fading gradually into the distance.

In your absence, he chastised himself that his worry might have gotten the best of him; it was ridiculous, really.

After all, you were a Targaryen Princess, the sole daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen, with the pure blood of the dragon coursing your veins. You inherited the ruthless and intense nature of your father, feared in combat where no man ever survived your blade. Needless to mention of the adult dragon under your command, the beast could devour him and his entire retinue, and would still be insatiable.

But amid the thoughts, he saw something in you that he could not quite describe—perhaps the sight of your gentle hands fidgeting, a stark contrast to the image of a warrior who must have slain a thousand men by now, he reckoned.

Reflecting on the moment of your collision, he realised that you, too, were simply a young woman—a lady of his own age—navigating a world fraught with responsibilities imposed by the realm. And now, on the march, leading an army of men to fight against the usurpers, and reclaim the justice that your mother, the Queen, had lost.

A familiar whistle—a melody only his dear aunt used—pierced through his thoughts, instantly capturing his attention, “Let us retire for the night, yea?” Her thumb gesture over her shoulder as she looked at him expectantly.

"Yeah... yeah," the young man nodded, shaking his head to clear his thoughts as weariness settled in.

Perhaps he was simply tired, allowing himself to dwell on thoughts that were not his to ponder. The princess was more than capable of defending herself, even from a lord she had met that night.

And still, he did.

It was still the dead of night, you surmised. The clamouring assembly that would rouse you from slumber had yet to commence, awaiting for the break of morn. Pain gnawed through every fibres of your being; the harsh, cold surroundings of Harrenhal offered no respite from your discomfort. Your gaze fixed on the patterns of the canopy you lie beneath, the soft patter of rain acting as your lullaby. You closed your eyes as you sought after slumber once more.

Without success, you shifted uncomfortably in the makeshift mattress, propping yourself up on the firm pillows that offered little comfort.

You sigh.

To your confusion, a sudden breeze rustled the entrance flaps of your tent, the fabric dancing along the gentle gusts. Goosebumps prickled your skin as you hear the familiar whispering—voices that haunted you time and time again; yet, it would be the first time you heard it spoke your name,

“Daenyra…”

You sucked in a breath, the thump in your chest increasing its tempo. The phantom’s whispers are heard beyond the refuge of your tent. Your palm dampens with cold sweat, as terror etched itself onto your features.

Despite the urge of pursuit, fear had kept you in its confines, afraid of probing what had lurked in the darkness—in fear that the spectre that observed you would swallow you with its frightening taunts.

Or could it be an ambush? A ploy orchestrated by the Greens. A sorceress used to alter the perceptions of the formidable princess of the realm—a plausible explanation, is it not?

The vendetta within your family: Retaliation.

An eye for an eye.

A son for a son.

They would just simply have to seize the moment, right when you are in your defenceless trance.

‘Ambush the Blacks, slay the princess and prince consort while abed, and we make the Blackwoods bend the knee to the rightful heir,' you reckon they thought.

An absurd, petty measure, but an irrefutable one closer to a checkmate.

Nevertheless, a ruse as such would never come to pass—existing only in the realm of imagination.

You were torn between fears: a haunting apparition or mortal hands that could lead to your demise.

Your conscience came to a ground that despite the fear residing in your bones, an audacious drive took over you to follow the bewitching voice.

The ominous sight of the empty hall sent a chill in your spine, dim candles and occasional flashes of lightning provided sparse light amid the storm. You held the lantern, a guiding luminance, close to your body to warding off the encroaching darkness and hoped that the flame would not cease; and your other hand grips tightly by the hilt, wielding your sword.

Guided by the mystic call once more, you prudently tread your way within the ruin.

“Daenyra…” The voice growing clearer and louder with each step.

“Daenyra…” Again.

“Daenyra…” Your breath grew ragged and shallow. Panic gripping your chest like a vise, squeezing air out of your lungs.

It was not until you reached the grand iron doors that you realised where it led you—the dining hall. Thrusting open the heavy door, it creaked loudly. Once again, you were confronted with the shadow by the fire—the sight intensifying your fear, quickening your heart.

“Daenyra…” The once-unrecognisable voice now rang clear, luring you towards the flame.

You approached the hearth cautiously, a sense of foreboding thickening the air as the shadow dissipated. The crackling of the fire seemed to roar in your ears, the blaze casting its orange hue upon you and its warmth seeping into your body. Entranced, your brow furrowed as you stared into the flickering flames.

The voice spoke yet again, shifting to that of your weeping mother, calling out your name.

Your body tensed, skin tingling as if touched by flames.

"Mother?" you breathed out.

Suddenly, within the flames you hear wails of anguish as a hand emerges from the flames. With a sense of charmed urgency, you cried out and reached for the hand, the flare enveloping yours with a searing kiss.

Agh!

Recoiling, overwhelmed by the blinding flash of pain, you collapsed to your knees. Your sword dropping with a clatter as the haunting echoes of voices reverberated louder than ever in your mind:

That of the cries of babes, blood-curdling screams, galloping horses, agonising shouts of a thousand men, clashes of metal, thunderous roars of dragons and fire, and in the haze, unintelligible murmurings.

“No… no… no,” you whispered, each heartbeat echoing like thunder in your ears,

THUMP

The dining hall began to close in around you, the heat becoming overbearing.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trembling hands covering your ears in a desperate attempt to silence the chaos consuming you.

“Daenyra…” It cried.

“Make it stop…” you pleaded, rocking back and forth. The sword lay forgotten on the stone floor, and the lantern burnt out, its presence unnoticed in the turmoil.

“Daenyra…” It cried out again.

“Please…”

“Daenyra?” A male voice softly whispered to you, gently shaking you from repose. “Dae–”

You woke with a sharp breath, a sob escaping your throat.

The dark figure hovering over you prompted a renewed wave of anxiety as you sat up abruptly, causing the figure to topple back. Your eyes darted around in fear, spotting a dagger that sits on the foot of the mattress, you still as dread overcame your body—unable to muster a shout or a scream.

It was not until the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the dishevelled form of the Blackwood male that you realised you had emerged from sleep. You watch the young man in confusion as he had been hovering over you while you were abed, his blade just within reach.

“B-Benji?” you croaked out as your chest heaved with staggered breaths. Your hair stuck to your tear-stained face, glistening beads of sweat lining your neck and chest. Trembling hands grasped onto his arm.

“Princess,” his velvet voice replied gently, “Forgive me, my tent neighbours yours,” his eyes locked onto yours, “I could not find rest. I-I remained awake, but I heard sobs and…”

You release a breath of relief that had been caught in anxiety.

“T-Thank you,” you uttered, meeting his gaze gratefully. For a moment, the tension in the air begins to ease. “For waking me up.” you added with a slight nod, your breath steadying in his reassuring presence.

Benji's expression softened, his gaze tender and unwavering as he, hesitant at first, gently wiped a stray tear from your cheek. "'Tis nothing," he murmured softly.

You offered him a faint smile, your hands working to compose yourself from your unsettled state.

Just a night’s terror.

Sighing softly, you wiped your palms over your face, hoping to dispel the lingering fatigue that still weighed upon your body.

At that moment, Benjicot hesitated, unsure whether to depart now that you had acknowledged his role in rousing you from the terror. Despite this, he remained seated with you in the hushed confines of your tent. His concern, which had grown since your exchange late last night and continued into the early hours of the dark morn, stirred his curiosity about your well-being before your unexpected encounter.

The fragility in your voice shattered the pregnant silence, “I…” you chuckled softly, airily. “I– I don’t know what I saw,” you admitted softly, voice slightly trembling.

“All I know is that it felt… real." you said pensively, unconsciously playing with a loose thread on the quilt that covered you. "It sounded so real.” your voice barely above a whisper.

Noting your nervous tic, “Dreams can be cruel,” Benji spoke. You watch as his hands gently took hold of yours, his thumb brushing soothingly over the backs of your hands—the gesture fluttering your heart. “But they are also just dreams, m’ lady.” he reassured with a smile.

He continued ever so delicately, "I too face the same darkness. You are not alone.” he whispered, his eyes locked with yours.

His words enveloped you in comfort, as did his mere presence—offering solace with each reassuring word and gentle touch.

You found yourself instinctively seeking if he would become a comforting constant in your moment of vulnerability. You long for his warmth, a feeling you had already sensed from the young man, since the previous night's encounter.

“Stay… will you?” you whispered, your hands nestled in his, a self-conscious gaze falling to your lap.

He tightened his grip slightly, offering you a comforting squeeze. "As my princess commands," he replied softly, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

a/n: soooo how was it? i feel like i rambled a bit too much in my writing. my brain went haywire since i wanted to add everything i thought of (ideas were popping up left n right up n down) but i added what i could: character cameos, witch's hallucination vs dragon dream??? hihihihi anyways! do not hesitate to comment ur thoughts, i appreciate reading them! ♡

#heavy angst #fluff #hotd #benjicot blackwood #davos blackwood #house of the dragon #please read tw!#happy ending???#house targaryen #x reader #x reader fanfiction #benjicot blackwood x reader #hotd fanfic #davos blackwood x reader

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duskdog · 2 months ago

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I've never been a huge fan of the retcon of Stephanie Brown's death.

Don't get me wrong -- she never should have been killed the way she was, and I'm overjoyed that she's alive. But... the retcon itself is just so, so boring and stupid and uninspired. "Whoops, she faked her death! LOL!"

On the bright side: It not only brought Steph back, but it gave her the chance to earn respect and redemption in a way that would have been impossible had she stayed dead (obviously). It gave her the chance to become something more than "that dumb kid who started a gang war".

Also on the bright side: It salvaged Leslie Thompkins, whose character had been absolutely butchered -- even worse than Steph -- by War Games. Her motivation for letting a child fucking die on her table was absolute bullshit that made no sense for Leslie whatsoever, and spoke of a profound lack of understanding of her as a character and her relationship with Bruce in particular. The retcon washes her hands of Steph's blood at least, even if "faking a teenager's death" isn't the greatest thing for a resume.

On the not-so-bright side: It further demonized Steph by instead making her "that dumb kid who not only started a gang war, but also selfishly put her friends and mother through absolute hell by making them think she was dead".

Also on the not-so-bright side: It erased her very real trauma in the eyes of both fandom and the characters themselves. Oh, she didn't die and stay dead? Guess that means she didn't actually suffer. Guess that means being tortured to the point of death didn't mean anything. Guess that means power drills and broken glass and being hung in a stress position for hours/days doesn't hurt or leave scars or anything. Guess that means being suddenly stolen away from her entire life, with no one that she loves or even knows (we have no reason to believe she was close to Leslie when War Games happened, contrary to popular belief), wasn't incredibly difficult. Guess that means that recovering from massive physical and psychological trauma in a foreign country you've never been to and don't speak the language of, fully dependent on somebody she barely knows, and without the love and emotional support of her mother was probably find, right? Guess that means she didn't learn anything from her mistakes, huh? Because you have to actually die and be dead and stay dead for a while in order to be sympathetic, I guess.

Also on the not-so-bright side: It absolved Bruce (and the writers) of the callousness of his treatment of Steph, and of not memorializing her in the Batcave or giving any other indication that he ever considered her a real Robin to anyone other than Steph herself, whom he believed was dying and wouldn't be around to tell it anyways. (You may consider this a "bright side" thing. I don't, because a large part of my issue with Batman as a character is that he's always Right even when he's Wrong, and the narrative often ends up supporting his blatant assholery. I dislike his bad behavior being vindicated by virtue of secret knowledge or deus ex machina.)

More importantly, however, I've always questioned exactly how much agency Steph had in the whole "faking her death" thing.

Originally, Bruce found that Steph had been "stable" and shouldn't have died, unless Leslie allowed her to. Being "stable" at one point in time absolutely doesn't mean you're not in any danger whatsoever. It's good, but it's no guarantee -- especially if she was in bad enough shape that simple lack of intervention on Leslie's behalf would have been enough to kill her (and within a relatively short amount of time, too).

So we know she was badly injured. Enough so that Batman thought she was dying, and wasn't surprised by that fact initially. (He's not exactly someone who doesn't have experience with estimating someone's condition in the field, too, remember.) Steph herself even seemed to believe that she was dying.

Additionally, Steph can't exactly demand that Leslie -- whom she barely knows, remember -- fold up her practice and run away to Africa to get her away from Gotham. Or plan everything that would be necessary to fake her death, right down to a substitute corpse and autopsy. Those were things that took some real intent and planning on Leslie's part, as well as some Big Ass Decisions for the good doctor.

So it seems almost certain that the idea itself was Leslie's. She made these decisions very quickly, but she had to have been the one to make them. Was Steph privy to this? Well, was she even conscious? And if she was conscious, was she heavily drugged, for pain if nothing else? Seems she would have been. Even if not drugged, was she mentally and emotionally capable of making such a decision, considering she had just suffered actual literal torture?

