#i just *clenches fist* love organization!

[shivunin]

Ficlets Masterlist

A list of all my various fic etc. on tumblr, organized by pairing and internal chronological order. I've named ask memes by the general topic of the prompt and the others by title, if they have them.

(Edit: If there is an issue with a link, please let me know--I've gone through and fixed the ones I've found with issues, but they might always break again)

Arianwen Tabris/Zevran:

Only a Kiss: (1215 Words, T) Arianwen has never been kissed; Zevran offers to correct this

Without a Name: (857 Words, T) In the aftermath of their kiss, Zevran watches Tabris and considers what comes next

Liar, Liar: (459 Words, Hurt/Comfort, T) Zevran is feverish and Arianwen offers care

Hart of Hearts: (535 Words, Fluff, T); A moment in the Brecilian Forest, briefly before they decide to be together

Saccharine: The night Zevran and Tabris decide to be together; full AO3 fic here (explicit)

And Eat It, Too: (1,257 Words, T)Arianwen admires cakes in the city; Zevran makes sure she gets what she wants

Scars: (539 Words, M) Wen notices a scar that Zevran will not discuss. 

Look At Me: (this and The Last Thread are collected into one fic on AO3 here) (973 Words, Hurt/Comfort, M) Wen leaves the Deep Roads with a bad infection, haunted by the ghosts of all who’ve died along the way.

The Last Thread and the Long Drop: (3.171 Words, Hurt/comfort, M); Arianwen is wounded. Zevran can only watch as she is sewn back together. 

From the Depths: (1,321 Words, T) Zevran delivers a piece of good news after Arianwen spends a week recuperating in Orzammar

Rest Now: (1,631 Words, Hurt/Comfort, M) Post-return to the alienage, Zevran urges Tabris to put down her blades and let herself rest

Fang and Thorn: (883 Words, T) Arianwen decides what to do with her mother’s dagger

Breath of Life: (3,658 Words, M) Zevran confronts Taliesen and nearly loses his life in the process; Arianwen grapples with the idea of losing him forever; explicit version on AO3 here

Have This Dance: (928 Words, Fluff, T) Zevran and Wen find a moment of respite on the palace rooftop in Denerim

Vincit Omnes: (1,049 Words, T) Arianwen and Zevran finally admit they love each other.

Breaking News: (297 Words) A reporter attempts to discuss the Temple of Sacred Ashes with the Warden-Commander and the researcher who located the place

The Heart Grown Fonder: (1,133 Words, T) Letters between Arianwen and Zevran about how they’re doing apart.

Regarding Spiders and Caves: (403 Words) A letter from Arianwen to Zevran regarding current events at the keep

Reunion: (1,528 Words, M) Zevran comes back from his travels; Arianwen plays a game

A Letter from Kirkwall: (506 Words, T) Zevran re: his absence from Amaranthine, set immediately after his role in Act Three of DA2

Lock and Key: (2,298 Words, Hurt/comfort, M); Zevran is captured by the Crows and tortured. Arianwen frees him.

A Red, Red Rose: (1,952 Words, Fluff, T) A wedding scene

Dawn and Gold: (905 Words, Fluff, T) Tabris helps Zevran get ready for the day

Maria Hawke/Fenris:

Lend a Hand: (965 Words, T) When Hawke is struggling with an injury, Fenris offers some assistance with the pain

A Fond Farewell: (2,548 Words) Hawke is fond of casual touches and long goodbyes; Fenris tries to understand why he likes this about her

The Small Hours: (1,496 Words, Fluff) Fenris comes to Hawke's manor to read, but he stays because he doesn’t want to stop listening to her.

As Two Reflected Stars: (12,438 Words, Hurt/Comfort/ T) (AO3 Link) No matter how close Fenris and Hawke come to each other, they never quite seem to connect—unless one of them is already hurt or bleeding. (An exploration of healing as a proxy for affection/touch)

Do You Want to Hear a Joke?: (1,459 Words, Angst) Fenris helps a drunken Hawke home shortly after her mother’s death. Hawke tries to prove that she isn’t in love with him.

Grief and Memory: (1,493 Words, Angst) Hawke is stricken by a memory of her mother during a night at the Hanged Man; Fenris cannot offer her comfort.

An Interview for Posterity: (449 Words) Kirkwall's chronicler tries to make sense of the events surrounding the Viscount's death

To the Last Drop: (1,682 Words, this one is all yearning) Fenris observes Hawke closely on an excursion to the coast

A Fool and His Gold: (1,932 Words, Fluff/more yearning) Hawke throws Fenris a surprise party

Between Strokes of Night: (2,601 Words, fluff) The second night together; full version (explicit) on AO3 here

Poppy Red: (1,273 Words, Fluff) Hawke and Fenris experience their first date

At the Dead Drop: (624 Words, epistolary) A series of letters between Hawke, Carver, and Fenris regarding Hawke’s relationship with Fenris

Know When to Hold ‘Em: (792 Words, Fluff) The first night of cards after Fenris and Hawke decide to be together

Flow Gently: (1,036 Words, Fluff) Fenris talks Hawke to sleep

Nooks and Crannies: (1,164 Words, Fluff) Hawke shows Fenris where she's hidden the weapons in her home

Stack the Deck: (1,310 Words, Fluff) Hawke bolts after a card game and a puzzled Fenris follows her back to the manor

Corpus Animaque: (1,138 Words, Fluff) After Hawke falls asleep, Fenris continues to speak to her in Tevene, knowing that she could not understand him even if she could hear him.

Wake Easy: (555 Words, Fluff) Fenris feigns sleep so Hawke can kiss him awake.

Winter's Grasp: (4,834 Words, Hurt/comfort) (AO3 link) Hawke takes an unnecessary risk in Lowtown; after they return to her manor, Fenris tries to discern why

Pour Forth: (3,830 Words) (AO3 link) Hawke makes the same misplaced joke across the span of her relationship with Fenris. He does not, in fact, cry about it. (Or, five times Hawke tells Fenris it's okay to cry and one time she doesn't.)

Ebb and Flow: (705 Words, Hurt/comfort) Hawke is having trouble resting; Fenris helps her to bed

Ash and Salt: (798 Words, hurt/comfort) After the destruction of Kirkwall, Fenris finds Hawke and offers what comfort he can.

If Sorrow I Let In: (1,344 Words, Hurt/Comfort) Hawke has a nightmare about almost dying in the Fade. Fenris is there when she wakes

A Letter From Home: (403 Words) Letter resting on a counter in a cottage near Amaranthine, as yet unopened, dated nearly six months ago

*Sleight of Hand: (7,734 Words) (AO3 Link) Magician AU: Hawke is a stage magician who's never asked much about her grumpy assistant. When Fenris spots his pursuers during a show, it may be time for the two of them to face the likelihood that this may be his very last performance.

Emmaera Lavellan/Cullen:

A Bond Beheld: (1,710 Words) The Commander pledges fealty to the new Inquisitor

Tipsy: (209 Words) Conversation overheard while drunk

Lavender Cakes: (236 Words) A codex entry describing a special request from the Commander; (collected with a codex entry on a marriage offer post-Inquisition and rumors circa Trespasser)

A Letter from the Viscount: (368 Words) Varric writes to see how the Inquisitor has been, and to deliver an offer

Entanglements: (704 Words, Fluff) A quiet, simple morning in retirement

Just a Hair: (676 Words, Fluff) Emma trims Cullen’s hair

From Behind: (513 Words, Fluff) Cullen reflects on life as a father and husband

Structural Integrity: (4,300 Words, Fluff) Cullen and his daughter build a pillow fort—now all that’s left is to test it (also collected in my anthology fic here on AO3)

Letters from Adhlea: (527 Words, epistolary) While Cullen visits family in Ferelden, his daughter writes him a letter with updates.

Elowen Lavellan/Cullen

Summer Tea: (897 Words) The Inquisitor takes a moment away from a party to rest on the balcony; Cullen joins her

A Storm’s Aftermath: (786 Words) Elowen tries to be normal after nearly kissing the Commander (she…doesn’t quite manage it, but neither does he)

At Your Side: (678 Words) As Elowen returns to her room in Skyhold, Leliana notices a new mannerism

Disarming: (773 Words) The Commander and Inquisitor spend a morning training

Falsehoods: (851 Words, Hurt/comfort) Elowen takes a wound in battle; Cullen visits her room at the inn to make sure she's alright

Call Your Mother: (515 Words) A letter from and to Elowen’s mother regarding her choice of beau

Daybreak: (615 Words) After the events of Your Fate for Mine, Cullen wakes in bed with Elowen and finds himself with a small predicament.

Salshira Lavellan/Cullen

Slander: (547 Words) Codex entry detailing several complaints about the Inquisitor

The Fire at the Center: (556 Words) Cullen tries to focus on his prayers, with some difficulty

Wait: (621 Words, Fluff) Salshira passes through Cullen’s office on the way to other tasks

Fires of Battle: (846 Words) Salshira closes the last distance before the Temple of Mythal and meets the Commander on the battlefield

News from Wycome: (740 Words, Emotional hurt/comfort) Cullen rushes to deliver a crucial bit of news

Don’t Look Down: (448 Words, Hurt/comfort) Salshira regains consciousness after a nasty fall

After the Dark: (841 Words, Hurt/comfort) Salshira returns from the Deep Roads; she is not doing well

Adahlena Lavellan/Cullen (aka the arranged marriage au):

Pip: (2,611 Words) Adahlena Lavellan and Cullen meet for the first time in the Elvhen lands at Halamshiral

The Morning Mist: (820 Words) Cullen and Adahlena take breakfast together in the gardens

Misc:

Hounds and Strays: (4,521 Words, T) A young Arianwen tries to protect a stray dog and fails; as an adult, Alistair realizes they share a connection to animals (the first thing they have in common)

Something to Cry About: (954 words, G) Following the events at Redcliffe, Arianwen begrudgingly admits that she might be friends with Alistair.

Shut-Eye: (996 words, G) Arianwen and Alistair discuss happiness on a sleepy night before the fire.

[tojisun]

still on that "simon teaching you how to shotgun while you're riding him lazily" shit and will always be on that shit!!

•°. *࿐

he pinches your chin, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the smooth of your skin. “breathe it in slowly—it will burn, especially ‘cause this is y’r first time—so tap when s’too much, okay?”

“okay,” you hum, eyes fluttering slowly at the gentle touch, a caress you know that is meant to be beckoning.

simon shifts the two of you on his seat, shuffling carefully, but the slight movement still makes you gasp, a sputtering of your breath, as muted please races through you at the deeper press of his cock.

he croons at your reaction, eyes crinkling as he murmurs praises and ‘i love you’s, his voice so full of adoration. it makes your heart clench, lips wobbling at the softness of it all—

simon is not a good man. he said this to you the first time you begged him to take you to his place.

(“please,” you whimpered then, too overwhelmed with your lust to notice the way he was straining against his self-control. “i need you.”

your voice broke, a sad tinge curling in your words, and you wonder if it was that which finally pushed simon to the edge. if it was the desperation he could see burning in your eyes and rippling into the way you held him—loose fists bunching up his shirt—that finally made him buckle.

“i’m not the man that you think i am, sweetheart,” he spat out, his voice weaving between his teeth in a barely-contained snarl. “y’re too good f’r me.”

“i don’t care,” you murmured, stepping closer into him, devouring even the minuscule space between you two because simon needed to know. he needed to understand that there is no one else you yearn for but him—

“goddamn it.”

his snarl was followed by the way his teeth sank into your skin, marking, tugging.

yes! you thought with giddiness, a sharp gasp getting torn from the base of your throat. yes!yes!yes!)

simon is not a good man, but he kisses you like one. he cares for you like one. he loves you like one.

simon is not a good man, but did he need to be? he was yours. was that not enough?

you rut your hips in slow circles, quiet rasps of your gasps filling up the space. you watch with hooded eyes as simon lights his cigarette, before you lean forward to snuff the fire off his lighter. your eyes meet his above the wafting smoke, desire mutual as it drips into each other’s laps.

sweat beads on your forehead, sliding down your temple.

you brace yourself on your knees, mewling as you feel the base of his cock sliding out from the grips of your wet walls, before slowly sinking back down to engulf the thickness of it. his cock digs deep again, settling somewhere that makes you feel so full—you swear your organs shift to make room for him—and it is in the midst of your stuttered whimpers that simon takes a drag of his cigarette, slow and deep.

you become so hyperaware all of a sudden, watching as his chest expands with every inhale. then, he takes the stick out, and he turns to you with pursed lips. simon cups your cheek once again, his thumb swiping just underneath your eye.

anticipation courses through you as you pitch forward, willing your shaking body to sit still. you see the muted spark of the cigarette in your peripheral as you go—a temptress in its own right—until you feel the scruff of his unshaven chin tickling your own.

you didn’t realize how much your lips are trembling until you feel the steady press of simon’s against yours. he gives you soft pecks, reassuring kisses, and then he’s breathing out the smoke into your willing mouth.

you breathe it in slowly, feeling the burn on your tongue slither to your throat until it fills up your lungs. it feels like a thick miasma is being poured down your trachea, choking you with the tendrils of its fiery fog, and you cough, ripping your lips from simon’s.

“shh, shh,” he murmurs, quick to comfort you, his hand steady on the base of your head. “y’did great, sweetheart. y’did great.”

you can’t hear him, ears ringing as the heat spreads within you.

it is so foreign, dangerous, yet it is so, so sensual—

a metaphor for simon.

suddenly, sharp pleasure curls in the pit of your stomach, batting away the burn, and you keen, drawn out and high-pitched, before tipping your head down, needing to watch the way simon circles his thumb on your clit.

he’s let go of his cigarette—

“sim-onnn,” you hiccup, heart thudding with your disappointment. “wan’ more.”

he chuckles, the sound of it so fond.

so proud.

“look at you,” he croons. “it hurt you an’ yet you want more.”

his hand slides down from the base of your head to trace the plane of your spine before settling atop your ass where he grabs a fistful of your flesh. you groan, feeling truly edged out—the lapping euphoria you feel from the slow caress on your clit is not enough, and the thrill of breathing in simon’s sin having been cut short.

any more teasing and frustrated tears will trickle from the corners of your eyes.

simon catches your pout, and he grins, one that is a bite too mean.

“so needy,” he says, sighing dramatically, before he reaches for the stick and pinches it between his lips.

it makes you squirm, excited, your mouth already open—

needy, just like he said.

[kentopedia]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ SAFEGUARD — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa

summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.

contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself — 3.5k total

notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

there are very few times that chuuya feels he’s been outsmarted. he knows he’s not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isn’t a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold. 

your relationship isn’t a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isn’t a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know it’s hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesn’t have the power of a god nestled inside of her.

the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemies’ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity. 

the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants. 

chuuya kills them all — except for one.

the man’s knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesn’t last long, though, before he’s wrapping a hand around the man’s throat, thrusting him backwards. 

“where is she?” chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding. 

he can feel the man swallowing. 

chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it won’t matter whether they show up or not. he’ll crush the rest of his enemies just as he’s crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well. 

“i-i’ll take you to her,” he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuya’s hand. 

he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before he’s kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.

the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you. 

how fiercely and loyally he loves you — it drives him to near insanity. 

finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you. 

chuuya’s rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. “get the fuck away from her,” he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.

“what are you doing in here?” the men left in the room panic, but they don’t have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them. 

limply, they fall to the floor. 

chuuya rushes over to you. 

the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isn’t worried about him. he’s a coward; he’ll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and he’ll burn this building to the ground once he’s gotten you away from it. 

“hey,” chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. he’s not sure if it’s exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but you’re still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing. 

“hey,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. “wake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?” 

it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. “chuuya?” you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. “is it really you?” 

guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and you’re delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably haven’t eaten, either. 

he should’ve been there. no one should’ve ever had the chance to hurt you, yet…

“it’s me, i’m here,” he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. “shit,” chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.” 

he can’t get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. “it’s okay, chuuya,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re here now.” 

“you have to stay awake,” he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesn’t know how hurt you are. chuuya’s no expert when it comes to medicine, but he’s smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones. 

“stay awake for me, okay, honey? i’ll get you back to the boss and we’ll find you a doctor. you’ll be just fine.” 

“okay, chuuya,” you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, “i just want to go home.” 

"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later. 

finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. you’re so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. “let’s get you home.” 

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀. . .

the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion. 

normally, he doesn’t stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off. 

with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to mori’s office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone else’s jobs had been completed. he’s a lot of things, but he’s never been a slacker; and he’ll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.

though, he doesn’t have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him. 

he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored — an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage. 

“how rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?” mori says, sighing histrionically.

but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if it’s been dipped in ice. he can’t explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldn’t feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course. 

but you… you’re different. 

“can i trust you to diffuse the situation?” mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. “i can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.” 

akutagawa doesn’t even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own. 

he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.

there’s a ransom — bring them the money and they’ll return you, mori had told him. you’re only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable. 

mori probably would’ve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you. 

as regrettable as that may be.

akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow. 

“are we not in a rush?” akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.

“apologies,” the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest.  

even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy. 

akutagawa doesn’t care who they are. he doesn’t care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. he’ll rip them apart, easily, and he’ll make them suffer — they’ll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets. 

what he feels for you… well, it’s too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesn’t even know if that’s his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.

and he can’t do that if you’re dead.

finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. it’s tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesn’t want to be found. 

akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain. 

a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him. 

though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain. 

he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and you’re there — bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding. 

his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips. 

“where are they?” he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you. 

you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, he’s so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads. 

“gone,” you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. “they fled when they heard it was you coming.” 

“and left you?” he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions aren’t as visible on his features as he thinks they are. “were you not a ransom?” 

