#i know it's an enormous amount of words by the way

[kingslionheart]

Mnemosyne's Elysium — Chapter One

Alfred’s first peaceful night in ages is shattered by a call from the last person he wants to hear from—his ex, Uhtred. Annoyance is the least of his problems, as a haunting past reemerges to torment him all over again. He knows doom will be unavoidable, whether he likes it or not.

Alfred x Uhtred Modern AU

Word Count: 8,044

[buckets-and-trees]

A thot!

Curtis, with his face buried in the crook of your neck, his humid breath panting against your skin as he cums with a groan and frantically pumps you full of his cream.

Okay, bye! 👋🏻😘

I don't thin you intended to poke my muse specifically for our lake Creature Curtis, but I don't think you will complain about it either. 😏Just know that this has been growing in my head for a few weeks now...

Never Going Back Again Characters/Pairings: Bolotnik!Curtis x curvy!Reader Word Count: 3.7k Summary: One night near the lake has changed everything.

Content/Warnings: explicit smut - oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal intercourse, breeding; breeding kink; Curtis's tail; teratophilia/monster fucking; size kink

Notes: This is a follow up piece to this ask about a lake monster CE character, but you could theoretically read this on its own. This is also another piece in my Countdown to Chris-mas collection.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

When you were small, you and your sister had sat up late so many nights curled up in the window seat of the small bedroom you shared, and looked out over the trees out to the shores of the seemingly infinite lake. Sometimes you could see pockets of water glowing out across the wide, blue darkness. Sometimes there were dancing lights along the shore. The lake was integral to your town’s way of life, providing fish, connecting you through trade to other towns and countries, and nourishing the plant life along its edges. 

As a child, those nights in the window had been frequent, both of you enchanted with the water and with the sky of stars and the moonlight. You had never given up the practice entirely, but as you’d both grown, sleeping hours had grown more appreciated. 

But now you sat up again far too late every night looking out over the water. 

Where he came from. 

There were old stories told about creatures in the mountains, in the forest, in the lake, under the bed, in the closet, living in the attic… too many cautionary tales told keep children in line and to grow up wisely. 

But now that you knew there was at least one man from the lake, you wondered how much of at least his folklore was true, and how much more you didn’t yet know. 

And, most importantly, how much would affect you.

Because you had been enormously affected by him already.

Foolishly lured away from the safety of others along the shoreline, snatched by a bolotnik, your virginity not only taken, but your body used, ruined, and exploited for pleasure all night. For by the end of it all, you could not deny you had succumbed to the pleasure he wrought from you, even though he was still terrifying.

And so you watched each night from your window, unsure what to do.

You couldn't shake the memory of his touch, the way he had made you feel things you'd never imagined. Each night as you gazed out at the dark waters, a part of you hoped to see those mesmerizing lights dancing on the surface again.

But weeks passed with no sign of him. You began to wonder if it had all been some fevered dream. Yet your body remembered - the soreness between your legs, the marks on your skin that had slowly faded. And there was something else, a change you couldn't quite place.

Your courses didn't come. Panic rose in your throat when you realized what that likely meant. But there was a chance his seed hadn’t taken. Your bleeding had come late or not come at all before. And it had taken your sister a fair amount of time until she had born her first child while diligently trying with her husband.

Still, you placed a hand on your belly, wondering if there was new life growing inside you. The child of a monster. Your child.

Though it was the water your eyes relentlessly looked to, a flash of movement in the trees drew your gaze. Heart pounding, you peered at the edge of the forest near your family’s home. For a long moment, nothing stirred. Then you saw it - movement among the underbrush.

A shadow detached itself from the trees, moving with an unnatural grace. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized the hulking form of Curtis. He emerged into a patch of moonlight, his scales glinting, eyes fixed on your window.

Your heart raced. For a moment, you froze, unsure what to do. Part of you wanted to flee, to wake your family and raise the alarm. But another part, a part you were ashamed to acknowledge, felt a thrill of excitement at seeing him again.

Before you could decide, he was striding forward, pausing only for a moment at the edge of your family’s property, those eerie, impossibly bright, blue eyes fixed on your window. Then he continued forward. Even from a distance, you could see the way his muscles rippled as he moved. His tail swished behind him, hypnotic in its motion.

Your breath caught in your throat as the creature approached your home. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to hide, to call for help. But you remained frozen, transfixed by his otherworldly presence.

In mere moments, he had scaled the side of your house with inhuman agility. His clawed hands gripped the windowsill as he peered inside, those piercing blue eyes locking onto yours.

Without him prompting you, you pushed the window open.

A slow, predatory smile spread across his face.

"Did you miss me, little one?" he purred, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

You almost balked at the term because anyone is little compared to him, but you couldn't find your voice to respond even if you'd wanted in that instant. Your body trembled, caught between fear and a shameful excitement.

With fluid grace, he slipped through the window and past you into your room. He towered over you, his massive form larger than you remembered. The cool night air raised goosebumps on your skin, but it was the intensity of his gaze that made you shiver. You could smell the scent of lake water and earth on his skin.

He reached out, his clawed hand gently cupping your cheek. You flinched at first, but then found yourself leaning into his touch. His skin was cool and slightly damp, reminding you of the lake's waters.

"You've been watching for me," he said, his voice a low rumble. It wasn't a question. "I've seen you at your window night after night."

You nodded, unable to deny it. "I... I wasn't sure if you'd come back," you whispered.

His thumb traced your lower lip, sending a shiver through you. "I told you I would return for what's mine," he said.

His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, and a knowing smile curved his lips. His gaze dropped to your belly. "And it seems I've left more than just memories with you."

Your hand instinctively went to your stomach. "How can you know?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His chuckle was low and dark. "I can smell the changes in you, little one. Your scent is sweeter now, ripe with new life."

Your breath caught in your throat. So it was true. The suspicion you'd been harboring was confirmed by this creature who could somehow sense what your own body had only begun to whisper.

His hand drifted down to rest on your belly, his touch surprisingly gentle, brushing over your hand.

“Do you have a name?” you asked tentatively.

He smiled, a mixture of amusement and appreciation in his eyes. "Curtis," he replied. "Though I'm surprised you care to know it."

You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Part of you was still terrified, but another part was drawn to him, fascinated by this otherworldly creature who had claimed you so thoroughly.

"Curtis," you repeated softly, tasting the name on your tongue. It seemed too ordinary for such an extraordinary being.

His hand moved from your belly to your waist, pulling up from your seat and drawing you close. "And what shall I call you, my sweet human?"

You hesitated, then whispered your name.

"Beautiful," he murmured, leaning down to nuzzle your neck. His breath was cool against your skin, making you shiver. "It suits you."

You gasped as his lips brushed your throat, your body responding to his touch. Your breath hitched as Curtis's lips trailed along your neck, his sharp teeth grazing your sensitive skin. A whimper escaped you, torn between fear and desire.

"Shh," he soothed, his large hand cradling the back of your head. "We don't want to wake your family, do we?"

The reminder of where you were, of the danger, sent a jolt through you. You tried to pull away, but his grip was firm.

"Curtis," you whispered urgently, "we can't - not here."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Oh? And where would you suggest, little one? Back to the lakeshore?"

The memory of that night flooded your senses - the cool grass and earth beneath you, the scent of the water, the overwhelming pleasure. You shuddered, heat pooling low in your belly.

He nipped gently at your earlobe.

"I've thought of you every day since our night together," Curtis murmured, his voice low and husky. "The taste of your skin, the sound of your cries... and if I hadn’t found you with child, I was determined to attempt to breed you again, little one."

You trembled in his arms, torn between fear and a growing desire. His massive form dwarfed you, reminding you of his inhuman strength. Your resolve weakened as Curtis's hands roamed your body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever he touched. You knew you should resist, should cry out for help, but the words died in your throat. Instead, a soft moan escaped your lips as his fingers traced the curve of your breast through your thin nightgown.

"That's it," he purred, encouraged by your response. "Let yourself feel, little one. Your body remembers the pleasure I gave you."

And it did. Your skin tingled with anticipation, your core aching with need. You pressed closer to him, inhaling his scent of lake water and earth. His tail wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"Curtis," you breathed, your hands tentatively exploring the planes of his muscled chest. "We shouldn't…"

But even as you protested, your body betrayed you. Your nipples hardened as he insistently brushed his thumbs back and forth over each tender nub.

"Please," you whimpered, though you weren't sure if you were begging him to stop or continue.

Curtis lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to your bed. He laid you down, then stepped back to shuck off his meager clothing - only a white shirt and dark pants. In the dim moonlight filtering through the window, his scales glimmered, casting otherworldly patterns across your skin as he loomed over you.

He settled onto the bed, slowly crawling over you. "Hush now," he murmured, a clawed finger tracing your lips. "I'll make you feel good, just as I did before."

Your nightgown was pushed up, exposing your bare skin to the cool night air. Curtis's hands roamed your body, reacquainting himself with every curve and dip. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as his fingers found your most sensitive areas.

"So responsive," he purred, his tail caressing your inner thigh. "Your body remembers me well."

You arched into his touch, shame and desire warring within you. You trembled, both from fear and anticipation, as the cool night air kissed your exposed skin. Curtis's eyes, gleaming in the darkness, roved hungrily over your bumps and curves.

"Gorgeous," he breathed, leaning down to press his lips to your stomach. "My child grows here."

You gasped as his tongue, longer and more dexterous than any human's, swirled around your navel. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider as he settled between them. You could feel the heat of his breath against sex.

"Curtis," you whispered, your voice trembling. "We can't... my family..."

He looked up at you, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness. "Then you'll have to be very quiet, won't you, little one?"

Before you could protest further, his mouth was on you. His tongue, impossibly long and nimble, delved into your folds. You bit down on your fist to stifle a cry of pleasure. Curtis growled approvingly, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core.

Your free hand tangled in the sheets. His tail slithered over your wrist, then wrapped around your thigh, holding you open for his ministrations. You writhed beneath him, struggling to stay quiet.

Curtis's tongue worked magic between your thighs, lapping and probing in ways that made your toes curl. You pressed your fist harder against your mouth, desperately trying to muffle your cries of pleasure. His tail tightened around your thigh, keeping you open as you squirmed beneath him.

"That's it," he murmured against your sensitive flesh. "Let go for me, little one."

Your hips bucked involuntarily as he sucked on your most sensitive bud. The pressure built inside you, a tidal wave threatening to crash over you at any moment. Curtis's fingers joined his tongue, stretching and filling you. The dual sensation was overwhelming.

"Curtis," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't... I can’t..."

“But you are,” he growled, the vibrations sending you over the edge. Your back arched off the bed as

Your back arched off the bed as pleasure exploded through you. Curtis's mouth stayed locked on your center, drawing out your climax until you were trembling and gasping for air. Only then did he lift his head, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"Stunning," he murmured, crawling up your body. The scales along his torso rubbed against your sensitized skin, sending aftershocks through you. "But we're far from done, little one."

You felt the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, and a mix of fear and anticipation fluttered in your stomach, remembering how painful and then how pleasurable his thick member inside you had been. Curtis nuzzled your neck, inhaling deeply.

"Your scent is intoxicating," he growled. "Especially now, carrying my child."

His hand splayed possessively over your belly. You shivered, torn between the lingering pleasure and the reality of your situation. This creature - this man from the lake - had claimed you in ways you never imagined possible. And now he was here again, in your own bedroom, ready to take every piece of you once more.

Curtis's lips found yours in a searing kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, tasting of you, of lake water, and something wild. You moaned softly against him, your body responding despite your lingering trepidation.

He pulled back, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness. "Turn over," he commanded softly.

Your heart raced as you obeyed, rolling onto your stomach. Curtis's hands gripped your hips, lifting them. You felt exposed, vulnerable in this position. His tail wrapped around your waist, steadying you.

"So beautiful," he murmured, his hands caressing your back, your sides, your bottom. You shivered at his touch, goosebumps rising on your skin.

You felt the blunt head of his member pressing against your entrance. Despite your earlier climax, you tensed, remembering the initial pain from your first encounter. Curtis sensed your apprehension and leaned over you, his chest pressed to your back.

"Relax, little one," he whispered in your ear. "Your body knows me now. It will welcome me."

Slowly, inexorably, he began to push inside. You bit down on your pillow to muffle your cries as he stretched you, filling you more completely than you thought possible. Your fingers clutched at the sheets, torn between the discomfort of the intrusion and the growing pleasure.

His hand slid between your legs, fingers circling your still-sensitive bud. You gasped, pushing back against him instinctively. Curtis took advantage of your movement, slowly pressing inside you.

The stretch was intense, but not painful as it had been before. Your body, as Curtis had promised, seemed to remember him, accommodating his impressive girth. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as he sank deeper.

"That's it," Curtis growled, his voice thick with pleasure.

Curtis's tail tightened around your waist as he seated himself fully within you. He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size, filling you completely. His hands roamed your body, caressing and soothing.

"So tight," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "You feel exquisite, little one."

You whimpered softly, overwhelmed by the fullness, the stretch. Curtis began to move, slow, shallow thrusts that made you gasp. His hand slid from your hip to your belly, caressing the slight swell there.

"Mine," he growled possessively. "Both of you."

You whimpered softly as he continued to move in slow, deeper thrusts that sent waves of pleasure through your body. His tail unwound from your waist, the tip sliding between your legs to tease your sensitive bud.

"Curtis," you gasped, struggling to keep your voice down. "It's too much..."

But your body betrayed your words, pushing back to meet his thrusts. Curtis chuckled darkly, nipping at your shoulder.

"Your body knows what it wants, little one," he purred. "It craves me, just as I crave you."

His pace increased gradually, each thrust driving deeper. You buried your face in the pillow, muffling your cries of pleasure. The initial discomfort had faded, replaced by waves of sensation that threatened to overwhelm you.

Curtis's movements grew more insistent, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force. You clutched the sheets, struggling to stay quiet as waves of pleasure washed over you. His tail continued its teasing ministrations between your legs, the dual sensations driving you towards another peak.

"That's it," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Let go for me again, little one. Show me how much you've missed this."

Your body obeyed, even as your mind reeled at the intensity of it all. The coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. You bit down hard on the pillow, muffling your cry of ecstasy as your second orgasm crashed over you.

Curtis groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as your inner walls clenched around him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and humid against your skin. His hips jerked erratically as he reached his peak. With a low, guttural groan that vibrated through your entire body, he climaxed. You felt his member pulsing inside you as he pumped you full of his seed.

Wave after wave crashed over him as he continued to thrust, each movement sending another surge of his essence deep within you. His tail coiled tightly around your thigh, holding you in place as he claimed you completely.

The warmth of his release spread through you, a stark contrast to his cool skin. You shuddered beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation and the knowledge of what was happening. The room filled with the scent of lake water, earth, and your combined arousal.

Curtis's teeth grazed your shoulder, not quite breaking the skin but leaving marks that would linger for days. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he rode out the last waves of his climax, determined to empty himself inside you. You trembled beneath him, your body still quivering with aftershocks.

Slowly, his grip loosened, and he eased himself out of you. You whimpered at the loss, feeling suddenly empty. Curtis gathered you in his arms, rolling onto his side and pulling you against his chest. His tail wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

"Beautiful," he murmured, nuzzling into your neck, the scratch of his beard making you shiver. "You were perfect, little one."

You lay there, catching your breath, your mind reeling from what had just transpired. You could feel the stickiness of some of your combined spend that had oozed out of your cunt hot between the top of your thighs. Curtis's hand splayed possessively over your belly, reminding you of the life growing within.

"What happens now?" you whispered, fear and uncertainty creeping back into your voice.

Curtis's arms tightened around you. "Now," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, "you come with me."

Your heart raced at his words. "What? I can't just leave, Curtis. My family, my life..."

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Your life is with me now, little one. You carry my child. You belong to the lake, to me."

You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. "Please," you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes. "I'm not ready. I can't just disappear."

Curtis sighed, his breath cool against your neck. "I understand your hesitation," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "But you must understand, little one. Our child cannot be raised in the human world."

You trembled in his arms, torn between fear and a strange sense of longing. "I can't just leave. My family—"

"Will never understand," he finished for you. "They can't accept what you've become, what we've created together."

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks. Part of you knew he was right - there was no way to explain your pregnancy, no way to raise a half-human, half-lake creature child in your village. But the thought of leaving everything you'd ever known was terrifying.

"Shh," he murmured. "I know it's frightening. But I will take care of you.”

“I’m not ready,” you cried softly. You weren’t ready to leave, you weren’t ready to carry his child, you weren’t ready for any of this.

Curtis's grip on you loosened slightly, though he didn't let go completely. His hand continued to caress your belly gently.

"I understand your fear," he murmured, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it. "This is all new to you. But you must understand, little one - our child cannot survive in your world. And you... you've been changed by our coupling. The lake calls to you now, doesn't it?"

You shivered, realizing the truth in his words. Ever since that first night, you'd felt drawn to the water in a way you never had before. The sight, the smell, the sound of it called to something deep within you.

"I... I need time," you whispered. "Please, Curtis. I can't just vanish without a trace. My family will worry."

He was quiet for a long moment, his tail tightening slightly around your waist before loosening as well.

“Curtis?” you prompted, worried as his silence drew on.

"Sleep now, little one," he finally murmured, his arms tightening around you once more. "Dawn will come soon enough."

But sleep didn't come easily. You lay there, hyper-aware of Curtis's presence behind you. His cool, slightly damp skin pressed against yours, his tail still wrapped loosely around your waist. The rise and fall of his chest against your back was steady, but you could tell from the tension in his body that he wasn't sleeping either.

The moonlight filtered through the window, casting eerie shadows across the room. Every creak of the house, every rustle of leaves outside, made you tense. You kept expecting someone to burst through the door, to discover you in the arms of this creature. But the night remained quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the lake's waves in the distance.

As the sky began to lighten, your eyelids grew heavy. Despite your racing thoughts, exhaustion finally overcame you.

When you awoke mere hours later, you were alone.

Well... a little surprise monster fucking for your Monday. HOPE THE HOES IN THIS HOUSE ENJOYED IT!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 4: The Belly Of The Beast

Content warning: unintentional voyeurism, slightly suggestive

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

The Culling - Chelsea Wolfe Men Like Gods - Gazelle Twin

* * * * *

Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

* * * * *

“Don’t leave me here!” 

Voice cracking, you clutch your father's garment with your gloved hands, hopelessness seeping into the grip. He ignores your plea, striding toward his mount in a silent, unblinking fury.

Pride is a dangerous thing. And your father’s has just been ripped wide open.

Sukuna's little spectacle in the central hall—killing one of your father’s men because of you, and doing so in front of his entire clan—has him absolutely fucking fuming. 

Fingertips digging into the fabric for more purchase, you are practically clinging to him like a child. Touching your father repulses you, as does every aspect of him. But after what transpired, your desperation is rearing its ugly head.

Witnessing Sukuna dismember a dead body was one thing, but seeing a living, breathing person reduced to a wailing, cauterized mess before being decapitated was something else entirely. The cries of agony, the amount of blood, the limbs on the floor. Now carved into your mind.

“Father, please,” you plead, struggling to keep up with his strides. The grounds of the shrine are rain-slicked from the earlier downpour, making it difficult for you to stay upright. “I can’t do this.”