It seems very unlikely to me that Steph had any, or much, input into this decision whatsoever.

And once they were in Africa, how long and difficult was her recovery? Was she given access to ways to contact anyone? Or change her mind? I'm not suggesting that Leslie was holding her hostage; I'm questioning whether Steph was even physically capable of advocating for herself for a while, let alone mentally. Her only connection to her former life is the doctor who whisked her away here -- and that connection is also the person who's in charge of her care. If you're exhausted, in lots of pain, probably heavily medicated, in emotional distress, and have limited mobility, you're probably a lot more likely to take your doc's suggestion that you "just relax and don't worry about that right now".

Additionally, what kind of mental/emotional state was Steph even in? She knew she fucked up. She knew people had suffered and died because of what she did. You can call Steph a lot of things, but "uncaring" and "unempathetic" are not among them. It's easy to say she was selfishly hiding from the consequences of her actions, and maybe that's true to an extent, but consider what we know about Steph's self-esteem up to this point. I don't think it's a stretch to say that she probably thought that Gotham was better off without her. She probably thought that nobody wanted to see her. She may have even though they were glad she was "dead". (Even her mother, whom she loves dearly. I believe her relationship with her mom is actually quite complicated, thanks to Crystal's neglect during her substance abuse days, their differing feelings on Arthur surrounding his death, and Steph's occasional parentification. Steph believed she had to protect her mother, but probably didn't feel like she was very good at it, so is it really surprising that an emotionally-compromised, injured Stephanie Brown might think that her mother might actually be better off with her "dead"?)

And what about when she reached the point where she was both physically and mentally capable of facing what she had done, and the fact that she was letting her loved ones believe she was dead, and that it might be hurtful of her to do that?

Well, at that point, the damage was already done, wasn't it? Telling them after 3 months, 6 months, 9 months, or however long the bulk of her recovery took wouldn't matter that much, would it? The lie had already been told. They had already buried her. They had already grieved. Maybe, by that point, it even felt like it would be more cruel to suddenly tell the truth. And by that point, she had begun to heal, begun to gain perspective, begun to re-evaluate somethings about herself. She probably really did need the time away to get her shit together. She probably did, for a little while, think it might be best if she never set foot in Gotham again.

I'm not saying that makes it all okay. Her mother, in particular, deserved better than all that. Cass was devastated and clearly struggled with Steph's death, perhaps even moreso than Tim. It was a shitty thing to put people through.

But I'm suggesting that 1. it's not fair to place so much of the blame on Stephanie herself, because it's not logical to suggest that she's the one who planned any of this, and 2. it's at least somewhat understandable.

#a-bad-case-of-the-stephs you know your tags made me think about this more #it's a shitty retcon imo but it is what it is #stephanie brown #leslie thompkins

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moonselune · 8 months ago

Note

Could I request bg3 ladies x reader drabbles of the ladies inadvertently pinning the reader to the ground or to a wall and what they'd do when they both realize the compromising position they're in💜

YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The sparring session with Minthara had started off as usual—intense, competitive, and filled with a charged energy that both exhilarated and challenged you. As a skilled paladin Minthara was a formidable opponent, and you relished the opportunity to test your own combat skills against hers.

The training grounds were a flurry of movement and the clashing of weapons. You parried her strikes with precision, your muscles straining with effort as you tried to gain the upper hand. Despite the sweat dripping down your brow and the pounding of your heart, you were thoroughly enjoying the challenge.

In a sudden burst of agility, Minthara launched herself at you, her movements fluid and unpredictable. You sidestepped her initial attack, but she anticipated your evasion and countered swiftly. Before you knew it, her momentum carried both of you crashing to the ground, her body pinning yours beneath her.

For a moment, you were stunned by the sudden change in position. You could feel the heat of Minthara's body against yours, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she struggled to regain her balance. Her eyes widened in surprise, and a hint of pink tinged her cheeks as she realized the compromising nature of your entanglement.

"Well, well," you teased, trying to ignore the racing of your own pulse. "Looks like you've got me pinned, Minthara."

Her lips quirked into a half-smile, her gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. "Seems that way," she replied, her voice husky with exertion.

You knew this was your chance. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you decided to play dirty, tipping the scales in your favor. Leaning up slightly, you closed the remaining distance between you and pressed your lips firmly against Minthara's.

At first, she stiffened in surprise, her body tense against yours. But as the seconds stretched on, she melted into the kiss, her hands instinctively moving to cradle your face. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of her lips moving against yours, soft yet demanding. This was your time, this was your advantage.

With ease you managed to roll Minthara onto her back and straddle her, pinning her to the floor. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your chests rising and falling in sync. Minthara stared down at you with a mixture of astonishment and something deeper, a spark of desire dancing in her eyes.

"You… you played dirty," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

You grinned up at her, feeling a rush of victory and satisfaction. "All's fair in love and war, isn't that what they say?"

Minthara chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Indeed. I concede defeat this time, but don't think this means I'll go easy on you next round."

You laughed, helping her to her feet as you both regained your composure. The tension between you had shifted, the dynamic forever altered by the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

As you resumed your sparring, there was an unspoken understanding between you and Minthara. The competition remained fierce, but now there was an added layer of respect and a shared memory that bound you together. And perhaps, just perhaps, a hint of something more blossoming beneath the surface, waiting to be explored.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The day had been long and challenging, filled with skirmishes and negotiations, leaving both you and Karlach weary but exhilarated with the victories won. As night settled over the camp, the air cooled, and the sounds of celebration faded into murmurs of conversation and the occasional crackle of the dwindling campfire.

You found yourself alone with Karlach near the outskirts of the camp, where the shadows played tricks with the fading light. The tension between you had been palpable all day—moments stolen between battles, glances that lingered a second too long, touches that spoke of more than camaraderie.

Lost in a moment of shared laughter, Karlach playfully shoved you, her hand landing on your chest. But instead of regaining your balance, you stumbled backward, tripping over a rock. Before you could hit the ground, Karlach’s quick reflexes had her closing the distance between you, pinning you to a nearby tree with her body.

There was a split second of realization between you, the sudden proximity and the undeniable closeness hitting both of you simultaneously. Karlach’s eyes widened, her grip on your shoulders tightening involuntarily. Her breath hitched as she took in the proximity, her chest rising and falling with the exertion of the day.

For your part, you couldn’t help but feel the rush of adrenaline mixed with a thrill you dared not name. Karlach was strong and capable, her presence commanding yet strangely tender in this unexpected moment. You could feel her heartbeat through her chest, steady and strong against your own, her skin hot under your touch.

“Sorry,” Karlach breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, though the air seemed charged with electricity between you.

“It’s… it’s alright,” you managed to reply, your voice betraying the rapid pace of your own heart. "You saved me..from the rock....

Karlach’s gaze softened, her hand moving from your shoulder to gently cup your cheek, her touch surprisingly tender despite the raw strength she wielded on the battlefield. Her thumb traced a feather-light path along your jawline, her eyes searching yours for permission, for understanding.

The campfire cast flickering shadows across her face, highlighting the sharp angles and the softness hidden beneath. In this moment, there was no war, no battles to be fought—just the two of you, suspended in time.

“I…” Karlach began, her voice catching. “I didn’t mean…”

Before she could finish, you lifted a hand, gently touching her lips with your fingertips. “I know,” you murmured, a small smile playing on your lips.

Karlach’s eyes widened in surprise, her breath catching. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a tender, tentative kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken desires and the unspoken words that lingered between you.

As you melted into each other, the world around you faded away—the distant sounds of the camp, the cool night air against your skin, all of it receding into the background. There was only this moment, this connection that defied the chaos of their world.

When you finally pulled back, the tension that had held you both captive began to dissipate, replaced by a newfound understanding and an unspoken promise. Karlach rested her forehead against yours, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

“Compromising position, huh?” she murmured, a hint of amusement in her voice.

You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Seems like it.”

Karlach grinned, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of playfulness and something deeper. “Well, I suppose we should…”

“Yeah,” you agreed, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe find somewhere a bit less… public.”

With a shared laugh, you both untangled yourselves from the tree, stealing one last lingering kiss before making your way back towards the heart of the camp.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The battlefield was chaotic, the clash of swords and the roar of spells echoing through the air. You and Lae'zel had been fighting side by side against a horde of goblins when suddenly, a group of hobgoblin reinforcements appeared from the trees, their eyes locked on your position. With no time to spare, Lae'zel made a split-second decision.

"Get down!" she barked, her voice cutting through the chaos as she tackled you to the ground. The force of her movement was unexpected, and before you knew it, you were pinned beneath her, her body shielding yours from view.

For a moment, all you could feel was the heat of Lae'zel's armor against your skin, her muscles taut with tension as she held you close. Her scent, a mixture of sweat and leather, surrounded you, and the weight of her body pressed against yours sent a rush of warmth through you.

"Lae'zel, get off!" you hissed, trying to push against her chestplate without much success. The urgency in your voice was evident, but Lae'zel seemed unfazed, her attention focused on scanning the battlefield for any sign of movement.

"Quiet," she commanded, her voice low and intense. "They'll pass soon."

You huffed in frustration, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment and something else—something you didn't dare name. Being this close to Lae'zel, feeling the strength of her presence and the way her body held you protectively, stirred emotions you had long tried to bury.

Minutes passed like hours, the tension thick in the air until finally, the hobgoblins moved on, their attention drawn elsewhere. Lae'zel remained still for a moment longer, ensuring the coast was clear before she reluctantly lifted herself off you.

"There," she said, her tone matter-of-fact as she stood and offered you a hand. "We should keep moving."

You accepted her hand gratefully, though the touch sent a jolt of electricity through you. As you rose to your feet, you couldn't meet Lae'zel's gaze, afraid she would see the flush of your cheeks or the rapid beating of your heart.

"Thanks," you muttered, brushing off your clothes and trying to regain your composure.

Lae'zel tilted her head, studying you with a curious expression. "Are you blushing?"

You scowled, feeling your embarrassment deepen. "No, of course not. It's just… unexpected."

She chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine for an entirely different reason. "You're easy to fluster," she remarked, her lips quirking into a half-smile.

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms defensively. "Well, maybe if you didn't tackle me like that…"

Lae'zel laughed outright this time, a sound filled with genuine amusement. "Next time, I'll let the hobgoblins have you then, shall I?"

You couldn't help but smile in spite of yourself, the tension easing between you. Despite the awkwardness of the moment, you knew that Lae'zel had acted out of instinct to protect you, and that realization warmed you more than anything.

As you resumed your journey through the battlefield, with Lae'zel teasing you intermittently about your reaction, you couldn't deny the newfound closeness between you. Perhaps there was more to your relationship with Lae'zel than just comrades-in-arms—perhaps there was something forged in battle that ran deeper than either of you had anticipated.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

In the dimly lit ruins, amidst the remnants of ancient stones and the faint whispers of forgotten deities, you and Shadowheart found yourselves locked in a tense confrontation. The mission had been perilous, with traps and ambushes lurking around every corner, but your resolve to uncover the secrets of this ancient site kept you pushing forward.

As you rounded a corner, a sudden trap triggered—a cascade of rubble and debris rained down, separating you from the rest of your party. Instinctively, Shadowheart reacted, grabbing your arm and pulling you into a narrow alcove. The force of her movement pinned you against the rough stone wall, her body pressed close to yours in the confined space.

For a moment, you were both frozen in place, the weight of the rubble settling around you echoing the pounding of your hearts. The air was thick with tension, charged with the adrenaline of the near miss and something else—a palpable awareness of each other's presence that seemed to hum in the space between you.

"Are you alright?" Shadowheart's voice was low, barely a whisper, yet it cut through the silence like a blade.

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from hers. Her eyes, usually guarded and distant, now held a glimmer of something vulnerable, something raw and unspoken. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt her hand slide from your arm to the wall beside your head, effectively trapping you in her embrace.

"Good," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the echoes of the crumbling stone. "We need to find a way out of here."

Her words were practical, but her proximity was anything but. The warmth of her body seeped through the layers of clothing, sending a shiver down your spine. Without thinking, you lifted your hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face, your fingers trembling slightly at the contact.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved, caught in a charged silence that spoke volumes. Then, as if guided by some unseen force, Shadowheart leaned forward, her lips brushing against yours in a tentative, almost hesitant kiss.

The world seemed to spin as your senses ignited with the taste of her—the faintest hint of salt from sweat mixed with the sweetness of anticipation. Your mind reeled with the intensity of the moment, the realization sinking in that this wasn't just a fleeting gesture of reassurance. There was something deeper here, something that had been building between you both beneath the surface of duty and danger.

But then, as quickly as it began, Shadowheart pulled back, her eyes wide with shock and regret. "Forgive me," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I… I shouldn't have…"

Before she could finish her sentence, you silenced her with another kiss—a kiss filled with the unspoken emotions and desires that had simmered between you since the day you met. Your hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as you deepened the kiss, the world around you fading into insignificance.