“no,” you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. “i was bait.”

anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. “i’ll go after them. where are they headed? they’ll pay, i’ll slaughter—”

“ryunosuke,” you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. “stay.” 

he has half a mind to ignore you — the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes… you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken. 

“please,” you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word. 

he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what he’s doing with you. 

“i’ll call hirotsu,” he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you. 

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies. 

though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest. 

his only love — his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well. 

dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating. 

but he can’t always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe. 

he should’ve at least told you to take a friend. 

“boss,” his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. “i’m so sorry. your wife—”

“if anything… anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?” dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. “i will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.” 

“of course, sir,” the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the boss’s wife to get herself into such a situation. 

and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harm’s way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isn’t able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you. 

with all the strings he’s able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesn’t take long to find you, for those that have bravely — or stupidly — used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation. 

there’s little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own. 

he’s already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they won’t have ever existed. 

today, he doesn’t care what happens as long as he finds you alive. 

you’re held hostage by two men — so completely beaten that they’ve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you can’t even open them. 

dazai doesn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall. 

slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive. 

he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemy’s face changes — any of his remaining hope vanishes. 

“you told me she was unharmed,” dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats. 

the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. “we lied.” he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile. 

dazai hums. “you the leader?” 

the man doesn’t give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. he’s no one — just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you. 

“didn’t think so.” dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all. 

dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, you’ve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him — the worst side of him. 

you’re no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when you’ve shared a life with him for years? but that doesn’t mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become. 

he stumbles over to you, where you’re still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isn’t right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple. 

it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you. 

“i’m sorry,” he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that he’ll hurt you even more. “i’m sorry, darling. i should’ve — i should’ve been there.” dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. “fuck. fuck — i’ll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. i’ll cut them down one by one.” 

“osamu,” you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. “i—”

you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words don’t leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.

“hey, hey, hey.” dazai’s voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch that’s barely there. “you’re safe. i’m here, okay? they’re not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.” 

you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.

“can you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?” 

you hesitate for a moment before answering; he’s not sure if there’s a reason you only answer the first question. “i can walk.” 

dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you — and that’s all that matters.

thank you for reading !!! ❤︎

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine nearly beating a bitch when they imply that ex-husband Gojo was anything but completely devoted.

Being married to one of the most powerful sorcerers in history was bound to garner some rumors. But the the rumor mill really went wild after your divorce.

You'd grown to ignore the rumors that Satoru left because you were unable to have children after Sen. Or that his Clan ordered you to divorce (though they would have if they could). Or that you weren't a strong enough sorcerer to maintain his interest. People could make up all kinds of baseless things, so you grew to ignore them quickly enough.

But of all the cruel, accusatory, presumptuous rumors surrounding your divorce, one stood far above the rest.

"Satoru Gojo's wife left him because of his wandering eye."

As if people knew anything about him. About how "devotion" is the core of his personality.

So, yes, you might have sent an up-and-coming clan heir through a wall at an official meeting. But she had it coming.

Sukuna sighs and yanks you back into your seat. "Calm down. The bitch doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Excuse me?" the young heir gasped. "How dare you speak of me that way?"

You flick a hand and send a water snake directly at her face, making sure to direct it at an angle that would force water right up her sinuses. She coughs and gags.

"Satoru was utterly devoted to me and our son. Our marriage may not have lasted, but he is still the most loving man I've ever met. If I ever hear another nasty comment about him from you again, I will remove your tongue," you growl.

The other clan staff sitting around the table gape at you. No one moves to help the young heir.

"Looks like this meeting's over," Sukuna drawls, gathering his papers. "Good thing. This was such a waste of time. Come back when you actually have something for me that makes sense." He shifts into his Ryomen form and uses his extra arms to grab your stuff. "C'mon, brat. I'm done with these idiots."

~

Imagine doing a consultation at Tokyo High and being a little extra nice to ex-husband Gojo.

"I organized each file with color tabs. They're pretty self-explanatory," you explain, handing over the stack.

"And here's to think you could hardly read when we met," Satoru teases.

"Hilarious," you deadpan. "And I left a bag of sandwiches and a gallon of cut fruit for you in the employee fridge. Don't forget to eat again or I'll force feed you myself."

Satoru's eyebrows lift. "Oh. That's different. What brought this on? Are you buttering me up for something? What'd you do?"

You scoff and make to leave his office. "I just don't need Suguru to complain to me about you passing out or something. Don't think about it too hard."

"Alright, thanks."

Just before you cross the threshold, you hear, "Thank you for defending me. You didn't have to do that."

You turn halfway and eye him warily. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Kuna ratted you out."

"Of course he did."

"Nice try, though." He gives you a rare smile.

Satoru never smiled much. He laughed, pouted, or sly grinned plenty, but you hadn't seen his gentle smile in a while. It made him look younger.

"Well." You shrug. "Bitches who don't know any better should keep their mouths shut."

He laughs. "The Teenage Jailbird version of you still jumps out sometimes, I see."

"She gets the job done." You linger in the doorway for a moment. Then you move before you can change your mind.

Satoru turns his chair to face you when you run round the desk and lets out a soft "oof" when you lock him in a tight embrace. Your clench fistfuls of his uniform jacket.

"It's okay." Satoru pats your back. "I'm not hurt. Really."

You have to pry yourself from him, but you manage. Wiping a stray tear - that even Satoru is surprised to see - you nod resolutely.

"Okay, well. Don't forget to eat or whatever. Bye, Satoru."

Satoru watches you speed walk down the hall. The six eyes pick up on you stopping outside the school gates and running your hands down your face. Once you're gone, he returns to his admin work newly energized.

It was hard to explain to you when you were married, but those little moments of affirmation made all the difference to him.

~ Thanks for reading!

Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[loved-reid]

You’re Cute…Yet Irritating [s.r]

Post prison!Spencer Reid x sunshine!fem!reader

Summary: She’s always humming a tune, dancing, or tapping her fingers. And Spencer can’t stand it.

Warnings: Angst with happy ending, irritated Spencer, crying, self doubt, rude comments, self hatred, etc.

Note: I always fidget and I thought this would be cute! Let me know what y’all think!!

Sorry for any errors! I didn’t re-read it! :)

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

2,745 times

And yes, he was unfortunately counting.

He bet she didn’t even know she was doing it, the repetitive rhythm of her finger nails on the desk. Files piled it, almost all the time, and Spencer always had to walk by with his fist in his mouth to prevent himself from organizing it the way he liked.

He was going to be honest, he kind of missed having that feeling, the urge to clean or organize. It told him, in a way, that his old self was still with him, and that little thing gave him hope that he so tightly held onto.

But his old self was able to focus. His old self was able to dig himself into file folders and never be able to leave, yet the tapping.

Spencer couldn’t take it.

His eye twitched every time she breathed particularly loud, his lips pursed when her foot started tapping on the floor, and, worst of all, his head shuttered when her dang finger nails tapped on the desk’s top.

He hated the noise.

And it surprised him that he did, it was such a little thing that was apparently going unnoticed by everyone else. But he just couldn’t focus on his work with the practical racket that was doing on next to him.

He wasn’t gonna lie, he almost got up just then to go ask Hotch for a desk rearrangement. But he knew that his boss would suspect something and either tease him about it or shake his head about how ridiculous it was.

Spencer agreed as well. He couldn’t change seats just because the woman next to him was tapping her fingers.

Gosh, even thinking it sounded absurd.

But he couldn’t help but imagine silence.

Silence while his brain could process things.

Spencer could’ve lost it when she started humming a soft tune. She seemed to have a new one in her head every day, each time she sat down, tea in hand, she hummed a different song than yesterday.

He couldn’t quite pin point which one it was, but he didn’t dare to continue thinking to figure it out.

His head turned toward her, hoping she��d notice his glare but she didn’t, she’s still stuck on the file she was looking at.

“Quit that, will ya?”

Her head snapped up at the sudden outburst, surprise reflecting in her eyes yet he spotted confusion.

How was she confused to the constant annoying tapping she was doing? And the humming? Spencer was slowly loosing his mind.

He took a deep breath to prevent from lashing out, his hand coming out and wiggling his fingers toward hers.

“T-the tapping, it’s irritating. Quit it please.”

Her face dropped from surprised to hurt, and Spencer somehow hated that it was quiet as soon as he said something.

“Right. Sorry,” she whispered so softly Spencer almost couldn’t hear her. She tried to add a little chuckle at the end of her murmur, yet her voice cracked against her own accord.

He watched her fingers stop, instead clenching them in a fist tightly.

Spencer should’ve been glad that the silence he so wanted was granted, but something unsettling brewed in his chest at her facial expression, her now glossy eyes staring at her computer screen. He also noticed her other hand that wasn’t holding the folder was digging into her thigh to prevent it from bouncing out of anxiety.

He didn’t know the feeling, regret, maybe, but all Spencer knew was that he wished he hadn’t said those words.

But he didn’t want to say sorry, something inside him prevented him from doing it. Maybe he was selfish because he ignored the regret in him and took the opportunity to have the ability to focus once more.

“I can’t help, falling in love with you,” she hummed softly, just under her breath as she stirred her favorite tea in the mug the next morning.

Spencer had to admit, he missed her singing in the morning. It reminded him that through all the terrible cases they’ve experienced, there was still happiness in the world, still hope, and she clearly found it through music.

But the pounding headache that didn’t go away that day prevented him from being kind.

So he couldn’t dare to show his wishes of her singing more often, heck no. And the more he thought about it the more irritating it became. He became hyper focused on the breath before each sentence she sang, the cinnamon toothpaste blaring his nose. She was also slightly off pitch every couple seconds, and she sang a couple words wrong.

It got worse when she took forever to mix her tea, blocking his path towards the coffee machine.

He huffed, ignoring the way she flinched. “Move, will ya? There’s people who actually want to do their job and not sing songs about sunshine and rainbows; just please let me get some coffee.”

Her once upwards lips turned down, the light in her eyes going out. She cleared her throat. “Right, s-sorry.”

Spencer couldn’t help it. The comment spat out before he could control it. “S-sorry,” he mimicked. “You do know confidence is a key to this job, right? Quit the childish stuttering it’s infuriating.”

He didn’t see her reaction, but if he did he would see glossy eyes and a facial expression that represented a shattered heart.

She raced out of the room, tea discarded on the counter and beelined towards the bathrooms. She quickly fumbled with the lock. It echoed throughout the bathroom, somehow making her emotions worsen. The tears went full force, a sob covered by her hands surrounding her.

His words kept repeating themselves in her head, telling her that she wasn’t good enough for the job.

Why even apply? He was clearly smarter than her and took things more seriously. What was she thinking? Coming into a field like this and humming and singing all the time? Who does that?

She could feel her makeup smearing, and her black fingers rubbing her cheeks confirmed her suspicions.

She never knew Spencer’s problem with her. Every moment she recalled every encounter, hoping not to come across a moment where she offended him. And she never did.

But now she knew. It was her humming, her tapping, her singing, her stuttering.

She wasn’t good enough to be here.

The thought made her cry harder, the type of sob where your breath catches in your throat, your vision blurry as your chest aches.

A soft knock on the stall door made her both flinch hardly and gasp at the same time.

A throat was cleared, an awkward moment of silence shoving its way between them.

“Can I come in?”

The voice on the other side wasn’t one she expected. Her heart started going on its own path, thumping quickly within her chest.

Her hand moved on its own accord, though hesitantly, and opened the lock.

Spencer’s hand came into view, opening the door and entering himself, closing and locking the door behind him.

Something about him being so close, the door locked, and them being in a place just for one person made her already beating heart pound harder.

His features, no doubt, were beautiful. His nose was like a button, eyes like chocolate in fresh cookies, lips soft and full like a blooming flower.

His hair, oh his hair. It was like a soft blanket she wanted to nestle her fingers onto, pulling at the roots until he let out a satisfying noise-

No.

He hurt her. The words he said. She was upset. He doesn’t like her.

Then why was he having such an effect on her?

Him clearing his throat once more caught her out of her thoughts, eyes meeting his.

“I wanted to say sorry. For what I said,” he whispered, and she noticed his fingers playing with each other. “It wasn’t nice nor professional. And I don’t mean any of it.”

His apology was simple and sincere, eyes somehow widening while gazing at her. (Or were his eyes always like that? Full and desperate?)

“And in case you were wondering, you’re lovely at your job,” he sounded like he was rambling again, but he also seemed desperate to get the words out. “Your singing brings happiness to the place. You’re more than good enough to be here. And I’m sorry I made you doubt your amazing abilities.”

She felt a soft smile come to her lips, cheeks reddening at his complements. She wiped her nose. “Really?”

He nodded, leaning down and grabbing some toilet paper to wipe her cheeks.

Instead of simply giving it to her, he wiped them himself, wiping the damage he did to her away on his own. “I mean it with my whole heart.”

Her heart warmed.

“Thank you Spencer,” she whispered shyly.

He gave her a toothless smile, opening his arms for a hug from her.

Her heart pounded, knowing he barely let anyone touch him, but stepped towards him nonetheless.

Her arms went underneath his blazer, on top of his dress shirt (causing him to shiver) and laying her head on his chest.

He embraced her back, far too tall to be over her shoulder so he rested his chin on her head, shampoo filling his nose.

They stayed like that for a couple moments before pulling back to look at each other.

His eyes met hers, emotions swirling around, like they were trying to tell him something.

If it was a warning or an invitation Spencer didn’t know, but he leaned forward to find out, nose brushing hers.

Her lips parted, causing his eyes to shoot downward at the movement.

He gave her a moment to push away, to shove him out of the stall for even thinking she had any interest on him.

The rejection never came.

He finally planted his mouth on hers, her hands shooting to his hair to pull at his roots, a small groan leaving his lips.

His lips tasted like coffee and something truly Spencer.

Whatever it was pulled her in more, craving the taste of his mouth.

They finally pulled away, breath fanning each other’s faces. She was the one who laughed first against his lips, and he copied her before kissing her once again.

Sure, she was irritating at times, but she was cute, he’d give her that.

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

Free Use Human

Lost Light Crew x reader, AFAB gender neutral reader, racially ambiguous, cumdump, stuck in a hole

“Brainstorm?” You called into the empty room hoping the scientist would hear you. You placed your palms flat against the wall behind you as you gave a push to try to dislodge yourself. Your legs dangled uselessly on the other side of the wall with your rear propped up right in the air.

You looked down at the floor maybe 6 feet below you where the teleportation device Brainstorm had made for you dropped. You pushed once again this time kicking your legs to get some kind of momentum but to no avail.

“Brainstorm!” You called louder hoping the scientist would rescue you before anyone found you like this.

“Woah!”

You heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Swerve!” You kicked your feet trying to wiggle out of the wall. “Thank God you’re here! Can you find Brainstorm and tell him where I am? Something went wrong with the teleportation device and-“ You yelped feeling a servo run across your rear. “Swerve!”

“You’re really stuck in there, huh?” He sounded way too pleased. “Like you can’t do anything?” You huffed shaking your head before realizing Swerve couldn’t see you on the other side of the wall. “No, I’m stuck. Can you please get-HEY!” You jerked feeling Swerve fondle your clothed ass. Swerve only laughed a little before giving a taut swipe to your rear.

“Oh man, I know who’d love this!” Swerve laughed rubbing his servo down your thigh. You whined wiggling your hips. “Brainstorm would because he’d want to know-OH!” Once again you were cut off when Swerve dragged his thick digit over your clothed folds.

“You look good like this,” Swerve laughed. He continued rubbing your clothed pussy making you whine and clench your thighs. “I just messaged Rodimus over the comlink,” Swerve said now groping your ass with both of his servos. “Think I can bust one out before he gets here?” He sounded so giddy having you defenseless like this. You only perked your rear up and wiggled your hips for him.

Swerve grabbed onto the waistband of your pants pulling the fabric down over your shoes and discarding the fabric to the floor. The wafting cold air of the ship brought goosebumps to your skin. You squeaked feeling Swerve bring another sharp smack to your ass. “You’re already so wet!” Swerve said excitedly. “Here I was gonna try eating you out to get you prepped but maybe-“ “Swerve, please!” You begged spreading your legs wider. Swerve chuckled before kneeling down in front of your glistening folds and shoving his face into your pussy. He devoured your slick cunt like a man starved. His dermas moving around your clit as his glossa dipped between them to slurp up whatever juices you produced.

“Fuck!” You whined clenching your fist against the wall. You squeezed your eyes shut focusing on the feeling of having Swerve’s face plate buried between your thighs. “Fucking delicious,” Swerve mumbled against your folds. The vibrations of his vocalizer going straight to your clit. “Swerve,” you moaned out trying to push your hips back into his face plate. His large servos wrapped around your hips keeping you still while he continued feasting on your sopping heat.

Swerve pulled away but not before giving your clit a loud obnoxious kiss. “Oh man look at your valve,”Swerve said prodding at your hole with one of his digits. “You’re clenching around nothing here!” Swerve jammed his finger into your pulsing hole feeling around the wet cavern of your vagina.

“Swerve, please!” You called your voice muffled by the wall. Swerve added another digit pushing his metal fingers in and out of your hole. “Think you’re ready for me?” Swerve was practically panting in excitement. How long has he been lusting after the ship’s little human and now he finally has a chance to feel their sweet organic valve around his throbbing spike.

You spread your legs in response trying to make as much room for the minibot as you could. You could hear him shuffling to his feet on the other side of the wall before there was a hiss in the air as Swerve released his modesty panel. His spike sprung to life slapping down atop your ass. The hot metal was a welcome change against your cold skin.

“Primus I can’t believe this is real,” Swerve muttered to himself. He held your hips with his servos, their size basically engulfing you, as he tilted his pelvis back to line his spike up with your hole. Swerve muttered praises as he rubbed his dripping spike against your cunt before pushing in.