You must stay. You have to do this.

“Please!” you continue, voice rising, fingers knotting.

He stops and whirls around, getting right in your face.

Large, dark, angry eyes bore into yours. The sharp angles of his face appear more severe and brutal. The darkness of the evening only accentuates the creases of his face, turning it into an ugly mask.

“You will do as I say, you ungrateful little bitch,” he snarls, shoving you away with both hands. You stumble backward, your legs splaying wide to keep your balance as mud sucks at your feet. “You will remain here.”

He gives you a look that dares you to defy him, fully aware that you won't. He understands that you grasp the consequences and recognizes that he holds you completely under his control, ready to crush you at a moment's notice. And you know he longs to strike you across the face, but damaging Sukuna’s property is no longer in his best interest. Instead, he will leave scars on you that aren't visible to the eye.

To your right, Onishi leads your sister toward a mount. He lifts her up and climbs behind her, snaking an arm around her delicate frame. Seeing that vile man so close to her, knowing how his mind works, makes your nostrils flare.

Instinctively, you step toward them.

"No," your father commands, grabbing your shoulder to stop you. You jerk away and try to push past him, but he seizes the other one tightly and drags you closer. "Get back inside," he hisses through gritted teeth. You blanch as his dank breath washes over your face.

Tentatively, you glance over your shoulder at the shrine’s entrance. Only Uraume stands there, waiting for you. In the darkness, their all-white kimono and hair stand out like a beacon, as if beckoning you, trying to pull you back into that hellhole.

You turn back to your father.

“Please,” you say quietly, resuming your appeals, “There has to be another way.”

Your repeated words make his left eye twitch. The sagging skin at his neck wobbles with each angry inhale. 

“You have two months.” His words are spoken low, and their weight threatens to pull you down.

“Two months,” you repeat, the enormity of the deadline sinking in.

This is the time he has allotted for you to take down the creature or risk losing your sister.

Two months might seem reasonable, but everything you've observed about Sukuna leaves you troubled. He’s like a cat—an inhuman, agile cat—slipping out of reach whenever you attempt to catch him. Having witnessed his abilities, you understand that he can kill in seconds, while it takes you considerably longer to harness your gift.

How the hell is this going to work?

Without saying another word, your father releases you, turns and mounts his horse.

Perched atop his mount, he looks down at you one last time. A single glance at his eyes tells you everything you need to know. They are detached, empty. In his mind, you are unworthy—nothing to him.

With a sharp crack of the reins, he spurs the horse forward, guiding it down the dirt-packed road into the night.

Onishi’s horse quickly follows behind, passing you, your sister nestled tightly against his chest.

Heart dropping to your stomach, you realize you haven’t had a chance to say goodbye to her.

“Wait,” you call out. You step forward into a few purposeful steps before breaking into a run.

“Wait. Yuna!” you shriek, extending your hand towards her in a panic. She turns, arm reaching out to you, but she is pulled away. 

“Yuna!”

You desperately try to catch up, but your kimono drags you back, its folds catching with every movement. The silt underfoot is treacherous and forces you into a crawl.

With every breath, your chest heaves as you struggle to keep pace.

You are exhausted. Completely drained. This day. This horrible, life-altering day weighs you down.

All you can do is watch as your entire clan slowly fades into tiny specks, swallowed by the forest on either side.

Eventually, you slow. Knees knocking together, you tremble, your entire body on the verge of collapsing.

“No,” you breathe, taking one last hesitant step.

You should have been prepared for this moment, but now that it’s here…

“My Lady,” Uraume’s calm voice trickles from behind as they draw near.

You don’t react. Instead, you keep your gaze ahead as if willing yourself to wake from this nightmare. Tears burn as they form at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t allow them to fall.

An uneasy quiet settles as the thundering of hooves finally dissipates, broken only by the gentle chirping of crickets in the receding forest and the steady summer breeze teasing the trees.

“It’s time to come inside,” Uraume presses.

Come inside.

It’s such a simple request. And yet, you don’t want to oblige. The shrine is too dark, too heinous. Filled with things you aren’t ready to experience. Filled with a thing you aren’t ready to experience.

You must stay. You have to do this.

After a moment, you force down the tightness in your throat and wipe your face with the sleeve of your kimono, fingers grazing your bruise.

You pull a deep breath of fresh air into your lungs, knowing you won’t taste it where you are going.

You turn to Uraume.

“Okay.”

They nod, leading you back through the massive doors, swallowing you whole.

* * * * *

At this late hour, the shrine appears different. It’s so still—not a soul in sight. No attendants are hurrying along, no heavy footsteps. Nothing.

It’s deathly still.

As you pass the central hall, you glance through the cavernous doors, which stand slightly ajar. The low wooden tables that had been present earlier have now been removed, leaving only a vast, untouched expanse. Only the King of Curses’ throne sits inside.

Your eyes cut back to Uraume, watching the delicate white strands of their hair that barely seem to move as they walk.

A knot of anxiety tightens in your chest as you wring your hands, and slick sweat forms between your palms. You can't shake the uneasy feeling of not knowing where they’re leading you.

They take you through the labyrinthine corridors, their white kimono guiding you in the darkness as the lanterns have all been doused, leaving you in twilight.

You find yourself wondering where the monster might be at this hour. Is he asleep? Does he even sleep? If so, where?

Finally, Uraume leads you down a familiar corridor, approaching your chambers.

When they open the door to your room, it lets out a mournful squeak as it moves along the track, causing you to wince and grit your teeth against the sound.

As you step into the room, Uraume follows inside and closes the door behind you with a soft click. They move to the room's far corner and carefully light a small lantern. The gentle, flickering light of the flame chases away the shadows, casting a warm glow over the space.

With the room illuminated, you notice a small plate of food sitting on the low table. You eye it suspiciously.

Uraume continues to prepare the space. Moving to the futon, they methodically spread the layers of soft silk and cotton, fluffing the pillows with careful precision.

You can’t help but wonder if all this hospitality is some sort of trick or a cruel joke. The question lingers on the tip of your tongue. You want to ask, but you push it aside for now.

“Is the room to your liking, my Lady?” Uraume inquires, not looking up from their task.

You watch their pale hands move in the dim light, almost ghostly in their delicate motions.

“Oh… uh, yes, thank you,” you reply, shuffling your feet awkwardly.

Once they appear satisfied with their work, though their face remains emotionless, they move towards you. Their critical eye falls on your dirt-covered kimono, and their lips thin. They move to help you out of the garment, and you take a step back.

“I can do it myself, thank you,” you insist quietly.

Although you allowed attendants to bathe you today, you intend for that to be a one-time exception. You generally prefer not to be touched, especially by Sukuna’s head subordinate, even though Uraume doesn’t seem overtly hostile.

They nod and move towards the door, hands sliding neatly inside their kimono sleeves.

“I will leave you for the evening,” they say, glancing at the plate of food on the table. “Please make sure you eat something. It appears you did not have dinner.”

Uraume was correct, which made them perceptive. Troublesome.

“Yes, thank you,” you mumble, as they turn to leave. “Before you go, could you please tell me what will be expected of me in my new role here as—” you swallow, “Lord Sukuna’s wife?”

You want to blend in here as much as possible. Remain inconspicuous, stay out of trouble, and go unnoticed until it’s time to make a move.

“You will be expected to follow the master’s orders, whatever he deems appropriate,” Uraume says. How vague. “And tomorrow, you will be assigned your own attendants.”

You give a subtle nod, before they start to move away again.

“Oh, one last thing—where are his chambers?”

Uraume pauses to scrutinize you for a moment, and you make every effort to appear as docile as possible, offering a smile that conveys: You are not here to assassinate him.

“To the right. The door at the end of this corridor,” they instruct, with a tone of almost detached certainty, as though Sukuna’s hubris might somehow protect him from being murdered in his sleep.

The same corridor as yours. How convenient.

You nod with a small ‘thank you,’ intending to dismiss them.

With their hands still tucked inside their sleeves, Uraume suddenly withdraws one and reveals a small piece of cloth. They turn it in their hand once before passing it to you.

Confused, you accept it and notice a fresh clump of ice nestled inside.

Raising your gaze to Uraume, you find them regarding your bruise with a pointed look.

“Goodnight, my Lady.”

Turning, they silently slip from your room and shut the door behind them.

* * * * *

The events of the day chew at you, making sleep impossible. Tossing and turning on the futon in your new chamber, you've been staring at the same spot on the ceiling for hours.

What time is it? One? Two? Three in the morning?

The clump of ice that Uraume gave you for your contusion has long since melted, leaving only a damp cloth behind. You want to feel gratitude for their gesture, but you remind yourself that everyone here sees you as both property and prisoner of their master.

Sighing, you turn onto your side and glance at the ceramic plate. You have mostly eaten the food, except for the meat, which you've pushed to one side.

You lie there restlessly, straining to hear any sound, but the silence is nearly maddening. Were it still raining, the steady rhythm might provide some relief from the oppressive stillness, perhaps even lulling you to sleep.

Yet, silence could also be a good sign.

You roll to your back.

Considering the possibility that the quiet means no one is around, maybe you can slip unnoticed to his chambers and finish this.

Two months.

You sit up and place your feet on the cold wooden floor. Your silk gloves lie on the table, but you won't need them for this.

Rising, you approach the door, taking care to apply minimal pressure to avoid making noise. It takes you at least a minute to open it as quietly as possible.

Standing in the doorway, you peer into the velvet darkness of the corridor.

You glance left, then right. Silence. It's so quiet, so dark.

Stepping out cautiously, you move to your right and begin walking. Your steps are faint and slightly unsteady.

The corridor’s width and depth are deep, like descending through a vast, elongated throat, with Sukuna’s chambers at the end serving as the stomach. Given what you have observed in the shrine’s layout, his room appears to be at the heart of the structure.

You shiver as you continue, flexing your hands at your sides.

As you approach the door, you notice a faint, diffused light filtering beneath it.

He’s awake.

A ringing sound begins to flood your ears, drowning out all other sensations. Almost as if you are in a trance, you lose all awareness of your feet beneath you.

At last, you reach the massive door.

Standing before them, you extend your arm. The sound in your ears is so loud you don’t register the sound of your knocking once, twice, a third time.

When the buzzing finally stops, sounds pierce through your settling haze—lewd sounds.

A deep grunt. A whine. No, two whines. Two women? Followed by some other indiscernible sounds that make your skin flush from head to toe.

"The fuck is it, Uraume?" Sukuna's irate, out-of-breath voice barks from the other side.

Shit.

It’s too late now.

You clear your throat and draw your shoulders back.

"It's not Uraume, it's me, my Lord.” Your voice seems to echo down the corridor as you call out. 

There’s no response from within.

Your yukata suddenly feels too tight, as if it wants to strangle you to death. You stare at the dark wooden door impatiently, considering turning back.

Then, there is the sound of skin on skin, a small keening noise that makes you wince, followed by the shuffling of fabric.

Silence.

Heavy footsteps.

Bang!

The left side of the sliding door rips open, making you jump.

You come face to face with one very sweaty, very bare-chested Ryomen Sukuna—eye level with his sternum, a prominent pectoral muscle glares you in the face. His slate grey hakama rests precariously low on his hips, as though thrown on hastily. Although you've seen him like this once before, this encounter feels entirely different—more intimate and unsettling.

He’s been fucking. 

Your body tenses as you realize this is the closest you've ever been to experiencing the act, just by proximity.

The heat radiating from his skin catches in your throat, stifling the air around you. You swear you can feel the strands of hair around your face beginning to curl from the warmth and a bead of sweat forming on your upper lip.

Unintentionally, your eyes drift to his right, peeking into the room beyond. For a fleeting moment, you glimpse the two attendants from earlier, their naked flesh illuminated by the soft lantern light within. In an instant, Sukuna’s two right arms shoot up, gripping the doorframe with startling speed, making a dull thud as they strike the wood. The two women vanish from sight, concealed by his muscled arms, leaving only his imposing figure before you.

Collecting yourself, you tip your chin up to meet his gaze.

The lantern’s glow from his chambers casts a dull light, silhouetting him. His red orbs peer into you, their intensity practically blazing against the darkness of the corridor.

“It’s quite late, wife. Yet here you are at my door. Why?” His voice is stern, and he leans in slightly, closing the distance between you. His immense frame eats everything in your vision.

Under normal circumstances, this question might be amusing. What wife wouldn’t seek out her husband on their wedding night?

"I wanted to say goodnight," you reply. A weak excuse, but you manage to keep your voice calm, measured, and sweet, although fake.

You force your eyes to widen and attempt to make them flash with a hint of playfulness, trying to project a confidence that you know isn’t there.

“Hmh,” Sukuna exhales dismissively. “Wanted to say goodnight,” he repeats with an annoyed grumble that causes your facade to waver.

His fingers begin to drum along the doorframe, thick veins pulsing beneath the skin of his hands with each movement. The pads of his fingers tap out a rhythm—short, sharp, and deliberate, as though taunting you.

He keeps drumming and drumming and drumming, the relentless beat almost in sync with your pounding heart.

You struggle to keep your composure, the walls you've erected for this encounter crumbling. Your fingers betray you as you dig your index fingernail into the cuticle of your thumb, the sharp pain biting into your flesh.

Suddenly, the drumming of his fingers stops.

Sukuna’s upper eyes fixate on your face, while the lower ones briefly observe your fidgeting hand. The corners of his mouth twitch, as if caught between suppressing a smirk and maintaining a contemplative frown. A heartbeat later, the right side of his mouth gradually tips upward, and his eyelids lower slightly, growing heavy as he directs his full attention toward you. 

An expression of heated intrigue washes over him.

There it is. That’s what you've been waiting for.

You hold his gaze, and he holds yours.

His eyes search you, as if attempting to unravel every hidden thought you hold. But you would never allow that to happen. Revealing even a sliver of yourself to the King of Curses would only lead to misery, and he would take perverse delight in your ruin.

His four eyes darken, pupils dilating, swallowing red.

Got you now, you bastard.

“Master.” A whiny voice from one of the women breaks the tension between you two.

“Shut up,” he snaps, not looking away, but his expression shifts. His fingers dig into the doorframe, and the tendons in his arms strain as if agitated.

Determined to regain the upper hand, you try one of your sister’s tactics. You push a charming smile onto your face, hoping to pull him back into you. But the effect is immediate, and it’s not what you wanted. His mouth twitches, expression faltering.

“Please, Master Sukuna. We need you,” she begs again.

He casts you one last look before a crease forms above his nose and turns his head. His four eyes disappear as he looks over his right shoulder, bringing his left shoulders closer to you.

He’s distracted.

Your gaze is drawn to the large black circular ink on his lower left shoulder. It seems to call out to you, like it’s screaming.

You feel Sukuna’s deep voice rumbling through your body as he speaks to the women, but the words are shapeless syllables.

He’s distracted.

You must stay.

Sifting inside yourself, you concentrate on activating your gift. Once you feel it tingling against your skin, you extend your arm, palm flat and fingertips poised, and reach for him.

You have to do this—

Bang!

The sliding door crashes back into place, extinguishing the light and leaving you alone in the darkness.

You hear Sukuna’s heavy footsteps pad across the wooden floor within the room. There’s a slap of skin, followed by a high-pitched squeal.

You bunch your hand into a fist and resist throwing it straight through the door.

The noises get more deranged, so you retreat hastily, wanting to avoid hearing him in his throes of passion or, more so, depravity.

When you return to your chamber, you slide the door shut and crawl onto your futon.

Staring at the ceiling once more, you reflect on what just happened.

Although you failed in your second attempt to kill him, you may have uncovered something revealing.

Despite the presence of two warm bodies, he still chose to open the door to you.

That expression on his face.

In light of all the bravado and arrogance he has thrown at you, it seems the King of Curses was lying when he claimed he didn’t want you.

* * * * *

🔗 Chapter 5

[sashayed]

the other day a doctor told me that "the best way to make [something i should do but never want to do] routine is to put it on your calendar!" and i found myself completely buh-- hhuh?-- about how to respond. i was stupefied by the gulf between our worlds. i looked into her kind eyes and i thought "put it on my what?" shoot it into space? i did not know how to explain to this extremely functional woman that an obligation to myself, with no stronger enforcer than my own words on a calendar, is to me a tattered codex from a lost religion. like this text is maybe historically interesting but not useful as a structure around which to build a life. what am i now going to write that will (or indeed should!) have any authority over me later? WALK? i don't know her life! and in what world would i respect directives left to me by a complete stranger (me from two days ago) whomst i have every reason to distrust (ate all the entemann's and put our keys in the laundry)? put it on my calendar. ok, dr goodbrain. but in the moment i nodded like a grinning toy monkey and dutifully thumbed WALK! into my phone at 4 p.m. Repeat: Every Day like that would have any effect on my actual behavior. sometimes it takes an enormous amount of optimism to be a person and frankly i admire us all for trying to do it

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Terry Pratchett about fantasy ❤

Terry Pratchett interview in The Onion, 1995 (x)

O: You’re quite a writer. You’ve a gift for language, you’re a deft hand at plotting, and your books seem to have an enormous amount of attention to detail put into them. You’re so good you could write anything. Why write fantasy?

Terry: I had a decent lunch, and I’m feeling quite amiable. That’s why you’re still alive. I think you’d have to explain to me why you’ve asked that question.

O: It’s a rather ghettoized genre.

Terry: This is true. I cannot speak for the US, where I merely sort of sell okay. But in the UK I think every book— I think I’ve done twenty in the series— since the fourth book, every one has been one the top ten national bestsellers, either as hardcover or paperback, and quite often as both. Twelve or thirteen have been number one. I’ve done six juveniles, all of those have nevertheless crossed over to the adult bestseller list. On one occasion I had the adult best seller, the paperback best-seller in a different title, and a third book on the juvenile bestseller list. Now tell me again that this is a ghettoized genre.

O: It’s certainly regarded as less than serious fiction.

Terry: (Sighs) Without a shadow of a doubt, the first fiction ever recounted was fantasy. Guys sitting around the campfire— Was it you who wrote the review? I thought I recognized it— Guys sitting around the campfire telling each other stories about the gods who made lightning, and stuff like that. They did not tell one another literary stories. They did not complain about difficulties of male menopause while being a junior lecturer on some midwestern college campus.

Fantasy is without a shadow of a doubt the ur-literature, the spring from which all other literature has flown. Up to a few hundred years ago no one would have disagreed with this, because most stories were, in some sense, fantasy. Back in the middle ages, people wouldn’t have thought twice about bringing in Death as a character who would have a role to play in the story. Echoes of this can be seen in Pilgrim’s Progress, for example, which hark back to a much earlier type of storytelling. The epic of Gilgamesh is one of the earliest works of literature, and by the standard we would apply now— a big muscular guys with swords and certain godlike connections— That’s fantasy. The national literature of Finland, the Kalevala. Beowulf in England. I cannot pronounce Bahaghvad-Gita but the Indian one, you know what I mean. The national literature, the one that underpins everything else, is by the standards that we apply now, a work of fantasy.