In that sacred space, amidst the ruins and the echoes of forgotten gods, you found something precious and undeniable—a connection that transcended the boundaries of time and faith.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and shaken, you met Shadowheart's gaze with a mixture of awe and understanding. Her expression softened, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw tenderly.

"Perhaps," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the echoes of your shared breaths, "perhaps we should continue this discussion after we find a way out."

You smiled, the weight of her words lifting a burden you hadn't realized you'd been carrying. "Agreed," you replied, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. "But first, let's find our way out of here."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Can I just say I fucking combust at the BG3 ladies requests send me moreeeee, hope you like these ! - Seluney x

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bigboysfalldeep · 2 months ago

Text

featherlight

Adrian trudged through the crisp night air, his breath visible in soft puffs that dissipated into the void. It had been another grueling day at work, and his nightly walks had become a cherished ritual—a way to leave the weight of spreadsheets, emails, and constant demands behind. Dressed in his black North Face jacket, Adidas hoodie, joggers, and sneakers, he blended into the shadows, moving like a specter along the quiet streets.

When he finally reached his apartment building, he was eager for nothing more than to crawl into bed. The towering brick structure loomed over him, its familiar facade inviting yet indifferent. He pushed through the glass door, the warmth of the lobby embracing him like a gentle reprieve from the cold outside. He pressed the elevator button, eyes heavy with fatigue, waiting for the slow machinery to creak its way down.

The faint hum of the elevator accompanied the fluorescent buzz of the dimly lit lobby. Adrian rolled his neck, a satisfying crack releasing some of the tension from his shoulders. Just as the elevator doors slid open with a sluggish groan, he heard it—a voice that grated against his nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

"Ah, Adrian! Late night, huh? You always take those walks, don’t ya?"

Adrian barely suppressed a sigh. It was him. The older neighbor. The one who rambled incessantly, about anything and everything, and whose words never seemed to form a coherent thought. He was always lurking, always talking, always oblivious to the discomfort of those around him.

Adrian nodded politely, a reflex more than anything else. He hoped his silence would deter the man, but it rarely did. The man shuffled closer, his mismatched layers of clothing rustling faintly.

"You know, these elevators are slower than molasses in January," the man started, stepping inside as Adrian followed, resigned.

The two pressed their respective floor buttons—5th for the man, 8th for Adrian—and the doors creaked shut.

Adrian leaned against the wall, his mind already beginning to drift as the man’s voice filled the small space. It was the usual meaningless stream of words, a torrent of thoughts that never seemed to connect. Adrian’s gaze unfocused, his thoughts blurring into static.

Then, he felt it.

A tingling sensation spread through his limbs, faint at first but growing steadily. It wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, it felt... nice. Warm. Like sinking into a hot bath after a cold day. A faint smile tugged at his lips.

The man’s voice became more distinct, cutting through the haze.

"Oh, it must feel so good to just listen to me talk, and space out. To relax and just listen to me ramble."

Adrian nodded slowly, almost involuntarily. "Uh-huh," he murmured, his voice soft and distant.

The man smirked, his tone shifting ever so slightly, taking on a rhythm that was almost hypnotic.

"Good boy. As the elevator goes up and up, your body feels so nice, weightless, as if you were floating. You space out and relax even more. Your body tingling with pleasure, as you hear..."

Adrian’s head lolled slightly, the words washing over him in waves. The elevator dinged softly as it reached the 5th floor. The doors slid open, but the man didn’t step out.

Instead, the doors closed, and the elevator resumed its slow ascent.

"You tingle more and more, and relax. All of you," the man continued, his voice a gentle cadence that seemed to wrap around Adrian like a cocoon.

Adrian felt weightless, the sensation intensifying with each passing second. When the elevator dinged again, signaling the 8th floor, he let out a deep sigh. His body felt numb, heavy and light all at once, as if tethered to reality by the thinnest thread. He didn't step out, he just stood there, listening.

But the man wasn’t done.

He pressed the 2nd-floor button. The elevator descended, the motion smooth and rhythmic.

"It feels so nice and good, that you fall into a deep, tingly..." The man’s voice lowered, rich and velvety, almost a purr. His arm reached out, steadying Adrian.

"Sleep."

The man’s finger tapped gently against Adrian’s forehead, and the younger man’s body went slack. He collapsed into the man’s waiting arms, his breathing slow and steady, his face serene.

"That’s a good boy. Good job," the man murmured, cradling Adrian’s limp form as the elevator continued its descent.

The rest of the building was silent, unaware of what had just transpired within the confines of the tiny metal box. And as the elevator dinged once more, signaling its arrival at the 2nd floor, the man smiled.

The man held Adrian close, steadying the younger man’s swaying form. Adrian’s head lolled slightly, his breathing slow and even, his body pliant against the man’s touch.

"Can you feel it, boy?" the man murmured, his voice low and soothing. "So weightless. Just listen to my voice. Space out, relax."

Adrian sighed under his breath, his lips parting slightly as he let out a faint "uhuh." The sound was barely audible, but it brought a chuckle from the man.

The older man pressed the 5th-floor button once more. As the elevator ascended, he stroked Adrian’s arm, guiding him gently to lean more heavily against him.

"Come on, boy," the man whispered, his tone laced with satisfaction. "Let’s get you home. To my place."

Adrian nodded weakly, his half-lidded eyes unfocused and glassy. "Uhuh," he repeated, his voice thick and distant.

The elevator finally came to a stop, and the man adjusted his grip on Adrian, leading him out into the dim hallway. It was late, and the building was silent save for the faint hum of the lights overhead. He moved with purpose, guiding Adrian toward his flat at the end of the corridor.

The man paused briefly at his door, glancing up at the security camera mounted above. A smirk played across his lips as he recalled the malfunction that had conveniently gone unrepaired for weeks. With a quick turn of the key, he opened his front door and ushered Adrian inside.

Once the door clicked shut, the man stepped back, observing Adrian as the younger man swayed unsteadily on his feet. His posture was slack, his body seemingly too heavy for him to control. His drooping eyelids and the faint trail of drool at the corner of his mouth made him look utterly lost, as though he were a puppet waiting for its strings to be pulled.

The man approached him slowly, his hand brushing over the thick fabric of Adrian’s jacket and hoodie.

"You can barely stand," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and triumph. "So easy. I knew I’d get you eventually, little Adrian."

He leaned closer, his fingers tracing a slow line down Adrian’s cheek before cupping it gently. The younger man’s skin was warm beneath his touch, his expression blank and docile.

"You don’t even know, do you?" the man teased, his thumb brushing lightly over Adrian’s lips. "How long I’ve been waiting for this moment. How long I’ve been watching you, planning this."

Adrian’s lips curved into a faint, lazy smile, but no coherent words escaped him. His body remained motionless except for the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

The man’s grin widened as he stepped back, unzipping Adrian’s jacket and slipping it off his shoulders. "Let’s get you comfortable, boy," he murmured, his tone soft but commanding.

The man ran his hands slowly over the inside of Adrian's jacket, feeling the lingering warmth that clung to the fabric. He discarded it to the floor with a soft thud, his attention now solely on the figure before him. Adrian swayed in place, his movements slow and rhythmic, like a pendulum guided by an unseen force.

The man stepped closer, his hands roaming over Adrian’s chest, tracing the contours of his hoodie. He slid his palms over Adrian’s shoulders and arms, feeling the firm yet relaxed muscles beneath the fabric. His touch moved upward, brushing against Adrian’s neck, then cupping his face with both hands. He caressed Adrian’s cheek with his thumb, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Listen to me, little Adrian," he said softly, his voice a calm, steady anchor in the haze that enveloped the younger man’s mind. "I’m going to count from ten to one, and as I do, you’ll fall even deeper into this trance. Deeper into relaxation. Deeper into bliss. Do you understand?"

Adrian’s lips parted slightly, his head tilting just enough to suggest a nod.

The man began, his voice low and deliberate:

"10." He stroked Adrian’s cheek. "It feels good to relax and have a release from all the stress."

Adrian let out a faint sigh, his shoulders slumping further.

"9." The man’s hands slid back down to Adrian’s chest, pressing gently. "It feels good to let someone else take control from you."

Adrian’s body swayed, leaning into the man’s touch as though seeking support.

"8." The man circled behind Adrian, placing his hands on the younger man’s shoulders. "It feels good to be blissfully obedient."

A small smile graced Adrian’s face, his breathing deep and even.

"7." The man’s thumbs kneaded Adrian’s shoulders gently. "It feels good to rest your tired mind."

Adrian’s head lolled forward slightly, his posture loose and pliant.

"6." The man leaned in, his voice close to Adrian’s ear. "It feels good to no longer think."

Adrian exhaled slowly, his body almost sagging under the weight of the suggestion.

"5." The man stepped back in front of him, holding Adrian steady by his arms. "It feels good to be counted down, just like now."

Adrian swayed again, as if tethered to the man’s words.

"4." The man traced his fingers along Adrian’s jawline. "It feels good to be hypnotized, just like now."

Adrian’s head tilted into the touch, his expression utterly serene.

"3." The man’s hand moved back to Adrian’s chest, pressing gently. "It feels good to give in."

Adrian’s lips parted again, a faint "uhuh" escaping them.

"2." The man leaned closer, his tone dropping to an intimate whisper. "It feels good to stop resisting."

Adrian’s body stilled, as though every ounce of tension had drained from him completely.

"1." The man tapped Adrian’s forehead lightly. "It feels good to drop."

As soon as the words left his lips, Adrian’s legs gave out, and he slumped forward. The man caught him with practiced ease, guiding him carefully to his knees before lowering him onto the soft rug of the living room floor.

"That’s it," the man murmured, brushing a strand of hair from Adrian’s forehead. "Good boy. So easy, so willing."

Adrian lay motionless, his body completely relaxed, his breathing slow and steady. The man knelt beside him, watching intently as the younger man’s chest rose and fell.

"Now," he said softly, almost to himself. "Let’s see just how far you can go."

The man knelt beside Adrian, his fingers trailing gently along the younger man's slackened face. Adrian's features were serene, his lips parted slightly, a thin line of drool glistening at the corner of his mouth. The man’s gaze wandered down, and he smirked as he noticed the unmistakable strain in Adrian’s joggers.

"Well, well," he murmured, brushing his thumb lightly against Adrian’s cheek. "Someone’s really into this."

The man lets one hand wander down, brushing over Adrian's chest before reaching the bulge forming inside the tight pants.

"You're quite something," the man mumbled more to himself than to Adrian as he traces the tangible outlines of the young mans erection.

He gave Adrian’s shoulder a firm pat. "Get up, Adrian."

Adrian obeyed, his movements slow and deliberate, like a marionette responding to its puppeteer. He stood unsteadily, his broad shoulders slack, his body language exuding submission. The man took a step back, admiring him. Adrian’s muscular frame filled out his hoodie and joggers perfectly, a testament to years of dedication and discipline. And yet, here he was, as pliant and malleable as anyone else who had fallen into his web.

"You’re a sight, aren’t you?" the man murmured, stepping closer. He placed one hand on the bulge straining against Adrian’s joggers, the other gently caressing his cheek. Adrian sighed softly, his glassy eyes barely registering the touch.

"Listen to me, Adrian," the man said, his voice a low, soothing hum. "I need you to do something for me. I need you to leak."

Adrian’s breath hitched faintly, his body reacting to the words even as his mind remained shrouded in fog.

"Let your thoughts," the man continued, his hand pressing slightly against the growing wetness, "leak out of the tip of your cock. Feel them leaving you, one by one."

Adrian’s eyelids fluttered, and a faint groan escaped his lips as a wave of warmth spread through his groin, the sensation both overwhelming and irresistible.

"Finding that," the man said, his tone firm yet soothing, "the more you leak, the harder it gets to think."

Adrian’s head lolled slightly, his lips moving soundlessly, his mind struggling to form even the simplest of thoughts.

"The more you can just focus on me," the man said, his hand sliding up to Adrian’s chest, fingers splaying over his rapid heartbeat, "and ignore everything else."

Adrian let out another faint sigh, his breathing becoming heavier as the warmth and wetness grew.

"The more you can just leak for me."

Adrian’s body trembled slightly, his knees threatening to buckle as his cock obeyed the command. His drooling intensified, and his head tilted forward, a soft "uhuh" escaping his lips.

"Good boy," the man murmured, his grin widening. He stepped back slightly, his hands still resting on Adrian, as though grounding him in place. "Now, listen closely. When I count down from five to one, you will release all your thoughts at once. All of them. Every stray idea, every remaining thread of resistance. Release it all. And in that moment, you will become mine. Do you understand?"

Adrian let out a faint, incoherent mumble that sounded like agreement.

"Good. Let’s begin."