“Holy shit!” You heard Rodimus’ voice coming down the hallway. “They really are stuck!”

Swerve gave you a sharp thrust before responding to his captain. “Yeah! They’re super tight too,” he panted trying to find a rhythm with his thrusts. “No way!” Your whole body stiffened when you heard Whirl. “Free use human?”

“Are we all getting a turn with them?” Tailgate’s enthusiasm made you clench around Swerve. The minibot groaned as he set a rough pace slapping his hips into your rear. Your moans bounced with your body as the bartender took what he wanted from your cunt. “Overload in them!” You heard Nautica cheer. You whined squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling of being watched in such a vulnerable position. Swerve’s hips stuttered as he released a flood of transfluid deep into your cunt.

“Okay,” you heard Rodimus start. “As the captain I get dibs after Swerve. From there we can form a line.”

You heard Whirl complain a little but was hushed by Cyclonus. “Actually I think I should get next because my device put them in this position!” Brainstorm called out.

“Is their intake up for grabs?” You heard Rewind ask.

“I don’t see why not,” Rodimus answered. “Why? You and Chromedome going to spear them?” Rodimus laughed at his own comment as your whole body heated up at the idea.

You felt Swerve slowly slide his spike out of you. His transfluid leaked down your pussy and onto your thigh. “Look at that,” you heard Drift say marveling at how Swerve’s overload slunk out of your hole.

“Okay my turn now!” You heard Rodimus call coupled with the sounds of him pushing other bots out of the way.

Ultra Magnus rarely walked this way around the ship but he felt the need to check why he had seen so many bots take this corridor. He hoped that his suspicions of something devious being at play was only a hunch. His thundering footsteps came down the hallway turning around a corner until he came to a full and abrupt stop.

Your rear end stood out of the wall with your legs dangling uselessly. both of your holes leaking transfluid with a puddle of the pink glowing substance laid underneath you. He could hardly believe his optics. Not only did this display break multiple public indecency laws but also violated almost every health code Ultra Magnus could recollect.

You moved your leg a little, bending your knee to keep the limb from falling asleep, and the movement caused a thick glob of transfluid to push out of your pussy and drip into the puddle beneath you. Ultra Magnus covered his mouth as his face flushed blue with energon.

“Human?” His deep voice called.

You giggled in return stretching out your legs causing more transfluid to seep from your pussy and ass. “Ultra Magnus!” You called cheerfully from the other side of the wall. You sounded delirious as if you had been fucked stupid. “Did you want a turn?” You spread your legs pressing the tips of your shoes against the wall so Ultra Magnus could see your sloppy holes.

In all honesty, he did want a turn.

[stevenose]

for anonymous - thank you for voting!! and for the good prompt hehe

contains: gender unspecified reader; reader with a vagina; teasing; edging (reader receiving); kind of mean!steve; slight overstimulation; this one kinda got away from me and was not supposed to be this long 😳

“Steve - Steve —!”

“Aw,” he says flatly. “Do you want to cum or something?”

“Yes,” you grit.

He hums, applying harder, steadier pressure on your clit before going back to feather-light strokes. “Not coming with that attitude.”

He’s brought you close twice now, leaving you right on the cusp before pulling back. With the little resolve you have left, you reach down for his arm, trying to stop him from moving away.

“Hey,” he warns, grabbing your hand and pinning it above you. “Hands up here, remember?”

You huff.

“There you go,” he encourages. “Just gotta be nice to me and I’ll give you what you want, okay?”

His thumb presses down on your clit and he stops his movement all together. You jolt, twisting your legs beside his, slotted between yours. Your hands grasp the sheets under you and you curl the soft fabric up in your fists.

“You’re never nice to me,” you pant.

He pinches your clit. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

You do know it. He can be so tender with you. But he’s not right now, and you want to cum so badly, want him to move his fingers again until you’re shaking.

“What do you want me to do?”

He grins down at you. “You’re so easy. Want you to beg me. That’s not below you, is it? You’ve begged me for things before.”

You swallow your pride and ignore his comment. “Please let me cum, Steve.”

“Oh, not like that,” he says, his thumb moving, keeping the pressure hard. “Want it to be organic, you know? Instead of talking back while I’m making you feel good.”

His thumb really does feel so good. You moan breathlessly, hands still curled, your toes clenching. You want to grind, but you know that’ll get you farther away from what you need.

Steve kisses down your neck and collarbone. “Uh-huh, there y’go.”

His lips find a nipple, tongue laving over it. You moan louder, squirming. You breathe harshly, your orgasm quickly coming to the precipice. “Please,” you whimper.

White teeth scrape against your sensitive skin, catching on your nipple. “I’m gonna need a lot more than that.”

“Steve, please.” You’re coming undone. “It’s - it feels so good, I need more, I need to feel it.”

A finger slips down to your entrance while his thumb keeps rubbing at your clit. His lips resume their work, his finger never entering.

“Yes, please!” you pant. “Please, please, finger me.”

“You’re wet,” he says against your skin. “You love this.”

“I love this,” you agree mindlessly. “Steve, I wanna cum, want you to feel me.”

He moans now, slipping his middle finger inside of you. You clench around him and he whines.

Your hands tug the sheets, desperate. Your chest rises and falls, breath heavy. “Please, I’m so close, please don’t stop, Steve, please don’t stop!”

“Who’s making you cum?”

“You, you, you —“

“What’s my name, honey?”

“Steve,” you squeak, stomach tightening.

He pauses. Your eyes sting with tears, thinking he’s not letting you, but his pace continues with hard strokes and you’re cumming. Your hands fly to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, legs wrapping around his hips. You cry in ecstasy, shaking, pussy refusing to let him go until you’re overstimulated.

“Ah!” you whine. “Too — too much.”

Steve hums, eyes locked on yours, his thumb moving lightly against your twitching clit. “It’d be fun to keep playing with you, don’t you think?”

[world-of-aus]

Pairing: Pornstar!Bucky x Pornstar!Reader

Warnings: MINOR DNI 18+ (Oral, Fingering, P in V, Praise all around,) Its Porn With a substantial amount of plot?

Author's Note: Second Starkhub Installment for 'The Soldier & Eden Ivy' hope you all enjoy, make sure to drink some water...

STARKHUB - Eden Ivy Fucks Her Boss to keep her job

  Eden Ivy 

  Eden Ivy  

  Eden Ivy 

“Eden Ivy.”  Your name was on everyone’s tongue including his own. 

Stark looked up from his calendar brow raised and pen stilling over the boxed paper, “Eden Ivy?” He questions. “You know carter’s available for this shoot right?” Bucky nods, “I know, but I asked for Eden Ivy, not Carter.” Tony raises his hand in mock surrender, “easy there soldier, I heard you just making sure I heard right, ANYWAY.” Bucky watches his manager scribble your name in finalizing the soldier's filming week. The pen drops to the paper, Tony leaning back in his chair, “so Eden ivy,” he questions with a grin, “She’s really that good?” Bucky raises a brow in question, “what do you mean?” his boss leans forward, “oh c’mon Barnes it’s rare you film with female costars more than once. Carters your go to, your like Starkhubs ‘it couple’.” 

The broad-shouldered brunette grimaces, “we’re not a couple.” he grits shutting the rumor down. “She just happens to be the only one that can take what the soldier gives her, you know how intense it can get, not many like that.” 

Tony nods, “you’re right, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but if what I’ve heard of Eden Ivy so far is true – I think the soldier may have met his match.” His boss knocks on the desk after his thought, “well we’re done here pal and listen don’t forget to get with Pepper and Eden to let them know about the upcoming shoot, don’t want any surprises.” 

The brunette stands with a nod, “are they here today?” Tony looks down at his schedule, “they’re on set three should be wrapped already.” Bucky sees himself out of Tony’s office with a wave over his shoulder, feet carrying him out of the building containing the offices and into the building where the sets are located. 

Sex invades his senses as he passes the sets, pushing the door open for set three, he makes it two steps in before he’s freezing, cock hardening in his joggers.  

Quiet whimpers leave your teeth bitten lips, your body gyrating down onto a silicone pink cock, fingers buried between your thighs as you work quick circles over your clit. Bucky isn’t new to solo’s he’s done his fair share of them when he first started at Starkhub, but he’s never seen one look this good. If he was at home hidden behind a laptop, he’s certain he would be watching your scene right now hand wrapped tightly in a fist around his cock. 

He’s entranced by the way you bounce on the silicone, lips parted on a moan as filth spews from your lips. Pepper is the first to spot him, not that he takes any notice barely seeing her cross the floor to where he stands hard and aching. “Like what you see Barnes?” she teases, freeing him from Eden’s spell. He blinks owlish like as he looks over at his smirking bosses wife, “you could say that.” he speaks gruffly. “Tony said you would be wrapped up, sorry for just barging in.” he chokes out ears trained on your moans, you were close he could tell. Peppers grinning, “Tony knew our wrap time, though knowing him, he has his reasons.” is all she says as your climax hits, Bucky’s eyes shutting, teeth clenched, hands fisted at his sides as he hears you ride it out.  

“So, what can I do for you?” Pepper questions the buzz of the set ringing around the two of them as your set wraps. 

“I requested Eden for a scene on Friday, Tony wanted to make sure I ran it by the two of you to make sure she’s available.”  

The one thing Bucky loved about Pepper is how organized she was, he watched her pull out her phone, going into her planner for you. She scrolls through your scheduled week; she hums looking through your days.  

“She’s all yours,” she says looking up at him, “just make sure you let her know too.” Bucky nods and then she’s leaving him. He makes his way across the set, the crew moving around him as he closes the distance between the two of you. You’re still perched on the sets bed, a sheet lazily thrown over you, and a fucked out sweet smile on your lips. Suddenly he wishes he was the reason for that smile. 

Your gaze is locked on his as he closes the distance, “hi,” you breathe, “is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me soldier?” You question teasingly gaze drawing down to the tent in his pants. Despite the cheesiness of your comment Bucky chuckles, “you wanna see just how happy you’ve made me Eden?” 

You try to conceal your grin, teeth capturing your bottom lip as you look up at him, “careful soldier, unless you want a free show, though between you and I we both know our bosses won’t take to kindly to that, nothings free here.” 

Bucky laughs more relaxed this time, “well maybe it won’t have to be a free show, are you available this Friday?” 

Your grin morphs into a smirk, “you want to make a video with me soldier, get me naked and spread out till I’m screaming your name?” 

He gets bold, leaning forward fingers hooking under your chin as he guides you up onto your knees, the flimsy sheet falling exposing your naked breasts to the room. “Want to do much more than a video with you, I want to wreck you, want you to only think of me when you’re with someone else, want to hear you screaming my name when you should be screaming theirs, and when I do, all I want to hear from you is thank you.” 

He’s not above taking you now, especially with how you preen his name, leaning into his touch wanting more. He pulls away, grinning when a whine leaves your lips, “I’ll see you Friday Eden, be a good girl for me now.” He leaves you with a wink, your body slumping into the messy sheets and a curse of his name leaving your lips. 

He’d have you cursing more than just his name come Friday, he’d have you begging. 

 

You were dressed in the tightest, tiniest skirt wardrobe could find you, a black silk blouse clinging to your skin, buttons popped open to just below your sternum - and the heels? 

 He was going to fuck you in those heels. The next time you wore them his name would be on your lips; he’d make sure of it. 

There was a pout on your painted features as you met ‘your boss’s’ demeaning gaze, you were swaying “nervously” in your spot, really playing into your role of being the scared secretary on the verge of losing her job. 

“I should fire you Eden,” he grunts pretending to look at the blank sheets of papers stuffed in a prop file handed to him before the cameras started running. “You fucked up my numbers, you’re fucking with my money. You know what I do to people that fuck with my money?” He doesn’t wait for your answer, “I kick them out on their ass’s Eden.” 

You shrink back at his outburst, but he catches the way you rub your thighs together. “Please sir,” you whimper, fuck he wanted you on your knees, his hands fisted in your hair while he choked you on his cock. “I can’t afford to lose this job, my daddy will be so upset with me, please.” He huffs as he kicks away from his desk pushing to his feet as he watches you, strong arms brace him against the fake wood of his desk. “Daddy? You think I give a fuck what Daddy’s going to think? Is Daddy going to get me my money you just lost me?” 

Your lip's part to answer but a knock on the flimsy doors set sounds, the two of you look to the door, Bucky beckons them in. Walker newest recruit to Starkhub struts in paper in hand it was Tony’s idea to introduce him like this - you’d be filming his feature film with him next week. Bucky finds he hates it; he’s staring at Eden like he wants to eat her all while he brings the papers to the desk Bucky stands behind. Walker only stops undressing you with his eyes to tell ‘your boss’ he’s got the newest numbers for him.  

He could care less about the blonde male, but his blood runs white hot when Walker delivers a slap to your ass, one neither of you were expecting on his way off the set. “See you later Eden.” He chuckles, Bucky doesn’t miss the way you shrink back, Walker’s little slap wasn’t part of the script, so your tongue tied, thrown off. He takes control calling your name bringing you back to him, “Eden, eyes on me, you and I aren’t done talking,” your gaze returns to his, good girl he thinks. “You plan on telling your daddy that you messed up, hope he gives you money to fix your mess?” 

You shake your head, “I - No sir my daddy can’t know, he’s going to be so mad at me – please sir – I'll, I’ll do anything I can’t lose this job.” He pushes off the desk, rounding it, closing the distance between the two of you. He stops just a foot short of you, hand reaching out to cup your cheek, thumb running over the apple of it, “you really want to keep this job?” You're nodding eagerly, breath already uneven and he hasn’t even touched you the way he wants too, “and you’d do anything?” 

Those doe eyes you’re so good at dishing come to life, “Anything sir – please.” 

His gaze turns dark, hungry. “Get on your knees.” You gasp mock offense, “sir I -” his hand slips from your cheek falling to your neck, squeezing, “you said you would do anything – now I’m telling you to get on your knees. You want to keep your job, right? Keep daddy and me happy?” 

You’re nodding, “then get on your knees Eden.” 

Your descent is slow, his hand around your neck guiding you as you get down on your knees for him. You look up at him as your fingers reach for the belt buckled through his slacks, you pull the belt from the buckle opening the leather. Your fingers move onto the button holding his slacks closed next letting it pop open, a groan bubbles in his chest when your nimble fingers brush against his hardened cock as you pull the zipper down slowly. Your fingers hook over the top of his slack and boxers tugging on them, his cock springs free from its confines, he watches you lick over your lower lip.  

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs hand sliding up your neck to cradle the side of your head, “now show me just how much you want to keep this job.”  

 Eyes locked on his you get your fingers around his girth, hand fisting around the base of his cock. He waits with bated breath, dark hungry eyes watching you lean forward letting his hand that cradles you follow your movement. Your tongue peeks out past your lips to lick along the underside of his cock, your tongue running over every vein that has his breath leaving his chest. His head falls back a long low grunt falling from his lips as your tongue swirls around the tip before you take him fully into the wet, warm, heat of your mouth till your stretched out around the base of his cock, till he’s hitting the back of your throat. His hand finds its way into your hair, fingers fisting tugging as he guides your motion “just like that” he moans, “fuck Eden knew you were good at something.”   

You moan around his cock, your other hand finding his muscled thigh as you brace yourself, jaw slacking, eyes begging. The fist he has in your hair tightens, his other finding your cheek as he holds you still, complacent. He grinds into your mouth once, twice before he pulls you back till only the tip rests on your tongue, all self-control is lost on him as he fucks his way back into your mouth, pace unrelenting as he makes you take what he gives you. 

“That’s it,” he growls, watching your mascara streak with the tears that pull from your eyes, “take this cock Eden, take it like a good fucking girl, let me see how bad you want it.”  He tugs you off with a snarl harsh tug to your hair as he holds you at arm's length to get a good look at the mess he’s made of you. Your spit pools around your lips, dripping down your chin, staining the black satin shirt a shade darker. He can feel his cock pulse at the sight, watching as you run a thumb over your lips sucking the digit into your mouth as you lick yourself clean, “Did I do good sir? Yont won’t tell my daddy?” 

He takes hold of his own cock, bringing you back into your space as he taps your parted lips with his member, he groans when your tongue slides out, “I don’t know Eden, I don’t feel like you’re very sorry, like you really want this job.” 

You’re whining, kitten licking his cock as if that will fix your ‘mistakes’, “please sir,” you plead doe eyes beaming up at him, “I said I would do anything – and I mean anything.” 

A growl vibrates in his chest as he halls you up, a cry so pretty leaving your lips as you stumble to your feet falling into his embrace. Hand still fisted in your hair, the other finding purchase on your neck as he brings your lips to his, tongue wasting no time as he delves into your parted lips licking up into your mouth. 

“I want you naked, bent over that desk Eden - heels on.” 

You’re tense as you wait bent over the wooden desk, breath caught in your throat, ass high in the air. He drinks you in, watching you all spread out and waiting, your poor pretty pussy clenching around nothing waiting to be filled.  

He takes slow steps forward, “she’s a hungry thing isn’t she.” He husks from behind you. The first contact made is his hand slapping your pussy, the action jolting you up the desk, gasp tumbling from your lips. “Oh yes she is.” he murmurs fingers dipping into your sodden folds, you moan, head thumping against the desk at his touch, “sir please.” You push back into his hand, gyrating against the desk, he leans over you, thick digits circling your clit sweeping up your slick before plunging into your awaiting heat. 

A moan leaves your parted lips, “you’re soaked Eden, slipped in so easily, who got you this wet? Was it Walker?” 

His hot words ghost over your neck, you shake your head, biting back the whimpers, “No sir.” His fingers fuck into you, “tell me Eden who has you this wet?” 

“You sir – please.” you preen pushing back into him, eager as ever. 

“You’re such a good girl Eden,” he murmurs leaning into to nip at the lobe of your ear, “Do you only listen when your cunt is stuffed?” 