Now I don’t know what you’d consider the national literature of America, but if the words Moby Dick are inching their way towards this conversation, whatever else it was, it was also a work of fantasy. Fantasy is kind of a plasma in which other things can be carried. I don’t think this is a ghetto. This is, fantasy is, almost a sea in which other genres swim. Now it may be that there has developed in the last couple of hundred years a subset of fantasy which merely uses a different icongraphy, and that is, if you like, the serious literature, the Booker Prize contender. Fantasy can be serious literature. Fantasy has often been serious literature. You have to fairly dense to think that Gulliver’s Travels is only a story about a guy having a real fun time among big people and little people and horses and stuff like that. What the book was about was something else. Fantasy can carry quite a serious burden, and so can humor. So what you’re saying is, strip away the trolls and the dwarves and things and put everyone into modern dress, get them to agonize a bit, mention Virginia Woolf a few times, and there! Hey! I’ve got a serious novel. But you don’t actually have to do that.

(Pauses) That was a bloody good answer, though I say it myself.

[starryhyuck]

under his desk. (m)

pairing: ceo!johnny x afab!reader

words: 7.4k+

summary: you discover your new boss has a secret hidden up his sleeve.

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: talks of violence, reader is jaehyun’s sister, rough sex, slight breeding kink, sir kink, public sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, mentions of throat fucking

“I need a job.”

Jaehyun’s mouth is wide open, spoon hovering over a bowl of soup, inches away from sitting on his tongue. His eyes dart up to see your anxious expression, eyebrows pulled together. He sighs, resting his spoon back down before leaning back in his chair.

“So this is why my sister finally reaches out to have dinner with me,” Jaehyun says, running a hand down his face exasperatedly.

“Come on, Jae,” you plead, fingers twisted in the napkin on your lap. A large chandelier hovers over the two of you, illuminating the disappointment gracing Jaehyun’s face. “You know I would never ask you for a favor like this unless I really have to.”

He observes the serious look on your face. It’s been years since you’ve reached out to him, the two of you losing touch after you parted ways when graduating from university. Your brother set off to a successful career in finance, climbing rank until he was nearly at the top, making an enormous amount of money that he had no clue what to do with. You were the opposite, chasing your dream of writing at a huge publishing firm, only to be met with disappointment by a few odd jobs and barely enough cash to cover the bills. You never asked Jaehyun for help even though you both knew you needed it.

He has a contemplative air cast around him, fingers rubbing at his chin lightly.

“I don’t know anyone in the writing world-“

“It doesn’t have to be that,” you immediately interject. You don’t care if he can smell the desperation across the table. “I’ve given up on that dream. I just need something stable, something I don’t have to make backup plans for if it falls through.”

He sighs again. “There is something, but it’s not easy-“

“I’ll take it, Jae. Please, I promise I won’t fuck this up.”

He stares at you for a while, taking in the hunger in your eyes. He hasn’t seen you like this since you graduated, proclaiming that you would become a best-selling writer before the year’s end. Now, you’re simply a girl crushed by the weight of your dreams and chasing a solid figure in your bank account.

“Let me see what I can do.”

—

You straighten your skirt for the umpteenth time, clutching the clipboard to your chest for dear life. The stiletto heels are digging into your feet but you keep your toes as straight as possible, trying your best to look like you know what you’re doing.

The door flies open and you take a deep breath. Johnny Suh walks by you without a word, taking his seat at his desk before finally sparing you a glance. His eyebrow raises at your appearance but he says nothing else.

“Good morning, sir,” you say with a smile. “I have your morning reports here and your daily schedule. Which would you like first?”

“My coffee.”

You pause, the smile slipping off of your face. “Y-Your coffee?”

He’s not amused in the slightest. “Black, no sugar. I expect it on my desk as soon as I walk into this room.”

“Yes, sir.”

A few beats pass. “Well?”

You stumble, racing for the door and exiting his office. You calculate there is absolutely no way you could make it to a coffee shop and be back on time, instead heading for the break room. You exhale as you place an empty cup under one of the high tech machines, waiting patiently as it brews for you.

“You’re the new assistant, aren’t you?” A voice questions. Another man walks into the room, taking a cup for himself and occupying another machine. He outstretches his hand to you. “I’m Doyoung.”

You shake his hand and smile politely, offering your name.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, watching as you carefully take the brewed cup of black coffee from the machine and search for a lid. “How’s the boss so far?”

You chuckle dryly. “Well, it’s my first day and I already forgot his coffee, so I can confidently say it’s not going well.”

He throws you an apologetic look. Before you can exit, he speaks again. “In my experience, Johnny favors resilience over anything. If you can show him that you’re serious about this without making a fuss, then he’ll reward you for the hard work.”

You smile thankfully. After bidding Doyoung goodbye, you make your way back into Johnny’s office, grateful to have met someone willing to help you navigate this job. Jaehyun warned you it would be difficult since Johnny was a particular man, to quote your brother, but you’ve handled much worse than a snooty CEO. You’re not one to back down this easily.

You slide the warm cup across his desk. His eyes are shifted downwards, shuffling through mountains of paperwork. He doesn’t glance up at you as he takes his first sip, lips twisting in a grimace. He turns his torso and points out the windows covering the back wall of his office.

“You’ll pick up my coffee order from that shop going forward,” he instructs. You have no idea what location he’s referring to as the view is just out of your eye line, but you make a mental note to check it later.

You nod obediently before taking your clipboard back into your hands, reciting his schedule for the day.

“You have a meeting with the board of directors at ten, a one-on-one with the CFO of Kim Enterprises at eleven, lunch at twelve, and back-to-back meetings regarding the Baek acquisition after lunch,” you say, handing him the sheet from your clipboard. He takes it roughly, sighing as he glances over it. “Here are the morning reports as well. Anything particular you’re craving for today?”

He regards you carefully, and you squirm underneath his judging gaze.

“You’re Jaehyun’s sister, is that correct?”

You swallow. “Yes, sir.”

He says nothing else in relation to the topic. “A sandwich from the Kim’s shop down the street will be just fine.”

“Yes, sir.”

—

After a few weeks of trial and tribulations, you can safely say you have found your footing as Johnny Suh’s assistant.

He is particular, yes, but you can see now that it is only due to the success of the business. When sitting by his side during his meetings to take notes, you’ve noticed how fast he is to shut down any propositions that seem like a waste of time and only approve ideas that are carefully constructed and thought out. Employees appear to equally fear and respect him, which Johnny was well aware of.

You can’t quite tell if he’s pleased with your work, but he hasn���t issued any complaints since the first day you joined. You ensure a cup of warm coffee from Min’s Market is on his desk every morning and a warm sandwich from the Kim’s is delivered to him by lunch. You made an effort to reorganize the filing system his prior assistant had tried to keep up with, which made both your and Johnny’s day easier whenever you needed to access an important document. You have his work schedule texted to his phone every morning instead of using the old paper route, which you find a lot more efficient, yet unsure if Johnny expresses the same sentiment.

It’s conflicting. You feel as if you’re doing a good job but your boss makes no effort to display praise. The only thing you keep reminding yourself of is Doyoung’s comment about resilience, and how you can expect Johnny to reward you in due time.

A call of your name disrupts your typing on your computer, and you’re quick to rise on your feet as you enter Johnny���s office.

“Yes, sir?”

“Ten just called me on my personal line. Make arrangements in my schedule for me to meet him today.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, writing down the instructions on your clipboard. “Anything else I can do for you?”

He pauses, staring at you thoughtfully. You hate it when he does this because you can never read what’s swimming in his head.

“You’re going to Jaehyun’s engagement party, I assume?”

You were ecstatic when your brother called with the news a week ago. He had known Miyeon since university and they stayed together through all the hectic chaos of Jaehyun’s career. He told you they were holding a small party at their penthouse this Sunday, and you were happy to attend in celebration.

You smile and nod. “Yes, I’ll be there, sir.”

He bobs his head once before waving his hand, dismissing you. You leave in confusion, but that was a normal emotion you felt around Johnny nowadays. You return to your desk and pull up his schedule, locating an empty slot for his meeting with Ten.

“How are you holding up, champ?”

You laugh when Doyoung approaches your desk, twirling a pen in his fingers. He’s made it a habit to check up on you every now and then. Another tidbit you learned when you began working here is that most people did not envy you for your position as Johnny’s assistant. If anything, they pitied you. Doyoung told you bets had been made around the office for when you would quit, to which you replied, “He’s not that bad.”

Doyoung chuckled and said, “Give it a few more weeks.”

Ever since then, he’s been spying on you for the rest of the employees, trying to see when your resolve would crumble.

“I’m still here, Doyoung,” you reply to his question, raising an eyebrow.

He grins. “That you are. Still having a hard time reading him?”

“Who doesn’t?”

He snickers. “Well, if it lifts your spirits at all, we’re heading out for drinks this weekend to take the edge off. Come and join us.”

You normally decline such an invitation as your weekends are reserved for catching up on some much needed rest. However, now that you’ve gotten a solid grasp on Johnny’s workload, you feel like a night of alcohol is exactly what you crave to wind down.

“You know what, I’ll be there.”

His grin stretches wider, and he’s about to speak again before another voice startles you.

“Mr. Kim, what are you doing?” Johnny’s stern voice asks, standing in the doorway of his office. He scrutinizes the both of you and your shoulders tense.

Doyoung scrambles. “M-Mr. Suh! I was just speaking with-“

“I can see that,” he cuts off Doyoung. Johnny narrows his eyes. “Is there a reason you’ve decided to interrupt my assistant’s work for mindless fodder about after-work events?”

“N-No-“

“It’s best if you return to your desk now, hm?”

Doyoung nods frantically, tail tucked between his legs as he nearly sprints out of the room. Johnny turns his attention to you, lips flattened in a straight line.

“I expect you not to waste time by flirting with other members of the work staff.”

Before you can protest, he’s walking back into his office, slamming the door behind him. You slouch in your chair, scoffing at his behavior.

What was his problem?

—

“I like this drink! Do you think they have tiny umbrellas behind the bar? It’ll make me feel like my life isn’t in shambles!”

You giggle at Joohyun, who is rambling loudly in your ear. It’s evident she’s had her fair share of drinks but she shows no signs of stopping.

You’re grateful Doyoung invited you to this outing because it feels like you can finally get to know your other co-workers without the walls of Johnny’s office blocking you. You feel light for the first time in weeks, and you’re not certain if it’s from the alcohol coursing through your veins or the absence of your ill-mannered boss. Either way, you’re reveling in it.

“Alright, truth or dare?”

You giggle, nearly spilling the shot of vodka in your hands. “Are you kidding me? How old are we?”

“Don’t be a sourpuss,” Doyoung says, nearly throwing his straw at you from across the table. “Truth or dare?”

“Hm, truth!”

“Boo,” Donghyuck from the marketing department yells. You pretend to throw your drink in his face and he ducks, making the whole table erupt with laughter.

“Okay, okay!” Sooyoung snickers. “Would you rather be an accomplice to a high profile murder case or fuck up Johnny’s coffee order?”

You shudder at the thought of delivering the wrong coffee to your boss, and the table is in hysterics over your expression.

“Definitely not the last one! He’ll have my head!”

The rest of the night is a blur, filled with more ridiculous dares from Donghyuck and silly questions from Sooyoung. You all part ways in the dead of the night, stumbling into taxi cabs as you wave goodbye. You elect to walk home since your apartment isn’t located too far from the bar. You shiver as the night chill nips at your arms.

You pass by another dimly lit nightclub, thrumming loudly with the sound of the bass. You know you shouldn’t, but you don’t want this night to end and crush the happy feeling in your chest. It’s the first time since university you haven’t had to worry about bills or how much the drinks of the night cost, and it spurs on your temporary foolish behavior. You enter the dodgy nightclub, convincing yourself that one more drink can’t hurt you.

The area is packed with people, namely older men with large builds and tattoos covering their forearms. You flag down a bartender.

“Hey, what’s going on tonight?” You yell over the sound of the music.

“Big fight downstairs,” he says, pointing to a staircase to the left of the bar. “Drinks down there are free for the ladies!”

Your eyebrows raise, and against your better judgment, your feet find themselves moving down the creaky staircase. The music dies down when you finally make it to the bottom, instead being filled with loud chatter from the bulky men around you.

“You’re insane if you think a newbie is going to come along and take out The Destroyer! He’s undefeated, you idiot!”

“All the greats have to fall sometime. Just watch and see!”

You make your way to the bar, which is a little more tattered and ruined than the one upstairs. The bartender’s eyes widen at the sight of you, which befuddles you until he asks, “Fan of The Destroyer?”

“Who?”

Three loud clanging sounds of a bell echo around the room, silencing the chatter. A man in a crisp tailored suit walks out, microphone in his hand. The crowd of people suddenly shuffle around until an empty square is left in the middle of the room.

“Welcome, everyone!” The man in the suit greets, the curve of his lips twisted into a smirk. “We have a great show for you tonight! For anyone looking to place their last minute bets, please locate Mr. Kim by the bar. Trust me, you won’t want to miss a fight this good!” The statement has the mass hollering while you look on in confusion. “Tonight, we have Payback in the left corner here.” The rallies grow louder as a young, lanky man comes forward, raising his fists in the air and encouraging the crowd. He stands to the left of the announcer, bouncing on the balls of his feet animatedly. “And in the right corner, we have the fan favorite, the undefeated, the legendary Destroyer!”

Your body locks up, breath caught in your throat while the room erupts in a deafening applause. Your hand covers your mouth in shock because the man who walks out, hands wrapped in red tape with his torso completely exposed, is none other than Johnny.

You nearly collapse into the bar from surprise, but the bartender reads your body language as something else.

“Incredible, isn’t he?” He says into your ear. “How much do you have on him tonight?”

You fail to respond, your mind whirling into a frenzy. There’s no possible way this could be Johnny — it had to be his long lost twin brother or you could be seeing it all wrong. From this angle though, it looks exactly like your boss, even as he wears nothing but a pair of baggy shorts hugging his waist. Your eyes drink in the litter of tattoos covering his chest, tattoos that are hidden in the daylight with his blazers and button-up shirts.

The announcer says a few more words that go completely over your head before ringing the bell, signaling the start of the fight.

You should go home. You should go home and pretend you never saw any of this. Staying here only implicates you, and you can’t imagine what Johnny would do to you if he found out you knew about his underground secret. You need this job, and staying here increases the chances of you losing it, so why can’t you move? Why can’t you pry your gaze away from the ripple in Johnny’s muscles as he lands the first blow, nearly knocking his opponent to the ground? Why does your throat go dry when he delivers punch after punch, eyes blazed with fury as blood begins running down the other man’s nose? Why do you stay rooted in place when the announcer declares Johnny’s victory, raising his arm high as the crowd cheers?

Then, he sees you.

His eyes lock with yours across the room, his victorious expression falling and shifting into something more grim.

That’s when you run. You sprint up the stairs and out of the bar, legs aching before you finally make it back to your apartment, shutting the front door and sliding your back down until you hit the floor.

What the fuck were you going to do now?

—

“Thank you all for joining us. This engagement is long overdue, and I’m grateful to Miyeon for sticking by my side even though I never deserved it,” your brother says, which causes Miyeon to bump his hip with hers jokingly. Guests chuckle at the small show of affection. “Please enjoy yourselves tonight and look forward to a Jeong wedding in the new year!”

Applause ensues, jilting you out of your reverie. You slowly clap with everyone else, trying your best to put on a smile.

You’ve been on edge since you walked into this party, and it’s all because of your idiotic actions from the night before. You contemplated showing up after being caught in the act at Johnny’s secret fight, but you knew it would be obvious if you missed your brother’s engagement party. Even though Johnny was here, you were determined to attend, albeit you having to avoid him like the plague.

In all fairness, you were succeeding thus far. You keep yourself on the opposite end of the room from him, never sparing a glance in his direction although you could feel his eyes on you during sporadic times in the night. Your plan is to leave at a time that wouldn’t raise any questions and go into work tomorrow and pretend you were never at the club that night. You hope Johnny would do the same.

For the sake of your job, you really really hope he would do the same.

You’re in the middle of assessing the charcuterie board, eyeing the various fancy cheeses. It’s just like Jaehyun to make this small party as extravagant as he could, knowing it would make no dent in his bank account. All the food is being carried around by various waiters walking around the floor to offer it to the guests.

“Having trouble making a choice?”

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. You slowly spin around to see Johnny behind you, one hand stuffed into his pocket while the other holds a flute of champagne. He’s wearing a more casual manner of dress, a silk burgundy button-up paired with baggy slacks. It makes his legs look longer and you swallow as he towers over you.

“S-Sir-“

“Johnny!” You’ve never been more grateful to your brother than at this moment. He approaches the both of you with a smile, clapping a hand over Johnny’s shoulder. “How’s my little sister doing as your assistant?”

Your hands twist around your back nervously. Johnny slips into a smooth, easygoing smile.

“She’s doing fantastic. I was actually coming over to tell her just that, especially since she’s the one carrying all of my secrets to the grave.”

Your heart thumps louder in your chest while Jaehyun laughs, taking Johnny’s statement as a joke even though you know better. Johnny’s eyes analyze you carefully, the dark halo in his orbs making you quake in your heels.

“And how about you, dear sister? How’s the scary boss holding up?”

You throw your brother a tight grin. “He’s wonderful, Jae. No complaints here.”

Jaehyun nods, pleased by your progress before excusing himself to mingle. He leaves you alone with Johnny, who stares at you like a predator assessing his prey. You’re about to bring up a comment about the weather before he says, “Pretty girls like you shouldn’t be lurking on the wrong side of town.”

A shiver shoots down your spine. “I-I live on that side of town.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t pay you enough then.”

You exhale, certain he can hear the loud ringing of your heartbeat in your ears. He sets his champagne glass down on a nearby table before grabbing a bite-sized quiche, holding it out to you.

“I’m okay,” you decline and he hums, placing the treat in his mouth for himself. You can’t help the way your eyes linger on how his fingers graze his tongue, licking off any spare crumbs. You think about how those same fingers were pummeling into a poor stranger the night before. How the fire in his eyes couldn’t be tamed by the outcry of his fans.

You picture the same angry Destroyer hovering over you in bed, telling you exactly what he plans to do to you while his fingers wrap around your throat.

His mouth twists into a smirk and you shake yourself out of your daydream. He flags over another man and they shake hands, laughing as they exchange greetings.

“This is my assistant,” Johnny says, turning his attention to you as he offers your name. “She has big aspirations to work for a publishing company after she gets tired of me. Maybe Ahn Books has an opening?”

Mr. Ahn shakes your hand, telling you how lovely it is to meet you, but your eyes can only focus on Johnny. He’s staring at you with a knowing look in his eye and it takes you by surprise.

Was this a bribe to keep quiet about what you saw?

“Any worker who can handle Johnny is certainly a star in my books,” Mr. Ahn chuckles. “Let me know when this one starts getting on your nerves.”

You laugh anxiously and nod. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Ahn.”

Johnny gives you one last look. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He doesn’t provide an opportunity for you to respond, throwing an arm around Mr. Ahn and guiding him away into the crowd.

You release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

—

Johnny wants to fuck his assistant.

It’s plain and simple, but it’s very much against his wishes. When Jaehyun approached him with the ask to hire his sister, he didn’t hesitate to grant his friend the favor. He had known Jaehyun since they worked at their first company together out of college, and although Johnny had never met you, he figured you would be a good worker if Jaehyun vouched for you. Plus, his last assistant had just quit from being too “overworked.” Johnny thinks they weren’t trying hard enough.