"5." His hand pressed gently against Adrian’s chest. "Feel it building, all that tension, all those thoughts, ready to pour out."

Adrian’s body tensed slightly, a shiver running down his spine.

"4." The man’s hand moved back to the bulge at Adrian’s joggers, applying the slightest pressure. "The wetness grows. The warmth spreads. You can’t hold it back anymore."

Adrian let out a soft whimper, his body trembling with anticipation.

"3." The man caressed Adrian’s cheek again, his thumb brushing against his lips. "You’re so close now. So ready to let it all go."

Adrian leaned into the touch, his lips parting as a bead of drool slipped free.

"2." The man’s voice was a whisper, yet it filled the room. "All your thoughts, all your resistance, slipping away."

Adrian’s body sagged slightly, his muscles going slack as the last vestiges of tension drained from him.

"1." The man’s hand pressed firmly against Adrian’s chest. "Release."

The man caught Adrian as his legs gave way, holding him close as the younger man moaned softly, his head tilting back, eyes rolling until only the whites showed. A pleased smirk played on the man’s lips as he felt the warm wetness soak through Adrian’s joggers, trickling down his legs in a sticky stream.

"Good boy," he murmured, his voice low and taunting, brushing Adrian’s damp cheek with his thumb. Adrian drooled freely, completely oblivious to anything but the bliss coursing through him.

The man chuckled, his hand running down Adrian’s drenched joggers, feeling the heat beneath the soaked fabric. Adrian shivered at the touch, his lips parting to let out another soft moan. The man pressed his hand against the wetness before slipping it beneath Adrian’s hoodie, his fingers grazing the taut, warm skin of Adrian’s chest.

"What a night, huh?" he teased, letting his hand roam, tracing the contours of Adrian’s muscles. The way his chest rose and fell, strained yet yielding, brought a satisfied gleam to the man’s eyes.

He caressed Adrian’s face again, savoring the texture of his stubble and the warmth of his flushed, wet lips. The touch was both tender and possessive, claiming Adrian’s unguarded state as entirely his.

Adrian, meanwhile, existed in a blissful emptiness. His mind was a blank slate, his body responding instinctively to every touch. His eyes were glazed, unfocused, as he drooled, utterly detached from thought or resistance. One of his hands drifted unconsciously to the soaked bulge of his joggers, cupping it gently.

The man noticed and chuckled, leaning in to mock him. "Look at you," he murmured. "You don’t even know what you’re doing, do you?"

He guided Adrian’s hand away and slipped his own under the hoodie again, brushing over Adrian’s chest one last time before stepping back. Adjusting his grip, he helped Adrian to his feet, steadying him as the younger man swayed.

"There we go," he said, his tone light yet smug as he admired Adrian. The soaked joggers, the slack posture, the vacant expression—it was everything he had hoped for.

"Now," he said, brushing a hand over Adrian’s hair to smooth it, "it’s late, and I need to get you into bed, huh? Long day?"

The man reached down, picking up Adrian’s discarded jacket. He held it to his nose for a brief moment, taking a short sniff.

He draped the jacket over Adrian’s shoulders, guiding his arms through the sleeves before zipping it up snugly. He cupped Adrian’s face again, his thumb brushing against his cheek as he spoke with quiet authority.

"Listen," the man said firmly, his tone commanding. "Any time you hear me say the word drop, you will fall back into this state. A state where nothing else matters but my word. Understood?"

Adrian gave the faintest nod, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"Good boy," the man said again, leading Adrian toward the door.

He led Adrian out into the hallway, steadying him as they walked. The building was quiet, the hum of the elevator audible as they approached. The man pressed the button, and the doors slid open with a soft ding. He guided Adrian inside, pressing the button for the 8th floor before turning to face him.

As the doors began to close, the man leaned in and whispered, "Drop."

Adrian’s body stiffened for a fraction of a second before his eyes fluttered open, the haze in his gaze clearing slightly. He blinked groggily, his head feeling heavy and muddled.

"Wha…?" he muttered, rubbing his temple as he tried to orient himself.

The warmth at his groin registered next, sticky and damp, spreading uncomfortably against his skin. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, though he couldn’t quite remember what had happened. All he knew was that it felt… good.

Adrian glanced around the empty elevator, relieved that no one else was there to witness him in this disheveled, disoriented state. He leaned back against the wall, letting out a soft sigh.

"Must’ve been a weird dream," he muttered to himself, brushing a hand through his hair as the elevator dinged softly, signaling his floor.

As the doors slid open, Adrian stepped out, still feeling groggy but oddly at ease. Whatever had happened, he couldn’t shake the lingering sensation of warmth and comfort. He glanced back briefly, his mind foggy but his instincts telling him someone had been with him. Shaking his head, he dismissed the thought, chalking it up to his exhaustion.

He fumbled with his keys, entered his apartment, and collapsed onto his bed. As his eyes drifted closed, a faint smile played on his lips, though he couldn’t quite explain why.

#tf story #male hypno #male hypnosis #male transformation #gay hypno #male tf #gay hypno story #gay mind control #male mind control #hypnofetish #hypnotised #gay hypnosis

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ariascoven · 2 months ago

Text

✹ ── WORK FOR IT.

PAIRING : professor!lilia calderu x reader

CONTENT + WARNINGS : female reader. legal age gap. power imbalance. annoyed lilia. pet names (darling, baby, angel, sweetheart & little one). smut. hair pulling. semi-public sex. oral and fingering (lilia receiving). praise and degradation kink. mommy kink, reader calls lilia mamma. marking, biting and hickeys. nursing kink, no lactation.

WORD COUNT : 2.9k

A/N : keep in mind i have no idea how university works. i didn't even finish high school lmao, don't expect much from me

AO3 | MASTERLIST

Shit, shit, shit. You fucked up. You fucked up terribly - and uncharacteristically - bad. With your busy schedule and scrambled brain, you ended up completely forgetting about the upcoming test with Ms. Calderu. Your heart clenched just from the mere thought of leaving the woman you admired so much disappointed, dreading the stern look you would receive from those brown eyes the moment you stepped into the classroom hours late, after her class had already ended.

Your hurried footsteps were the only sound echoing around the empty hallways, given everyone else was in their respective classrooms, but you knew Lilia’s was empty at the moment, the older woman being probably the only one. Your breath came in gasps as you quickened the speed of your pace, practically running like a crazed woman through the university building in hopes of reaching your destination in time — although the clock on your wrist told you that was an impossible thing to happen. Panting, you pushed the huge door open with a loud bang.

With wide eyes, you were immediately met with a familiar grey-haired woman sitting behind her desk, the fancy glasses framing her stern face stealing the breath from your lungs — a sight you would usually melt for. Instead, the cold gaze she shot up made your arms drop loosely by your sides in shame, head tipping down as the floor suddenly became incredibly interesting.

“Come closer.” She ordered, voice rough, the demanding tone she used inflicting unwanted feelings on your body. Slowly, you dragged your feet across the empty room and towards her. Lilia watched in complete silence, impatiently tapping her pen against the surface of her desk, covered with papers and an unfinished mug of black coffee. Her narrowed eyes scanned your body as you stopped in front of her desk, head downcast.

God, you couldn't even face the woman. She had showered you with praise and compliments when you told her you were the first student to arrive for the English test just a few days back, only for you to commit such a huge mistake when it came to hers — the test she said you would flawlessly get the highest grade of the class, as always. After being so late, you knew she wouldn’t allow you to take the test. You fought back the urge to cry.

“Three hours ago.” She spoke slowly in a tone lower than usual, dragging out each word as if to make her point as clear as day. “You have the audacity to walk into my classroom three hours late.” Her anger only grew at your avoidance, eyes locked onto your feet and stubbornly refusing to look at her. She crossed her arms over the desk, leaning forward and speaking louder.

“When I speak,” she began, the noise of her pen dropping onto the desk louder than it should be and making you wince. “I expect you to look at me and not at the floor, young lady.” She observed intently as you looked up, taking way too long and deepening her annoyance — first, it was your irresponsibility with the test, and then you move like you’re in slow motion while she just wants to get the damned conversation over with.

A shiver ran down your spine and raised goosebumps on your skin when you met the older woman’s gaze. Your hands found their way to your chest, fingers entwined and fiddling with each other as you remained quiet, waiting for her to resume her scolding; a well deserved one.

“I don’t even have the words to describe what I’m feeling right now because disappointment doesn't even begin to grasp the concept of it.” The words slipping from your adored professor’s lips cut right through your heart like a sword aimed to kill, the tears threatening to spill from your eyes becoming harder to fight against as your lips trembled.

“You don’t need to be so mean.” You said quietly, barely above a whisper, voice trembling. Your stomach turned at the pure annoyance displayed on Lilia’s face, eyes narrowing further as she clicked her tongue. You noticed the way she gripped the edge of her desk — something she only did when her anger was getting the best of her, usually shown before she yelled at a student, which she rarely did. Fuck, you were screwed.

“Darling, you have no idea how mean I can get when someone I put my entire trust in fails me.” She almost growled, eyes darkening. “One hour, I could maybe forgive. But three? That’s just testing my patience.” She shook her head subtly. And she was right. Being on time was one of the rules she could never forgive a student for breaking, but for you, exceptions had always been made. But three hours would be stretching it, especially during exam season — especially when it was the most important test of the semester.

“Lilia—” you tried to speak, but were quickly cut off by the woman herself, sounding louder.

“It’s Ms. Calderu to you.” Your eyes widened. Neither you or her could remember how long you’d been on a first name basis. Calling her Lilia was never a problem, so hearing her snap at you because of that shocked you speechless, lips parted as you could only stare in disbelief.

The beat of silence that followed the exchange made you shift uncomfortably, the room heaving with tension and unspoken feelings. You had an idea to repair the situation, something that would make Lilia stop being mad at you and maybe, just maybe, could recover your lost grade. Deciding to give it a shot, you swallowed thickly.

“Ms. Calderu,” you breathed out, obeying and stepping closer to the desk. Your hands found their way to the wood surface, body leaning down just the slightest bit, all of that without breaking eye contact even for a split second. “I’m truly sorry. I acknowledge my irresponsibility and that I committed a huge mistake, and I am fully willing to repair it. Is there any chance you could allow me to take the test? I would do anything.”

The implication in your words was no secret, clear for anyone to hear. Lilia wasn’t dumb. She paused for a few moments, eyes raking over your body before meeting yours once more. She hummed in thought, leaning back against her chair and tilting her head to the side. “Anything, you say?” The words dripped from her lips in a purr, one that made you throb with need.

You hummed in agreement, eyes glimmering with shaky confidence as you tried to keep your cool. At the confirmation, she spread her legs fully and nodded down, a silent request — or rather, a silent order. The message was understood immediately, and you moved just as quickly. You found your way under her desk and between her legs, staring up with puppy eyes and caressing her thighs over the smooth fabric of her pants.

Her hand found its way to your head, gripping a fistful of hair with a grip so bruising it made you wince and whine in pain. She pulled your head back with a harsh tug. “If you want a good grade,” her free hand reached down to trace imaginary patterns on the exposed skin of your neck, making you shiver. “You need to work for it.”

She didn’t have to say anything more, those words being enough to have you desperately pulling the zipper of her pants down. She helps you pull the pants down to her ankles by lifting her hips, lust filled eyes studying your every movement. In all honesty, it wouldn't be the first time you’d done something like this with Lilia, nor the first time you’d done it inside the classroom, but she’d always close the door and lock it. This time, though, you knew the door was unlocked — you didn’t think about closing it, not expecting the scolding to turn into something more.

The possibility of getting caught made your heart thump rapidly against your chest as you pulled her underwear to the side. Although the professor’s favorite thing in the world was teasing you, she wasn’t one to be teased. She noticed your eagerness to please her and couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, the sound turning into a gasp when your tongue met her flesh.

You let out a pleased hum, eyes fluttering. God, you missed it — the sweetest thing your tongue ever had the pleasure to taste. Your tongue moved gently, sliding up and down in small kitten licks against her wet folds, relishing in the moans she let out whenever your nose brushed against her clit. She held onto your hair once more, pushing your face further into her pussy. Your scalp burned under the rough treatment, but nothing would possibly make you stop.

Lilia groaned in annoyance when the kitten licks stopped, but quickly melted when your pretty lips wrapped around her clit and sucked on it harshly. “Just like that, baby.” The next groan was a sound of pure pleasure, her head falling backwards and resting against the chair as her eyes closed. You always knew just what to do to make her feel good, and it was moments like this that reminded her just how much she needed you. No one could make her see stars the way that you did, ever.

“Good girl.” She praised, voice sounding breathless. She ran her fingers through your hair, hips bucking up against your face, seeking her pleasure. Her movements stuttered when she felt her climax approaching — way too quickly for her own liking. How was it possible? How did you make her cum so fast without fail, every single time she allowed you to touch her in secret? “Fuck, angel…” she moaned, the sound causing your own hips to buck against the floor, like nothing but a stupid and needy puppy in heat.