You swallow back the yes, instead answering, “no sir – I can listen, I can be good, I promise.” 

“Of course you’ll be good, you’ll do what I tell you if you want to keep this job.” he murmurs ravishing your skin, licking, nipping, biting any of you that he can reach. You’re so reactive to it all, preening his name as he fucks you with his fingers your ass pressing back into his hand as you try to get some control, get him a little deeper. “That’s it, fuck yourself sweetheart, come on my fingers Eden, get yourself wet for me – get yourself ready.” 

The wet slick slide of his fingers into your drenched cunt fill the sets air, skin slapping skin. “Sir please – please!” His teeth capture the lobe of your ear, “Come on Eden, you’ve had no problem taking from me before, come on my fingers, come on.” 

A low moan builds in his chest at the tightening of your cunt against his fingers, a broken cry leaving your lips as your orgasm washes over you. “That’s it Eden good fucking girl,” he growls his warmth that covered your back disappearing as he pushes up, his other hand holding your hips down as he fucks his fingers into you with vigor. 

A cry of his name leaves your lips, hands scrambling to grab a hold of his wrist, he's unbothered, “uh uh Eden, M’not done give me one more, come on now. You’ve taken from me now it’s my turn.” It doesn’t take him long to pull another from you, your body going taught as you gush around his fingers, wetting his slacks. “Fuck such a good fucking girl.” he growls. 

A whine leaves your lips when he pulls his fingers out, making quick work of repushing down his slacks to let his hardened cock spring free again. He covers you with his body again pulling a groan from you as he swipes his dick through your slick getting himself wet. “What’s wrong Eden, you think you’re the only one that can take? Think you could fuck me without getting fucked yourself?” 

Your answer is a choked-out moan as he slides into the wet warm heat of your channel, walls constricting him like a vice. “Fuck,” he growls sliding in till he’s buried to the hilt, the hand that fucked you covering your mouth, “let’s get one thing straight here Eden the only one doing the fucking here will be me. You ever fuck me over again, and you’ll find yourself in a far worse position then this one, you understand?” You’re nodding, whines bubbling past the hold he has on your mouth his cock accentuating every word. 

He can’t hold back anymore as he grabs the parts of you he can with his other hand holding you in place as he makes you take his cock. He only uncovers your mouth to hear how pretty you cry as he drives into you over and over again. He wrecks you like he promised, your body taking every inch of him, “that’s right take my cock like you took my money, keep me happy and you keep daddy happy,” he growls feeling himself closing in on his high. 

He doesn’t want it to end this soon, he wants to have you under him for hours crying for him to stop, that you can’t take anymore maybe another time right now he needed to give clint his money shot. So he pulls out, biting back the groan as he manhandles you to the floor, getting you on your knees as he fists his cock. Your eager for it, tongue rolling out as you look up at him waiting for his cum to paint your tongue, “should have you on your knees more often, it's a good look for you,” he grunts feeling the pleasure build, “much better than that desk you sit behind.” 

Your moaning drives him over the edge, his cum shooting from his cock, painting your cheeks, lips, tongue. He’s winded breath heavy as he watches you clean up his cum from your face with your fingers, he didn’t think he could get hard again but watching your lick your digits clean of his cum would be the thing to do it. He drops to a squat hand fisting in your hair as he brings your lips to his, its a wet dirty kiss all teeth and tongue as he tastes himself on you. 

He wants to laugh when you speak your last line, “does this mean I can keep my job?” but he doesn't instead he pats your cheek thumb running over your lower lip, tugging it down, “you keep me happy, you can have whatever job you want.” 

“Yes Sir.” 

Clints calling cut over his shoulder, the loud buzz of a finished set sounding in the air.  

The two of you relax then your back pressed against the wooden desk as you catch your breath. “How you doing Eden you alright?” he questions needing to check in. 

You smile at him, “more than alright soldier, you always show your costars this good of a time?” 

“If they’re not having a good time m’not doing my job sweetheart.” he answers hands going to the buttons of his shirt. You watch in question as he undoes each button, entranced as he pulls it off handing it to you. Your smile is soft as you take the fabric from his hands putting it on to cover up your naked body.  

“Careful soldier or I might take more than just your money.” 

He laughs, he was betting on it. 

[kesujo]

Chapter 6: Miss Pet - Part 2

Previous chapter here.

“How do you want it?”

The hopeful expression in Tiffany’s eyes was quickly overtaken by an excited one. “Really?”

“Uh huh.”

“Thank you so much, I love you, Master!” Although those three particular words caught him off guard, his attention was immediately brought back to the chipper, energetic girl in front of him, who elected to jump onto his lap. Her arms went around his neck while her tail snaked around her waist, wrapping around Seojun’s throbbing member.

Seojun jumped, his fist clenching as a shudder ran down his body. Tiffany shifted forward, her eyes shining with joy and lips curving upwards in excitement. She rubbed her object of desire against her sopping wet slit, a pleased hum filling the air, the submissive succubus’s eyes fluttering shut as a wave of ecstasy filled her.

So hard had she worked for the privilege of being able to rub her Master’s cock against her aching pussy that it was screaming its wish to be filled to its owner. However, Tiffany wanted to revel in the feeling first. Like some sort of masochist, she withheld that satisfying feeling from herself, indulging in the steadily growing sensation of neediness. That budding feeling of want gradually transformed into raging desire, which over time became an overwhelming need. Tiffany’s sounds of pleasure grew in parallel, her hums and sighs transforming into full-out moans, her soaked slit continually pouring its juice onto Seojun’s member, thoroughly lubricating it with another layer of a different form of her bodily fluid.

It was only when Tiffany’s lust grew to the turning point of the edging she was inflicting on herself that Tiffany finally gave in. “Master, may I…?”

Seojun could tell what Tiffany was doing, and although feeling Tiffany’s smooth, drenched labia rub across his entire length was amazing, Seojun himself was starting to feel a little impatient. The accompanying visual only added onto the appeal: the way Tiffany’s eyes grew increasingly crossed, the way her chest heaved increasingly more noticeably, the bits of her arousal increasingly seeping into her hums and sighs and moans, everything was a feast for the eyes.

As enjoyable as it was to see Tiffany basking in the pleasure of edging herself, Seojun was also feeling his patience wearing thin as his lust increased. So when he heard those magical words, reeking of desperation and desire, he somehow managed to mask his ecstatic response in the calm manner matching his role in their master-servant roleplay. “Go ahead, Tiffany.”

When Tiffany finally plunged down onto his cock, hilting herself in one fell swoop, the two let out such a sexually-charged, synchronized groan that Taeyeon, who was observing from behind, had moved her hand away from Seojun’s side and onto her own pussy.

In that instant, the lust that had built up inside the two burst out all at once. Tiffany’s head was thrown back, her back arched, her hip and leg muscles flexing and the hot walls of her vagina tightening around Seojun’s sensitive sex organ. She relished in the sensation, rotating her hips against Seojun’s crotch, the pleasurable friction from the action drawing out further moans from the two.

“Ahn! Master’s cock is stretching my small pussy so much!”

But while Tiffany was enjoying the fruits of her torturous labor, Seojun was enjoying the body of not only Tiffany, but Taeyeon as well. At his front was Tiffany, her lascivious body pressed up firmly against him and her hot, soaking wet pussy wrapped tightly around his cock, and against his back was Taeyeon’s less curvaceous yet equally soft body, the sounds of her gentle moans while she fingered herself joining the symphony of sounds of pleasure from her best friend and her servant.

Tiffany’s plump, inviting lips and big, expressive eyes paired with curves giving way to a body just begging to be fucked, and Taeyeon’s beautiful, spotless skin that stretched over her ample chest and tight butt, both bodies were simply to die for. In a previous life, Taeyeon and Tiffany would’ve been the subject of Seojun’s fantasies, but to feel both of them at the same time was even more stimulating than he could’ve ever imagined.

“Master feels so good inside me!” Tiffany’s alluring voice echoed inside the bedroom, vibrating with the cadence of her bouncing atop Seojun’s cock. Seojun himself was no slouch, hands tightly gripping her hips and burying his cock deep into Tiffany with each thrust. So far did Seojun penetrate the succubus’s pussy, spewing out further lubrication to counteract its increasing tightness, that he could feel the tip of his penis brush against her cervix with nearly every thrust. The resonating sound of Tiffany’s dampening butt, ripples coming off it from the force of their connection, joined in on the symphony of sex. “I love Master’s cock so much, please use me like your personal sex toy!”

Seojun had inadvertently been staring straight at Tiffany’s vigorously bouncing tits the entire time and was so absolutely hypnotized by the sight that it took those words for him to accept the invitation, diving down and capturing her right breast with his mouth.

“Master…”

The whimper escaped from Tiffany as Seojun’s lips planted kisses along her soft mounds, small sparks of pleasure erupting from every point of contact. Feeling the sheer softness on his lips was addictive, but even more so was Tiffany’s response: demure whines and moans, her back arching slightly to allow him easier access.

“Master, I’m supposed to be paying you back, not making you do more work…”

“It’s alright Tiffany, I want to do this.”

“Master—ah!” This time, an abrupt squeal escaped from Tiffany, Seojun taking Tiffany’s invitingly swollen and pink nipples into his mouth and suckling on them. “Master!”

While Seojun feasted on Tiffany’s tits, Taeyeon was pressing hers firmly against his back, taking advantage of Seojun’s exposed neck by planting kisses along it.

“You’re fortunate your Master takes such good care of you, Fany.”

“Master is the most generous, kindest Master one could ask for~” Tiffany agreed in an almost purr of gratification.

To Seojun, he was being anything but generous. His fingers were cheating further and further down to feel the soft butt bouncing so fiercely against his groin, his thrusts increasing arbitrarily with Tiffany forced to match his pace, his lips ruthlessly attacking Tiffany’s rack and mercilessly tugging and pulling at the pink nubs sitting atop her breasts just begging to be suckled on, each and every single one of his actions were driven strictly by his own desire.

“More, Master! Harder! Destroy my undeserving pussy, ravish my boobs, turn my ass red and my insides white!”

But it seemed Tiffany didn’t mind, in fact relishing in her Master’s selfishness, a never-ending stream of moans and words of motivation only egging Seojun on. He was completely lost in his own cloud of ecstasy, barely noticing the added feeling of Taeyeon’s lips pressing against his until he felt her tongue run against the wet membrane. The sweet taste flooded his senses, briefly confusing him before realizing what Taeyeon had done.

The older succubus had manifested Seojun’s lips on his neck and was making out with it, Tiffany watching on in jealousy. When Taeyeon noticed this, she looked up, eyebrow cocked. “You’re such a needy girl, Tiffany,” Taeyeon noted, her hand reaching up to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind the bouncing woman’s ear. “You have your Master’s cock in your pussy and your Master’s mouth on your boobs, and now you also want your Master’s lips on yours?”

“I-I’m sorry, Mistress…”

“I think you need some punishment later, but for now enjoy all the attention Seojun is giving you.”

Seojun came up for air, Taeyeon quickly moving her head back to make room for it. “You’re doing a good job of paying me back, Tiffany. Why don’t you be a good girl and turn around for me?” Tiffany nodded, the dejected expression on her face replaced with an excited one.

“Yes, Master!” Tiffany hastily unsheathed herself, her body shaking as bits of her honey leaked past her closed lips and onto Seojun’s crotch, before turning around and presenting her delectable ass to Seojun. “Master can sit back and relax and let Tiffany do it.”

“Thank you, Tiffany.”

His eyes were trained solely on the sight of Tiffany’s dainty fingers reaching across the supple skin on her butt and spreading those cheeks apart, carefully backing up, carefully lining up her entrance with his throbbing tip before splitting her labia lips apart with his shaft.

“Master!”

Tiffany’s sexually-charged yelp rang inside Seojun’s head, the pleasant sensation joining the added feeling of her moist walls gripping his cock tightly, gliding along the length of his shaft as it slid to the hilt back inside the younger succubus. Seojun’s arms wrapped around Tiffany’s waist, head resting on her shoulder, eyes closed while soaking in the divine feeling of Tiffany’s plush yet firm ass massaging the sensitive skin around the base of his painfully erect cock as she masterfully rotated her hips against the stubble around his privates.

“Mmm, fuck,” Seojun husky moan floated right into Tiffany’s ear, a shudder running down from the top of her head all the way to the tips of her toes.

“Master…” The submissive whimper arose from Tiffany as naturally as a whine from a wounded animal. Her hand reached down but was stopped prematurely by Seojun, capturing her wrists with one hand while the other snaked down, finding the hardened nub easily.

“Sing for me, Tiffany,” he whispered into her ear right before pinching it with his thumb and index finger.

And sing Tiffany did. The noises coming out of Tiffany’s mouth grew louder as Seojun’s fingers played with her clit and rubbed the sensitive lips split wide apart by his cock, louder again when he resumed the thrusting motion from before, and louder still when Seojun’s free hand traveled up and began massaging Tiffany’s boobs. Seojun was so absorbed by the pure ecstasy of Tiffany’s soft, curvaceous body reacting so responsively in his hands that his orgasm nearly caught himself by surprise.

“Tiffany, I’m—!” was the only warning Seojun gave before unleashing a torrent of semen straight into the waiting womb of the lewdly moaning demoness.

“Oh-Oh, oh god, Master!” Tiffany’s entire body tensed as she absorbed the generous feast supplied by the succubus’s servant, the seemingly endless stream of the delectable sustenance so overwhelming that it brought her to her own orgasm. “Master, it’s so much, I’m cumming too, oh—Oh, oh god!”

The final word came out as a scream, the arousal in her body overflowing onto Seojun’s cock mid-ejaculation. The warm feeling of her fluid on his sensitive sex organ on top of the feeling of Tiffany’s curvaceous body shaking so intensely against his own seemed to prolong his orgasm, a few additional groans and grunts leaking out of Seojun’s lips, the tugging and massaging motion of the fleshy walls of Tiffany’s relentless pussy milking the last few drops of semen from him.

“Who said you were allowed to orgasm too?”

Seojun felt a chill down his spine at the sheer coldness of Taeyeon’s voice directed at the succubus winding down from her orgasm.

“Babe, it’s fine, I’m glad she enjoyed it,” Seojun said, leaning his head back onto Taeyeon’s shoulder and bringing his hand around to caress her cheek.

Ordinarily, Seojun probably would’ve just gone with the flow and let Taeyeon direct everything; however, while the tension that had built up inside him had unraveled, his lust for Tiffany’s body still remained peaked. Looking back, Seojun would realize just how amazing Tiffany’s Trait was, but in the moment it felt no different than every other time—which only went to show how practiced and matured Tiffany and honed her Trait in her millennia as sex demon.

Feeling Seojun’s warm hand against her face, the size of his hand dwarfing the small size of the dominant succubus’s face, Taeyeon closed her eyes and smiled. “If you say so, honey.”

“Master—”

Tiffany’s eagerness was cut short by Taeyeon, the sternness returning to her voice. “But we’re resting now. You don’t want to make your Master black out again, do you?”

Tiffany frowned, the dejected expression overtaking her face pulling at Seojun’s heartstrings. “No. I’m sorry Mistress…”

“Good girl.” The compliment from the otherwise stoic Taeyeon immediately put a smile back on Tiffany’s face as she unmounted Seojun. “Babe, you can scoot back and rest a bit. The key to taking advantage of Tiffany’s Trait is to occasionally bring yourself back down, since it’s that high level of constant arousal that the mortal mind can’t handle and causes the blackout. Fany, come here.”

The two readily obeyed, Seojun taking his place at the head of the bed while Tiffany joined Taeyeon at the other edge of the king-sized bed. As Tiffany was still shifting into her position, laying down face-up with her eyes directed at the other succubus half-standing and half-kneeling between her legs, Taeyeon started.

“Mistress—oh my god!”

The loud gasp arose from Tiffany, her eyes shooting wide open as Taeyeon pushed four fingers straight into the curvier demoness. “But you still need to be punished for being such a greedy girl,” Taeyeon said, the devilish grin on her face so fitting and so damn sexy. “You want attention? Here, let Mistress give you all the attention you could ever need.”

“Oh my—oh god, fuck!”

The gasps and moans didn’t stop, Tiffany’s chest raising and falling with increasing frequency as Taeyeon continued her attack. One hand went to her clit, her tail transforming into a hand and heading straight for her boobs, massaging them with such strength that Seojun felt concern that she would end up deforming Tiffany’s rack. Fortunately, no such injury occurred, the increasing ferocity of Taeyeon’s punishment causing Tiffany to close her eyes, her fists clenched and her back arched, her legs shaking as Taeyeon’s four fingers relentlessly pounded Tiffany’s hole.

The sight before him was incredible: Taeyeon and Tiffany were both extremely attractive and sexy in their own right, but together, they had amazing visual chemistry. Seeing the determined, confident expression on Taeyeon’s face, watching the smaller succubus dominate the taller one, submissively mewling and moaning, her lewd body responding to her Mistress’s each and every action, both pairs of boobs jiggling beautifully at the increasing pace of Taeyeon’s assault, it was all enough to get Seojun’s previously softening erection raring back in force. He grit his teeth, trying to fight it off and resist the urge to start jacking off to Taeyeon and Tiffany’s steamy sex, not wanting to defeat the purpose of the break he was taking at the moment.

While Tiffany was too preoccupied with Taeyeon’s fingers to notice Seojun’s increasing lust, Taeyeon didn’t let it slip. She smiled to herself, briefly closing one eye for a second before opening it back up.

Seojun flinched, his vision suddenly becoming blurry; his right eye instinctively closed, a second image appearing before him. It was nothing like he had ever experienced: it felt like he was seeing a picture-in-picture except in real life, with the sight of Taeny from his vantage point on one side and a top-down view of Taeyeon’s fingers penetrating her glistening folds and sliding into the damp opening on the other. “Thought you might like this view, babe.”