You were pretty, way too pretty to be somebody’s assistant. You deserved to be the main attraction and Johnny is ashamed to admit he’s definitely salivated over the tight pencil skirts you’re always wearing around the office.

He convinces himself to put aside his own selfish desires considering you’re one of the best assistants he’s had in years. You’re incredibly organized and after he warns you once concerning something important, you ensure not to do it again. The only big thing that irritates him is how everyone in this office is clear about their desire to fuck you but you’re wildly oblivious to all of it. Do you really think Kim Doyoung comes to talk to you because he’s friendly?

It fuels him with jealousy and he’s not normally a jealous guy. And Christ, when he saw you in the crowd of his fight, blinking at him warily like a deer caught in the headlights, his heart stopped in his chest. He never intended on letting anyone know of his after-work activity, considering it was inappropriate for a man of his status to be engaged in such a violent act.

When Johnny first got into underground fighting, he had simply been a watcher. He was introduced to the scene by an old colleague and it intrigued him to observe random strangers beat the living shit out of each other for pure sport. He had practiced boxing growing up and the idea of finally discovering a place where he could put those skills to use drew him in. Most of the time, it gave him a spike of adrenaline when he won a match. It normally never gave him gratification to send his opponent home covered in blood, but he kept going because of the reputation he was building for himself.

And seeing you there, watching him win another match and once again being declared undefeated, it makes him feel... proud. Almost like he craves to prove himself to you, to demonstrate that he’s the kind of man that can take care of you.

He’s crossing a clear boundary line but his impulse to have you is overtaking the coherent part of his brain.

So when you walk in on Monday morning and squeak out a “Good morning, sir,” he swallows the need to bend you over his desk.

He greets you with a gruff “Good morning,” which has your eyebrows raising at the response. He normally ignores your attempts at chitchat, especially when it’s this early.

“I texted your schedule to you for today and I have your morning reports here,” you say as you slide over a stack of papers to him. “Can I get you anything else?”

You. Under the desk. On the desk. In the chair. Against the window.

“No, that will be all.”

You move to exit the room, pausing when your hand rests on the handle of the door.

“I-I just want you to know I haven’t told anyone about what I saw this weekend,” you murmur.

“I wouldn’t care if you did,” he replies frankly.

It’s true — he thought about it after leaving the nightclub on Saturday, and he wouldn’t be opposed if you went and told the rest of the work staff. Some sick part of him would actually be smug at the idea of you bragging about his wins to the other employees who so clearly want a taste of you.

“Oh,” you say, slightly startled. “Well, I still won’t tell. It’s your private business, after all. I shouldn’t have even been there in the first place.”

The nagging voice in the back of his head grows louder, desperate to learn what you think of him. “Did you hear what they were saying? How they were betting on The Destroyer?”

You squirm in your spot. “They said you were undefeated, that the newbie didn’t stand a chance.”

He wonders if you’re scared of him, frightened not only by his savage blows but his evident power over you. You must think that he intends to blackmail you to keep his secret, but he could care less what you choose to do.

All he wants is for you to feel the same way he does. He wants you to battle this warmth in your chest, to panic as your mind goes blank when you see him. And he can’t have any of that while you’re his assistant, working under him despite how much he would prefer you directly underneath him.

It’s why he introduced you to Mr. Ahn, an old family friend who owned one of the largest publishing companies in the country. Jaehyun mentioned to Johnny that your real passion was in writing, but the lack of funds drove you to your current spot. Johnny hates that your dreams were crushed because of something as trivial as money, which he carried an abundance of. He would fund your first book in a heartbeat if you asked, but he knows you well enough to understand your pride would never allow you to be indebted to him. He figures a job with Mr. Ahn would be more digestible for you, and it would provide him an opening to make his move.

“Do you ever get worried?” You ask him, chewing on your lower lip. “You could get seriously hurt fighting like that.”

An ache blooms in his chest. Do you care about him getting injured?

“I haven’t been hurt since I started fighting,” he shares with you. “I don’t give them a chance to get their hands anywhere near me.”

You swallow and he wrings his hands together under his desk. Does that turn you on? His office walls aren’t soundproof, but he could lock the door and throw a hand over your mouth to conceal your moans. His cock twitches in his trousers at the thought.

His fantasy shatters when you finally crack open the door.

“I’ll order a sandwich from the Kim’s for your lunch today, sir.”

“Why don’t you make it two and join me?”

You stutter. “I-I’m sorry?”

“Join me for lunch. I could use another pair of eyes on these awful spreadsheets.”

“O-Okay.”

—

Johnny is playing with fire.

He’s very aware of this, yet he can’t seem to stop himself. You’ve eaten lunch together everyday for the past two weeks, munching quietly in his office while he divulges his reasoning to you behind budget cuts and expansion decisions. In the beginning, you would nod and listen patiently. After his encouragement to speak up and voice your opinion, you slowly started coming out of your shell around him.

And he’s very well informed of what the office thinks about your private time together. Last week, he overhears Doyoung mumble to you, “You and the boss are getting close.”

A grin stretches from ear to ear on his face when he listens to your response.

“Oh, I guess we have. He’s been really sweet with me.”

An envious scoff from Doyoung is enough to make Johnny’s entire day.

Late that Friday, you both stay overtime in order to complete the documents required for the Baek acquisition that Johnny has to present to the board of directors on Monday. He insists that you finish your tasks in his office to be more efficient, although the real reason is that he wants to look at your legs while you work.

He watches as you roll your neck, humming when you finally hear the familiar snapping sound.

“Maybe we should call it a night,” Johnny sighs, tired of staring at you for hours without being able to discover what’s hidden beneath that skirt of yours.

You frown. “But we’re only on the seventh page.”

“I’m starting to think you enjoy this work more than I do,” he says with a smirk.

You look down bashfully, avoiding his gaze. “I just don’t think you’ll be ready by Monday if we call it quits.”

“Let me worry about that, hm? I’ll drive you home.”

Your head whips up. “Oh, sir, I couldn’t let you-“

“I want to,” he says firmly.

You smile softly and nod. The two of you pack up the rest of your things, with Johnny storing the paperwork in his briefcase to review for later. He escorts you down to the parking garage and you pile into his vehicle. He observes as you admire the sleek interior, and he’s conscious of the fact that the cost of this car could likely pay your rent for five years. He really does want to offer you a raise to get you into a better apartment in a more decent side of town, but he’s certain you would interpret the gesture as a bribe rather than an act of kindness.

As the vehicle merges onto the busy city road, you pipe up from the passenger seat.

“Are you fighting this weekend?”

The question startles him. You haven’t spoken about his fighting since the moment you told him you would keep his secret.

“Every Saturday,” he replies, sneaking a quick glance over at you.

You have a nervous expression painted on your face. He opens his mouth to ask why before you speak up again.

“Will you be careful?”

The car halts at a red light, and he uses the spare time to fully look at you. You stare back at him, your eyes filled with concern.

It’s completely inappropriate and out of line, but his hand reaches over the dashboard to grab yours. He raises the back of your palm to his mouth, lips brushing over your knuckles. The intimate gesture has you staggering your breath.

“I promise.”

Your words rattle around in his head the following day. He usually doesn’t need any words of encouragement before a fight, his music playlist being enough to boost his spirits. This time, however, he thinks about you tucked away in his car. He pictures your pretty face when he kissed your hand, how your eyes darted away from his in embarrassment.

You’re the reason why he walks into the crowd with a mission, clapping his hands together as he faces his mediocre opponent. When the bell rings, he doesn’t pull his punches as he strikes the first jab into the other man’s face. You’ve awakened something in him and the crowd’s cheers grow louder when he lands blow after blow. It isn’t long before his challenger is stumbling across the floor, falling on his back after Johnny delivers the final thwack against his abdomen.

A hand wraps around his arm and holds it high in the air. The announcer declares his victory, once again proclaiming him undefeated. The roars of the crowd fill his eardrums, but the only person he can think about is you.

His body moves before his mind can convince him otherwise, getting dressed and gathering his things as quickly as possible before exiting the nightclub. He nearly breaks into a sprint in the chilly night air, reaching your apartment within minutes.

When you open the door, your jaw drops open at the sight of him.

“Johnny-“

His hands cup your cheeks, pushing your body backwards until you hit the wall. His nose brushes against yours and your breath hitches, hands reaching up to curl around his wrists.

“Tell me I should stop,” he whispers against your lips. “Tell me I’m crossing a line and I need to walk out that door and never come back.”

He watches your chest rise and fall with each passing breath. Your expression crumbles before you press forward, locking your lips with his.

A frenzy ensues. He shuts the door to your apartment forcefully, almost rattling it off of its hinges. His tongue slips into your waiting mouth, fingers gripping your waist tightly. You’re whimpering against him, basking in the sweat and tanned muscles from his win.

“Sir-“

“Fuck,” he hisses, pushing his body against yours. You whine when you can feel his hardened member against the fabric of your shorts. “Do you know how much it turns me on whenever you call me that? Always parading around in these fucking tight skirts, calling me sir — you’re practically begging me to stretch you open.”

You pant. “I want you to. I really really want you to.”

You both clumsily move to undress the other, with Johnny’s fingers pulling down your shorts and your hands lifting up his shirt. There’s a little dried blood on his torso as evidence from the fight.

“Sorry, I didn’t shower before I came and-“

“Did you win?”

A pause. “Of course I won.”

Then your lips are on his, tongues swirling together. The kiss is sloppy with the two of you mouthing at one another, desperate to grasp at any physical contact you can. You squeak in surprise when Johnny lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist before pinning you against the wall.

He trails kisses down your neck, ripping your old university t-shirt in half and discarding it on the floor. Your sports bra follows after, and he gives you no time to complain before he takes your right nipple into his mouth, licking wildly. He shifts his attention between each breast, fingers flicking at the peaked bud if he neglects one for too long.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, whimpering softly.

“S-Sir-“

“Need me inside you?” He murmurs against your skin. “You’re so fucking tempting.”

“Please,” you beg, tugging at the strands of his silky brown locks. “I need you so badly.”

He’s quick to release his cock from the confines of his shorts, tip red and leaking. You whine when you see the evidence of his arousal. Johnny knows he’s bigger than most so he moves your panties to the side and runs a finger through your folds. He groans when he feels you practically dripping onto his palm.

“You really do need me badly, hm?” He remarks with a smug grin. “Tell me what’s gotten you so wet, baby.”

“Y-You,” you choke out. “Ever since I saw you fighting as The Destroyer, I-“

Your words are cut off by a piercing scream when the tip of his cock slides into you. He takes your arms and wraps them around his neck, stabilizing you as he cups his hands around your ass, rutting up into you. He can tell you’re marveling at his strength — his ability to lift you like you weigh nothing. He holds you close as his hips piston deep into your cunt.

“Look at what you do to me,” he bites in a venomous tone. “I can’t think properly when I’m around you. Want to bend you over my desk and let the whole office hear you sing for me.” Another sharp thrust has you tightening your hold around his neck, and he takes the opportunity to dangle your legs over his elbows. The angle fully allows him to fuck you perfectly, balancing you in his arms as he watches his cock disappear in and out of your weeping pussy. All you can do is hang onto him for dear life and take it. “Maybe I should invite Doyoung to come watch us. He’s always fucking chasing after you anyways.”

You unravel around him at a breakneck speed, pushed over the edge by the idea of him claiming you for all of your co-workers to see. He grunts when he feels you clench around him, offering a few more thrusts before he’s following suit. You whimper when he releases inside of you, painting your walls with his cum.

He finally sets you back down on the ground carefully, chuckling when your shaky legs cause you to stumble into him.

“Shut up,” you mumble bashfully, hitting his arm.

He kisses you again, hands resting on your lower back. “Do you think you’d be up for another round?” He whispers, eyeing his cum running down your thighs.

“I think you’re crazy,” you reply, which brings forward another bubble of laughter from him. You draw circles over his arm, admiring the swell of his muscles. Your voice shifts into something softer and lighter. “What are we going to do?”

He brushes his lips over your forehead. “I’ll figure it out. Just let me take care of you, hm?”

You giggle when he scoops you into his arms and carries you into the bedroom bridal style, preparing himself to make you moan for him all night.

—

Weeks after your passionate night with Johnny, you reach out to Mr. Ahn to see if there’s an opening at Ahn Books.

He offers a position as a junior editor and you accept it happily, eager to finally begin your career in the writing world. When you announce your departure from Johnny’s company, you’re surprised by the outpour of love you receive. All of the colleagues you spent a fun night out with bring you various flowers and stuffed animals, requesting for you to stay in touch. Johnny isn’t shocked in the slightest, huffing to himself as he tells you that they’re all in love with you. You simply roll your eyes at his jealousy.

At first, you kept your relationship with Johnny a secret in fear that people would assume you slept your way to the top. It proved extremely difficult to keep your boyfriend’s hands off of you, however. He ached to be near you at all times of the day, and you’re ashamed to admit your last two weeks in the office were mainly spent on your knees or bent over his desk.

“Ungh!”

A hand pushes on your lower back, arching your spine. Fingers tangle in your hair and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“What do you expect me to do now, hm? How am I supposed to get my fill of this pussy everyday when it’s across town?”

A smack echoes throughout the room when his hand collides with your ass and you bite down on your palm to prevent the mewls from releasing. No matter how many times you warn Johnny that the staff outside could definitely hear you two, he never holds himself back. There could be articles written the next day about the CEO fucking employees in his office and he wouldn’t bat an eye. His only focus is you, how you feel around him, how fast he can get you to whine for him.

One particular push of his hips has you reeling, gasping as you clench around him. He groans when he feels your climax hit, sending him tumbling over the edge before his warm seed fills you.

“Johnny,” you scold, reaching back to hit him lightly. “You know I stopped taking my birth control.”

“I’m aware, baby. Why do you think we’re moving in together?”

You scoff. You were initially opposed to the idea, but Johnny somehow convinced you that it would be much easier for you to move into his million dollar house and let him drive you to work every morning. There were no downsides to his proposal, truth be told, but you didn’t want to make it seem like you were using him for his bank account. He asked if he could fuck your throat to call it even, and you agreed.

He sits back down in his chair, pulling you onto his lap. Various papers and pens are scattered across the floor from the aftermath of your intimacy.

“It’s going to be a really good thing for you that I’m leaving,” you say, massaging the back of his neck as he licks at your collarbone. His cock is still seated deep inside you. “You haven’t been productive at work in weeks.”

“It’s the job for the next assistant,” he says dismissively. “Let’s go out tonight in celebration?”

“Okay,” you hum in contentment. “I really do want to thank you, you know. I was about to hit rock bottom before I started working for you.”

“No need to thank me, baby. I would do anything for you. As long as you keep supporting The Destroyer, I’m happy.”

You frown. “I’ll only keep supporting you if you remain undefeated. I’d hate to see you seriously injured.”

He laughs at the idea, as if the thought of anyone taking his championship title is unbelievable. He squeezes your hips and slowly begins to rock you back and forth on his cock, and you whine when you realize he’s growing hard again.

“Don’t be silly. No one has a chance against me.”

“D-Do you think we need to tell Jaehyun about us?”

Johnny shrugs. “It’s the job for the next assistant.”

Then he throws you over his desk once more, grunting as he claims your body until the sun sets over the horizon.

this fic was posted for early access to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here!

[spider-stark]

PRECIPICE

Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary - Forced to attend a stuffy ball, you find yourself hiding beneath a table with Aegon.

Warnings - implied targcest as always

Word Count - 4.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

The delicious aroma of roast mutton is wafting over you as you pass one of the many long serving tables lining the walls of the ballroom. Your gaze drags along the vast spread that has been prepared for tonight; a variety of artisan breads, cooked meats, and candied desserts are laid out upon silver serving dishes. 

As you reach the end of the first table, a pile of lemon cakes snag your attention. Neatly stacked atop an ornate porcelain platter, the cakes are coated in a thin glaze that shimmers in the light. Your mouth instantly begins watering at the sight, your stomach growling in a way that would be deemed improper for a Lady. 

Beside you, holding a plate that has been loaded with mashed potatoes and honeyed chicken, Jace turns his head to cock a brow at you.

“Hungry?” He asks, chuckling softly. 

You suck in a deep breath before forcefully tearing your gaze from the cakes. “Extremely.” 

It takes an enormous amount of will power to turn away from the serving table while still empty-handed, but you somehow manage to do just that. Having hardly even walked a few steps, though, Jace is abandoning his plate to rush after you, softly seizing your wrist to keep you from moving any further. 

“If you’re hungry, then you should eat.” 

His concern is obvious, not only through his tone, but his expression as well. With his furrowed brow and tight-mouthed frown, you’re fairly certain that he’s already considering the consequences of dragging you back to the table and feeding you himself if need be. 

Jace had always been that way—not only with you, but with everyone. He was kind hearted and considerate to fault. 

“I would,” you smile, shaking your head slightly to dismiss his concern, “but I’m afraid that if I do, I might very well pop right on out of this ridiculously tight corset.” 

You wave an idle hand down to your waist, unnaturally cinched by the intricate lacing and boning of the garment beneath your evergreen gown. His eyes follow the motion, tracing along the intense curve, lingering for a moment too long. 

The explanation seems to wash away much of his concern, relieved to know that discomfort was the only reason you had chosen to abstain from the treats being served. Even so, a touch of empathy remains, accompanied by the faintest hint of desire gleaming in his amber gaze. 

Amber—an unusual color for a boy of Velaryon blood. His eyes were one of the many reasons that your mother, the Queen Alicent, felt so confident in labeling Princess Rhaenyra’s boys as bastards behind closed doors. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you knew that there was likely truth to her claims. Your nephews probably were bastards—but you didn’t particularly care. 

Jace was nice to you, and that was all that had ever mattered to you. 

He clears his throat, realizing that he had been gawking at your body for far longer than he should. “It looks uncomfortable,” the words spill out without permission, and you nearly laugh when his eyes go wide. “That didn’t come out right, nothing about it actually looks uncomfortable—it looks stunning! I mean, you look stunning! It’s just that, I don’t know, I imagine that having something squeeze you so tightly might be-” 

“Jace, it’s okay! Truly,” you interrupt his rambling with a soft giggle. “You should know that I’m not so easily offended,” you playfully chide. “Besides, you’re right. It is quite uncomfortable!” 

Actually, quite felt like an enormous understatement. But you didn’t figure that Jace was particularly interested in hearing about how your breasts were aching from being roughly shoved up by the tight garment. 

Jace looses a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Then why bother wearing them? Many noble-women go without corsets. Even my mother hardly ever wears one—she believes they’re vile things that only aid in the objectification of ladies.” 

Your brows rise, agreeing with the claims of your half-sister. But then you let your attention shift to the dais, meeting the rough stare of the reason why you had been forced into the tortuous garb—your mother. 

She’s already watching you when you meet her eye, her lip curled as she sends you a pointed look, silently urging you away from your nephew. It takes a great deal of effort not to shrink beneath the weight of her attention, and you’re beyond grateful for the group of women who shuffle past you towards the dance floor, giving you an excuse to break the hold she has on you. 

“I wear it because my mother wishes for all of her children to look their best,” you answer, shifting your focus back onto Jace. “And who am I to disappoint the Queen?” 