“Goodness… you’re such a little slut, aren’t you?” You moaned against her, the words only serving to make you embarrassingly wet, soaking through your underwear. “Eating your teacher out, and for what? To recover the grade you were incompetent enough to lose. You dumb baby…” Lust clouded your mind and turned forming coherent thoughts an impossible task to complete with the way her hips bucked against your face and the words leaving her lips — degrading, but that, for some reason, made you feel like the most special girl in the whole universe.

The noises slipping past her lips became louder, shameless, as your tongue began delving deeper, exploring every inch of her. Your gaze never faltered from her eyes as you kept tongue-fucking her, feeling dizzy with the way her scent filled your nostrils. Your own breathing became ragged, coming in small gasps, feeling her walls fluttering. It was an indicator that a final push was all she needed to cum on the spot. And you craved it; the taste of it, the smell of it, the warmth of it on your tongue and running down your throat as you lapped up everything she had to offer you.

“Fucking hell!” Her eyes widened, words coming out in an exclaim of surprise at the two fingers that plunged inside of her without previous warning, her walls clamping down, trying to accommodate them. Not very difficult to do so, with the way she was dripping, thighs glistening with her own wetness. What a sight to behold.

You focused on the movements of your hand, fingers thrusting in and out of Lilia at a steady, hard pace. Your lips latched onto the wet skin of her thighs, distributing licks and open-mouthed kisses. When you began planting hickeys all over her, leaving a trail of purple marks that definitely wouldn’t go away so soon, that was the breaking point, curse after curse falling from her lips.

Hickeys and love bites had always been one of her weaknesses, and you knew it damn well. The thought of marking someone drove her wild and made her possessive side flare up, hence why your poor skin was always left covered in bruises after your meetings behind closed doors. The fact you wanted to claim her as yours made her mind spin, fingers tightening their grip onto your hair and hips moving at a frantic pace.

“Does that feel good, mamma?” You questioned softly, the vibrations coming from your voice against Lilia’s skin eliciting a gasp from her. She looked down with heavy lidded eyes and nodded, humming as her teeth tugged at her bottom lip.

“You’re so good for mamma, sweetheart. Knows just how— ah!” She moaned, eyes shutting when your digits began hitting her g-spot over and over again. “Just how to make mamma melt for you.” Her hand slid from your hair to the back of your neck, gripping it to keep you close.

Your cunt throbbed at the sight of Lilia cupping her own breast, hand sliding under the fabric of her shirt to fondle with the plump flesh. You wanted to taste her there too, to latch onto her nipple and never let go. Flashbacks of your first time with the woman replayed in the back of your mind, her words coming back to remind you of your place. “Always remember, little one. You can only have mamma’s tits after you make her cum.”

The echo inside your brain encouraged you to add a third finger inside her, moaning at the same time she did, completely obsessed with the way her eyes rolled back with the stretch. You curled your fingers with each thrust, palm deliciously hitting her clit with each movement. You started to give the bundle of nerves attention once more, sucking and flicking your tongue against it. Lilia’s pussy gripped your fingers like a vice, clenching and pulling them deeper inside her.

“God, what would I do without you?” She asked, more to herself than to you, in a broken whisper. Her free hand moved from holding onto the armrest of the chair to her mouth, and she bit down onto it to muffle the embarrassingly loud noises coming from the usually composed woman. With lips still wrapped around her clit, you smiled, that overwhelming sense of pride washing over you at the way you easily broke your professor. How many people had the honor to say they’ve had Lilia Calderu melting for them like that? You didn’t want to know the real answer, holding onto the only one you knew — you could.

“Mamma, please cum for me?” Sparkling puppy eyes stared up at the woman as you pleaded. “Need your tits in my mouth, mamma.” If there was one thing in the world Lilia was a hundred percent sure of, was that you would be the death of her. You were a tempting little thing, with your big adoring eyes; and she wouldn’t trade having you begging her to cum for anything else.

She let out a muffled groan and her body arched from the chair as she felt the familiar coil in her stomach snap, an exploding orgasm turning her vision white. She trembled, a chain of profanities falling from her lips like a sinful chant as she found her release, coating your hand. You lapped up every drop with hunger, letting out needy moans and soft hums, the desperate sounds making it clear you could remain the way for the rest of your existence, if there was a possibility.

A rough grunt was heard as she slumped back down onto the chair, head falling backwards. Removing your fingers, you brought them to your lips and sucked them clean, observing the way Lilia’s chest moved with her heavy breathing. Like the obedient thing you were, you stayed in your kneeling position between her legs, waiting for the woman to come down from her high patiently.

When she looked down, with dazed brown eyes and a thin layer of sweat covering her face, she offered you a lazy side grin. A hand patted her thigh, inviting you to take your favorite seat. Without a second thought, you obeyed, climbing onto her lap and immediately fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. She chuckled, shaking her head in amusement, hands finding your waist.

She sighed in contentment as you fred her breasts from the shirt and pulled her bra down, taking a nipple into your mouth. “You know, I could lose my job over this.” She spoke softly, fingers rubbing the skin under your shirt in a gentle caress, gazing lovingly at her little angel all curled up on her lap and getting drunk off her tits.

“Why do you even like this so much, hm? It’s not like there’s any milk, there.” She loved poking fun at you over your fondness of her breasts, being able to stay in that exact same position for hours, if given the chance. You only batted your lashes up at her, causing her to chuckle once more, incredulous. “You’re out of this world, little one.”

You closed your eyes, feeling at home — rather ironic, to say the least, that your definition of home was being on your university history professor’s lap, being held like a baby with her breast inside your mouth while you could still taste her cum on your tongue. Your eyes opened when you remembered the reason you got on your knees in the first place. You looked up, reluctantly pulling away from her tit to speak, but she cut off any words you wanted to say.

“You got the highest grade, by the way.”

dividers made by cafekitsune

images found on pinterest

#written for aria’s coven ♡#lilia calderu #agatha all along #patti lupone #lilia calderu x reader #patti lupone x reader #wlw fanfic #fxf smut #professor x reader

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margeoww · 1 month ago

Note

She’s a Ferrari engineer and different people in the paddock can see how down bad Toto is for her every time they interact.

Downshift

back to my main masterlist

pairing: toto wolff x ferrari engineer (OC)

summary: toto wolff’s efficiency is legendary. His focus, unwavering. Until she arrives in the paddock as Ferrari’s newest engineer, and everyone starts noticing how he suddenly seems… distracted.

warnings: romantic tension, open ending

The paddock was alive with its usual hum of activity, journalists darting from one garage to another, engineers poring over data, and drivers engaging in last-minute interviews. It was a world of precision, discipline, and focus. Toto Wolff was the embodiment of all three.

Or at least, he had been.

The first meeting of the weekend started like any other: strategy briefs, discussions about weather conditions, and subtle jabs traded between rival teams. But today, something felt different. Toto wasn’t his usual commanding self. He wasn’t distracted by the numbers or even Christian Horner’s persistent prodding. No, his attention was elsewhere.

Her.

She was Ferrari’s newest addition, a sharp-minded engineer whose reputation for innovation had preceded her arrival. As she spoke, the room seemed to narrow, her words slicing through complex issues with ease. She didn’t just command respect, she demanded it. And Toto, much to his dismay, couldn’t look away.

—Wolff. —Horner’s voice broke through the discussion. —any thoughts?

Toto blinked, his focus snapping back. —It’s a solid plan. —he said quickly, his tone as measured as ever. But Lewis Hamilton, seated nearby, caught the faintest crack in his composure.

As the meeting ended and the attendees filed out, Lewis leaned in. —You good, boss? —he asked, his voice low. —You looked… distracted.

Toto straightened his tie, his expression impassive. —Focus on the race, Lewis.

But the day only got worse.

By mid-afternoon, the whispers had started.

—Did you see the way Wolff was watching her during the meeting?

—I’m telling you, he actually smiled. Toto Wolff smiled.

—Maybe he’s trying to poach her for Mercedes?

The rumors spread like wildfire, and Toto did little to dispel them. Every time he crossed paths with her, his usual cool demeanor seemed to falter. A second too long holding a door. A fleeting glance across the paddock. A barely-there smile when she passed by.

She noticed, of course. How could she not? She was sharp enough to catch the tension in his posture, the way his eyes lingered just a moment longer than necessary. And if she felt a twinge of satisfaction, she hid it well, burying it beneath a professional facade.

The real breaking point came during a rainy afternoon session. The rain had turned the pit lane into chaos. Engines roared, tires screeched, and mechanics scrambled to adapt. She was in the thick of it, crouched near the Ferrari garage with grease smudging her cheek as she adjusted a temperamental component.

Toto passed by, his stride slowing involuntarily. She looked up just as he did, their eyes locking for a split second. There it was again. That soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, the one that felt entirely out of place for someone as composed as him.

—Something caught your eye, Wolff? —Christian Horner’s voice interrupted, smug as ever. He was leaning against the Mercedes garage, arms crossed and a grin firmly in place.

Toto’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking to Horner before he resumed walking. —Focus on your own team, Christian. —he said evenly, but the slight flush on his face didn’t go unnoticed.

Later that evening, the paddock had quieted, the storm outside matching the subdued atmosphere. She found herself alone in the Ferrari garage, organizing tools when she heard footsteps behind her.

—Toto. —she said without looking up, her voice tinged with amusement.

He froze, caught. —You’re very observant. —he admitted, stepping closer.

—I’d have to be, working in this world. —she replied, finally meeting his gaze. There was something playful in her eyes, a spark that set his nerves alight. —So, what can I do for you?

For a moment, he said nothing, his carefully constructed walls crumbling under the weight of her stare. Finally, he managed. —You’ve made quite an impression.

Her smile widened, slow and deliberate. —Have I? Because from what I hear, you’re the one making impressions, Toto.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The paddock had already done enough talking for both of them.

As he walked away, leaving her smirking in the quiet garage, Toto couldn’t shake the feeling that, for the first time in years, he was driving blind. And yet, he wasn’t sure he minded.

#totowolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x reader #fanfic #toto wolff #torger christian wolff

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doumadono · 2 years ago

Text

The stalker - Muzan & Reader

Warnings: modern AU, non-con smut (partially), somnophilia, rough smut, reverse 69, choking, stalker!Muzan, p in v smut, stalking, dark themes Synopsis: living your ordinary life, little do you know that your every move is being silently and carefully watched by a man who has taken an interest in you. He is ready to do anything to claim you as his property Requested by: anonymous Wordcount: ~ 4.2k

MASTERLIST

It began with subtle occurrences, almost insignificant at first. Instances that didn't raise much concern or feel particularly peculiar. Doors that were once closed would be found ajar in the morning, leaving a lingering sense of doubt. You would wake up, finding yourself in a different position than the one you remember falling asleep in. Your dresser drawer, specifically the one where you kept your undergarments, would often be in disarray. And lately, upon awakening, you noticed your face dampened by traces of drool. Naturally, you attributed these incidents to exhaustion from juggling your college studies and late-night job, dismissing them as mundane.

However, as time progressed, unsettling events began to unfold. It was during one of those moments when you were seated on your bed in your underwear that unknown numbers flashed across your phone screen, accompanied by text messages that pierced through your sense of security. "You look so stunning."

Initially, you dismissed those messages, assuming they were mere notifications from your Instagram account sent to your phone. It seemed like an innocuous occurrence, easily brushed aside. At first, they arrived sporadically, appearing only once a month. Yet, as time passed, their frequency multiplied, transitioning to twice a month and now occurring nearly every other night. The content of these messages took a disturbing turn, growing increasingly specific and disquieting, causing a deep sense of unease to settle within you.

"Drive home safe." As you prepared to leave work, the unsettling message arrived once again, this time just as you were about to embark on your drive home. A wave of apprehension washed over you, causing you to remain seated in the empty parking lot, cautiously scanning your surroundings for any signs of a presence. To your relief, there were no other cars in sight, and your coworkers had long departed for their respective homes. Despite the fear creeping within you, you chose to delete the message, attributing it to a potential prank from one of your mischievous coworkers.

Driving home, you pulled into the parking garage of your apartment building. Stepping out of your car, an eerie sensation enveloped you, a nagging feeling that someone's eyes were fixated on your every move. Instinctively, you halted and swiftly turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of the observer. Yet, the scene that greeted you was one of silence and emptiness, devoid of any visible presence. Shaking off the unease, you attributed the disconcerting feeling to the stress accumulated from your demanding schedule of school and work. In an attempt to lighten the tension, you giggled softly, convincing yourself that it was all in your imagination, before resuming your stride towards the elevator.