“Wow … I didn’t know you could do this…”

Taeyeon grinned in reply. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s great—but I thought you usually had to touch the person whose body part you’re copying.”

“Not for my dedicated servant. Fany, it looks like you’re enjoying this too much; this is supposed to be a punishment, remember?”

“I-I’m sorry, Mistress! Mistress’s hands just feel so—oh!”

Seojun flinched again, except this time it was seeing Taeyeon curl her fingers inside Tiffany from Taeyeon’s vantage point.

“I think your Master is almost ready, why don’t you warm him up?”

Understanding the cue, Seojun got up into a kneeling position and presented his erect cock to Tiffany. Her eyes flickered away from Taeyeon and onto the sex organ hovering over her, the look of arousal deepening and her eyes narrowing at the sight. Her hands moved away from her sides and onto the stiff rod, firmly grabbing it while her head moved up so that her mouth could capture one of his testicles.

Seojun hissed as Tiffany’s hands started pumping the hardening shaft, her lips forming a tight seal around one of his balls and her tongue swirling around his scrotum. The double whammy of seeing Tiffany below him suckling on his balls while Taeyeon’s fingers pried the taller succubus’s hole wider and wider was insanely arousing. Seojun could only watch on in awe as Taeyeon managed to first push the joints of her fingers inside Tiffany, followed by her knuckles, and then finally the entire fist.

At that moment, Tiffany let go of Seojun’s testicles, a loud, resonant moan echoing about the bedroom. “Mistress, oh god, it’s so much!”

“Who told you to stop warming Seojun up?”

“I’m sorry!” she yelped in response to Taeyeon’s fierce thrust, pushing her fist as far as she could into the fleshy walls of her vagina, desperately stretching in an attempt to accommodate its guest. Tiffany lifted her head up a bit more, Seojun aiding by lowering himself a bit, so that her lips were level with his veiny cock. Her fingers were unsteady, her body involuntarily shaking from Taeyeon’s merciless fisting, but held Seojun’s manhood steadily enough to cover his shaft with kisses. One hand moved down to caress his balls, the other reaching behind Seojun to secure herself, her long tongue gliding along the underside of his shaft.

A strong surge of arousal sent a shudder down Seojun’s body, another hiss of approval escaping his lips as Tiffany’s mouth captured the first few inches of his cock. Though she was unable to take more in due to the position of her head, the masterful use of her tongue despite the increasing raggedness of breath and increasing tension in her body from another impending orgasm more than compensated for that fact.

“Fuck, Tiffany, that feels so good.”

Keeping his right eye closed, Seojun’s duo sight of seeing Tiffany craning her head to capture as much of his cock as possible and seeing her pussy swallowing the entirety of Taeyeon’s balled-up fist, sprays of her honey flying out with each pull outwards and her body jumping at each thrust back inside aided in his growing lust.

“You’re such a naughty slut, about to cum from getting your punishment.”

The increasing ecstatic sensation inside her heightened to a point that she could no longer sustain keeping Seojun’s cock inside her mouth, her breathing growing so deep that her mounds, although were no longer being massaged by Taeyeon’s tail-turned-hand, jiggled and bounced about nearly just as much. “I-I’m sorry, Mistress, bu-but I can’t help it because Mistress’s hands feels so good inside me!”

“What do you say, honey?” Taeyeon suddenly stopped, her eyes still trained below her, onto her wrist hanging out from Tiffany’s entrance. Tiffany let out a sharp whine, her body squirming and her hips wildly thrusting, attempting to compensate for the sudden pause. “Does this slut deserve to cum?”

“Let her cum, honey, she took her punishment well enough.”

“You’re so soft, babe.” For a brief second, Seojun wondered if Taeyeon was disappointed in her response, but seeing her smile vaporized that thought. “But that’s what I love about you. You better be thankful for your Master.”

Tiffany yelped as Taeyeon resumed her fierce pistoning with rekindled vigor, just barely able to squeak out the words, “Th-Thank you, Master!” before letting out a high-pitched, drawn out, beautiful note of ecstasy as her body succumbed to pleasure, her body shaking violently as her orgasm overtook her body.

Taeyeon aided Tiffany in riding out the orgasm, Seojun drinking in both the stunning visual of the breathtakingly beautiful and sexy Taeyeon kneeling between the legs of the extremely attractive and alluring Tiffany and the top-down view of Taeyeon’s fist disappearing again and again into the abyss of Tiffany’s pussy as streams of her viscous liquid leaked out of their connection and onto the soft material below them. Seojun pulled back, watching on as Tiffany’s orgasm died down, ending with a final shudder when Taeyeon extracted her hand from its wet, warm confines.

Tiffany laid on the bed for a few seconds in the afterglow of her climax, her chest still heaving from the intensity of the orgasm. After restoring Seojun’s vision back to normal, Taeyeon beckoned Seojun over. He proceeded to essentially exchange places with Tiffany, who scooted further up the bed to make room for him.

“You wanted more attention from your Master, did you?”

Those words sparked Tiffany’s interest, who lifted her head. Seojun couldn’t resist the urge to smile at the sight of the adorable excitement clearly visible on Tiffany’s face, the enthusiasm akin to a restless puppy hearing the word ‘outside’ or ‘play’. She nodded vigorously, earning a sly smirk from Taeyeon.

“Turn around, on your hands and knees,” Taeyeon told her, then whispering into Seojun’s ear, “Make sure you, yourself, are ready, babe.”

A shiver crawled all the way up Seojun’s body at hearing Taeyeon’s honey-sweet voice breathing the pet name into his ear. His face took on a red hue, his heartbeat revving up to already dangerously high levels—Taeyeon, sensing this, could only giggle to herself. “O-Of course,” Seojun found himself stuttering, biting back another moan at the feeling of Taeyeon’s ample bosom pressing against his back.

Taeyeon’s hands reached down and wrapped around his shaft as Tiffany turned around and presented her perfectly shaped bubble butt to her Master. “Like this?” Tiffany asked, her neck craning backwards to make eye contact with her Mistress.

“Take a look at that. Doesn’t our Fany have such a sexy butt?” Taeyeon’s hand reached about Seojun and landed on the supple flesh on her rear, Tiffany yelping in response.

“She sure does,” Seojun said in agreement, his hand joining Taeyeon’s almost subconsciously, feeling up the soft skin beneath his palms.

“Master … Mistress…” Tiffany whimpered, her eyes already showing clear signs of aphrodisia.

“It’s so nice and round, and her skin is so taught and white … doesn’t it just make you want to violate it?”

The harsh words coming from Taeyeon’s contrastingly relaxing voice caused a spike in his levels of arousal. “It does,” Seojun agreed once more. Tiffany’s whimpers increased in volume, her legs beginning to shake and slivers of precum starting to dribble out of the succubus already turned on beyond belief.

“Master, please…”

Although Seojun had no problems with Tiffany being mostly in control in their night-long sex session, hearing Tiffany make such submissive noises was just as tantalizing. Accompanying the subservient whimper was a surge of power and control that Seojun felt only one other time with Taeyeon and with Yeoreum, so convincing that Seojun completely forgot that Tiffany was supposedly putting up an act.

“Face forward, and no looking back.” Tiffany reluctantly obeyed, planting her face on the pillow, mewling and whimpering as the pair continued to enjoy the soft firmness of her bottom. “Carefully, OK?” Taeyeon whispered to Seojun.

Before he could ask what she meant, he felt the distantly familiar sensation of the fingers on his left hand melding together, looking to confirm that Taeyeon had used her Trait to copy his penis onto his hand.

So this is what she meant.

“You want this?” Seojun teased, brushing the tip of his cock against her labia, her plump cheeks spread apart with the help of Taeyeon.

“Yes! Please, Master!” Her body shook along with her voice from pure need, her hips pushing back, gyrating against the length of his cock pressed against her wet slit.

“You’re such a needy slut, aren’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry, but I can’t help it because Master’s fucks me so well and Master’s cum feels too good inside me!”

“Inside where? Your pussy,” Seojun said, teasing the entrance to her vagina, “or your ass?” He pulled away, using the cock on his hand to tease the puckered hole above.

“Inside … I-Inside … I’m sorry Master, I can’t decide, Master’s cock feels amazing in both!”

“If you can’t decide, then I’ll just use both!” At the last word, without warning, Seojun promptly shoved both cocks into their respective holes.

“Ah, Master! Oh god, FUCK!”

Tiffany’s ecstatic scream resonated inside Seojun’s eardrums, himself grimacing at the combined feeling of her sphincter muscles squeezing his cock so tightly as well as her hot, wet walls hugging the circumference of his dick, massaging and tugging on it, as if trying to pull him further in. Seojun obliged, his right hand tightly gripping her waist as he pushed both penises into each of the tight holes until he had completely sheathed them inside her.

“Fuck, Tiffany…” Seojun groaned, pulling his dick out of Tiffany’s pussy until barely a centimeter was left inside, his arm pushing the other penis hard against her cervix to serve as a counter-balance, before firmly shoving his entire length back in. Tiffany let out another sharp moan, her back arching at the influx of ecstasy. “Is Master giving you enough attention now?”

“Yes—ah!” Tiffany’s response was cut off when Seojun alternated, extracting his dick from her ass while firmly pushing the original against the back of her vagina. “I-I love Master’s cocks inside me!”

“You’re such a dirty little whore for enjoying the feeling of your Master’s dick in both of your slutty holes, aren’t you?” Taeyeon egged her on, herself growing wet at the sight of her best friend’s vagina and backdoor being simultaneously penetrated by her servant.

“Yes! I’m Master’s little cumslut! I love feeling Master’s cock ravage both of my slutty holes!”

It took some getting used to, securing himself with only one hand, but Taeyeon being pressed up so firmly behind him helped. He soon got into the rhythm of alternating thrusts between his left arm and his hips, and when he did, Tiffany became not much more than a mewling, moaning mess.

The two were so preoccupied with each other that they didn’t even notice Taeyeon preparing in the background, snaking her tail around to Tiffany’s front while picking up Tiffany’s arms and placing them on her own forearm. It wasn’t until both of Taeyeon’s hands as well as her tail transformed into more copies of Seojun’s penis that Seojun noticed Taeyeon was doing something, and it wasn’t until Tiffany felt the soft tip of Seojun’s otherwise rock-hard dick that she noticed something.

“I noticed you still have a hole left unfilled, why don’t I fill that for you?”

“Oh! Thank you so much, Mistress!” Tiffany jumped at the opportunity to fill her mouth with the same cock that was stretching her pussy and asshole at the same time, planting a few kisses on the sensitive tip and dribbling on some saliva before attacking the stiff rod with her mouth.

Seojun swore loudly, another surge of pleasure expanding inside his body at the feeling of the third warm, tight cavern suffocating his cock.

“Do you like that, babe?” Taeyeon whispered into his ear, sensually rubbing her breasts against his back. In most cases, the feeling of her hardened nipples drawing random lines on his skin would drive him crazy, but his mind was already so preoccupied with pleasure from all three of Tiffany’s holes that he barely registered it.

“Yes, fuck, Tiffany feels so good on my cock.”

Tiffany let out a muffled noise of joy, the words of encouragement pushing her to become more aggressive with the cock wedged deep down her throat. In addition to the satisfying, crisp sound of Tiffany’s voluptuous ass slapping against his groin, another sound soon joined the cacophony of sex sounds: the wet gargling and slurping noises, and occasional gagging noises, of Tiffany’s mouth as she deepthroated his painfully hard erection.

“How about we add more?”

“What? More?”

Instead of answering with words, Taeyeon elected to answer with her actions, turning both of her hands into yet more copies of Seojun’s penis. “Get your hands working, Fany.”

Understanding the prompt, Tiffany shifted her hands down and, to her delight, found yet another pair of her favorite phallic object against her palms. She immediately got to work, her thumb caressing the swollen tip of his dick while the rest of her fingers wrapped firmly around the shaft, her soft palm flush against its veiny surface, and pumped.

At that point, Seojun’s mind was so overwhelmed with pleasure that he completely lost the ability to think. His hips and left hand continuously pounded Tiffany from the back, Tiffany herself helping by matching his increasingly wild rhythm, his upper body slumped against the marshmallow-y skin of Tiffany’s back, his right hand reaching around and groping her tits with the same force at which her body shook with absolute, sheer ecstasy.

Tiffany herself was starting to become overwhelmed; multi-tasking as she was currently doing wasn’t the issue, as she enjoyed the occasional gangbang on more than one, perhaps even more than a hundred, occasions, but it was the sheer excitement from the impending orgasm Tiffany could feel Seojun rapidly approaching.

Although Seojun could feel a tension in his nether regions, he could barely register it: the hot walls of Tiffany’s pussy convulsing around his hardened shaft, the tight grip her sphincter muscles had on the base of his dick, the continual spray of fluid from both her pussy and her mouth onto his shaft as they relentlessly pounded her, the tension of her throat as his dick traversed deep inside her mouth, and the softness of her fingers and palms juxtaposing the harsh jerking motion of her hands, rubbing along the entire length of his shaft as if coaxing out his seed.

“This is where you belong, getting fucked in all of your holes by your Master’s cock, using your two free hands to pleasure two more of them. Are you getting enough of your Master’s attention now?”

“Mmm!” Tiffany’s response was muffled by the cock occupying her oral orifice, completely lost in a sea of pleasure. It became a viscous feedback loop: Seojun’s movements would make Tiffany hornier, which would make her movements wilder, which in turn increased Seojun’s arousal and would cause him to become wilder.

“You want to feel your Master’s cum pouring down your throat and directly into your slutty pussy and asshole?”

“Mmm!”

“You want to feel your body coated in a layer of your Master’s thick semen?”

“Mmm!”

“Fuck, Tiff—!” was Seojun only warning before the tension in his lower abdominal area unraveled all at once.

Every single penis exploded simultaneously, the influx of the delicious sustenance into Tiffany’s body throwing her body into a state of overdrive. The entire room filled with the high-pitched noise of her scream as her pussy, her ass, and her throat was filled with wave after wave of semen, the additional dicks shooting the viscous fluid at first onto her back and sides, then transitioning to her neck, clavicle, and tits. Her mind was filled with nothing but sex and the immaculate taste of Seojun’s semen, not even noticing that they had shifted her onto Seojun’s lap so that she could more easily ride out her own orgasm.

“Master, oh god, Master…” her mouth, now unplugged by the cock still lodged inside her vagina and butt, rambled incoherently, the waves of ecstasy rolling inside her body long after Seojun’s orgasm calmed down. “Master’s semen is so good, I can’t—oh, oh god, Master!”

Another squeal and another orgasm directly following the previous as her body continued to process the high-quality semen, her body shaking violently against Seojun’s as the second orgasm wracked her body. It wasn’t until a full minute passed that Tiffany’s orgasm had finally completely subsided, by which all body parts that had transformed into Seojun’s cock were reverted to their original state.

At this point, Seojun was starting to feel the onset of exhaustion, but the warm walls of Tiffany’s pussy massaging his cock, tugging and pulling on it as if requesting another round, fought it off well.

“Wow, fuck, that was so intense,” Tiffany said, taking a moment to catch her breath, lazily leaning against Seojun’s chest and scooping the viscous bodily fluid off her breasts, neckline, and sides into her mouth. “I can’t remember the last time I had consecutive orgasms like that.”

“Right?! Isn’t he worth your life-long pact of never designating a Servant?”

Tiffany giggled. “What do you mean ‘pact’?” Hearing the beautiful noise was immensely pleasing to Seojun’s ears, perhaps equally as pleasing as her screams of ecstasy—although in a completely different manner. “It’s just that, I didn’t want to give up the freedom to have a diverse taste of semen from all sorts of men, but…”

“Hm? But what?”

“Well, the taste of ‘Master’s’ cum never bored me, which has never happened before after spending an entire night feasting on it.”

“Y-You don’t have to call me that anymore.”

Hearing Seojun’s innocent stammer elicited another beautiful giggle from the succubus whose pussy was still straddling his cock. “Why not?” she said playfully, teasing the erect shaft by grinding a bit against his groin. Seojun furrowed his eyebrows, a groan arising from him at the unexpected movement.

“I don’t know, Tiffany; it just feels weird, somehow…”

“Oh, and you don’t have to use honorifics with me like with Taeyeon,” Tiffany said, getting up and unplugging the last remaining hole. She turned around and sat on the bed, facing them, Taeyeon resting her arms on Seojun’s lap and her head on his shoulder. Seojun could feel his face turn bright pink at the intimate actions of what was supposed to be his actual Mistress, but doing his best to look Tiffany in the eye nonetheless.

“OK, Ti—Tiffany.”

Said succubus smiled, her eyes disappearing into thick, black, upside-down crescent moons. Seojun felt his heart skipping another few beats. Thank god his body had already been modified, or else he might’ve had a heart attack and died right then and there. “Much better! I think I decided, I’m going to make you my Servant too.”

Although it was Taeyeon who was pressing Tiffany to do so, it was her jaw that dropped the most. “Wait, really?”

“What? You were the one who told me to!”

“Is there no, um, restriction for being a Servant to multiple succubae?”

Taeyeon pondered the question. “Hmm, not to my knowledge. Tastes tend to vary wildly between succubae, so there aren’t usually many cases where two will want the same man as her Servant. I heard that there are diminishing returns on the physical benefits of being designated Servant of multiple succubae though; your physical body won’t improve as drastically as it did the first time, but your lifespan still increases by some amount, but not by as much. Maybe a couple hundred years.”

“Should we get started now?”

“Wait, Tiffany; how much do you know about the ritual?”

Tiffany huffed indignantly. “I can do it, you know. I did have a Servant in the past in my earlier days, but he didn’t last long.”