He notes the sudden callousness of your tone, as well as the way you clasp your hands together at your waist, fidgeting with the golden ring on your index finger. He doesn’t bother asking if you’re okay, however, knowing well enough that you were not—and already knowing why, as well. 

You imagine that Jace doesn’t much like your mother; both for her part in the rumors spread about him and his brothers and for the way she has treated his mother. 

It makes you upset in a strange way, a part of you always wishing to defend the Queen, no matter how abhorrent her actions. After all, she was your mother—whether you like it or not—and you knew very well that if someone were to try to hurt you or your siblings, then she would gladly lay her life on the line for you. 

You were thankful for her; even if her protection hurt, even if her maternal love only exists when your life is at stake.  

“Speaking of your siblings,” Jace suddenly notes, veering slightly off-subject as his own stare drifts towards the dais, “how did Aegon manage to weasel his way out of attending tonight?” 

Your brows snap together before letting your head snap back towards the dais, managing to avoid your mother’s nasty stare this time by looking to her right, taking note of each of your siblings. 

Aemond is sat directly by her side, his posture rigid as his eye scans across the room, alert and on-guard as usual. Next to him is Helaena, leisurely picking at her plate of food and mindlessly bobbing her head along to the symphony being played for court musicians. Daeron, who your mother insisted fly Tessarion here from Oldtown so that he might be present for tonight, is sat next to your empty chair, making idle chatter with those around him. 

But Aegon’s chair, sat between yours and Helaena’s, is vacant. 

A knot forms in your stomach when you look back at Aemond, his piercing violet eye catching yours, gleaming with a silent order—find our imbecile brother before he makes a fool of us all. 

You give him a curt nod before looking away, head whirling as you begin searching the crowd around you for any sign of your eldest brother. 

“Simple,” you huff, “he didn’t.” 

Jace hums his understanding as you politely excuse yourself, turning away from him to begin shoving through the throng of people filling the room. 

You decline invitations to dance and spout excuses as to why you can’t stop to chat as you push past noblemen-and-women from various Houses, trying to maintain the pleasant persona your mother favored while still moving fast enough that you might find Aegon before he finds any new ways to publicly bring shame upon the Targaryen name.  

It’s exhausting work—and by the time you have shoved yourself to the other end of the room without finding him, you nearly consider giving up. Your chest hurts and your scalp is itching from being poked and prodded by a dozen or so pins, all of which had been meticulously placed by servants to arrange plaits into a fanciful half-updo. 

In many ways, you look like your mother; with your elaborate hairstyle and green dress, the look is tied together by a pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star dangling from your neck. 

And, in many ways, you hate it. 

Much to the Queen’s dismay, you’ve never much liked the elegant styles preferred by many women at court. No, instead you spent much of your time donning mail with your hair lazily pulled back, joining Aemond for practice in the training yard. 

She hated how unrefined you were, how indelicate you were; fearful for how others at court might view you for it, for how much attention you might draw to yourself. 

You blow out a sigh, resisting the urge to pull all of the pins from your hair as you will yourself to keep walking, to keep looking for Aegon. A table overflowing with carafes of arbor wine and flagons of ale catches your attention, setting off alarm bells in your mind. 

If Aegon were going to choose anywhere to hide at this godsforsaken ball, then it would certainly be in close proximity to the alcohol. 

A cacophony of laughter and clinking goblets surrounds you as you approach, scanning over rows of bottles and skimming the faces of those nearby. Spinning your ring on your finger, you walk along the entire length of the long serving table, disappointed when you reach the end of it and find that your brother is still nowhere in sight. 

Chewing on your cheek, you fight the urge to pour yourself a drink when you notice a carafe of blackberry wine. The plum colored liquid seems to call your name, singing promises of sweet oblivion, an escape from the restless feeling clawing at your chest. 

You’re out of place here in court, and you always have been—you know that, and you worry that everyone around you knows, too. 

Sensical enough to recognize that alcohol would likely just exacerbate your current ill-feelings, you shun the carafe and turn towards the grand entrance. Lifting your chin and squaring your shoulders, you try to appear more composed than you feel as you saunter towards the large wooden doors. 

If Aegon had snuck off with one of the serving girls, then there was a good chance that he was still somewhere in the hall, either flirting or feeling up their skirts. And, if you were wrong, then at least he had provided you with an excuse to slip away from this mess of a ball. 

As you pass by the last serving table, the platters and dishes atop it already thoroughly picked over, you feel someone tug at your dress. You whirl around, a fiery retort already falling off your tongue, fully intending to rip into whoever had found the audacity to touch you without permission—only to find yourself insulting the air. 

There was no one there, at least not close enough to have touched you. 

For a heartbeat you begin to reel, wondering if you’ve started to lose your mind before feeling the sensation again. A sharp tug at the fabric, just by your knee. Your head snaps down towards your dress, covering your mouth before a gasp can slip your lips. 

An arm is peeking out from beneath one of the finely embellished tablecloths, and a well-groomed hand is clutching your skirts. You instantly recognize the hand as Aegon’s, having become intimately familiar with your brother’s touch throughout your life. 

Taking a step closer to the covered table, you try to look natural as you hunch over it slightly to get closer to his level, feigning an interest in a half-eaten roast duck. 

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing, Aegon?!” Your voice is hushed, not quite a whisper, but low enough so that no one other than him might hear. 

Releasing his hold on your skirts, Aegon lifts the tablecloth a little higher, revealing his face. “Get under here,” he tilts his head, motioning for you to join him beneath the table. 

“No!” 

He swiftly presses a finger to his lips in response to your incredulous shout, shushing you. You stiffen, nervously flicking your eyes to each side, checking to ensure that no one had heard you. Fortunately, the courtiers around you appear far too invested in their conversations and drinks to notice how you appear to have shouted at a roast duck. 

Aegon’s lilac eyes are wide, pleading as he shoves the tablecloth up higher, giving you more room to slip beneath it. “Would you just shut up and come?” 

It’s the sheer urgency of his tone that piques your interest, although you wish that it hadn’t. You huff out an annoyed sigh, taking another look around the room before gathering up your skirts and sinking to your knees, crawling underneath the table. 

Once you’ve successfully sat down beside him on the stone floor, he drops the cloth, shielding the two of you from any prying eyes. The material is thin enough that it allows some light to pass through it, very dimly illuminated Aegon’s grinning face, all urgency having suddenly vanished. 

“Welcome,” he almost sounds breathless, the word airy—and utterly unnecessary. 

You can faintly see the rosy coloring of his cheeks, a few messy silver waves tumbling across his face, and you’re immediately willing to bet that he’s extremely buzzed. “What are you doing, Aeg?” 

Your tone is firm, but there’s a certain gentleness to it that was specially reserved for your eldest brother. While you maintain that you love all three of them equally, it’s undeniable that your relationship with Aegon has always been… different. 

He reaches to his side, lifting a carafe from the ground beside him. “Having a party,” he says, raising it towards your face and playfully swirling the garnet colored liquid. 

“I’m unsure if you’re aware,” you motion towards the cloth shrouding you from the bustling ballroom, “but our mother has already planned quite the celebration for tonight—and she likely does not wish for it to be ruined by her drunkard son ducking beneath tables like an imbecile!” 

Aegon pokes his bottom lip out into a pout. “Why must you assume that I am drunk?” 

“Because you’re you,” you drone, cocking your head at him, “and you are always drunk.” 

Rolling his eyes, he sits the carafe down on the ground between you. There are only mere inches separating the two of you, both of you squeezing your limbs close to your body to avoid having a foot peek out from beneath the table. Sitting this close to him, you can smell the sweetness of the arbor red of his breath—as well as the faintest hint of sulfur, a sign that he had clearly gone riding on Sunfyre earlier and had failed at washing off the dragon’s strong scent. 

You take another breath, inhaling the smell of him into your lungs. It was familiar—comfortable, urging your taut muscles to slacken in his presence. 

“And what if I told you that I am sober right now?” 

A snort escapes you, sparing him an incredulous look. “Then I would call you a liar,” you tell him, tapping a finger against the rim of the half-empty carafe. 

His stare drops down towards it, watching as the liquid ripples when you pull your hand back. When he looks back up, he’s wearing a crooked smile that makes your heart flutter. “Mostly sober, then.” 

It’s nearly impossible to stifle your laugh, clamping a hand over your mouth so that you might muffle the sound and prevent passersby from becoming suspicious. The sound only makes his smile grow wider and more genuine, an expression that he graced very few people with. 

“I’ll ask again,” you say, speaking only when you're confident that no more laughter will tumble out. “Why are you down here? If mother finds out then she will be furious and-” 

Aegon tosses his head back, cutting you off with a groan. “Mother will be furious no matter what,” 

Disdain drips from each syllable, thickening the air around you. He didn’t like talking about her much, and you couldn’t blame him for it. Of all your siblings, Aegon had been dealt the worst hand, simply by being born first. He got the brunt of your mothers vile behavior; and you hated that, too. 

“Because,” lazily rolling his neck so that he can look at you again, he answers, “I’d rather spend my night under here,” he flicks a hand up, lazily gesturing around himself, “than be forced to sit through even one more tedious speech from some ancient Lord of gods-know-where!” 

You bite your tongue, holding back another laugh. 

“And,” he continues, nodding in your direction, “I am now saving you from the same mundane fate. You’re welcome.” 

“What makes you think that I needed your saving?” You ask, brows rising. 

Aegon purses his lips, placing a finger against his chin as he feigns contemplation, studying the intricate styling of your hair, the modest long-sleeved gown, and the Star resting against your covered breasts. “Perhaps it was that our mother has you dressed up as though you’re an aspiring Septa.” 

Thinking of the plain women, with their simple gowns and traditional head coverings, you nearly laugh again as you ask, “How many Septa’s do you know that wear corsets and jewelry, brother?” 

“None,” he admits, shoulders lifting into an indolent shrug. “Though, if they looked more like you, then I might finally have a reason to attend prayer. Beautiful women would be more than enough to turn me into a pious man.” 

A warmth creeps up your neck as blood rushes to your cheeks, unsure if his statement was meant as a compliment—was he saying that he found you beautiful? If so, it shouldn’t have been a particularly shocking revelation. After all, Aegon had complimented you before, many times. 

In all fairness, however, most of those times had been when he was thoroughly besotted. He had a habit of sneaking into your rooms and practically draping himself off of you, muttering drunken nonsense about how breathtaking you were. You had never placed much truth in the statements though, assuming that Aegon likely didn’t even recognize who he was speaking to, much less whose bed he had crawled into. 

But even if this was a genuine and mostly sober attempt at complimenting you, the flattery of it doesn’t last nearly long enough. Your own insecurity washes back over you far quicker than you like, reminding you of just how unlike yourself you currently feel. 

“I do not believe that anything would be capable of turning you into a pious man,” you joke, trying and failing to cover up the melancholy that has settled into your bones. “Not even beautiful women.” 

“You could.” 

The answer comes far too quick, spilling from his tongue with an eagerness that even seems to catch him by surprise. 

“Though, I must say, for as exquisite as this dress makes you look,” his hand reaches across the short expanse dividing you, mindlessly running his fingers along the fabric covering your shoulder, “I much prefer the way look in armor—sweaty skin, messy hair, sword in-hand—all of it.” 

Your breath catches in your throat as his touch drifts towards the center of your chest, fingers dragging along the thin chain leading to your pendant, lifting the Star into his palm. He stares at it for a moment before yanking it roughly from your neck, grinning when you yelp. “But this,” he lifts the Seven-Pointed Star slightly, “I absolutely hate.” 

With that, he tosses it from underneath the table, sending it skittering across the floor beyond the tablecloth. 

Your jaw drops open, a hand pressed against the now-sore spot along the back of your neck. Despite yourself, your lips start to curve into a playful smile. You try fighting against it, try pressing them into a firm line, but fail. “Mother will not be happy about that-” 

“She’s never happy,” Aegon interjects. His own expression shifts, the line on his forehead deepening as he says, “Do not let yourself bear her misery. Life is too short—and you deserve more than that.” 

A palpable silence is thickening the air, and your breathing seems to synchronize as you simply stare at one another. 

Slowly, nervously, you say, “I’m not sure what it is that I deserve,” 

“You deserve,” he pauses, lips still parted despite the absence of speech. Then, swallowing back the words that had been building in his throat, he says, “you deserve whatever it is that you want, sister.” 

Your hand falls from your neck into your lap, and you avert your gaze, watching your fingers as they fidget with your ring. “And what if I do not know what I want?” 

Once, you had thought that you wanted a life like Jaces. A happy life, with a mother that knew how to love you and siblings that hadn’t been raised in fear of their half-sister ascending the throne, taught that their very existence was a threat to her power. But, suddenly, you felt as though you were no longer sure. 

Aegon hesitates, watching you carefully. His lilac eyes appear as though they’re searching for something within your own—a hint of recognition, or reciprocation. If he found what he was looking for, then you were unaware. “Then you’ll figure it out,” he sighs, his smile not reaching his eyes. “You have all the time in the world to decide.” 

There is something reassuring about his statement, making it resonate with you in a way that you hadn’t expected. You look up, holding his gaze for a heartbeat, then two, and you almost swear that you can see it—the silent invitation, the plea to delve deeper into his words, to decipher exactly what it was that he was promising you. 

You have all the time in the world—all the time in the world to decide if he might ever be something you want. 

Suddenly you find yourself dancing on the edge of a precipice, chest tightening as you grapple with the idea that, maybe, something more might exist between you and Aegon. 

That, maybe, he had always known who he was complimenting and what bed he was slipping into. 

That, for him, it had always been you. 

“Aegon, I-” 

He shakes his head, cutting you off before you have a chance to say something that he fears you may regret. Then, sliding the carafe between you to the side, he scoots closer. “If you plan on staying under my table,” he teases, clearing his throat, “then we need to do something about your hair.” 

“I thought you said I looked exquisite?” You stay still as he starts toying with the strands, trying to swallow the tumult of your own emotions. 

Aegon’s plucking various pins from your hair, tossing them to the ground. “Yes, but I also said that I prefer your hair when it’s messy. It’s more…” he sucks in a breath, unable to hide the admiration swelling in his chest when he finally exhales, “you.” 

Your cheeks are burning hot, and you’re suddenly very thankful for the lack of light around you. On instinct, you almost tell him how your mother wouldn’t agree—but then you think better of it. 

“You’re… generous.” 

Something about your voice sounds foreign in your ears. You sound nervous—and you’re not used to feeling nervous around Aegon. 

His fingers are combing through the plaits forming your updo, his brow drawn taut, framing his lilac eyes, shining bright with concentration. “Generous,” he snorts softly, nails raking lightly against your scalp as he shakes the strands loose, “I don’t hear that one often.” 

“Well perhaps you’d hear it more if you weren’t such an ass,” you shoot back, slowly trying to slip back into your usual self. 

“Me? An ass?” He’s untangled the final braid, scooting away from you slightly now as he presses a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “Never.” 

Now falling in loose waves, free of those incessant pins, you brush your hair over your shoulder. “Just earlier I heard you telling Lord Grover that if wisdom were measured in wrinkles that he would be named Grand Maester.” You point out, unable to mask your amusement while recalling the old man’s shocked expression. 

“Is it not true?” Aegon smirks. “The man is nearly seventy, and his age certainly shows.” 

“Lord Grover is only two-and-fifty, brother.” 

His brows shoot up, gaping at you. “Tell me that you’re not serious!” When you nod, confirming that you are, he sucks his teeth. “Wow—how unfortunate. He looks positively dreadful for his age, then. I thought that he surely had one foot in the grave by now.” 

“Aegon!” You rebuke through your own sputtered laughter, shaking your head at his insolence. “See? This is what I was talking about! If you weren’t so crude then you might get more compliments.” 

Swinging his arm back to grab for the carafe, Aegon’s nose scrunches slightly. “Why bother?” He implores, a hint of mischief in his tone. “My crudeness is what you like most about me, is it not? Without it, dear sister, your life would be quite boring.” 

Just before he brings the carafe to his lips, he inclines his head towards the tablecloth, emphasizing his words. A reminder—that, without him, you would still be out there, sitting miserably amongst your siblings and being forced to dance with Lord’s twice your age. 

There was something more beneath the veil of humor and arrogance, however. A craving that had him tipping the carafe back, hoping that the stinging of the alcohol might numb his gnawing desire for validation—to hear you say that you yes, my life would be boring without you. 

“I suppose you’re right,” the admission has him pausing, the carafe lingering against his bottom lip. “Truth be told, I had never put much thought into it before, but you do have a way of keeping life interesting, Aeg. So, I must agree that, without you, my life would be positively dreadful.” Staring at the ground in-between you, you smile before adding, “After all, who else would be able to convince me to risk our mother’s scorn and crawl beneath a table to drink wine and fix my hair?” 

There’s a slight tremor in his voice when he speaks, trying to mask the warmth swelling in his chest, “You have yet to drink a single drop.” 

“Then I suppose that is the next thing you’ll have to fix,” you say, sticking your hand out towards him, urging him to pass you the carafe. He hands it to you while biting back a grin. 

“Careful,” he warns, “drink too much and you may end up like your drunkard brother.” 

“I don't mind,” You mirror his expression, your own lips curving as you raise the glass upwards, the strong scent of the arbor red stinging your nostrils. “I quite like my drunkard brother.” 

His gaze burns against your flesh as you tilt your head back, allowing the alcohol to slip over your tongue, and you suddenly realize that you are no longer standing on the edge of that precipice. 

You’re falling.

a/n - i was honestly just thinking about jude and cardan hiding under a table in the cruel prince and ended up with this? so yeah, definitely inspired by jurdan content (but y'know... no coup d'etat lmao).

[jiniretracha]

ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 ‘𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟒 ꕤ

Bang Chan x fem!reader: size kink

summary: Your boyfriend loves how fucking small you are compared to him.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (m!receiving), i posted this from my phone sorry if it sucks

word count: 1.1k

kinktober masterlist // masterlist // ko-fi

Bang Chan never thought of himself as someone tall.

In fact, someone who’s 5’7’’ feet tall, shouldn’t consider himself tall at all.

But when you came into his life, that changed almost instantly for him. You were this small bundle of joy that came into his life in the form of his cute girlfriend. As he was a bulky person, a gym bro in other words, he felt huge around you. You were so tiny next to him and he thrived on it. He loved the fact that it made him feel such an enormous amount of protectiveness around you.

Chan would be by his desk at home, just answering some small emails while having you on his lap, and he’d still have enough space to do things with you on top of his legs.

It was one particular day, in which you were doing just that, you sitting on his lap while he was working.

“Babe…” you exhaled, feeling frustrated that your boyfriend wasn’t giving you enough attention, instead focusing on the stupid emails he apparently was so interested in.

“Hmm?” he just hummed.

“Can we do something else? I know you’re working. But I’m bored…” you whined, almost bouncing on his lap.

Chan chuckled and pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck before shutting his laptop.

He pulled away and sighed. “What do you want to do, darling?” he asked, turning you around with ease on his lap.

You licked your lips and gave him a sultry look that easily gave away what your intentions were. “Wanna go to the bedroom?” you whispered with a giggle as you leant forward to kiss his lips.

Chan surprised you by picking up and throwing you over your shoulder, making you yelp.

He chuckled at the sound you made and slapped your butt with his whole palm.