Entering your apartment, a sense of relief washed over you as you finally arrived at the sanctuary of your own space. However, as you began to settle in, the disarray of your belongings caught your attention. The drawer where you kept your panties remained open, a chaotic mess within. Recollecting the hurriedness of your morning routine, you swiftly closed the drawer, intending to address the mess later. Shrugging off the unsettling occurrence, you proceeded to undress, casually discarding your clothes onto the floor, and made your way to the bathroom.

With the water running, you allowed your bath to fill, seeking solace in its soothing embrace. As you eased into the warmth, the events of the day lingered in your mind, a subtle reminder of the uncanny incidents that had unfolded. However, immersed in the tranquility of the moment, you hoped that the relaxing waters would wash away the lingering unease, allowing you to find respite from the disquieting experiences that had punctuated your day.

You sat there in the silence, your apartment's ambient sounds merging with the gentle subsiding of the water in your bath. The soothing warmth caressed your tired body, lulling you into a state of drowsiness. Yielding to the tranquility, you closed your eyes, surrendering to relaxation. However, amidst the peacefulness, a distinct sound reached your ears — footsteps, unmistakably within the confines of your own apartment.

Startled, you swiftly sat up, instinctively crossing your arms to cover your breasts, and voiced your presence aloud, "Hello?!" The silence that followed offered no response, but the mysterious footsteps ceased their approach. Shaking your head, you muttered to yourself in a hushed tone, "Stupid. It's probably your neighbor's kids running down the hall again." Dismissing the unease that had momentarily enveloped you, you carried on with your bath, eventually finishing and stepping out of the water. As the last remnants drained away, you turned around, enveloping yourself and your damp hair in towels.

Leaving the bathroom, you made your way to the bedroom and settled onto your bed. Glancing at your phone, you noticed a new message and tapped to read it. "Your laugh is so cute." The words on the screen caught your attention, evoking a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty, as a flicker of discomfort ran through you. You stared at the message wide-eyed, your mind racing with uncertainty about its meaning. Did it imply that someone had overheard your laughter at work? Were they possibly a classmate? Or perhaps they had been lurking in the parking garage earlier. The weight of the unknown hung heavy upon you, prompting you to abruptly jump out of bed and hastily make your way to the front door.

With a sense of trepidation, you peered through the peephole, scanning the dimly lit hallway as best as you could. No signs of anyone in sight — no figures walking past, no individuals lingering outside. You double-checked the locks on your door, giving it a forceful tug to ensure its secure fastening. Satisfied that the entrance was indeed locked, you made your way back into your room, feeling a slight relief wash over you.

Preparing for bed, you attended to your nightly routine, diligently drying your hair, brushing it out, cleansing your face, and meticulously brushing your teeth. Slipping into your favorite sleepwear — a loosely buttoned plaid shirt sans a bra, accompanied by a pair of comfortable white panties — you settled down in bed. Glancing at your phone one last time before your heavy eyelids succumbed to sleep, you reasoned that the bath you had taken earlier had taken its toll on your fatigue, compounded by the arduous efforts you had put into your work.

Unbeknownst to you, the sounds of your bedroom door opening and the soft, calculated footsteps approaching your bedside went unnoticed, concealed beneath the veil of your slumber. Standing above you was a figure, their countenance obscured by a black ski mask, their hands adorned with black latex gloves. Clad in a black short-sleeved shirt, dark blue denim jeans, and black boots, they silently observed your peaceful rest, their breathing growing increasingly labored. Then, with measured steps, they retreated, briefly illuminating the bathroom light to obtain a clearer view of your form as you slept.

The light from the bathroom was just enough for him to see, but not bright enough to wake you up. Muzan walked back over beside your bed and reached down for your blanket. Gently pulling it up and off of you, so Muzan could see you. He stood there and looked you up and down; he grabbed the growing bulge in his pants and gave it a squeeze. Muzan stared at your nearly naked body and noticed your unbuttoned shirt, he slowly reached down and gently pulled your shirt up till it fell to the side.

He saw that you had decided not to wear a bra tonight and decided to be a little bold. Reaching down, Muzan cupped your breast in his large hand. The black-haire man gently squeezed, which caused you to stir, freezing him in place. As you started to settle, Muzan squeezed and rubbed your breast more and more. Noticing your nipple starting to get hard, Muzan pinched it between his fingers and gently started to pull. This got more of a reaction out of you as you let out a tiny moan before stirring once again.

He pulled his hand away and stepped back, undoing his belt, unzipping his pants, and reaching into them as he pulled out his cock. Gripping his cock in his hand, Muzan started to stroke himself, grunting quietly as he watched over you. As precum oozed out the tip of his cock, it covered his hand and smeared his cock as Muzan rubbed it up and down. Muzan stepped forward and put one knee on the bed, positioning himself over you. Muzan stroked himself over your chest, grunting and groaning silently as he reached his climax. Unable to stop himself, he started shooting thick, hot ropes of cum onto your chest.

This didn't wake you up, and this made him smile and made him more bold. Muzan reached his hand between your legs and gently pressed his fingertips against you. He brushed his fingertips against the cloth of your panties as he pushed down. Muzan rubbed you up and down through your panties, watching your face as your body began to react on its own. You started breathing harder, your face began to express pleasure as your eyes shut tighter and your mouth started to open. You let out soft moans between breaths as your body reacted to his touch.

He could feel you starting to heat up from his touch on his fingertips. Muzan started to press down firmer, finding your clit when you let out a louder moan as his fingers brushed up against it. Muzan started to rub your clit in circles as he watched you react more and more. You started panting harder and harder as Muzan rubbed your clit and pussy more and more until you couldn't handle it anymore and came. You let out a loud moan as your body shook from your orgasm.

He smiled, watching you tremble and shake, but that smile slowly faded. You started to wake up, your eyes opened and shut as you tried to adjust to the dimly lit room. All you saw was a large shadow standing above your bed. Your eyes opened wide, and your mouth opened as you started to scream. Before you could let out a louder scream, Muzan jumped on top of you and covered your mouth with his hand. He pulled his free hand to his face and motioned for you to shush.

You started to cry from that situation, a large man pinning you down on your bed and keeping you from calling for help. You tried to move, but you didn't know what was wrong. Was it his weight keeping you from moving, or were you paralyzed from fear? All you could do was stare up at him, your eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room. In a dim light, you could see he was a very handsome man, and that he seemed not too old but that terrified you even more because you had no idea who he could be. Your eyes started to burn from the tears welling up, and your body shook out of fear.

"Shhh. Don't scream. If you scream, I'll have to hurt you, and I don't want to do that," Muzan said to you, his voice deep and his tone stern. The grip Muzan had over your mouth was tight, and he pushed down on you. His body weight kept you pinned underneath him. You felt something else pressed against your stomach. It was hard, a little wet, and you could feel it twitching against your bare skin. As you lifted your head just enough to look down, you could see it was his cock pressing against your stomach. You laid your head back down and stared at him, your eyes even wider after seeing his cock.

"If you behave, I won't hurt you, but if you try to fight back or scream. I'm going to hurt you and I'm going to hurt you badly. Do you understand me?" He asked you, leaning down a little, his tone still stern, and his voice deep. You stared back up at him and slowly nodded. Muzan pulled his hand off your mouth as he leaned away from your face, his body still sitting on top of you, and his cock now rested on your stomach.

You wiped the tears away from your face. You noticed your shirt was opened, so you covered yourself back up as you looked up at him. "W-what do you want?" you asked him, trying to put up a tough act, but it failed as your voice trembled.

"You. All I've ever wanted is you. And now I have you and no one can stop me." Muzan said that to you, his tone changing as he stared at you. Muzan adjusted his legs, grabbed each of your legs, and spread them, so he could be between them. Muzan was strong and easily moved you around like a doll. You were powerless to stop him as he positioned himself between your legs. He grabbed his cock and started to stroke himself, precum oozed from the tip and dripped onto your stomach. As you looked down at his dick, you could see that he was packing a monster. It was as thick as a soda can and almost as long as your forearm.

Before you could even beg him to stop, Muzan pulled your panties to the side and pressed the tip of his cock against your pussy. You gripped your sheets tight in your hands as you gritted your teeth together from the pain. You could feel the tip of his cock beginning to push inside you, spreading your pussy like it had never been spread before. You let out pained gasps for air as you stared up at the ceiling, eyes opened wide. You could hear him groaning as Muzan pushed in slowly, and from under his breath, you could hear him say. "Fuck... you're so tight."

Every inch felt like hell, his cock was so thick it filled you up almost instantly. As Muzan inched in deeper, you tried to catch your breath, but the pain made it hard as you gasped for air. Finally, his cock was inside you completely, and you could finally breathe as you lifted your head and looked down. You could see your stomach bulging from his cock. You dropped your head back as your mind started to go blank from the pain slowly turning into intense pleasure.

The pleasure was cut short as Muzan started to slide his cock out, slowly. You let out a pained scream, but all that came out was an inaudible squeal. Muzan looked down at you with a smile, your mouth open was an irresistible invitation. Muzan leaned down and gave you a kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth, sloppily swirling his tongue around inside your mouth, his saliva mixing with yours. You didn't fight back as you closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into the kiss even more.

His cock continued to slide out of your pussy inch by inch, it felt as if he was pulling your insides out as he continued to pull out. Eventually reaching the tip of his cock, he stopped, as he continued to kiss you. Muzan pulled away from the kiss and looked down at you, a string of spit connecting your lips. "Here we go, baby, it's going to get real rough. So hold on tight," Muzan said to you with a loving smile. This was his warning, but it didn't prepare you for what was going to happen next.

You felt his cock thrust inside you in one quick motion. Your stomach felt full again and you couldn't breathe. You stared up at him in pained ecstasy. Muzan slid out again and quickly thrust back inside you. He pounded your pussy with body-shaking thrusts, making it hard to think or speak. All that came out were loud moans and garbled words that made no sense.

It didn't take you long to cum, but black-haired continued to fuck you through your orgasm. The waves of pleasure mixed with searing pain made your brain melt. You could hear his balls slapping against your wet cunt, the sound of your pussy being stirred up by his monster cock, and his moans. You looked up at him and saw his face, Muzan was happy.

You felt his hands grab you by the throat, they were large and easily fit around your throat. Then Muzan started to squeeze hard, choking you. You grabbed his wrists and weakly tried to pull them off, but it was no use. He was much stronger than you and his grip was tight. You tried to tell him to stop, but nothing came out, and soon you started to gasp for air. Gripping his wrists with your nails now, you tried to dig in to get him to stop. Your vision went blurry as you started to lose consciousness, your eyes welled up in tears, hoping this would end. Your body betrayed you again as you started to cum violently on his cock, squirting and making a mess on your bed.

Your stomach filled with heat as his cock swelled inside you, and his thrusts became more erratic and rough. As you started to black out, you could feel the hot sensation of his cock cumming inside you. Muzan thrust deep inside as he started to cum, filling your cunt with his thick, hot seed. Muzan let out a loud groan, maintaining his tight grip around your throat as your body went limp and you blacked out. He finished cumming inside you, sliding his cock out of your ruined pussy. His hands released your throat as he got off of you. Muzan smiled as he watched your gaping hole ooze out his cum onto the bed.

He got off the bed and stretched. This had been way better than he thought it was going to be. Muzan didn't want to stop there, and it seemed his cock felt the same way. It bounced as it throbbed and got hard again. Muzan looked over at you and watched your passed-out body. Muzan had already gone this far, so there was no real point in stopping. He grabbed your body and adjusted you on the bed, hanging your head off the edge. Muzan stroked his cock and positioned himself as he pressed his cock against your lips.

It didn't take much for you to open your mouth as his cock slid in easily with no protest from you. Your mouth gaped open and struggled to take him fully. Muzan fit himself in your mouth as much as he could, gently thrusting as he started to fuck your face. Muzan got on top of you and ripped your panties off in one quick motion. Using his large hands, Muzan spread open your legs as he went down on you. He started to eat you out passionately as he fucked your face. Muzan could taste his own cum mixed with yours as his tongue forced its way inside you. You moaned happily as he enjoyed the pussy he had been looking at for months.

You slowly started to regain consciousness, and to your horror, you could feel your mouth filled with this large rod. Your eyes opened and blinked as you lay there in shocked horror. You tried to push him away with your hands against his thighs, but again Muzan easily overpowered you. You could feel your pussy being eaten out, but the pain of your throat being fucked confused you again. You couldn't say a word because you were so focused on trying to breathe. His cock filled your mouth and went down your throat over and over.

Your face became a mess as your tears and drool mixed. His cock, which had scared you before, started to taste good, and your tongue moved on its own as you licked his shaft. Your brain again started to shut down as the pain and pleasure mixed, and you couldn't even collect your thoughts. You could feel his cock grow in your mouth, and you realized what was going to happen next, but you didn't have a choice in this. You were just along for the ride as Muzan forced his cock down your throat and shot his cum down it. The man used you as his cum dump, filling your tummy with his hot, thick seed. Your pussy clamped around his tongue as you started to cum again, your thighs squeezing his head, while the only noise you made was a muffled, messy squeal.