Taeyeon sighed. “Well, the ritual is all about attuning your bodies and life forces to each other, as well as implementing any physical modifications to the Servant. For a normal human, becoming a Servant isn’t an issue because their life force is untouched and therefore extremely malleable; however, with Seojun, it has already been attuned to mine, which will make it harder to also become attuned to yours.”

Tiffany’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion—but however confused Tiffany was, Seojun was even more so. ‘Life force’? ‘Attunement’? Maybe he should’ve asked more about it that one time Taeyeon mentioned it. “What? How?”

“Attuning two life forces is a process that involves adjusting and changing bits of Seojun’s life force to weave together with mine. That’s why attuning to someone else would be harder.” When Tiffany remained silent, no less confused, Taeyeon continued, “Imagine each of our life forces as a bundle of strings. One of the things the Servant ritual does is to tie these strings together; now, if Seojun wants to attune to you, he’ll have to untie some of those strings attached to me before he can tie some of his strings with you.”

“Oh, I see…”

“This process of untying the strings can have some serious strain on a human body, not even mentioning how Seojun’s body might physically alter again during the ritual. So, just in case, what we’ll have to do is train up your physical body. Luckily, I’m still your personal trainer, so I can give you all the private sessions you need.”

Hearing those words increased the intensity of his flush, while simultaneously hardening his growing erection.

Taeyeon, noticing this, grinned. “So, are you ready for another round?”

Next chapter here.

[melancholymetropolis]

“Please don’t walk away— Y/N! Please!”

“No, Art! I said no!” My voice bounced off of every wall in the small dressing room and slammed right into Art. His face, once reddened with anger, quickly drained itself of the color and became a stark white. His eyes were wide and his mouth agape. He searched my face with quick glances before dropping his gaze down to my clenched fists. My entire being was shaking and I could feel the tips of my ears grow hot with a rage I hadn’t felt since I was a teenager. A rage that appeared the last time we shared a space together. A rage that drew us apart for the last decade. 

Art Donaldson was a lot of things to everyone. An inspiration. An icon. A loving father. Doting husband to my former childhood best friend. The man that almost ruined my life. 

We were an unstoppable group; Patrick, Art, Tashi and I. Inseparable. It was hard seeing any individual member alone, since we spent every single moment attached at the hip. At least, when Patrick was back from his tour. 

Since the two lovebirds were often “reuniting” when Patrick came back to town. Art and I organically began hanging out together. I’d help him study for his math exams and he’d basically shove me out of my room to eat. He was someone I could call to kill a spider in my shower. I was someone that could fix whatever problem he had with his computer. He was someone I could depend on. . . when Tashi wasn’t in the picture. 

“I will not have this conversation,” I choked as tears burned the corners of my eyes. “Not now, not ever.”

“Listen, I know I fucked up,” he pleaded, taking small steps toward me. “I shouldn’t have acted like that. But I was a kid—.”

“Art, get the fuck out of my face with that bullshit!” I sneered. “You were nineteen years old! Not some sniffling toddler who just learned to walk. You knew what you were do— wait.” I forced myself to stop in mid sentence. “I just said I wouldn’t have this conversation with you. So why the fuck are we still having it?”

“Because I am worried about you!” He argued back. “You disappeared without a fucking trace—” 

“You don’t get to worry about me when you’re the reason why fucking I left!” The words poured out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop them. 

“Y/N. . . ”

“You got what you wanted,” I replied, staring directly into his eyes. “Dozens of trophies, a mansion bigger than your parent’s and Tashi fucking Duncan as your spouse. You should be over the goddamn moon right now. But, instead,  you are berating me about my choice to leave a toxic situation almost a decade ago.” I released a long sigh and shook my head. “What do you want from me, Donaldson?”

“You,” he said in a low voice. “I just want. . . you.”

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

I'm baaaaaack!!! With an drabble no one asked for!!!!!!!!!! But I do have a something cooking up that a follower did request.

Stay tuned for that.

Also, how do we feel about angst drabbles? Yay or Nay?

[blaire-apricity]

hellow can i make a request of a sylusxiseakaid reader who is a side character and her being unrequited love due to sylus has mc of l&d?

Unrequited Love

sʏʟᴜs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ┆ : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥?

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ┆ : 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 & 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

─────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

One moment, you were having a regular day and as you were about to retire for the day, upon pushing through your door, you stepped into the foreign yet familiar world; your heart raced with excitement as you realized where you entered. What once existed only in your wildest dreams, the fantasy confined to your phone screen, had become your reality. You found yourself inside the very game you played for so long: ‘Love and Deepspace.’

Your old life, a cycle of dull routines and exhausting repetition, seemed distant now. Here you were, in a place you only ever daydreamed about. It felt like the universe had granted you a second chance—to rewrite your story in a world you once believed was unreachable.

But this new life came with its own challenges. Most painfully, it brought you face-to-face with someone you’d always admired from afar, separated only by the cold distance of a screen and the difference between reality and fantasy.

But now, it was different, you were closer than ever, yet nothing was as you imagined.

In the game, you had always been the protagonist in Sylus’ storyline. You thought that, now that you were here, it would be the same. But it wasn’t. Instead, you were reduced to a mere side character, watching from the shadows. The gut-wrenching disappointment hit hard.

Abandoning your old monotonous life was one thing. But realizing that the person you longed for might never see you—that hurt even more. Yet, you were determined to make the most of this second chance. Just because the person you love doesn’t love you back doesn’t mean your world has to end.

Right?

But convincing yourself of that was harder than you expected. Back when it was all fiction, when Sylus’ every move was scripted by developers, at least there was some comfort in the illusion that, in some way, he knew you existed. In that fictional world, he loved you.

Now, in this real version, he didn’t even know your name. He had no idea what you looked like, what you loved, or that you even existed. The sting of unrequited love was unbearable, but being invisible to him was what shattered your heart.

You clung to your knowledge of this world from your days playing the game, using it to guide you. You poured every ounce of effort, persistence, and determination into getting closer to his orbit. You left Linkon City behind and ventured into the N109 Zone, carving a path for yourself in his industry.

You were still far from his actual organization, but you understood the game’s rules better than most. You thought maybe—just maybe—you could introduce yourself, find a way to meet him, forge your own story with him.

For a while, that hope kept you going.

But then you saw him. With her. The real protagonist of this world.

That’s when it hit you. You weren’t her. This world didn’t revolve around you. With or without you, it continued, indifferent to your dreams.

Clenching your fists, you let go of that delusion. This love of yours, so deep and painful, would remain unrequited forever. And there was nothing you could do to change it.

·❆　　　❆　❅　　　　•　　　　.　　　　　❆❆• 　·　.　　　❅

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟'𝑠 𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐼 𝑎𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝐴𝑛𝑜𝑛. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑘𝑎𝑖 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔, 𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛'𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼'𝑚 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼'𝑚 𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑦.

𝑊𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛, 𝑖𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 2 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑠 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑢𝑝𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒 (𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠, 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦). 𝐼 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑎𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑡, 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐿𝐴𝐷𝑆 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝐼'𝑚 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝐿𝐴𝐷𝑆 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑡.

𝑀𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛.

[tipsynight0]

Possessions kiss

Paring - jeff the killer x female reader

Trigger warnings - jealousy, possessiveness, toxic relationship, abuse, blood, broken bones, violence, threats, mature themes.

Synopsis - jeff had a shitty mission and takes it out on toby and (y/n)

Word count - 1.6k

A uthors note - I’m sorry but I like making this man angsty as hell, I dont condone this type of behaviour I just simply write it. It is creepypasta after all and Jeff is quite the character to begin with. Anyway, thank you for the crazy amount of love I’ve been receiving. I’m just doing this shit for pure therapeutic reasons and I’m glad so many of you are enjoying it <<3

Three agonizing days of trudging through the bitter cold, snow whipping against his face, and all for nothing. The target—Jeff’s kill—was already dead. Worse, the one who stole his thunder was Toby, the jittering, stuttering pain in his ass who always managed to get under his skin. Jeff’s fists clenched at the thought, knuckles whitening against the cold. The icy wind wasn’t the only thing making his blood run hot.

He slammed the mansion door behind him, the crack of wood against wood echoing through the empty halls. His boots were caked in snow and mud, leaving wet, dirty prints on the floor as he kicked them off carelessly. His jaw was set in a hard line, his breath coming out in heavy puffs, like a storm waiting to break. No one was around to witness the brooding fury that seemed to radiate off him in waves, but that didn’t calm the growing rage gnawing at his insides.

With heavy steps, he trudged up the stairs, the quiet of the mansion only amplifying his agitation. His body ached from the cold, the kind of bone-deep chill that even a steaming hot shower wouldn’t cure, but it wasn’t just the cold that was bothering him. Toby had taken what was rightfully his. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the house was too quiet—too still.

Where the hell was (Y/N)?

His mind reeled as he reached the bathroom, his jaw tightening as he entered. Immediately, the familiar scent of her perfume hit him. Sweet, delicate, floral. Completely at odds with the chaos inside him. It clung to everything she touched, an irritating reminder of how she had woven herself into his life.

Jeff’s lip curled in frustration. Her meticulously organized row of perfumes, skincare bottles, and other girly shit cluttered the counter. He reached out and, with a sweep of his hand, shoved her things aside, not caring where they fell. They tumbled over each other, bottles clinking as they scattered in disarray. A petty victory, but one that briefly sated the growing anger inside him.

But it wasn’t enough.

As he brushed his teeth, he leaned over the sink, his eyes narrowing at his reflection. Tired, bloodshot eyes stared back at him, but what irritated him more was how (Y/N) had her toothbrush placed so perfectly beside his. How her towels were neatly folded while his were haphazardly thrown around the room. He couldn’t stand the neatness, the way she tried to bring order to the chaos that was his life. So, after rinsing his mouth, he spat a thick wad of toothpaste directly into the sink, leaving it there like a challenge. She’d have no choice but to clean it up, and that small, spiteful act brought a ghost of a smile to his lips.

Still, something gnawed at him—a tension in the air that wouldn’t let up. As he pulled on a plain black T-shirt and flannel pants, the mansion’s silence felt oppressive, pressing down on him. Something was off. Where was she?

Jeff stepped out into the hallway, his heavy footsteps echoing against the wooden floors. As he moved toward the far end of the house, he noticed something—a muffled sound. Laughter. And not just any laughter—her laughter. It was light, familiar, and it made his gut twist in the worst way.

His steps faltered, his body going rigid as he approached Toby’s door. The closer he got, the more he could hear—(Y/N)’s soft laughter, followed by Toby’s stuttering voice.

Jeff’s grip tightened on the doorknob, a slow burn of anger building inside him, his breaths growing shallow as he peered through the crack in the door. The sight before him was enough to set his blood on fire.

There she was, sitting on the floor, laughing as she held a handful of Uno cards. Toby, his goddamn twitchy, annoying self, was sitting far too close, his body angled toward hers, that stupid grin on his face as he tapped her knee like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That single touch—the light brush of Toby’s hand against (Y/N)’s leg—was all it took. The rage inside Jeff erupted like a tidal wave.

Without thinking, Jeff slammed the door open, the force of it crashing against the wall with a deafening bang. The sudden intrusion sent (Y/N)’s cards scattering across the floor, her laughter immediately dying in her throat as her eyes shot up to meet his. Toby flinched, but before he could even react, Jeff was on him.

“You piece of shit,” Jeff growled, his voice low and dangerous, dripping with venom. In an instant, his hand was wrapped around Toby’s collar, yanking him off the floor with the strength of a man possessed. Toby’s back slammed against the wall, hard enough to rattle the pictures hanging beside him.

Toby’s eyes widened in panic, his stuttering breathing erratic as he raised his hands in a feeble attempt to pry Jeff’s iron grip off his throat. “J-J-Jeff, w-wait—”

But Jeff wasn’t listening. The rage had fully taken over. “First, you take my fucking kill,” he spat, his voice shaking with barely contained fury. He didn’t wait for an answer. His fist flew, connecting with Toby’s jaw in a brutal crunch. Blood immediately gushed from the impact, splattering across the floor and the wall.

“Then you touch my (Y/N)?” Jeff’s voice dropped to a lethal whisper as his fist struck again, this time smashing into Toby’s nose. Blood sprayed from the broken cartilage, Toby’s head snapping back with the force of the blow.

“Jeff! Stop!” (Y/N)’s voice cut through the tension, panicked and sharp as she rushed forward, grabbing his arm. But her grip was small, insignificant against the hurricane that was Jeff. His rage had him in a chokehold, refusing to let go.

Toby’s head lolled to the side, barely conscious, his twitching body sliding down the wall as he let out a pathetic laugh. Jeff’s breath was heavy, his chest rising and falling with each angry exhale, his fists still clenched and dripping with blood—Toby’s blood.

With one last shove, Jeff released Toby, letting him crumple to the ground in a pathetic heap. His body was twitching uncontrollably, a mess of blood, bruises, and broken bones, but Jeff didn’t even spare him another glance. His eyes were solely focused on (Y/N), the object of his rage and his obsession.

“Don’t you fucking speak,” Jeff growled, his voice so low it was almost a hiss. In an instant, his bloodied hand shot out, grabbing (Y/N) by the wrist and yanking her out of the room with brutal force. She stumbled, her feet dragging across the floor as she cast one last glance at Toby, who lay crumpled on the floor in his blood-soaked mess.

The hallway seemed to stretch out endlessly as Jeff dragged her toward their shared room, his grip tight and unyielding. He slammed the door behind them with enough force to make the walls shake.

(Y/N) stood there, arms crossed over her chest, her expression a mixture of fury and disbelief. “What the hell was that for, Jeff?” she demanded, her voice shaking with a combination of fear and anger.

Jeff didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stalked toward her like a predator cornering its prey, his dark eyes locked on hers, dangerous and filled with a possessive hunger. His breath was still labored, his damp hair clinging to his forehead, but his gaze never wavered.

Without warning, he grabbed her by the throat. His grip was firm, not quite enough to cut off her air supply, but tight enough to make her feel the threat in every breath. He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he spoke in a low, deadly voice.

“Next time, I’ll break his hand,” Jeff hissed, his words sharp as a blade. “Do you think anyone gets to touch you but me?”

(Y/N)’s pulse raced under his grip, her breath catching in her throat as his possessive words sank in. She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper as she tried to respond. “You’re being—”

Before she could finish, Jeff’s grip tightened just enough to make her gasp. His smirk was dark and dangerous as he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze head-on. “You’re lucky I don’t strangle you right now,” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers in a maddening tease. “You’re lucky I fucking love you.”

Then, in a move so sudden it made her head spin, Jeff’s lips crashed down on hers in a brutal kiss, all teeth and dominance. He bit down hard on her bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood filling both their mouths as she winced from the sharp pain. But before she could protest, his tongue swept over the bite, claiming her in the most possessive way possible.

His other hand gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him, his body a solid wall of heat and danger. There was no space between them, no room for protest. His kiss was savage, demanding, taking everything he wanted, leaving her breathless in his wake.

And for Jeff, that’s exactly how it should be.

[transformers-spike]

Heyy I noticed that you put TFO among the stuff you might write for. Pls pls, if it's alright w/ u, Megatron x reader angry sex? Like, you might be a human he found after being banished and kept with him, and he trusts you bc u are nice, pose no real threat and ur good to blow off some steam :))))))))) but ofc he cares abt u, so it's more like angry sex + tender aftercare thank uuuuuuu i love my big metallic man with anger issues

My brain decided to do its own thing and for the sake of not writing a full length novel about it, I had to cut it short (and of course I made it sad because the boy is just dripping with angst - so I'm going to give him more.) So here:

He was advised to abandon you. Found in the deepest recesses of a Quintesson ship they’d shot down, you were still shaking from the crash. Not Cybertronian. Nor Quintessonian. A completely different being, with soft mesh, warm extremities and strands of something falling from your helm. An animal perhaps? Much like the strange quadrupeds traveling the surface? No, your optics move with intention, taking in your surroundings and wrinkling your optical ridge in clear contemplation. You are incredibly tiny, even next to a cogless miner. He wondered, briefly, when he first saw you, if you were another casualty of Sentinel’s tyranny, a forgotten being he sold off to the Quintessons without a second thought. He does not understand your language, nor can you speak his, but you observe the context and carefully come to associate certain words with objects, actions and designations. You cannot reproduce the subtle tones of Cybertronian with an organic vocalizer, much like the Quintessons – but you do not reject it. You learn to live despite your muteness. Many times he’s watched you draw figures in the sand with a twig the size of your arm, depicting what he could only assume to be a spaceship flying away from a distant planet as the Quintessons surround it. Sometimes you draw more of your kind, together in an embrace. You would stand over your creation, watching wistfully as the wind erased the fine traces of sand. A memory of your people. He wishes he could tell you about him and Orion, the pain of losing him, the crater in his chassis that will never mend – but guilt keeps him at bay. Soon enough, your provisions will run out. What they found on the Quintesson ship were rations made for your specific type of biology, with no guide to recreate them from, not even Shockwave could reverse-engineer the process. It’s simply too late. One orbital cycle, your life will come to an end, but he will give you the dignity of dying at his hands, painlessly. He is no stranger to starvation, but unlike him, you must refuel at various intervals during an orbital cycle, else he senses how you grow restless on his shoulder, fiddling with your servos, mesh growing pale and optics sluggish, growls emanating from your inner mechanism. You are not made for suffering Your life will come to an end, and you know this better than any other Decepticon; as though reading his thoughts behind the permanent scowl scratched into his face. Perhaps this is why he indulges in you even if he’s been advised against it. You’re eager despite your size, pressing yourself against his frame, ignoring your discomfort. He’s still getting used to his new body, including his strength for better or for worse. Yet you do not fault him when he leaves bruises. You kiss him and rub up against his spike, transfluid trickling down to his valve even before he comes undone. You squirm and laugh and pull him into a hug, helm to helm, a moment so perfect he’s ready to rip the cog from his chassis if it means staying like this forever, servos clenched into fists as he curses at Primus for the happiness he will shatter.