“Come on, babe” he smirked and, once he reached the bed, he threw you in the middle of it. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” he whispered before leaning on top of you without waiting for you to stop bouncing on the mattress.

You giggled and traced his shirtless chest with your hands, making him sigh as he kissed your mouth, lips sucking yours with lust.

Chan’s hands went to the hoodie you were wearing, which was his and it was three times your size, and threw it away, his eyes widening like plates when he discovered that it was the only thing you were wearing except for the nice white lace panties you had on sitting on your hips.

He growled while his hands enveloped your breasts, making him bite his lip at how ridiculously hot it looked that his huge ass palms looked way too big on your breasts.

He then grabbed your panties and pulled them off your legs, throwing them away on the floor without a care and second wasted.

When he was about to press his face between your legs, ready to devour the sweetness that laid there, you grabbed his hair and pulled him away, pulling him towards your face.

“Not- not now, please, I need you to fuck me” you moaned, your fingers tugging at the strands of hair. “I’ve been waiting the entire hour you had me sitting on your lap for you to just fuck me, Channie”

Chan licked his lips and let out a chuckle before ridding himself of his pants along with his boxer briefs. “Poor baby, let me give you what you want, hm?”

You nodded and moaned instantly when Chan inserted himself inside of you. “Shit, Channie, you’re so big!”

He moaned when he felt you clenching around him and even more so when he noticed the familiar bulge on your stomach. It happened every time you had sex with him. And he loved it.

He pressed his fingers over the slight but evident bulge on your stomach. “Do you feel me? Do you feel how fucking big I am, babe?”

“Y-yeah, I do” you nodded desperately.

He grabbed your legs, pulling them over his shoulder and started thrusting at an ungodly pace. “You like that?”

“Fuck, yeah, right there!” you yelled, pressing the back of your head against the pillow under it.

Chan continued thrusting for a few minutes, his mushroom tip hitting the sweet spot inside of you, before pulling away and throwing you easily into an all fours position, inserting his cock back inside of you.

Your body shook violently at the force of his thrusts. It made your toes curl at the thought of your boyfriend manhandling you into any position he wanted because of how strong and big he was.

“Ah! God, you’re so deep, Channie, shit!” you mewled, arching your back as he slid even further.

“I am, babe. Are you close?” he asked you, pressing his fingers over the bulge on your stomach once again, making your walls flutter around his veiny length.

You moaned, clenching your eyelids shut. “Y-yeah, fuck, so close!”

“Come on, baby, come around me”

You let out a scream as you creamed around his cock, making him groan at the feeling.

He pulled away from you and you scrambled around to get on your knees as he jerked himself off. You quickly replaced his hand with your mouth and he moaned at the vision of how small your mouth was compared to his cock.

“God, it barely fits in there, you slut” he chuckled as you continued to try and get him off by taking him further inside your mouth.

He didn’t need much more sucking as he soon came inside your mouth, his seed hitting the back of your throat.

He moaned in satisfaction while you cleaned your lips with your tongue. His eyes fell to you and smiled, his palm caressing your small cheek.

“I love you, baby” he murmured softly, contrasting with the roughness he had showed you earlier.

You smiled back and pressed a kiss to his palm, knowing that he was a sweetheart even after fucking you like a whore. He always made sure you knew how much he loved you.

And you wanted to let him know as well.

“I love you, too”

── .✦

taglist: @annhearttihaehe // @frequentlykit // @alexisfeliz // @jeonginsleftcheek // @yaorzu-blog // @jisunglyricist // @leeknowinggg // @ka0ila // @minghaosimp // @lixies-favorite-cookie // @yn-x-them // @chrizrizz // @madkati // @starzystay // @pancake-freckle // @velvetmoonlght // @regardsto-hell // @jaiuneamesolitaiire //

[gibberishfangirl]

Hello~ Congrats on 100 followers!! You really deserve, it means writing is your AESTHETIC. Anyway, leaving the references aside... I'd like to request Furin boys, Togame and Endo (if it's ok with you) reacting to the reader getting stabbed in their place (the reader protects them) in a fight. You decide whether the boys will see this when it happens or on the way back home with the reader walking much further behind and everything, trying to hide it from the boys. Stay well and stay hydrated, CONGRATS ONCE AGAIN 💚

WIND BREAKER | worth the sacrifice

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Mitsuki Kiryu, Toma Hiragi, Jo Togame

Contains ✰ sfw! violence, blood, reader gets injured, fighting, angst, comfort, guilty feelings, angry feelings and behavior, content of the boys reacting differently to the incident

★ a/n <3 : hiii! thank you so much for the kind words it means a lot! :) i did a mix of some characters finding out in the moment vs later. i didn’t include Endo, simply because im not confident enough in my skills to write him yet, sorry :’D </3★

★ feels enormous guilt, didn’t realize in the heat of the moment. realized you were hurt after it was over on your way home. blames himself for not protecting you ★

-> Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

there weren’t enough words in the world to describe the amount of fear and heartbreak that struck Sakura in the moment when you collapsed on the walk home. Sakura was usually fearless in most situations, always confident in his own abilities but this time was different. he couldn’t help but feel lost, not knowing what to do besides picking you up and running to the nearest hospital as his mind was going insane.

he drowned in his own thoughts the whole way there and even after. ‘when did it happen? where was i? how did i let it happen?’ the man who usually was overflown with confidence felt weak.

Sakura would never be able to live with himself if you were to get a life changing injury under his protection. he felt responsible for everything. he felt pathetic, how could he ever be the strongest when he couldn’t protect you? the person he loves the most. ‘you were okay now but what if something happens again? what if things don’t work out next time? next time. there shouldn’t be a next time. there shouldn’t have been a this time to begin with.’

the incident changed Sakura in a way. he hadn’t been the same since that night at the hospital where he cried for the first time in front of you. where he sobbed into your arms crying “i can’t do this without you. i can’t be here if you aren’t, i need you here with me.” Sakura vowed to himself that he’d never let you or anyone else he cared for be put in that position again. he won’t let it happen again.

Sakura knows how much you love him as you tried to be strong for him. the way you smiled and said it was nothing once you woke up. the way you never flinched or showed fear when you had to stitches. he admired it and wants to do the same for you in return. he considers you to be one of the strongest people he knows and you gave him a new meaning to the word “strong”.

-> Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

Nirei wouldn’t have expected this is how the night would���ve ended. he feels terrible as he was sitting next to your hospital bed on a spare chair. he spent the night with you while you were sleeping. he hasn’t been able to sleep or eat since the incident. he can’t help but just keep beating himself up. if only he had been stronger… how did he realize so late? the two of you were walking home when he wrapped his arm around your waist and felt the blood gushing out from your body while you winced in pain.

“Nirei? You still there?” the sound of your voice quickly snapped him out his thoughts. your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, the small lamp beside you was the only source of light. he looked terrible, his eyes were swollen, face covered in bruises, dried blood on his busted lip, not to mention his eye bags were horrendous. his eyes looked so sad, the way he looked so defeated made you feel devastated.

“hey, are you okay?” even though he looked far worse than you, appearance wise, he was still more concerned about you instead of himself. the feeling of starvation hadn’t even hit him since you were at the top of his mind. he hadn’t even bothered to get checked up on himself.

“yeah, i’m fine. are you okay? have you gotten checked? you’re covered bruises,” you were cut off mid ramble by him embracing you. he hugged you so gently it was almost as if he was scared you’d break by the slightest amount of pressure.

“don’t do that ever again. i can’t lose you. i promise ill be the one to protect you next time— just don’t... i want to be the one you can lean on.” Nirei couldn’t stop the tears from coming before breaking out into sobs as you hugged him back. you couldn’t stop your own tears in time. you were more scared than you realized. you stepped in front of him without thinking, it hadn’t registered how scary the situation was until you were on the hospital bed getting rushed into a room. despite how scared you were you couldn’t imagine how much scarier it would’ve been to not have Nirei here with you now.

★ noticed too late, tried to prevent it from happening but fails. he couldn’t stop it in time and is very upset about it. incredibly irritated by the whole situation. ★

-> Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

Suo knew something happened. however, wasn’t exactly sure what that something was. the most he knew was that you were ‘fine’. he could’ve sworn he saw you get hurt but apparently not? every time he asked you if you were okay or tried to check on you, you’d back away and insist nothing was wrong. he couldn’t help but feel worried, mainly because he knew something was off. he quickly turned around when he had seen that guy sneak up behind him and you ran over to protect him. he tried to pull you away from any chance of getting hurt. he assumed he had succeeded when you didn’t have a physical reaction to any pain. a month and a half passed quickly as the whole incident continued to chew him up inside. since it was winter, it made things easier for you to hide the scar due to amount of gloves you wore. as the season quickly came to an end so did your excuses on covering up your injury. Of course Suo immediately noticed the scar on the palm of your hand. the sight of it immediately made him frown. you could feel your own nerves building up from just watching him examine your hand with a straight face. he gently grazed over the scar with such soft caring hands. it was rare to see your smiling boyfriend be so serious with a sad expression.

“why didn’t you tell me? i asked you about it… you could’ve told me the truth you know?” Suo’s gentle voice broke the awkward silence that consumed the air. his tone wasn’t angry, it was rather soft with a hint of sadness to it. did you not think you could trust him with this information? he could’ve been there for you. you wouldn’t have gone through it alone, he would’ve been there. it’s all he could think of while trying to understand why you wouldn’t tell him.

“m sorry suo, i didn’t want you to worry. you’re always taking care of me… i just wanted to show that i could also take care of you.” you felt bad looking at his expression. you assumed you were doing the right thing by keeping it from him. he always worried so much about you. you thought this would’ve made him more stressed out than he needed to be. you can see now by the way he looks that wasn’t the case. maybe you should’ve just been honest from the start.

“i don’t want you to take care of me if it means you’ll be the one to get hurt in return.” Suo couldn’t help but raise his voice a little as he blurted out the words before thinking. he immediately regretted saying it when you responded with a hurt expression. “wait! no, i mean. i don’t want you to get hurt because of my own mistakes. i should’ve seen it coming, im glad to know you care for me that much. i just don’t want you to get hurt. next time, let me take it.”

“no.” the small word casually left your lips. you know if you were to go back in time you would do the same thing all over again. Suo knew that as well which is why he responded with a small smile. he didn’t want to encourage this behavior but he knew you well enough to know that you’ll never stand by and let the ones you care about get hurt. you were thankful that your boyfriend was so understanding and knew your character so well. he simply sighed in response to your word with a “what am i gonna do with you?”

-> Toma Hiragi ᡣ𐭩

Hiragi felt himself wince at the sight of you getting hurt. he was helping out an underclassmen from getting beat up when the other guy tried to catch him from behind. he let out a yell to warn you while running over to you but it had been too late. the guy had already landed a swing at you with the knife before Hiragi grabbed his arm back knocking the weapon out of his hand. Hiragi couldn’t care less about the guy while you held your arm in pain. He did the most logical thing he could think of which was shoving the guy away from the two of you and making his way to the hospital with you on his back. ever since the two of you started dating, Hiragi made you a priority. he wasn’t planning on breaking that anytime soon. he’d deal with the situation later all that matters right now is you.

“wait! Hiragi- it’s really not that bad! i’m okay. we don’t need to go, you should go get him. i’ll be fine.” you tried to protest against his decision while holding onto him tightly. he was running so fast you were almost scared of falling off. keyword: almost. your boyfriend was incredibly strong and you knew the chance of him dropping you were slimmed down to a zero. Higari ignored your protests as you sighed in defeat. he didn’t leave your side for the rest of the day as the doctor checked up on you.

“Hiragi. I told you i’m fine, you should go back and see if everyone’s okay. you should go update Umemiya while you still can.” your words have fallen on deaf ears since the two of you have gotten there. Hiragi was completely ignoring your words, at least that’s what you thought. in reality he heard you loud and clear but he just simply didn’t care. he didn’t care about anyone else except you in this moment.

“i’ll call Umemiya as soon as i know you’re okay. don’t worry about it.” is the only response he gave to your rambling. you knew he had more to say but you didn’t know how to ask or bring it up. “i’m sorry. i should’ve been more careful with you being around. i didn’t think anything was going to happen tonight.”

Hiragi was genuinely apologetic. he had promised to take you on a date like good boyfriends do but the night went downhill fast. he felt terrible for dragging you into that mess involving his own duties. he often struggled with balancing his duties and your relationship with him but he always tried to make things work. “it’s okay, it’s just another excuse for you to take me on two date nights now.” you smiled focusing on the bright side of things. “of course, i would never say no to that.” Higari always did wonder what he did to get so lucky to have you.

-> Mitsuki Kiryu ᡣ𐭩

Kiryu cursed himself in his own head. he always went out of his way to keep you safe from any danger. so far, he had succeeded until now. he failed to react in time and pull you away. Kiryu wanted to pummel the guy who hurt you but he knew you needed him now more than ever. he hated the fact that anyone managed to hurt, let alone scare you, especially if he was there.

“hi love, are you okay?” with the way your boyfriends tone remained so loving and soft you would never know how angry he was inside. “i’m okay, doesn’t hurt too bad.” you blushed at the feeling of his hand caressing your cheek. your boyfriend grew irritated by seeing your beautiful skin bruise where the scar was starting to form. you caught a glimpse of your boyfriends eyebrows furrow up as his eyes stayed on your scar. the look in his eye sent goosebumps to your body.

Kiryu wouldn’t consider himself to be an aggressive person but he’d be lying if he said he’d never been more tempted to chase down a man and make him regret their decision in his life. Despite all these emotions Kiryu always put you first and stayed by your side. Even if he couldn’t help but wonder what he could’ve done differently to prevent everything from happening.

The way Kiryu always had the ability to manage his emotions was amazing. it’s a skill not most people have and you’re glad he’s one of the few who do. However, he can’t reassure you that he’ll be able to hold back on the day he runs into that guy again. honestly, for everyone’s sake that person better pray they never see you or Kiryu again. Kiryu’s kindness should never be seen as a weakness. that man is a lot more capable than he often leads people to believe.

★ angry at the world, feels so much anger at everyone. blames everyone, himself, you, those around you. slightly mad at you because he would’ve preferred it be him instead. can’t fathom why you would do that ★

-> Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

Umemiya was horrified at watching you get hurt and being so helpless at the moment. he felt so useless, so many relied on him and he managed to fail the one he loves most. he was angry and was having trouble holding it in. he sat there in anticipation waiting to hear if you were okay. he felt like such a failure as he continuously beat himself up. he slapped his face against his hands as he facepalmed. the moment was a consistent replay eating him alive. Higari had tried to convince him to leave to go get changed or showered or to go eat but Ume insisted he needed to stay with you. just in case. you needed him, he couldn’t be there for you when it happened but he’s here now. that counts… right?

Ume didn’t bother sleeping as he watched your restful state sleeping in the uncomfortable hospital bed. you didn’t deserve this, you’re the sweetest person he’s ever met. he was lucky to have you. he didn’t deserve you, he knew that much. how could someone ever do something like this to you? yeah it was his fault but who hurts such an innocent person? you were just there at the wrong time… and it was his fault you were even there to begin with. his body jolted up as he noticed your eyelashes fluttering as your eyes opened. “hey.. how are you? want some water?” his tone was soft and quiet since it was still the middle of the night. he didn’t want to startle you as he went up to you and softly caressed your face. you didn’t respond besides just holding his arm and tugging him towards you.

he let out a small sigh before getting into bed with you since you made some space for him. you instinctively cuddled into him and held him tightly. you quickly relaxed into his chest as he stroked your hair. “i’m okay Ume.” you finally responded trying to reassure him after hearing the way his heart was pounding. fortunately, hearing that come from your sweet voice relaxed him as he felt a new sense of relief that he never felt before.

“why would you do that (y/n)?” Ume finally built the courage to ask you the question that he had been wondering since everything happened.

“because you’re worth it Ume, i love you. id do anything for you as long as you’re safe.” you answered it so casually as if he was already supposed to know that. he felt his own heart melt from your response. typically Ume was always the one putting himself in front of danger for others. he’d never been on the other side of this experience, it made him feel oddly safe. all that previous anger he felt towards himself vanished at your reassurance. “i love you too (y/n).” Ume wanted to do everything he could to his ability to prevent something like this happening again. he was glad he could rely on you, that doesn’t mean he ever wants to see you in this state again.

-> Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

pissed doesn’t even begin to describe the amount of rage Togame feels. he hates the fact that he even feels that way. his knuckles have turned white at this point with how tightly he was gripping the wheel. you had just gotten released from the hospital and you haven’t heard a peep come out of your boyfriend. the moment kept flashing in and out of his head of it all happening. the two of you were around so many people, how did no one step in? how couldn’t he stop it? why would you even get involved after he specifically told you not to? unfortunately the emotion of anger was seeking out of both of you. the tension was so thick, it was bad whenever the two of you matched energy in this way.

“i don’t get why you would do something so stupid. i told you to stay back for a reason. how many times have i told you? do not get involved. stay out of it.” Togame’s harsh words broke the silence quickly. you were more angry at the fact that he was the one who broke the silence instead of you being the one to do it. a small part of you was shocked that he was even angry at you but you saw it coming. he did tell you to never get involved if the situation ever escalated.

“excuse me?? well i’m sooooo sorry that i didn’t want you to get stabbed???!!!” you couldn’t stop the painful sarcastic laughter from leaving your throat while you ‘apologized’. you didn’t stop there, you couldn’t. you were the kind of person where once you got started there was no going back. surprisingly the two of you shared that annoying quality. “i can’t believe you’re actually mad at me. what was i supposed to do? you can’t expect me not to do anything! if it were the other way around you would’ve jumped in the way. why is it so different when i do it? it’s not.”

“it is, there’s a huge difference. i can handle it. you on the other hand, aren’t supposed to handle anything. so don’t bother to next time. i should be able to have you around me without having to worry that you’ll just casually walk in front of a weapon. who does that? i can do that. you can’t.” god sometimes you hated the way he thought. “no. i can, i will and i already have so there’s no changing that.”

“i just don’t get why. there’s no point in doing something like that. i’m not worth saving (y/n). you are, you’re worth everything to me. you can’t just sacrifice yourself for anyone. what if things had gone differently? what if you weren’t okay? what do i do then? what am i supposed to do without? i cant live without you so don’t put me in a situation where i have to even imagine that possibility.” Togame’s outburst caught you off guard. you knew he was angry but you hadn’t expected him to get so vulnerable. the look in his eye changed completely, they didn’t hold anymore anger. they held the feeling of sadness more than anything.

“don’t say that, you are worth saving. don’t ask me not to do it again. i love you, i wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. i’m sorry i worried you but im not sorry for doing it. i care about you. try to see it from my perspective, the feeling of losing you scares me just as much as it does you.” your words stuck with Togame as his expression softened. the feeling of being loved was still new to him and he had some difficulty accepting it at times.

★ a/n <3 : SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONGG </3 I really hope you enjoy this! it took me awhile to write because i wanted to make it as diverse as possible and include as many characters as i could. i wanted to make their reactions differently and have it happen in different ways. i hope i didn’t disappoint! thank you all for reading and being so patient. i appreciate you all! <33 ★

[delirious-donna]

The Best Worst Father’s Day [Nanami Kento]

an: I wrote this in like 20 minutes because i was ‘inspired’. Kento deserves a fantastic Father’s Day but let’s be real… kids are not always willing to deliver

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: fluff, mention of a child, suggestive at the end, kids being assholes, tantrums (not just the kid), Kento being a fucking hero, breeding kink (if you squint)

Masterlist

It was Father’s Day and it also marked the day that your precious bundle of not-so-small joy decided that they were going to be a nightmare. All day.