He pulled his cock out of your mouth and stroked himself, shooting out the last strings of cum on your face. You looked like a mess, your face covered in tears, drool, and cum. You just lay there, catching your breath, but Muzan wasn't done. He picked you up in his arms and easily moved you around. You were nothing but a doll to him, and he was going to do whatever he wanted with you. Picking you up, Muzan tossed you back on the bed, on your stomach. You didn't fight back; it was pointless, you realized, as you just let it happen. He grabbed your ankles and pulled your legs off the bed.

He kicked your legs open and positioned himself behind you. You didn't get a moment to rest as you felt his cock gaping your sore pussy again. This position felt so different; you could feel his cock scraping your insides as Muzan stirred you up. He leaned down and reached his hand around your throat, pulling your head back, forcing you to look up at him as he pounded your pussy. Muzan slammed your body into the mattress over and over. You didn't fight back; you just moaned like the good little slut he was training you to be. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, inviting him to kiss you.

He smiled and leaned down, kissing you. Your tongues wrestled and swirled around in each other's mouths. You moaned into his mouth as you felt your pussy being ruined by his cock. You could feel his throbbing dick pushing in deeper than before. Your hands gripped the sheets tight as you braced yourself against the bed. You heard your pussy being stirred up by his cock as his balls slapped against you, filling the room with their lewd sounds. You loved feeling his tongue in your mouth and his low, bestial growls echoing as Muzan grunted and groaned.

His cock continued its endless pounding as it fucked you senseless once again. You started to moan out loud and yelled, "Fuck! Fuck! More!" He smiled at your brainless request, putting one hand on your hand and pushing you down into your mattress as he stood back up. You felt his hands grip your hips tight, and then it happened. Muzan started fucking you furiously, his cock pounding your pussy over and over. Your bed started to shake and pound into the floor. You clung to the bed with whatever strength you felt like you had left. This merciless assault just made you scream and beg for more.

You were nothing but a toy in his hands as Muzan pulled you into him while fucking you. You couldn't help but cum over and over again, squirting on his cock and making a mess on your floor as you squirted and leaked his cum out onto the floor. It didn't take him long to reach his limit as Muzan started to shout, forcing his cock deep inside you, forcing the air out of you as he filled you with his seed once again. It felt warm in your belly, and you lay there with your mouth wide open, but not a single sound came out.

"May I at least have your name?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of curiosity and alarm. "And who the fuck are you? How did you get into my house?" The words escaped your lips, fueled by a surge of fear and disbelief.

His red eyes bore into yours, and a smirk played at the corners of their lips. The silence stretched, thick with tension, before they finally spoke, their voice laced with a hint of amusement. "My name is not important. What matters is that I got what I’ve been craving for months. But if you need to know, I go by Muzan," he said cryptically, his words sending shivers down your spine. “I would be back again. Leave your front door open," the man added, and after adjusting his clothes, he left your house through the front door, leaving you filled up and leaking his cum.

You slept the night away and woke up sore and even more tired, reflecting on how the night had gone and finding yourself wet at the thought.

From then on, you left your front door open, anticipating your "stalker" to pay you another visit. The longing in your soul grew with each passing day, and you wondered if Muzan would ever come back to claim you once again.

#muzan kibutsuji #muzan smut #muzan x you #muzan x reader #kny muzan #muzan x y/n #kny smut #muzan x reader smut #demon slayer #muzan kny #x reader smut #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #lord muzan #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #dark themes #request completed #kibutsuji muzan #kibutsuji kny

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beomglocks · 11 months ago

Text

☆.｡.:* pairing: asshole ceo!hyuka x assistant!reader

☆.｡.:* warnings & other : enemies to less hated enemies/lovers, kai is an asshole, very mean, reader is nonchalant, sub!reader, softdom!kai but like meandom aura idk how to explain it, reader lowkey likes kai but like hell no that's ur boss!, unless..., idk if i will ever expand on this concept but fhwuwe i just love the thought of mean CEO kai, im back just for this ig

☆.｡.:* wc : …

you hum to yourself quietly, picking up a white collared shirt that you believe best fits the vibe of the upcoming business meeting.

"what do you think of this one?" you ask calmly. you watch silently as your boss glances up briefly from his phone to look at the attire you've chosen. he cranes his neck back and forth before groaning dramatically.

"i hate it."

you stare at him with a neutral expression on your face as he goes back to gluing his eyes to his phone as if whatever he was doing on there was more important than the task at hand. "that's the fifth one today sir," you speak up.

there's not a hint of mockery in your tone whatsoever. you're just doing your job after all. was it easy? hell no. however, you weren't about to let this stuck up brat get you out of line.

you were used to kai's constant demands. as his secretary and right hand women it's only normal for you to be able to deal with whatever bullshit was thrown your way. you were tougher than he gave you credit for and he had never acknowledged it but you were the only one who had stuck around.

the thing was, kai was used to getting everything he wanted but that all halted once you became his assistant.

normally he could get anything and anyone no matter what. the latest car or prettiest girl to play around with, you name it. he had a habit of fucking around with his assistants until you showed up. the moment you stepped into his office for the interview you were already on his hit list. thankfully you had a friend who worked here already so you knew of his advances towards the woman he worked with.

"its a good thing you're pretty, we'll look good standing next to each other," he had quipped once you sat down. you had held a straight face and answered plainly, not giving in to his advances.

"with all due respect sir, im here to work, not be a trophy on a wall to you." you still remember the way scoffed at you. as if to say, "we'll see". you can tell he didn't like that one bit.

sure, he had hired you despite the rudeness you gave him on the first encounter, why wouldn't he? your resume was impressive. long list of amazing companies he rivaled with in the past and you were smart. sure, he cared about all that in the grand scheme of things but he mainly hired you because you were his type. however, he kept you on a tight leash. metaphorically but he wouldn't be opposed if it were literal. he knew you weren't the type to condone his flirtatious advances and he hated that so he made your life a living hell in return.

no longer was he the boss who occasionally flirted with you and held the door open whenever you were running late. no. he had turned into somewhat of a tyrant, throwing fits over you not liking him in that way and penalizing you for even being just a second late. everyone in the office knew it was never a good day for you if you had to physically be around him.

he sighs, throwing his phone haphazardly on his bed. he rubs his face with his hands as if he's trying to cool himself off from exploding at you. you put the shirt down on the chair closest to the walk in closet, preparing for whatever he has to say to you.

"y/n-" he pauses to look up at you. his blonde hair is strewn all over the place and he has a bored expression. his eyes are narrowed and the way he's looking at you should make you feel small but it doesn't work. at least not outwardly. you'd be lying if you said the way he looked at you didn't make you throb a bit. but you couldn't and wouldn't ever let him win. you didn't care if he was nice or mean to you.

right now though, he's clearly masking the irritation in his eyes with a neutral face.

"i give you the keys to my very expensive, very lavish house not so you can chastise me about my fashion choices and my likes and dislikes but so that you can do your goddamn job and choose the best option for me."

"if i knew what i wanted to fucking wear i wouldn't have hired you in the first place don't you think?" he finishes. you raise your eyes row when he curses at you but remain silent.

he must've really been in a bad mood to curse at you because you don't think he's ever done that. he was mean but never to the point of swearing at you. that's how you knew today he wasn't having it.

he walks up to your still figure at the front of the closet. you're significantly shorter than him which he uses as a way to assert his dominance. he holds your jaw and inspects your face. he hates that you have such an indifferent expression on your face, you swear you see his eye twitch a bit.

"i hate that stupid look on your face," he mutters. "i curse at you and you don't even flinch, i flirt with you and you turn me down.. what do i do to break you?" he asks more to himself than you.

he holds that position for a while, waiting for anything, any sign that will help him out in this situation. you purse your lips because you know exactly what he's waiting for.

an invitation.

"im just here to do my job kai. i don't want to fool around with you." you say. "no matter how you are," you say to yourself. you hope your voice isn't faltering because kai has always respected your personal space but now he's all in your face. "are you serious? you're telling me you haven't thought of me fucking the mess out of you not even once. i mean.." he glances at his king bed for a second. "we're in my room right now, don't be so crass, its offensive.." he smiles a bit at his own intentions.

you hold your stare to the best of your abilities although the wetness that's pooling in your underwear is telling you to just give in. sure, he's your boss, your hot boss who has mentioned time and time again how badly he craves you, so what harm is it?

before you almost let your pussy do the thinking, suddenly you remember the fact that he only wants you just to say he broke you. it was almost like a game to him and you were the prize. you definitely weren't gonna let him win.

you clear your throat, trying to pull away from his grasp. "your meeting will be soon can we please get you dressed?" you say it with so much monotonous that it causes kai to blow another short fuse.

with a light shove he removes his hands from your jaw and sighs heavily. "the day i fuck the indifference out of you will be the day this whole building hears my name," he says to himself as if already imagining how it'll go down. "but it's ok, i suppose i can keep playing this game."

he turns around to look at you still standing stupidly near the closet.

"although im not sure how much longer im willing to play."

#txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt reactions #drabble #angst #hueningkai imagines #hueningkai angst #hueningkai x reader #hueningkai drabble #hueningkai fic #txt angst #tomorrow x together imagines #txt fluff #hueningkai drabbles #txt headcannons #smut #txt smut #hueningkai smut

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marinawolf · 1 year ago

Text

A Super and a Luthor? (Supercorp) by marinawolf

James likes Lena but his efforts are constantly ignored, because while he’s focused on Lena, Lena seems to be a little too infatuated with a certain blonde superhero. (Warning: James Olsen but it’s fun, I promise).

(Note: was struck with this idea and decided to roll with it. Supercorp from the POV of a jealous James Olsen.)

Seated at his desk, James Olsen couldn't help but steal glances across the bustling office towards Lena's glass-walled haven.

Man, she is fucking gorgeous. Her green eyes were focused on the screen in front of her, and a frown graced her flawless face. James let his eyes wander. The dress she wore left little to the imagination, accentuating her curves and showing only the slightest but most alluring hint of cleavage.

James couldn’t help but think that Lena was just a little intimidating, but despite the formidable exterior, he was sure that there was a softer side to Lena, a vulnerability reserved for the right person. And he was determined to be that person. She was technically his boss, yes, but that wouldn’t mean anything if they were to enter into a relationship. James knew that he was accomplished and well respected in his own right. Hell, he even had a temporary taste of the power Lena now held when he had run Catco before Lena took over. He knew he could be someone she viewed as an equal. In his mind, they were destined to be a power couple.

They shared countless moments together – at the office, during Kara's game nights at her apartment, and at the DEO, where they lent their aid to Kara's Supergirl duties. James couldn't escape the feeling that they had been skirting around something for far too long. Each smile Lena cast his way, every high-five exchanged during game nights, or every discussion about the latest threats faced together at the DEO stirred a desire within him, a longing to bridge the gap between friendship and something more.

James couldn't help but wonder if Lena was impressed by his daring feats as Guardian. The DEO and Kara’s efforts to shut down his Guardian alter ego left him angry and frustrated, but he held onto the belief that Lena had at least witnessed a glimpse of his courage.

James decided it was time to take action. Standing up with a practiced nonchalance, he smoothed his shirt and made his way to Lena's office. His knock was a mere formality before he entered.

Lena's gaze briefly lifted from her work. "James," she greeted, her focus quickly returning to the computer. "What can I do for you?"

Stunned by her nonchalance, James hesitated before suggesting, "Would you like to grab some lunch? You've been working all day. I know a great place just a few blocks away." He offered a warm smile, aiming to break the professional facade.

Lena, finally meeting his gaze, sighed slightly. "I'm waiting on a conference call. Maybe another time?"

Her response, accompanied by a swift return to work, left James standing there, more deflated than rejected.

Disappointment washed over him as he quietly retreated from Lena's office, puzzled by her apparent indifference. The unanswered question echoed in his mind: Was she truly disinterested, or was this a strategic guise to conceal hidden feelings? Seething with a mix of frustration and confusion, James sat down at his desk and resumed his watch over Lena.

James watched with surprise and fascination as Kara nonchalantly breezed into Lena's office without even knocking, cups of coffee and a takeout bag in hand. Anticipating Lena's usual inclination for privacy and the demands of her busy schedule, he expected a certain level of disapproval and a quick dismissal. However, what unfolded before him was surprising.

As Kara entered, Lena's eyes immediately lifted from her work, and to James's sheer amazement, she graced Kara with the most radiant smile he had ever witnessed. It was as if for Lena, the entirety of the outside world seemed to dissolve into insignificance, leaving only Kara as the singular focal point of her attention. The change in Lena's countenance was noticeable, as if everything else faded away in comparison to the presence of her friend. Kara settled gracefully into a chair, presenting Lena with a cup of coffee that was accepted appreciatively. As Kara unpacked the takeout, James watched as Lena relaxed into the moment, dropping her tough exterior and settling into a lunch hour that that Lena had, surprisingly, told him she was too busy to indulge in.