[lupinmoonlight]

Mine

Masterlist AO3

Summary - Some Slytherin boy distracts you during class. Professor Lupin catches him passing you a note. He gets very jealous and gives you detention. Smut ensues, obviously (3,650 words).

Warnings - teacher/student relationship, rough sex, smut, jealousy, implied reader masturbation, no safeword, dom/sub dynamic, marking, biting, possessiveness, not proof-read, my grammar.

Notes - I decided to merge these two requests because I found them quite similar I hope it is okay!! Thank you for being patient. Also, please always use a safeword if you are to engage in such activities, this is just fantasy :)

You sat at your usual spot in the DADA classroom, eyes never straying from Professor Lupin as he lectured. Your attention, however, was not entirely academic. In fact, it was not academic at all. 

Unknown to many, you held a special place in Professor Lupin's heart and for this, he was convinced that Hell had a special place for him. He didn't care, though. Your relationship was secret, concealed, forbidden. But it was strong and intense, bordering on something closer to a possessive obsession. You were his, and his only. And you loved it. 

So you sat there, intently focused on the "lecture", at least you tried, because your concentration today was being constantly disrupted. 

Sat next to you, a boy, noticeably smitten with you, kept stealing glances at you and giggling like a pompous little shit with his friends. Of course, he was a Slytherin. And of course, he was blonde. 

The boy scribbled something on a piece of parchment and stealthily passed it to you. Snapping out of your trance-like focus, you looked at him, slightly confused and, unaware of its romantic implications, took the note and tucked it under your textbook with a polite smile, your gaze immediately returning to Professor Lupin. 

Lupin's keen eyes, which often lingered a moment too long on you during class, caught the exchange. The thought of anyone else, especially a boy, showing interest in you stirred a primal, protective feeling within him. He couldn't help but feel territorial, believing that no one could cherish and care for you as he did. 

He tried to refocus on his lecture about the properties of moonstones in werewolf lore, but his words faltered slightly, his thoughts clouded with an uncharacteristic yet potent jealousy. "That will be all for today," he announced abruptly, ending the class earlier than usual. 

Taken aback, students around you started gathering their things and filing out, but the Slytherin boy and his friends lingered, approaching you with grins plastered on their faces. "Hey, L/N", the boy started, leaning casually against your desk. "About that note..." 

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling cornered yet still oblivious of his intentions. "Um, yes? I haven't read it yet..." 

"You should. It's important," the boy pressed, encouraged by his friends snickering behind him. 

Feeling the pressure, you glanced towards Lupin for a fleeting moment before unfolding the piece of parchment the boy had given you earlier. 

Lupin, pretending to organize his papers, watched the scene unfold with a growing sense of unease. His hands clenched into fists as he fought the urge to intervene. He was not fighting it very hard because the next second, he cleared his throat loudly. 

"Miss L/N, could I have a word?" he called out, his voice unusually stern. 

You looked up, surprised at being addressed by your last name. He never addressed you by your last name. In fact, he never addressed any of his students by their last names. 

"Of course, Professor," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. 

The boys hesitated, exchanging looks of confusion and annoyance, like they were worth your attention more than Lupin. 

Lupin's gaze turned icy as he addressed them. "Gentlemen, I believe your presence is no longer required here. Please, see yourselves out." 

Reluctantly, the group shuffled out of the classroom, throwing glances with an air of superiority over their shoulders. 

With the classroom now empty, the air felt heavier. Lupin's expression was stern, a stark contrast to the usual warmth he reserved for you. His gaze was fixed on some papers on his desk, avoiding direct eye contact. "Miss L/N," he began, emphasizing your last name again as if to stab you with his words. 

"I need to speak with you about your conduct in class today." 

"Remus, what's wrong?" you responded softly, taken aback by his formality even when you were now both alone. 

His eyes finally met yours, sharp and unyielding. "It's Professor Lupin," he corrected you firmly. "In this classroom, I expect you to address me appropriately." 

Confused and slightly hurt, you corrected yourself, "Yes, Professor Lupin. I'm sorry, I don't understand..."

Lupin sat and folded his hands on the desk, his voice laced with a restraint that bordered on frustration. "Your focus in class today was...lacking. You were distracted, and frankly, it was distracting to me as well." 

Your brow furrowed in disbelief. "Distracted? But I-"

"I am not finished," he interrupted. "Such behaviour is unacceptable, and as a result, you will serve detention." 

Your mouth fell often, but no words came out. This was a side of Remus you had never seen- so cold, so distant. Of course, you were accustomed to his occasional possessiveness, his dominance behind closed doors, but this was entirely different and you couldn't tell if he was serious or not. 

"But, Remus, I don't understand. This isn't like you," you managed to stammer, your voice tinged with hurt and confusion. 

His expression did not soften. "I said, it is Professor, and what is or isn't 'like me' is not for you to decide. What matters is maintaining a proper student-teacher relationship in this classroom. You will serve detention tonight after your last class of the day, and I expect you to not be late. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor," you replied quietly, your mind racing with a growing sense of unease. 

"Good. Dismissed." 

You turned to leave, your mind a wild mess of unanswered questions. You glances back at your Professor, hoping for any sign of the warmth and gentleness that you were so used to, but found none. 

If Lupin had found you distracted in his class, it was nothing compared to the rest of the day. Not only did you have to deal with a semi-heartbreak and try to focus on your other classes, but that blonde idiot kept pestering you about going to Hogsmeade with him over the weekend. First, you were not into blondes. Second, you were most definitely not into boys. You were into men. Men old enough to be your dad. Men with scars. Men with gentle eyes. Men with nice hands. Men with a mustache. Men who wore cardigans. Men with voices that sounded like liquid gold and made you fold. Men like...Remus. 

You felt a twinge in your heart at the thought of his name. His name he had forbidden you to say earlier. It was not abnormal though. He often made you call him Sir or Professor when you were alone in his quarters, when you were on your knees before him. But this time it felt different. It felt cold. Distant. Uncharacteristic. 

Your steps echoed in the empty hallways as you made your way to the DADA classroom for your detention. Your head was just as empty. No thoughts. Just Remus. 

Professor Lupin was already there, seated at his desk, when you entered the room. Without a word, he flicked his wand, and the door closed sharply behind you. You noticed another subtle movement of his wand, casting wards around the room. Clearly, what was about to unfold was meant to remain private. 

Lupin didn't rise from his seat, his expression stern and unreadable. "Come here, Miss L/N," he said, his voice strict, almost commanding. 

You walked over, your steps hesitant. He pointed to the space between his parted legs, silently indicating for you to stand there. You did, looking down, unable to meet his gaze directly. 

His voice broke the silence again. "Do you know why you're here, Miss L/N?"

"For detention, Professor," you replied quietly, still looking downwards, although you were starting to understand that you were not here for detention at all. 

"Look at me," he commanded in a tone you didn't hear very often. Usually, this tone was reserved in moments that required you to have a safeword. But right now, your mind was blank. Empty. Useless. And you didn't remember your safeword. And you panicked, silently. 

Slowly, you raised your eyes to meet his. There was a possessive hunger in his gaze that made you shiver. You gasped softly when his wand came into view, slowly tracing the hem of your skirt. The tip gently lifted the fabric, revealing a mark on your thigh - a mark you knew all too well. His creation. 

"Who did this to you?" he asked in a tone that was a strange mix of sternness and curiosity. 

"You did," you replied. 

"No. Who did this to you?" he corrected. 

Your heart was basically in your throat and you were about to combust, but you gathered your courage and let out a quiet "You did, Sir." 

"That's better. And why did I do this?" he continued, watching you intently. 

You hesitated, searching for the right answer. You knew the wrong one could change the course of your interaction. He watched you, a slight smile playing on his lips as he saw your thought process unfold in your eyes. 

"Because I... I wanted you to?" you ventured tentatively.

"No, try again," he urged, a hint of satisfaction in his voice at your struggle to find the right words. He was peeling you apart right there, between his legs, with the mere touch of his wand and a few simple words and he loved every second of it. 

Your heart pounded as the realization dawned on you. He had been jealous. And he was claiming his territory, right where that stupid boy had tried to lure you in. 

"Because I am yours," you said with a little more confidence. 

"That's right," he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. "What a good girl you are, understanding your place." 

Your cheeks burnt with a mix of embarrassment and thrill. You tried to look away, to escape the intensity of the moment, but he wouldn't allow it. He reached out, firmly directing your face back towards his. "Eyes on me," he commanded. 

"It will do you good to remember this feeling, Miss L/N. Remember it when another little boy tries to distract you again, especially in front of me." 

His wand traveled up, pausing briefly over another mark of his on your neck, and continuing its path to your lips, lightly brushing against them. Your breath hitched at the touch, your eyes still locked with his.

"Whose are these?" he asked. 

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You were overwhelmed, momentarily speechless. 

His eyes held yours, patient but expectant. "Y/N," he prompted again, this time using your first name. He was not playing anymore, and you didn't know if you should feel relieved or worried. 

Swallowing hard, you found your voice, albeit a whisper, "Yours, Sir." 

"Very good," he praised. 

He then moved his wand again, this time directing it downwards. He paused for a moment at your waist before sliding it further down, under your skirt. The tip of the wand hovered over your core, gently grazing you through your panties. 

"And what about this? Whose is it?" he asked again, increasing the pressure slightly. 

"Y...Yours, S-Sir," you stuttered. 

"Good girl, you're learning." 

Your gaze dropped down, landing on the bulge in his trousers, evidently straining against the fabric. He abruptly removed his wand and grabbed your chin firmly. "Eyes on me, I said." 

"Yes, Sir," you murmured, your gaze finding his again. 

"Do you want to continue with this?" he asked, and this time his tone was not hard, not stern, not cold. It was just his tone. Just Remus. 

"Y-Yes, Sir," you replied almost instantly. 

"Do you want your safeword?" he asked seriously. He knew that sometimes, you didn't want it. You wanted him to be fully in charge. You wanted him to decide what you could handle and couldn't. It was dangerous, but you trusted him implicitly, sometimes more than yourself. 

"No, Sir," you answered a bit too confidently because truthfully, your mind was too blank to formulate any logical thought, let alone remember a safeword you never used.

"Do you want to please me?" he asked, his gaze insistent and penetrating. 

"Yes, Sir," you breathed. 

His eyes traveled over your body, taking in every curve and contour. "Then show me how much you want to please me," he commanded. "Touch yourself." 

You bit your lip, almost frozen on the spot, before letting your shaky hands move over your body, teasingly caressing your skin through your uniform. Your hands reached the hem of your skirt, and you looked at him, seeking permission to continue. He nodded, urging you on, and you did. You let your fingers travel over your panties, feeling the damp patch there, and gasped as you reached the sensitive bundle of nerves slightly prominent through the fabric of your underwear. 

"That's it," he growled, his voice rough with lust. "Make yourself feel good for me." 

Your breath caught in your throat as you continued to touch yourself, imagining his hands on you instead. You could feel your arousal growing, and you moaned softly, unable to contain your pleasure. 

Lupin's eyes darkened, and he reached out, grasping your wrist. "Enough," he said, his voice low and gritty. 

He slowly pulled you closer, the space between you diminishing until you were mere inches apart. He was so close, you could feel the warmth of his breath as your faces drew near. Just as your lips were about to meet, he stopped, hovering there, so close but not touching. 

"Do you think you deserve this, Y/N?" he asked, his voice a whisper against your lips. 

A breathless "No, Sir," was all you could manage. 

"That's right, you don't," he affirmed. 

A pathetic whine escaped you, a mixture of frustration and desire. 

Lupin let out a low, almost mocking chuckle at your reaction. "Aw, you poor little girl."

Your response was a mix of a sigh and a whispered plea, unable to contain your arousal. 

"But you know," he murmured softly, "I feel rather lenient today." 

Without warning, he pulled you abruptly close, closing the gap between you. Your lips met in a kiss that felt more like a claim, a statement, a declaration. His. His. His. 

His hands traveled to the back of your thighs, pulling you against his arousal. His face buried in your neck, he grazed his teeth against your soft skin before sinking them into it, creating another mark. "Mine," he growled against your neck. 

His hands suddenly left you and the sound of a zipper getting undone filled the room. You dared looking down as he let his erection spring free. 

"Eyes. On. Me." he said again sternly. 

"S-Sorry, Sir," you whimpered as you forced your eyes back up. 

"Take these off for me," he commanded, his finger tugging gently at your panties. 

You obeyed, slowly sliding them off until they pooled at your feet. You stepped out of them before picking them up and placing them onto his desk. 

"Very good. What a good girl," he praised. "Now, come here," he said softly, pulling you into his lap. 

You found yourself straddling him, a position that caught you off guard, eliciting a soft gasp of surprise from your lips. 

You were acutely aware of him, of your proximity, of how exposed you were in the middle of the classroom, at his desk, feeling both vulnerable and...strangely cherished. His hands moved to your face, holding you gently. His eyes, now soft and filled with the familiar warmth you knew so well, silently searched yours. It was a silent question, a non-verbal communication asking if you were alright, if you wanted to continue. 

You met his gaze and nodded, trying to hide how desperate you actually were. 

He shifted his hips slightly, the tip of his length teasing your entrance. "Relax for me," he whispered.

You nodded again and fought yourself with all your might not to simply sink yourself down on him. You were practically shaking and it was pathetic. Almost sensing your lack of self-control, his hands found your hips, gripping them with a force that would certainly leave marks. 

"Someone's impatient," he remarked. "Go on, then. Tell me what you want." 

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Sir," you begged, doing your best to keep your eyes locked onto his. 

"Tell me. What do you need?" he teased and god it was too much. You tried to lower your hips, to even get just the tip inside of you but he wouldn't allow it. 

"I...I need you...inside me, Sir. Please." 

"There's my good girl," he cooed and with that, he thrust his hips up just enough so that the tip of his length breached your entrance. "Now, show me just how much you want me." 

You didn't need to be told twice. You responded by lowering yourself onto him fully, causing him to groan as your warmth surrounded him. You began moving your hips, slowly at first, because the hands on your hips controlled the pace, but then his grip loosened, one hand moving up to your hair, pulling your head back, the other landing around your neck. 

You started increasing the pace, finding a rhythm that matched his as you began moving together. 

"That's it," he praised. "Take what you want from me." 

You moaned softly, your breath catching in your throat as you felt him going deeper and deeper inside you. 

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice filled with lust. 

"I-I want you, Sir," you panted, your words coming out in short gasps. "I want you to make me yours." 

"Then take it," he commanded. "Take what you want. Take it." 

You cried out in pleasure as you continued to bounce up and down in his lap, your movements becoming more urgent as the pressure in your core built and built. Your mind was a blank slate, filled with nothing but the intense sensation of having him inside you. 

He could feel how close you were, and he tightened his grip around your neck, bringing you closer to him. "Let go for me," he whispered, his lips soft against the shell of your ear, and it was all it took for you to reach your peak.

He groaned at the sensation of you clenching on him, your muscle tightening around his hard length. It was his turn now. His turn to take what he wanted. What was his. With a growl, he hauled you up from his lap and stood before swiftly bending you over his desk, books and quills and ink pots falling to the ground with a clatter. 

He hiked up your skirt around your waist and entered you from behind in one sharp thrust, your body jolting forward as you were forced to balance on your tiptoes. Barely recovered from your orgasm, your face was pressed onto the cold surface of the desk, and he started to pound into you with abandon. 

Grabbing a fistful of your hair, he lifted your head up, forcing you to look at the empty classroom in front of you. "Next time you get distracted by some little boy in my class," he said, his voice filled with disdain, "remember this moment. Remember being bent over this desk. Remember the sensation of having me inside you. Remember how it feels when I take you. When I take what's mine," he growled. "Mine. Mine. Mine," he continued, each word punctuated by a hard thrust. 

You cried out a pathetic "Yes, Sir," unsure if you were able to handle this, but he continued, indicating that you would handle it, even if you thought you couldn't. 

His pace increased, each thrust pressing you further into the desk, his movements becoming jerky and losing rhythm. He was getting close. So close. 

"Fuck..." he breathed as he leaned forward, his body covering yours. "I'm going to fill you up," he growled. "I want you to be full of me." 

With that, he thrust into you one last time, his hips snapping against yours, groaning obscenely as he emptied himself inside you. His hips continued to pump into you with each wave of warmth, as if he was pouring his soul into you. 

Finally, he stilled, and the room fell into a quiet stillness. Lupin, his energy completely expended, relaxed with a deep, contented sigh, his body lightly resting on top of yours. He began to plant gentle kisses along your neck, your shoulders, and the back of your head, each touch a soft echo of his love for you. There was a tenderness in his actions now, a shift that enveloped you in a sense of safety and warmth only he could provide. 

Gently, Lupin slowly withdrew from you, and you whimpered quietly at the sudden emptiness. He waved his wand in a few discrete movements, adeptly cleaning you both with an effortless flick before carefully readjusting your uniform. 

He pulled you close, and you nestled into his embrace, your body quivering slightly from what you had just been through. 

"It's okay. You're okay, love," he whispered soothingly against your hair. 

You whimpered softly against his chest, trying to ground yourself in the steady beat of his heart. 

Gently cradling you, Remus sat down in his chair, his arms enveloping you in a protective cocoon. "You were such a good girl. You took me so well. I love you so much." Gradually, under the gentle cadence of his voice, your breathing began to steady. 

Sensing you were in a more stable state, Lupin carefully shifted his position. He took your hand in his, guiding it with a deliberate tenderness until it rested over his heart. Through the fabric of his shirt, the steady thump of his heartbeat was strong and real under your palm. 