The morning started out on the right foot, Kento snoozing peacefully with his sleep-soaked face pressed into the spill of your cleavage, a subtle drunk smile plastered to his face. Awoken by the telltale stomps of what your child affectionately tried to pass as tiptoes grew closer to your bedroom door, you blinked away the dregs of sleep just in time. A head peeked inside, drowsy and rubbing their eyes with a beloved teddy bear tucked under one arm like a newspaper.

You smiled and whispered a good morning before pressing your finger to your lips and pointing to their sleeping father. The answering giggle melted your heart as you heard them scamper downstairs, awaiting their breakfast and entertainment for the morning.

Lost in a kaleidoscope of rose-tinted memories that led to this moment, you combed softly through the blond locks of hair hanging low on his brow. Kento shifted, his eyebrows pinching and smoothing out until he rolled over and continued to sleep. He deserved it, he really did.

All those nighttime feedings, endless nappies changed, hours of reflux and windings that never seemed to yield results. The skinned knees and the tears. A million cups of tea at your bedside table before your bleary eyes even opened for the day. Car seats researched to the nth degree for safety reviews and practicality. First steps. Their first word, and of course it was ‘dada’.

The years had sped by at an alarming rate, feeling as those dark tortuous hours in the depths of winter were only yesterday. There had been far more good times than bad, and without Kento by your side the whole time, you weren’t sure how you would have managed. He might not be your Father, but you were determined his day would be one of the best.

However, that slice of idyllic tranquility would be the last, although you did not yet know it.

Whether the stars had misaligned or some demonic imp had decided today was the perfect day to toy with the emotions of a young child, you didn’t know. What you did know was that they were ‘on one’, and no amount of coaxing or reminders of whose special day it was would deter their rampant destruction.

Kento, diligent and steadfast as ever, refused to back away from the plate. He smiled through the gift giving which consisted of a beautiful handmade card by his darling angel, the very same darling angel who was kicking off because they couldn’t watch their favourite tv show right now. Aptly, the bottle of whisky could not have been a better choice, and he glanced surreptitiously at you with a knowing smile.

From there it went from bad to worse. Tantrums and tears, and not only from the hellspawn, ensued. Your sobs of “you’re meant to be relaxing today, not doing all of this” fell on deaf ears. No amount of cajoling or attempts by you were working, leaving Kento to swoop in like a hero just minus the cape and with the addition of a garish tie.

You watched from the kitchen door, enormous mug of tea in hand and a tissue dabbing your puffy eyes as Kento chased your child around the garden. The laughter broke your heart, but in that way that a happy ending in a movie also broke your heart.

There he was, the man infamously referred to as stoic and reserved, growling like a lion and throwing your little darling around to hollering whoops of laughter. If only they could see what you saw, if only they had known right from day one that behind the cool facade was a man that would do anything for his family—for his wife.

With energy levels finally depleted and the boss level of bath and bedtime tackled and won, you fell into his open arms. Your nose buried in the collar of his shirt, inhaling the spice from dinner on his skin and drinking in the warmth he exuded.

“I’m sorry, Kento,” you mumbled, lip wobbling from the stresses of the day. The anger that had sizzled in your veins only hours ago defused into a mass of misery.

“For what?”

“For the shitshow that was today! Don’t ‘for what’ me.”

Kento tilted your head up, his thumb beneath your chin and his lips upon yours in a soft rush that surprised you. The red wine from dinner melted onto your tongue, pushed deeper as he took and took, only to give back everything and more.

Finally, he pulled back with a contented hum. “Father’s Day is all well and good, but you gave me the best gift you ever could years ago… a baby that has grown into a wilful little mischief maker just like their mother.”

If you weren’t already emotional, you sure were now. Tears brimmed in your eyes only to be caught on the pads of his thumbs. Soft kisses decorated your cheeks and you grasped fistfuls of his shirt in earnest.

“Better stop talking like that, or I’ll give you another one, mister.”

“Mm, now that has made my day. I’ll give you to the count of ten to strip and kneel on the bed,” he breathed in your ear, biting the shell and playfully grabbing at your backside.

“One… two…”

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hi!! Could you please do a Henry Cavill x Reader where she goes to surprise him while he’s filming Justice League but she gets the surprise when she sees his big body and hairy chest. Maybe he surprises her with himself in his superman suit ;) smut

hey honey! sorry this took so long, but I hope you like it.

summary - you go to surprise your husband on set and get a surprise yourself.

warning - smut, swearing, creampie, whore, aftercare.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You had dressed in your prettiest sundress, planning on surprising your husband while he was on set. You’ve been face-timing, calling and texting, but you haven’t been able to feel him in so long. You loved that he was passionate about his job and playing Superman, but damn, you were jealous. You made your way over, smiling at the guard and headed to your husband's trailer. You had a big smile on your face as you headed inside before your mouth dropped open, and drool began to build at the sight in front of you. 

Henry turns, having been pulling his Superman costume on before you walked in. Your eyes slowly move down his body, landing on his large hairy chest, and your tongue flicks out, wetting your suddenly dry lips before your eyes move further down, catching the enormous bulge that causes your cunt to throb and slicken. “H–hi, baby… I came to surprise you.” You gulp, eyes slowly moving back up his body and landing on his smirking face.

“I can see that.” He walks over, large hands landing on your hips as he looks down at you. “Don’t you know it’s rude to walk in without knocking, sugar?” You whimper as he pushes his bulge against you, biting your lip and looking up at him with innocent eyes. “My beautiful wife came to surprise me. Aren’t I lucky?” You nod, mind already becoming fuzzy from being in his presence. “I should thank my little wife.” You continue to nod, whimpering when he picks you up and presses you into the wall, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist. “No knickers, sugar? Were you expecting this?” He groans, swiping his thick fingers against your dripping cunt before quickly freeing his rock-hard member, grunting as he strokes it, feeling it pulse and throb, his swollen tip leaking with pre-cum before he lines it up with your entrance. “Are you ready, baby?” 

“Y–yes, please, Henry!” Your head flies back into the wall, and a loud moan escapes you as he pushes in swiftly, filling your tight cunt with his monstrous cock. “H–Hen, so big… So full.” Your mouth falls open, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he pounds roughly into you, pushing you further into the wall and gripping your hips. 

“Yeah, baby. Gone all dumb, huh?” His forehead rests against yours, “You’re so tight. You’ve missed my cock haven’t you, baby? Missed me filling you every night.” Your head moves up and down as you nod, whimpering. Your nails dig into his muscular flesh, whining as he picks up his pace. The sound of skin slapping fills the trailer. His grunts and your moans can be heard across the set. Henry buries his face into your neck, leaving behind marks as he buries himself balls deep inside your cunt. “Feel so good wrapped around me, baby. Do you think you can cum for me?” You nod, connecting your lips with his in a messy kiss. Henry growls and moves back, gripping your chin between his fingers. “Words, whore.”

“Yes! Yes! Please let me cum, Henry!” He changes the angle, pounding into your sweet spot, his other hand moving between the two of you and rubbing your puffy clit. He brings you back into a messy kiss, and your moans become mixed. “So close! Please!” 

“Cum, sugar. Cum so I can fill you up.” Your vision becomes white, walls squeezing tightly around his throbbing member as you cum. Your arousal shoots out of you and coats Henry in your cream. His pace becomes frantic before he feels his balls tighten, and Henry empties thick amounts of cum deep into you. You cling to him, falling limp into his arms and faintly feel him carrying you over to his bed. “Missed you, Hen.” You mumble.

Henry smiles, leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours before he grabs a damp cloth and begins to clean you. “I missed you too, sugar.” He grabs his phone, sending a quick text before stripping and crawling beside you, pulling you close to his body. “Missed you so much.” He presses a kiss into your head before the two of you drift off. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[azfell-ajcrowley]

Something we didn't notice (part 2)

part 1

Overall, the meta is based on close observation of Aziraphale (for the most part) and Crowley. Without speculation or trying to guess what we haven't been shown (well, almost).

The Metatron makes it clear that he is watching Aziraphale delivering the "good news". Aziraphale looks back at him.

The first thing I'd like to explain. The Metatron is talking to Muriel, and then he stares at the window of the bookshop duplicating that gaze toward Crowley. The frame changes and we see Aziraphale looking out the same window, just for a second, but he will do it repeatedly.

As Crowley starts his monologue, Aziraphale tries to stop him by gesturing for him not to say too much, while looking out the window himself. Aziraphale continues to turn to the window with every meaningful attempt to speak.

Let's also note that Aziraphale doesn't usually behave in a similar way in conversations with Crowley. Yes, Aziraphale is characterised by active gesticulation, but the constant pauses, averting his eyes from the interlocutor, nervous and jerky movements - these are messengers that angel is holding something back, hiding or simply doesn't want to tell. Most often we see this Aziraphale in conversations with the leadership - God and Archangels.

https://commonmexicanname.tumblr.com/post/734305363759890432/good-omens-thoughts

Here's a prime example, comparing his interaction with Archangels when he's caught off guard and frantically trying to figure out how to get out of the situation.

I don't think Aziraphale is just lying to Crowley here, no. He just has an audience beyond Crowley. He tries to tell everything, knowing he has more than one viewer.

When Aziraphale mentions the Metatron, he is not just hinting, he points his index fingers - one at the window, another at Heaven, and then in a distinctly active quick motion once more at the WINDOW.

And again - turns his face to the window at the words about Gabriel failing, and then tilts his head towards the transparent panes of the bookshop.

The conversation with the Metatron is important, among other things, to assess Aziraphale's behaviour when Crowley is mentioned by his superiors. At the words about their partnership Aziraphale looks frightened: his facial muscles are tense, his forehead and eyebrows are furrowed, and there is a terror in his eyes.

When the God's spokesman concludes his really suspicious speech, Aziraphale swallows nervously and averts his eyes. He certainly doesn't look like someone who's been offered the fulfilment of his cherished dream. And not like someone who believes it.

Aziraphale looks like someone who has just found out what an enormous amount of incriminating information is in his opponent's possession.

"Tell me you said no. Tell me you said NO." Crowley is definitely shocked and horrified, he thinks the best of his angel. He can't believe what's going on (and he isn't supposed to).

Aziraphale turns his head towards the window again as an answer.

He actually said:

And

We see him right before he walks into the bookshop, he never says yes to the Metatron.

Aziraphale utters his most delusional words while looking out the window. Of course, they're not meant for Crowley. Aziraphale hasn't believed it for a long time, Crowley even more so.

And then Crowley says "Oh, God", without correcting himself afterwards, because this demon can only hope in God here.

For a second Aziraphale has a look of hope on his face that Crowley has realised what he's getting at. Then Aziraphale realises that Crowley is trying to confess. He's waited for so long not to realise. He was about to confess too.

Aziraphale already knows everything Crowley is about to tell him, but more importantly, literally everyone already knows it. It's impossible to stay and start pretending again that there's nothing between them.

Aziraphale has a completely blank stare past Crowley, and then he looks out the window. Again.

And then the most interesting thing happens. Crowley starts his line "And I would like to spend…" But he turns his head and finally looks out the window, where Aziraphale has been pointing so hard since the beginning of their conversation.

Maybe that's the reason Crowley doesn't complete the sentence. And he begins to pick up different words. Maybe not, maybe the sun from the outside is preventing him from seeing the Metatron.

In the final part of their conversation, when they move closer to the bookshop's door, Aziraphale looks towards the window again.

After "no nightingales" line he turns away to hide his feelings and pain.

The cherry on the cake is the kiss, Aziraphale is falling into the abyss. He averts his eyes trying to figure out if the Metatron could have seen what just happened.

When Crowley leaves, Aziraphale thinks he's lost him. But then, even when the Metatron walks in and says devaluing words about Crowley, Aziraphale can't tear himself away from the window, because now he can see Crowley there. Maybe not everything is lost.

Aziraphale retreats back to the clock - to the very spot where Crowley was standing a few minutes ago. He looks out the window at Crowley, as if to say, "I stand where you stood, you stand where the Metatron stood."

[starofthesea7]

König~Worship the King

Your eyes traced the huge mass of muscle in front of you. Fresh from the field, he looked exhausted, primal- his canvas pants still splattered with mud and god knows what else. Arms shiny with sweat and rain, leg bouncing absentmindedly, his head was still a void, swimming with pictures of death and devastation. His eyes were focused on a bowl of stew, dwarfed by his huge, muscled hands. Pale fingers against white ceramic.

‘You can take the mask off to eat your food, I have to clean up your face anyway. In fact I should look at that first.” Your voice was soft, hesitant. Afraid of startling him, even though little could do so.

Dark fabric folded as he shook his head gently. “After. I don’t want it to…” he searched for the word in English, “to scare you. Yet” His voice was rough and tired, laced thickly with an accent, german. Your heart twinged at his words.

“You couldn’t scare me.” You attempted a reassuring smile. König. King. A very fitting name for the enigma in front of you, and yet in some ways not fitting at all. True he was imposing. Large. Stately. Yet he was gentle, anxious, even, when he was in close proximity to others. Under scrutiny. He was anxious when it came to people, most of all you. He was good at hiding it though, to you it seemed an aloofness, perhaps even a polite disinterest, that he felt towards you. A simple nod in greeting as he passed you was the most you could hope to receive.

Now you stood in between his enormous thighs which he’d spread just far enough apart to avoid grazing yours, the air between them thick with tension. You rolled up his dark sleeve, doing your best to ignore the rippling muscle beneath. They way it flexed which each ascent of his spoon, before it disappeared underneath black cloth, then reappeared, empty. He barely flinched as you dabbed an alcohol pad across the gaping wound on his shoulder. Blood glistened carmine.

Oxymoron was a more fitting name, you thought. Perhaps it was too long for a nickname. He truly was a paradox, though. So colossal, yet reserved. So immense yet quiet, even gentle. He was a man of few words. A wave waiting to crash, or a volcano waiting to erupt.

Your voice broke the silence, surprising you both. It felt small. “Feel okay?” He was nervous, although you couldn’t see it, underneath the mask. He wasn’t really afraid of you, more afraid of hurting you, or scaring you. With his weight. His scars, his is strength.

His eyes raised to meet yours. Although he was sitting, they were level with your own. A cold, pale olive green. “Ja. Thank you. I am sorry for waking you for this little scratch.” When you’d gotten a call that he’d needed a small patch job, admittedly you’d jumped at the chance to see him. You’d been drawn to the Austrian giant since you’d arrived a month ago. You liked his presence, it was safe, a shield to all else. Nothing could touch you with him there. No amount of horny jeering men, or loaded guns.

“It’s not a just scratch, König, its a big gash. And I haven’t even gotten to your face yet. Plus, I couldn’t sleep anyway, I’m happy to do it.” You rambled, feeling the burn of his eyes on yours, studying your face as you concentrated, threading a sterile needle. You stepped forward, into him, bumping his leg. He smelled like earth, and motor oil. Faintly of cigarettes and metallic blood. The heady odour was thick, collocating with the rubbing alcohol of your sterile office.

“Deep breath.” You felt silly, instructing a man who’d murdered countless men in the past week to do a breathing excersise, but he obeyed, the soft, raspy sound making your knees weak, and your imagination run wild. You blinked and regained focus, before puncturing the skin. His eyes fixed on your face, unwavering. You counted the stitches. Eleven, black and neat, in a row. “Aaand…done.” You cut the thread. “And not even a flinch.” You smiled at him, and his eyes crinkled, barely.

You gently rubbed it with ointment and wiped your hands on a towel, blood staining it crimson. You noticed his thighs now resting against yours. They were warm, and dirt from them stained your kaki pants but your hardly cared. “Ok. Ready for the mask?” You felt nervous, more nervous than he looked. It felt monumental, an enigma becoming real, smoke condensing into man.

You’d thought about what he looked like, but only in patches, certain features imagined while the rest of the picture was more of a blurred haze. Pale skin and light eyes. Dark or light hair? A sharp jaw or weak and soft? You couldn’t really imagine him being ugly, and truly, you felt you’d be attracted to him regardless, like opposite poles of a magnet. North and south. Dark and light, soft and hard.

He cleared his throat, and set the empty bowl down beside him. His eyes held yours vehemently, and large hands raised black cloth, revealing a pale, broad column of neck, a white scar gracing one side. You wanted to graze it with your lips. His lips were split, bitten and red. And inviting. A glint of teeth and a jaw, sharp with a whisper of stubble. The cloth clung to a splatter of blood and small cuts now integrated with old scars, and a few pieces of shrapnel that traveled up to a deep, glistening slice. Caked blood ran down his temple. His nose was sharp and slightly crooked, veering to the right in an endearing way, as if it had been broken when he was a child.

Then, his eyes, deep set and soft, framed with long lashes and crowned with sharp brows, one interrupted by a large, aged scar. Finally, hair, light, light brown, almost blonde, with a tinge of red, tumbled out. It was tied back with an elastic, but not long, as if he was in need of a trim, shorter pieces falling across his forehead. His head tilted back as he looked at you, silently, daring you to react to his intimate sign of trust.

You breathed out. It wasn’t what you had expected. His face was, interesting. Attractive. Younger than you’d imagined. A sharp canine pressed into his lip. You let out a breath, and raised a hand to his jaw, feeling it clench beneath your fingers, tilting his face up towards artificial light. His lips parted, adams apple bobbing. “You should’ve let me do your face first.”

“Sorry.” His voice was soft, ragged.

You reached for a pair of pointed tweezers and began removing each piece of shrapnel from his face. The night was quiet, save for for soft breaths. His was hot against your cheek. “König.” Chunks of metal and stone clanged into a small aluminum bowl. He hummed in response.

“You could never scare me.”

He smiled softly at you, slightly crooked.

Without meaning to, your thumb stroked the soft skin of his jaw. His legs tightened against you, barely, but your heart quickened against your ribcage.

Again, you soaked the wounds in alcohol. You could tell it stung. His fingers began absentmindedly drumming against your hip, leaving hot tingles in their wake. You moved to the cut on his lip, he hissed quietly as you made contact with the cotton pad. Your eyes were focused, pupils blown wide as you stared at his lips. His hot tongue peeking out from behind pink bloodied skin.

Your voice was quiet, distant, “You have a pretty bad split lip, I’m gonna put a little stitch in it.”

He swallowed hoarsely, “Okay.”

You were close, so close to him, breaths mingling in the hot air. His scent enveloped you. He enveloped you. You weren’t particularly small, but to him you were. Fragile. The needle ruptured his lip and his hand gripped at your waist, heavy and large. You leaned into him, lower stomach barely grazing the split of his pants. He shifted in thick canvas.

Your hand shifted, cupping his jaw as you cut the thread. His eyes were heavy with fatigue, and something else. You looked at each other with neediness, both in awe of how the other contained all that they could ever want- him to satiate your emptiness, you to soothe his aching burn. A month of passing glances and unsaid words threatened to morph into action; spurred on by the arousal of seclusion and stagnation after the high of adrenaline, the heady scent of blood, metal, alcohol.