The disparity struck him with a perplexing realization. Why had Lena lied to him?

___

Later, in the conference room, James snagged the seat next to Lena’s, hoping to catch her attention during what he anticipated would be a very boring presentation about the yearly projections for the company.

James turned to Lena, expecting her to be focused on the presentation, but to his surprise, Lena's eyes were not fixed on the slides but rather on Kara, who sat opposite her, absentmindedly doodling on a pad. A subtle, almost imperceptible hunger seemed to flicker in Lena's eyes as she watched the blonde. He recognised that kind of look. He was sure that he looked at Lena the same way.

Wait. No. It couldn’t be- could it? Could Lena be into Kara?

Definitely not, he reassured himself. It seemed implausible, even stranger than a Super and a Luthor being friends. The idea of a Super and a Luthor sharing something more felt far-fetched, and he reassured himself that both Lena and Kara were unequivocally straight. Reminding himself of Kara's past crush on him, James dismissed the possibility of a romantic connection between the two women But then Kara’s gaze flicked to Lena’s and they shared a soft smile, and strangely enough, it felt like James was intruding on something private.

Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure anymore. He was determined to find out, and he was determined to claim Lena as his own. After all, James and Lena would make sense as a couple.

—

Weeks later, James watched Lena’s anguish as Kara was wheeled in to the DEO on a stretcher, having been exposed to nearly lethal amounts of Kryptonite. There was an intensity in Lena's reaction that struck him – it was as if she shared Kara's pain, as if any harm to Kara was a direct blow to her. Yet, James rationalized Lena's anguish as a product of guilt – after all, the culprit was none other than her own brother, Lex Luthor.

They gathered around Kara's bedside as she lay beneath the sun lamps, and James could see tears streaming down Lena's face. In a gesture of comfort, he put an arm around her, pulling her into him. Just as his arm tightened around Lena’s shoulders, Kara's eyes fluttered open, immediately seeking out Lena in the room. Kara whispered Lena's name, and in a visible wave of relief, Lena rushed to Kara, embracing her in a tight hug. Witnessing Kara reciprocate the embrace, even in her weakened state, stirred an unexpected twinge of jealousy in James.

—-

When Lex resurfaced, it was with the distressing news that he had abducted Lena, prompting James to rush to the DEO with an urgent determination to save her. He wanted to be her hero. He immediately sought out Alex to convince her to let him use his guardian suit, but found Alex and Kara locked in a tense argument.

“You can’t go there alone, Kara. You know it’s a trap. You know it’s you he wants to hurt. And he’ll use this to get you.”

"I don’t care. I won't be able to live if anything happens to Lena, Alex," Kara declared with desperation. She left before Alex could protest further.

Time passed, and James paced the DEO uselessly, resenting the fact that he wasn’t allowed to go out there. Shouldn’t he be given a chance to be the hero too?

Finally, Kara returned, her body showing signs wounds inflicted by Kryptonite weapons. But all James could focus on was the unconscious form of Lena in her arms.

James could barely spend time near Lena, as Kara steadfastly refused to leave Lena's bedside. Despite her own injuries, Kara sat there, refusing to move. He stood silently, and he knew that Kara had forgotten that he was even there- because he could have sworn that he heard her whisper “I love you” to Lena.

His silent watch continued as Lena eventually woke up, reaching for Kara's hands with an immediacy that spoke volumes. James, attempting to break the charged atmosphere, cleared his throat and approached Lena with a smile, hoping to place himself in her orbit.

"I was so worried, Lena," he expressed, but despite his genuine concern, he found himself unable to divert Lena's gaze from Kara. He felt like an outsider, looking in on something he so desperately wished was his.

—-

When James entered the bullpen after hours, in a last ditch effort to ask Lena out once more, he almost wasn’t surprised that Kara was already in Lena’s office. What did surprise him though, was the fact that Kara and Lena stood across the room from each other, glaring at each other. Unnoticed by the two women, he halted his approaching footsteps and silently observed.

Lena's eyes held a challenging glint as she stared at Kara, and Kara, in turn, met her gaze with equal intensity. James wondered if a heated argument had erupted, if the longstanding enmity between their families had finally overshadowed their friendship. Perhaps, he thought, it might be for the best if they parted ways.

He saw Kara walk towards Lena and prepared for the finality of the moment, already imagining being the one to offer Lena a shoulder to cry on.

But his heart shattered into fragments when instead of arguing, Kara pressed her lips against Lena's, her arms wrapping around Lena's waist. And his last remnants of hope crumbled away as Lena willingly melted into the kiss, fingers tangling in Kara's hair, kissing Kara back as if Kara held her breath captive. Their desperate kiss seemed to carry the weight of a lifetime of longing, as if they had been starved for this moment.

The intensity of their kiss left James feeling like an unintentional voyeur, prompting him to avert his gaze, unable to watch any longer. The realization of his own folly weighed heavily on him – he was a fool holding on to something that was never meant to be.

So that was it, then. A Super and a Luthor. Against all odds.

James realised that he never stood a chance.

#supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorp fanfic #supergirl #kara x lena #kara zor el #kara danvers x lena luthor #fanfic #supergirl fanfiction #cw supergirl #supercorp endgame #supercorp fic #lena x kara #lena and kara #supergirl cw #james olsen #kara zor el x lena luthor

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rebelliousmuse · 5 months ago

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Crimson Mark – C.S.

Warning: spanking, unprotected p in v (wear condoms please).

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

Chris delivers a series of swift, stinging slaps to your ass, each one making your skin flush and tingle. In between the spanks, he grips your hips hard enough to leave bruises, his other hand trailing up your spine to tug your hair, forcing your face into the cushions.

“Count them, brat. And remember, these are just warm-ups.” He growls, his palm cracking against your flesh again and again.

“By the time I'm done with you, you won't be able to sit right for a week.” His voice is rough with lust and dominance as he continues his punishing spanks.

“Aaa 1...2...3” My body trembles as each impact sends a wave of agony and ecstasy through me. Involuntary moans erupt from my throat. Chris listens to your soft cries, each number punctuated by another smack to your ass. His cock throbs with need, precum leaking from the tip.

“Good girl. Keep counting.” He encourages, delivering another sharp slap that makes your whole body jerk. “I want you to remember every single spank. Every single bruise. Because you deserve every damn one.” He bites out, his hand moving faster now, his strokes growing more forceful.

"4... 5... 6... 7..." Each number a gasp between impacts. My voice challenged, "Is that all you've got? How disappointing, you’re so weak."

The challenge in your voice only fuels Chris's desire further. He lets out a deep, throaty laugh, his hand slowing for a moment before delivering two rapid-fire smacks in quick succession. “Weak?” He scoffs, resuming his assault on your ass with renewed vigor, making your pussy clench as you keep counting.

With each spank, Chris's handprint grows larger on your ass. He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear as he delivers another punishing slap. “That's it. Let everyone know who owns this ass.” He growls as you whimper, his voice laced with pride and possessiveness. “13, 14, 15...” He counts along with you, his hand moving with relentless precision, determined to mark every inch of your ass with his ownership.

"Please," I whisper, my voice trembling as tears prick my eyes. Despite your whispered plea, Chris doesn't slow down. Instead, he presses harder, smacking your ass even more forcefully than before. “What do you want, brat?” He taunts, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Tell me exactly what you want. Beg for it.” He demands, waiting for you to break under his dominance.

“Please, fuck me” I beg softly. At your begging, Chris grins wickedly, his hand still raining down on your ass with unrelenting force. “Not good enough.” He sneers, delivering another stinging slap. “Beg properly. Show some respect.” His voice is low and commanding, each word punctuated by another smack to your burning flesh.

“Please Chris, please fuck me, I need you” I plead louder this time. Even though your pleas are getting more desperate, Chris refuses to relent. He smacks your ass again, the sound echoing through the room. “No, baby. That's not how you ask for it.” He scolds, his voice thick with lust and power. “Say it like you mean it. Like your life depends on it.” His hand lands on your ass once more, the smack reverberating through your entire body.

“Chris... please... I really need you, please, please, please.” My body shaking uncontrollably as tears stream down my face. Each 'please' that falls from your lips sends a jolt of pleasure straight to Chriss's cock. But he's far from satisfied. He smirks, his hand landing on your ass with a resounding crack. “Still not convincing enough.” He mutters, his tone mocking. “Say it like you're dying for it. Say it like your very existence hinges on my cock inside you.” His hand pauses for a moment, only to land another punishing spank on your tender flesh. A sharp cry escapes my lips as his relentless actions continue.

Your cries only spur Chriss on, his hand rising and falling with ruthless efficiency. The sound of his palm connecting with your ass fills the room, mingling with your whimpers and sobs. “Keep crying, baby. It only turns me on more.” He growls, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. “Now, let's see if you can do better than that pathetic begging.” Another loud smack echoes through the room, followed by a long, agonizing pause. “Beg me to fuck you like your life depends on it. Like you'd rather die than not have my cock inside you.” His words hang in the air, heavy with demand, as he waits for your response.

“PLEASE, DADDY, PLEASE FUCK ME, I REALLY NEED TO HAVE YOU IN ME, I CRAVE YOUR DICK ABUSING MY INSIDES, PLEASE, I'M BEGGIN YOU, I'LL BE GOOD, I PROMISE, PLEASE FUCK ME, PLEASE DADDY, PLEASE, MAKE ME FEEL GOOD, DADDY PLEASE”

Chris watches intently as your desperate pleas pour out, his expression darkening with satisfaction at the sheer level of submission in your words. When you finally collapse into a whimpering mess, he allows himself a moment to revel in victory. “Pathetic.” He spits out, his voice tinged with disdain. “But... effective.” A sly grin spreads across his face as he steps back, admiring the ruined state of your ass.

“Show me just how much you need my cock.” Without waiting for a response, he grabs the base of his shaft and strokes it a few times, the sight of precum beading at the tip making your mouth water in anticipation.

He grunts, pushing forward until just the head of his cock breaches your tight folds. “Feel that?” He asks, his voice rough with arousal. “That's the tip of my dick claiming you as mine.” Without waiting for a reply, he pulls back slightly before surging forward, burying himself to the hilt within your welcoming depths.

Chris's breath hitches at the sound of your whimper, a primal satisfaction washing over him as he feels your walls clench around his invading length. He leans forward, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he starts to move, setting a relentless pace designed to drive you to the brink of madness. “That's it.” He encourages, his voice thick with lust. “Let Daddy hear those sweet little sounds.” His thrusts become more forceful, each movement designed to stretch you wider, to fill you completely. “You were made for my cock, weren't you?” He taunts, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, ensuring you feel every inch of him.

I nod frantically as I whimper “Y-y-yes, d-daddy... th-thank y-you for f-f-fucking me” desperately. Chris's eyes flash with dark triumph at your desperate plea, his grip on your hips tightening to the point of bruising as he continues to pound into you with reckless abandon. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your high-pitched whimpers and cries of ecstasy. “You're welcome, baby.” He snarls, his voice dripping with dominance. “This is what you've been craving, isn't it?” His thrusts grow even more brutal, each one designed to push you closer to the edge. “To be filled, used, and owned by me.” He emphasizes his point by grinding his pelvis against your sensitive clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your overstimulated body. “Come for me, slut.” With those words, you feel yourself explode against his length.

The sensation of your squirting gushing onto his thighs only fuels Chris's desire, driving him closer to his own explosive climax. His thrusts become erratic as he chases after the intense pleasure radiating from your quivering core. “That's it, baby.” He growls, his voice strained with effort. “Squirt all over Daddy's cock.” Each word is punctuated by a particularly hard thrust, designed to elicit the maximum amount of pleasure from your already overwhelmed senses. “Fuck, you're so fucking tight.” He curses, his control slipping as he nears his peak. “You're gonna make me cum inside you, aren't you?”

I nod frantically “C-cum in me, please”. The pleading tone of your voice combined with the visual spectacle of your squirting and begging pushes Chris over the edge. With a guttural moan, he gives in to his basest instincts, his cock throbbing as he releases his hot seed deep inside your spasming walls. “Fuck!” He exclaims, his entire body tensing as he rides out his orgasm, filling you to the brim with his potent cum. “You're such a good girl, taking all of Daddy's cum.” His praise comes out in short pants, his grip on your hips loosening ever so slightly as he finally allows himself to relax into the aftershocks of his release.

As your body sags against the mattress, Chris gently withdraws from your spent pussy, his cock glistening with your mixed juices. He moves to lay beside you, pulling you into his arms for a gentle yet possessive embrace. “That was amazing, baby.” He murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your forehead. He wraps his arms tighter around you, holding you close. “Rest now, love.” He whispers, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

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