"And whose is this?" he asked softly, his eyes meeting yours with a playful glint. 

You let out a quiet giggle and simply said "Mine." 

[ho-for-joequinn-fics]

I know I said I wasn’t going to write anything else for this blog, buuuuut... I just had to get this idea out of my head.

Emperor Geta x f!servant reader

warnings: 18+ only! Minors DNI! mean!Geta (ofc), face slapping, insulting names (bitch, cunt, whore), degradation, oral (forced throat fucking), spanking, unprotected p in v smut, rough sex, creampie, profanity (obvi 💀), a happy ending yay for both Geta and Reader yay!, etc

You were a mere servant, never really caring to catch the attention of either of the Emperors, but unbeknownst to you, you had caught the undivided attention of one. Emperor Geta.

To you, Geta was a power hungry and extremely pompous asshole. And you weren’t afraid to say so. You’d never say it to his face though, knowing the consequences could quite possibly end with your demise, and you weren’t ready for death yet.

“I think he’s into you,” Mabel, one of your fellow servants, whispered while the two of you organized Emperor Geta’s wardrobe, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “You should see the way he looks at you.”

“Who?” You asked, hoping she wasn’t about to say who you thought she was going to say.

“Emperor Geta.” She responded with a sheepish smile, hanging up one of his robes in its respective place.

You scoffed at that, giving your head a shake as you responded in a not as hushed manner. “I sure hope to the gods that he isn’t. Geta is a pompous asshole. I’d love to smack that cocky smirk off of his stupid fucking face.”

You noticed the way her body language and demeanor immediately shifted, back straightened and eyes wide as she seemed to stare behind you. He’s behind me, isn’t he? You slowly turned around towards where her gaze was fixed, mentally slapping yourself for expressing your feelings about Emperor Geta right in front of him. You didn’t even realize he was in the room.

He was giving you a displeased glare, pupils blackened as he seemingly burned a hole right through you. “Come here. Right now.” He demanded, his pointer finger pointing towards the floor directly in front of him, ready to fix that disrespectful mouth of yours.

“Make me.” You scoffed, turning away from him to continue your work. You weren’t about to give in to his demands when you were trying to finish your duties that he assigned you in the first place. “Pompous asshole.”

Mabel gasped at your disobedience, her gaze dropping to her feet when Emperor Geta stomped his way over to you. She’d never speak to him like that, she knew better and she feared him more than anyone in all of Rome.

Geta grabbed you by the arm and forcefully spun you around, his ringed hand laying a harsh, reprimanding smack across your face. Your head whipped to the side from the force, but you weren’t going to back down. Not yet. “You better watch your tongue, you disrespectful little bitch. I own you, so you will do as I fucking say. Got it?”

You stared up at him with defiant orbs, your fists clenched by your sides to prevent yourself from smacking him like you so desperately wanted. You could have apologized and moved on from this, but you enjoyed egging him on, wanting to see how far you could push him and if your disobedience would get you killed after all. Or if he was into you like Mabel suspected, then maybe he’d make an exception. Maybe he’d someway, somehow start to like this defiant side of yours. “Own me? You don’t, own me. I belong to no one but myself. You just think you own me because you’re a self righteous dick with power.”

Geta took in a deep breath through his nose, jaw clenching tightly at your continued disobedience. You used to be so innocent, so obedient to his every demand, what happened to that version of you? If only he knew you were intentionally getting under his skin. “If you’re going to run your mouth like a cunt, then I’m going to treat you as such.”

Immediately he was forcing you onto your knees, giving your face another harsh slap when you tried standing back up. “Stay on your fucking knees. If you’ve got nothing of value to say, then I’m going to put this mouth to better use.” He quickly freed his cock from beneath his tunic and robe, thankfully not wearing his armor at this very moment.

You had to prevent yourself from widening your eyes at how endowed he was, not wanting to give him that ego boost when his ego was already through the roof. His shaft was girthy and long, and the vein running along the length of it was visibly throbbing already. Maybe I should have disrespected him way before now if this is what I get in return.

“Open your fucking mouth and don’t make me tell you twice.” He growled, grabbing your face in his hand and squeezing your cheeks hard enough to get you to part your lips for him. As soon as your jaw dropped open, he was forcing his cock into your mouth, groaning deeply when he hit the back of your throat. “Hollow your cheeks, whore.”

You automatically choked on his cock once he reached the back of your throat, hollowing your cheeks and taking a deep breath through your nose just before he started ruthlessly thrusting back and forth, choking even more when he reached to plug your nose thus cutting off any possible supply of oxygen you could get. Maybe he is going to kill me. At least I’ll go out with his cock down my throat.

“Look at you, already choking on my cock and I’ve only just started.” He mused with a snarky smirk, making you roll your eyes in mock annoyance. His hand gripped on your hair at the back of your head while his hips repeatedly snapped forward, using his grip to force your face to meet each thrust down your throat, smirking even wider when it pulled a garbled moan from your throat. “Oh you like that, huh you filthy whore? You like it when I violate your throat? Hm?”

You couldn’t help it, you moaned even louder, your eyes rolling into the back of your head for different reasons now. You hated to admit it, but the way he was throat fucking you with no remorse had you dripping, your pussy pulsating with each inconsiderate thrust down your throat. As much as you wanted to take a breath through your nose, you couldn’t, so you tried with all your mental and physical energy to stay conscious while he took his frustration towards you out.

Geta kept his gaze on your face as he forced himself down your throat, a wider smirk tugging at his lips when he noticed tears started to spill from the corner of your eyes. He wondered to himself if this was making you learn your lesson or if you were going to continue pushing his buttons to see what else he would do to you. He couldn’t deny it, your defiance which led to this moment made him hope you would test him some more, especially since your mouth and throat felt divine. He could only imagine how your cunt felt.

You snapped your gaze back on him when your lungs started to burn from lack of oxygen, looking up at him with eyes begging him to let you breathe, your fingers gripping onto his pristine robes to prevent yourself from collapsing. “Mmf!” You whimpered, one of your hands moving to wrap around the wrist of his hand still plugging your nose.

Geta took the hint and released your nostrils from between his fingers, letting you catch your breath through your nose while he continued abusing your throat with his cock. He watched as the color of your face returned to normal now that oxygen returned to your lungs, but your tears still resumed spilling down your face. “If you’d listened to me the first time, I wouldn’t have been so cruel while I throat fucked some respect into you.”

You narrowed your eyes to glare up at him, lifting your hand to give him the middle finger which only had him grinning sadistically. You knew you were playing a dangerous game, but part of you felt that your life wasn’t on the line, he was just really going to put you in your place if you continued your disobedient acts towards him.

He suddenly pulled his cock out of your mouth, allowing you ample opportunity to take multiple deep breaths to fully satiate your lungs while he glanced over at his other servants who were trying their best to ignore what was happening. “Leave us.” He ordered, waiting until the few of them scurried out of his chambers and the doors closed behind them.

Now your heart was pounding in your chest, hoping to the gods that he wasn’t going to kill you now that the two of you were alone. You hissed when he yanked you off the floor by the hair and forced you to look at him, him smirking at how swollen your lips had become from being wrapped around his cock. Gods he’s so cocky.

“You are very lucky that you’re my favorite. If it had been one of those servants who just left to disrespect me like this, their throats would have been slit the moment their disrespectful thoughts left their mouth.” His eyes roamed your face as he spoke, before he was dragging you over towards his bed and forcefully bending you over it. “Now you’re going to lay here like the obedient girl I know you can be while I deliver a well deserved punishment and you’re going to apologize for your blatant disrespect as I do so, got it?”

“Yes, Augustus.”

Geta grinned impishly at that, finally seeing an inkling of obedience from you again. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? Keep that up and I’ll have forgotten all about your disobedience in no time.” His hands gripped onto the fabric of your skirts and yanked them upwards before moving to your undergarment beneath and ripping it in two right off of you, giving his lips a lick at the sight of your plush ass cheeks.

You gasped at the sheer strength in his actions, biting down on your bottom lip as his fingers started tracing along your supple flesh before letting out a loud cry when his hand came down with a hard whack. “I-I’m sorry, Augustus!” You gasped, bracing yourself for the second smack you knew was coming, crying out again when it was received.

“I’m sorry Augustus for...?” He inquired, wanting a detailed apology and nothing less.

“I-I’m sorry for disrespecting you! For calling you such mean things, for not obeying your commands, for...for intentionally getting under your skin to see how far I could push you!” Your cries grew louder when his spanks grew more harsh, fresh tears spilling down your face all over again.

“And...?”

“And I’m sorry for saying you don’t own me! I-I’m yours! All yours, Augustus! I belong to you and you only! I-I’ll do anything you ask of me, like an obedient servant does!” You braced for more spanks, but they never came. Letting out a shaky breath, you dared to look over your shoulder, finding Geta staring down at you with something new in his eyes.

“You’ll give me my heir, that’s what you’ll do for me.” He gave you no warning before he was slamming his entire length inside you, your scream so loud, your pleasure could be mistaken for murder. A guttural moan erupted from his throat when he felt how tight and wet you were, his fingers digging into your hips as he started repeatedly slamming his cock in and out of you. “Fuck, I’ve never felt a more perfect cunt in my life. She’s all mine now. Say it!”

“She’s all yours, Augustus! All yours!” You squealed as you took every harsh thrust of his cock into you, the pain mixed with pleasure a feeling you never wanted to forget. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head with each ram against your cervix, fists clenched tightly into his sheets while you started squeezing around his cock. “Right there! Right there!”

Geta groaned at the way your walls squeezed around his cock, repeatedly aiming for that exact spot so they’d continue to do so, needing the added pleasure to coax him closer to his release. He wasn’t going to stop fucking you until you were filled to the brim with his seed. “Keep fucking squeezing me, going to claim my perfect cunt by filling her with my cum.”

You did just as he demanded, giving squeeze after squeeze after squeeze around his cock while he ruthlessly fucked you until finally he was tossing his head back with a roar and filling you with thick, heavy loads of his cum just as you coated his cock with your own cum. You buried your face into his bedding with a mewl as he filled you, not stopping your squeezes until he told you to.

“That’s enough.” He hissed after a minute, slowly pulling out of you once your vise-like clenches ceased and allowed him to easily slip out of you. He rolled you over onto your back after a moment before lifting you up to place you further up his bed, grabbing one of his pillows and using it to raise your hips up so not a single drop of his seed would go to waste. “Now you stay right here while I go tend to some important matters. Don’t let anything drip out of you, okay? Gotta be sure my seed takes.”

You gave your head a nod, watching as he fixed himself up while a thousand thoughts started swimming around your mind. You couldn’t stand him this morning, but now he was everything you could ever need. Did this change things between the two of you? Did he really want a servant to be the one to bear him his heir? Were you more than just a servant to him now? You needed to know.

“Augustus...” You whispered, nervously chewing on your bottom lip as you prepared yourself for the questions you had.

“Hmm?” He inquired, tossing your destroyed undergarments to the floor after cleaning his cock of your cum before tucking it back beneath his tunic.

“You don’t really want me to be the one to bear your heir, do you? I’m just a lousy servant... Don’t you want someone of a higher status to be the one to do so?” You frowned, your gaze refusing to meet his as you fiddled with your thumbs.

Geta sighed, moving to sit down beside you on the bed and reaching for your hands to still their anxious movements. “Look at me.” He commanded in a more gentle tone now, waiting for you to look up at him before continuing. “You’re not just a lousy servant. I’ve been wanting to make you more than that since your parents sold you into servitude, I just had to wait for the proper time to do so.”

“Really?” You blushed, completely taken aback by his confession.

“I did tell you you’re my favorite and I didn’t mean as a servant, I meant in general. I knew you were special when I first laid eyes on you.” He chuckled, bringing your knuckles to his lips for a kiss. “I’m sorry if I was too hard on you earlier. I just, I don’t take too kindly to that level of disrespect and when you kept pushing, my resolve snapped. I wasn’t expecting my favorite girl to say such cruel things about me.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, a soft frown on your face. “I only thought those things about you because I still have so much pent up anger over my parents selling me to be a servant. I guess I just never gave you the chance to prove yourself to be more than what you show yourself to be to everyone else in Rome.”

“Will you give me that chance now? Will you let me show you that there’s more to me than meets the eye?”

“Of course.” You smiled, your breath catching in your throat when he cupped your cheek and leaned in to press a deep kiss to your lips, your hands cupping his face as you kissed him in return.

“Thank you. I promise you, you will not be disappointed.” He breathed into the space between your mouths as he rested his forehead against yours. “I have some things I need to tend to right now, but I promise come tomorrow, you will no longer be a servant.”

Geta held true to his promises, proving to you that deep down he had more than a heart of stone, and turning you from the servant you were sold to be into the Empress you were destined to be. You never would have anticipated marrying the man you once despised, but now you wouldn’t change it for a thing.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 🩷 This was annoyingly difficult for me to write because I just couldn’t get the words to flow how I wanted, so I hope you enjoyed how it turned out 🥺

Tagging some Emperor Geta sluts 🩷 @nailbatanddungeon @usergeta @somethingvicked @ceriseheaven @littlexdeaths @3rd-conchord @jasminelafleur @eddiesxangel

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule: Season 2 Prologue

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: happy halloween! 🎃

Masterlist Epilogue

"You'll open your stitches, Yoongi-ah," Kim Seokjin noted with a monotonous tone, his eyes still trained on the tablet he was holding when he heard a rustling of the sheets, the first ever sign that the man was truly alive. The mafia prince that turned medical director was sitting comfortably, his long leg over the other as though he had gotten a good night's sleep since the mayhem that happened. It was the eighth day since Yoongi was in a coma, and similarly, it was the eighth day since you passed.

Since then, numerous things transpired- and they were all of violent nature. The five of them shed volume of blood, more so by the youngest of them. It was too bad for the traitors that Jeon Jungkook was frustrated because he almost found his wife. She was almost within his grasp when he was urgently needed back in Korea because unshockingly, one of their brothers was trying to kill the other. And well, the organization needed cleansing of traitors.

Additionally, it was worse for the traitors because the moment he returned was the moment he found his sunshine gone.

Yoongi was physically healing, as evidenced by his vitals that Seokjin was diligently monitoring. It was expected. Yoongi was not likened to a cat for nothing. They all physically saw him fall from the third floor, stood up, and brushed his hands as though it was nothing when they were younger. There was not even an ounce of doubt in their minds that he would wake up one of these days.

That was the thing, Yoongi was healing. But now, Seokjin wondered what would happen once he knew what happened to you. 

He didn't have to wait long.

"W-where is she?" Yoongi asked with apparent effort, his hand clutching his shoulder with a barely restrained pain flashing on his face. "I need to go to her. She must be so scared," He sat up and waited for Seokjin to say something, anything.

And he waited, and waited- yet, Kim Seokjin didn't answer him. He merely regarded him with a somber expression on him, a foreign look on his usual jovial face. Jin's jaw was clenched, and he hated to be the bearer of bad news.

Yoongi blinked, looking at the older man's eyes with quick realization. He couldn't have gotten any paler even if he wanted to, his eyes widened at what he already knew.

"No. Hyung, no. Fucking no," he shook his head, his movements quick as he pulled the dextrose harshly from his skin, blood now dripping on his hand. He stood up as he aimed for the door, every step he took was shaky, yet his determination to see you was strong. "Take me to her! Where is she!"

Jin tried as best as he could to contain the man, and that was how Kim Namjoon found them. He should have known, he was no match to a man who just lost the only person he ever loved. Namjoon immediately helped his hyung, securing Yoongi's other arm on his side. But the mafia leader was like a wounded animal, thrashing around as it tried to find reprieve. In this case, it was you who was his peace.

"Hyung, stop it! You're going to hurt yourself," Namjoon ordered as gently as he could, but it fell on deaf ears. Yoongi looked at Namjoon, his dark eyes filled with panic and unshed tears. He thought that maybe Namjoon would take him to you.

You were just hurt, right? You were just resting that was why his hyung couldn’t take him to you…right? You were somewhere here. He just needed to ask more, to impose more, and if needed, he just had to scream louder for you and you would come to him…right?

You were alive, right?!

"Namjoon-ah, where is my angel, hmm? Take me to her!" his voice were shaking as he fisted his hands on Namjoon’s shirt, trying to get the taller man to look at him, to listen to him. He was close to pleading, and he wasn’t above it.

Why were they quiet?

Why were they looking at him as though they pity him?

He wasn’t pitiful, he thought. He had you.

The two men shared a downcasted look. Both men didn't know how to tell him that you didn't survive, that not even your remains survived. But they had to.

"She didn't...survive."

Yoongi blinked, and the two of them were quiet as they waited with bated breath for his reaction. Yet, Yoongi just straightened up while chuckling. “Stop lying, Namjoon.”

“He’s not lying,” Jin stated before showing you the necklace he kept in his pocket…your necklace. “This was the only thing left in the scene. You’re the Chief of Police. You know what this means, Yoongi-ah.”

Yoongi smirked before marching to the door. “T-that’s not hers.”

“Hyung, where are you going?”

“To find her. She’s not dead. She’s not gone. S-She promised me she would never leave me. She never breaks her p-promise,” he struggled to say each word as his body had not yet fully recovered. His determination was commendable, but seeing him reduced to denying your death broke what was left of the brothers’ hearts. “Angel needs m-me. I cannot fail her. N-not this time.”

Yoongi’s body swayed to the side, yet he remained steadfast, walking to where he thought you were. And if he needed to crawl, then he would. If he needed to kneel just to see you, then he would be down on his fucking knees, begging for your forgiveness.

His body failed him the moment he opened the door, his barely-recovered form crashing on the ground that Jin had no choice but to contain the thrashing man the best way he could. With a small prick on his neck, Min Yoongi lost consciousness.

The last thing he called for was you.

Even in his dreams, you never came.

Chapter I