You leaned in and felt his hand tighten against you hip, You were inches from him, the air between you buzzed as opposites attracted, pulled you towards him. His mouth widened as he leaned into you. Your soft, plush lips grazed his, barely, and he pulled you into him, emitting a soft sound. Mouths opened wide with need. He was metal, cigarettes and gasoline, the taste and smell making you unsteady, faint. You gripped his shirt tightly, his mass keeping you from falling, or perhaps from floating away.

Deft, strong fingers found the back of your head. Scalp prickling as he pulled at your hair. You were slick.

He groaned slightly into your mouth, and your hands found his hair, fisting it free from the elastic band, copper locks brushing your forehead, stubble brash against your reddening cheeks.

His large warm hand traced from your hip down, raising your leg to straddle his thigh. Hot, hard muscle against your softness. You let out an involuntary airy moan as the seam of your jeans jabbed into your clit, cunt clenching around nothing, deprived and empty.

You lifted your other leg to straddle him fully, clothed cunt contracting at the friction against pelvis, you could feel him, large, hard, heavy and confined. It made you hot with need. You pulled back to stare at him, pupils blown, lips puffy. His hips bucked up into you, searching for friction and release, his brows furrowed. Colossal hands found your waist beneath your shirt, opposite fingers almost touching around your circumference. His fingers were calloused and rough. Feeling his hot skin against yours made you reel with thoughts of at the way he dwarfed you, dominated you with the simplest of actions. The fact that he could fill your emptiness, stretch you to the brink, overwhelm you, crush you- was inebriating.

“I-” he searched for the right words, “I want you. Ich brauche dich.” You smiled at his mother tongue appearing, as it often did in states of intoxication.

You pressed your mouth to his neck, with an open mouthed kiss, feeling the bump of his scar as he swallowed, and looked up at him through wet lashes. Grinding your hips against him, making him groan, cock twitching, hyper sensitive from months of neglect. You maundered, “Let me make you feel good, König.” Your voice was airy and laced with fervour. His eyes were glassy and lidded as he looked down at you, hair falling across his forehead, glistening with sweat. His head swam, the situation feeling far to good to be true, an intoxicated dream or adrenaline spurred hallucination. His blunt fingernails clutched at your waist harshly, leaving half moons in their wake.

Your eyes flickered to a stain of precum darkening the crotch of his thick pants as you rose to your feet, his hands gripped his thighs in restraint, watching you in anticipation. Then, you knelt to the ground to worship your king.

[sansaorgana]

— KINGDOM OF DISTURB

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Despite being locked inside his fortress, you cannot complain about being Sauron's Queen. You are surrounded by luxury and your every wish is fulfilled. After long centuries of such life, however, you grow a little bored. Mentioning it to your husband has terrible consequences.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The title is from the song that inspired me (Kingdom of Disturb by Nostalghia) and of course you don't have to know the song to read the fic but I strongly recommend it because it fits so well with the whole theme – In fever dreams he holds me // Fever dreams destroy me // Inside his kingdom of disturb // I am the queen of his design 😌 Basically, in this fic, you are kind of living like Celebrimbor and it gets dark as well – although not that dark lmao I imagine Sauron as Annatar here but you can imagine him as whatever to be honest and the Reader had to be an Elf so she could live for a very long time, but other than that she is not described in any way!

WARNINGS — mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut), mentions of Reader wanting to have a child (spoiler alert: Sauron does not), toxic & abusive relationship with some physical violence (he pulls and drags her by her hair), manipulation, gaslighting, victim blaming

WORD COUNT — 3,450

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

KINGDOM OF DISTURB

When Sauron married you and made you his Queen, he took you to a huge and beautiful fortress in the Southlands. You had imagined being his spouse a little differently – more… actively. You had been imagining yourself healing Middle-earth alongside your husband but he kept you hidden inside your chambers instead.

He was assuring you the reason was your safety since his task was not yet done. And you believed him because you wanted to. Even the fact that the heavy doors of your chambers remained locked all the time was something done out of his love and his protectiveness. You understood. In fact, it felt good to be protected by him. To be taken care of. To be aware of the depths of his devotion to you.

And most of the days, you spent alone; awaiting his return from his journeys and battles. However, he made sure that you were never bored.

Your chambers were enormous and the most beautifully decorated in all sorts of silver, gold, gemstones and ornaments. Velvet, silk and cotton surrounded you and everything smelled of fresh flowers that were being changed everyday by your servants.

You had every book you wanted there and your ladies-in-waiting, as you liked to call them, were skilled in nearly every craft, so they could entertain you with their musical skills, new dresses made for you, drama plays performed for you to watch and clap your hands at… Anything you asked for was there – within the reach of your little finger.

And when you wanted to spend the time outside, perhaps you could not do that fully but you had a huge balcony all for you from where you could watch the vast and green land of the Southlands. The sunrays were keeping you warm and the blue skies were calming your senses as the sounds of birds, wind and playing children from afar were reaching your ears.

It was a paradise where you lived and you did not mind being trapped. Sauron was making sure of that. Your every whim was being fulfilled and whenever he was back to spend some time with you, he was the most skilled and attentive lover. After a few days or weeks spent in his embrace, you were too hazy to complain or to think of anything else except for the amount of your love towards him.

You were not sure for how many years you had been there – centuries, perhaps. Time was a blurry concept for you these days. And the most uncertain. However, throughout all those years, you had been very satisfied and content with your life as Sauron’s Queen. You had been waiting very patiently for him to finally heal Middle-earth and to prepare his realm for you to join his side fully.

Only recently, something had changed. And when Sauron had come back to you after being separated for a bit longer than usual, at first he hadn’t noticed any of that.

You had spent a whole night in each other’s embrace, your bodies tangled together as they reached a peak after peak between the gasps, moans, arched backs, curled toes and fingernails being dug into flesh. He was a Maia and he could go on for days without a break but you were not graced with such powers, therefore you required a rest. So, he granted it to you in the early morning as you both laid underneath the silky sheets.

After taking a short and regenerating nap, you yawned softly and giggled when Sauron’s hands caressed your sides. You looked deep into his eyes and placed a kiss upon his lips, caressing his cheeks. But when you opened your mouth to start the conversation you had been dying to have for a long while now, you were interrupted by one of his servants with a knock upon your doors.

“What is it?” Your husband asked, irritated, as he rolled his eyes at you playfully.

“My Lord Sauron, there is an important matter to discuss,” the raspy voice of his servant reached your ears.

You had never seen any of his servants but you could imagine they looked quite different from your gentle and beautiful ladies-in-waiting. You were not sure of their race since they had been the same since the beginning but you did not ask any questions about it since you were pleased with them either way.

“I shall return to you soon, my love,” Sauron kissed your forehead and left your bed.

He got dressed up quickly and turned around to smile at you adoringly before walking out of your chambers. A short while later, you could hear the doors being locked.

You stretched your sore limbs and stood up to dress up yourself, too. Sometimes, you liked to do it yourself instead of asking for your ladies-in-waiting. As much as you adored them, you had also quite grown used to solitude. And sometimes you preferred it this way.

After putting on a gown, you stood in front of the large mirror and caressed your curves underneath the fabric. You wondered how your body would look if it were changed by pregnancy. And when you turned to your side to put your hand on your abdomen, pretending to be carrying your husband’s child already, he walked inside this very moment, startling you.

You quickly moved your hand away but you were sure he had spotted what you were doing as he tilted his head and approached you slowly. Without a word, he stood behind you and wrapped his arms around you – the red colour of his robes looked so regal contrasting with the golden colour of yours.

“What are you doing, my love?” He whispered into your neck, placing a gentle kiss there and making you shiver.

You looked down at first and wanted to tell him that nothing, you were doing nothing. On the other hand, that was the conversation you had wanted to have with him for a long time now but each time you either were running out of courage or you were being interrupted.

So, you looked up to meet his gaze in the reflection of the mirror and you took a deep breath in.

“What if we had a child together, my love?” You asked and watched how Sauron’s facial expression changed from playful to serious… Angry, even. His jaw clenched and his eyes – usually so kind and loving towards you – filled with rage that he was trying to keep at bay but you knew him too well not to notice. “What is it?” You turned around in his arms uncomfortably as you met his gaze in reality now and not only in the reflection of the mirror.

“Are you not happy with me?” Sauron asked with all seriousness and concern.

“I am very happy, my love. That is why I want to–” you started, a little surprised by his tone.

“Why do you want to ruin what we share then?” He interrupted you, harshly and it made you shut your mouth immediately.

“I had no idea that you perceived the possibility of fatherhood this way,” you finally said in a weak whisper.

“There is no such possibility,” your husband took a step back as if he was disgusted with you at that moment and it hurt you deeply.

“Physically, it is. There have been cases of Maia and Elves having offspring together. Rare, but still…” You swallowed thickly as Sauron’s eyes filled with even more anger and the corners of his lips twitched.

“You… You have been researching that?” He asked with contempt.

“My love, I do not want to push you into anything or force anything upon you!” You quickly reached out to grab his wrists to calm him down. He allowed you to touch him but he did not touch you back in any way and his eyes did not turn softer at all. “If a child – an heir – is not what you wish, let it be then. I only want to know the reason why not,” you explained, looking for compassion. “If it is jealousy… For I am aware of the amount of your devotion towards me… Well, I can assure you that my love can be shared and perhaps I would love you even more if–”

“I am not jealous,” Sauron snorted at that and you closed your mouth, blinking your fresh tears away. “Do you have any idea how powerful I am?”

“Of course, my love,” you nodded, surprised at the question.

“And do you think I wish to share this power? This greatness?” He freed his wrists from your grasp and walked away to pace around with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Do you not wish to share it with me one day? Once Middle-earth is healed?” You asked, confused.

“It is different. Our child could be even more powerful than I am. I do not wish for heirs,” he explained, nervously, “for they could be a threat.”

“A threat?” You asked, taken aback by his words. “Your own children? A threat for you?”

“You are not happy… You are not happy here,” he kept repeating as if he was angry and worried at the same time, ignoring your questions and walking in circles like some sort of a maniac.

“My love…” You tried to catch his attention again, staring at him with your eyebrows furrowed. You had never seen him so upset and you felt guilty for causing this. He had enough worries outside this fortress and when he was with you, you wanted him to feel calm and relaxed.

“You are not happy… You are not…” He was no longer paying attention to his surroundings, spiralling down as if his world had just crumbled down.

“My love…?” You tried once again.

“Not happy, not happy, not happy, not–”

“Sauron!” You addressed him and this time your voice grew harsher out of impatience. He froze and turned around to face you, with his hands still clasped behind his back. He was visibly taken aback by the tone of your voice but you were frustrated now by the way he behaved.

And, perhaps, he should have finally heard some truths.

“I am not unhappy, my love,” your voice grew softer but it was still quite distant. “The life I have here is the most luxurious and I am being spoiled by you every day, even when you are away. I am the most grateful,” you assured him and he sighed with relief. “However,” you added and he furrowed his brows again, “I grow tired of being locked away. I wish to walk outside, I wish to meet more people than my ladies-in-waiting. I know you are not yet done healing Middle-earth but I know you do have whole realms under your rule already. Are your subjects not curious about their Queen? I would love to go outside and meet them. Even though I have here everything I could ask for, I still grow bored sometimes as I seek for some purpose or adventure. Perhaps a child is something I started to crave because of boredom,” you finished and took a deep breath in, feeling the burden you had been carrying for so long within your soul being released.

Sauron’s face was unreadable at that moment but he remained still like a statue as he kept staring at you coldly, without even blinking. You swallowed thickly and after a moment, you simply had to look down, too intimidated by his stare.

“You are… bored?” He laughed contemptuously, breaking the silence. “I have to spend long weeks away from you to heal this realm and prepare it for you, so you can rule it alongside me when everything is all ready for you and handed out to you on a silver plate – like everything else – and you complain about… boredom? I fight battles and risk my life, while remembering to spoil you every day no matter what, only for you to show such brattiness?” His voice was filled with so much disappointment that you wished to die at this very moment.

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps you were being ungrateful.

“F-forgive me,” you whimpered, still not brave enough to look up.

“Oh, it is too late, my love,” he emphasised the last two words with anger as he approached you and grabbed you by the roots of your hair, making you yelp. He had never done anything of this sort to you before and you had never expected him to. He had to be even more angered than he showed. “Do you wish to know the truth?” He whispered into your ear venomously. “You have no idea how much power and focus I have to sacrifice for you to live a life so beautiful and yet you dare to complain?” He asked and you could not understand the meaning of his words. You only kept sobbing and not even because of the physical pain he was causing you at the moment but mostly because of the way he was behaving towards you. “True, your naiveness and foolishness makes it a little easier. You do not notice my little slip-ups and oversights… But still… I’d be much more powerful if I did not have to sacrifice so much of my abilities on creating this illusion for you,” he drawled out.

“What illusion?” You asked through the tears and Sauron looked deep into your eyes, pulling your hair even harder as you whimpered. He kept staring at your face with anger and contempt, visibly overthinking something.

“Let me show you the truth, my little brat,” he smirked and the corners of his eyes twitched nervously. In that moment, you suddenly realised that the light coming through the curtains from the outside was gone.

The chambers still looked the same – full of luxurious goods and items – but they were all so… dark. And somehow dusty as if there was ash covering some of the furniture. You squinted your eyes at that, not fully understanding the meaning of any of it.

“Here,” Sauron dragged you by your hair towards the balcony doors. And when he opened them and forced you to look ahead, you gasped in terror.

The Southlands were no more. The green land full of the bird songs, blue skies and the children’s laughter was nothing but a dark land of gloom and ashes with the huge volcano breathing out smoke in the distance. The skies were orange from the clouds and fire and there were ashes dancing in the air. It was hell and you realised that this was the reality – not the beautiful and gentle things you had been seeing for the past centuries whenever you had walked out to breathe in fresh air and feel the sunshine on your skin.

“You are not healing Middle-earth,” you whispered, nearly inaudibly, feeling defeated. “You are annihilating it.”

Sauron let go of your hair finally and pushed you away while doing so.

“I am healing it. Middle-earth is too spoiled and rotten for the process to go smooth and easy. I must purge it and rebuild it and then, only then, we shall rule it together,” his voice went softer again but it was still filled with a scary hint of darkness.

When you looked up at him, he was smiling at you lovingly again as if he hadn’t just caused you any pain. And you realised that from now on, you would always hear that scary hint of darkness in his voice no matter what. Because it had most likely always been there.

You remained speechless, staring at him with your wet eyes and silent tears streaming down your cheeks. He reached his fingers out to wipe them out of your face.

“Now you see it… I was trying to protect you from the whole process… From the truth of it… For I knew you would not understand my vision. And you shall stay here until my task is complete, my Queen,” he assured you sweetly.

“I do not want to…” You confessed.

For the first time in your life, you truly did not. Even though it was impossible to stop loving someone in a brief moment – no matter how much pain they had caused you and how evil they had turned out to be. You had been loving him for too many centuries to stop now. But it did not change the fact you simply did not want to be by his side anymore. 

You expected Sauron to get angry again but he did not. He cupped both of your cheeks now and leaned in as he kept staring at you with a mix of affection and pity. He knew very well that what you wanted mattered no more.

“But you must, my love, for I shall never let you go,” he whispered, pecking your lips delicately and tasting your salty tears. “However, now that you know the truth, I do not see the point of my further illusions. Your curiosity and brattiness have robbed you of this privilege,” he pointed out and caressed your hair. “Come back inside, my darling,” he dropped his hands to your arms and led you back into your chambers.

He let go of you to close the balcony doors behind you two and you froze at the sight of a few shadow-like creatures floating above the dusty floor of your bedroom. Their shapes were humanoid enough to be unsettling but there was nothing pure about them and their eyes were red as they burned with fire.

“Wh-what are those?” You asked.

“Those are your ladies-in-waiting,” Sauron answered, trying to make his voice sound sweet although you were aware that calling them by the name you had given them was nothing but mockery.

“I do not think I want their service anymore,” you swallowed thickly. If his illusions were to be truly gone, you would rather live alone there instead of having such creatures following you around.

Even though they had already been doing that for centuries now…

Sauron chuckled to himself and nodded at the shadows. They disappeared immediately after and you sighed with relief.

“Do you still wish for a child, my love?” Sauron asked you and put his arm around you before leaning in to kiss your temple. “Because I think that, after all, I could give you one to make you less lonely,” he teased, cruelly.

“I would never curse my child to share their eternity with me in this prison,” you looked up as you answered, feeling the lump forming in the back of your throat.

“Whatever you wish, my Queen,” Sauron smirked and gently pressed your face to his chest as he caressed the back of your head. “I am sorry for causing you pain. I truly am,” his voice broke a little and you wanted to believe him because what else could you do?

Believing him would make this whole thing a little bit easier.

“I know,” you whispered, feeling utterly defeated.

“Do not anger me like this again,” he whispered and even though his voice was full of guilt, there was a threat in it, too. “I do not want to cause you pain. You mean the world to me,” he explained and you realised that perhaps he was believing his own self while saying these things, too.

After a while like this; being forced to hug him but with your eyes kept open, he took a step back from you and lifted your chin up gently.

“I must leave now again, forgive me. I have received worrying news this morning from my servant,” he explained. “I shall be back soon. Keep your bed ready for me, my Queen,” he teased playfully as he usually would but this time it did nothing to you except for making your stomach twist.

He leaned in to place a kiss upon your forehead and turned around to leave. You watched him walk away and heard the lock turn. You were left alone in the darkness of this room, which was covered in the ashes getting inside through the windows. You were lonely and broken – with the sound of the volcano and burning fire accompanying you from afar.

You sat down on the floor and brought your knees all the way up to rest your chin upon them as you wrapped your arms around your legs. Curled up this way, you began rocking yourself slowly to calm down and to seek for comfort in your own embrace.

This was how your life would look like from now on. But it was better than living inside a lie.

Was it?

MASTERLIST

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi

It's been brought to my attention that there are people out there who are sadly plagiarising my work again.

1. This is not okay.

To clarify, while I'm very happy for people to take inspiration from my stories (in the same way you might any book you read from a bookshop), I don't want my work used or reposted without credit.

I'm not going to go into lengths on why it is wrong to plagiarise someone else's writing. I don't think my tumblr post is magically going to change anyone's mind, especially as if you've followed me long enough you know we've done this rodeo before.

So.

2. How to tell when writing is plagiarised

It can be very difficult to tell when something is plagiarised, especially if we have never come across the original work before and have no reason to recognise it.

I don't think it's realistic for everyone to vet everything they come across online for plagiarism, but it's also something I don't see talked about a lot for fiction.

These questions to ask yourself are not foolproof and not applicable to everything. But I think they can be a start.

If the writer has posted more than one story, is there a similarity across them? While writing style can change across an author's different pieces, there is still usually going to be a similar feel across stories if they came from the same person. Writers have voices and quirks and little things that are specific to them. If every piece feels wildly different then it might be coming from different places. This is probably going to come down to gut reaction and instinct in the first instance. But that's okay. Because that gut reaction is just there to make you think twice and maybe investigate more thoroughly.

How much are they posting? Can people churn an extraordinary amount of words out? Yes, sometimes. But...as a general ballpark, no. Writing takes time and effort. If someone is coming out with enormous amounts of writing every day or week or month or whatever, then this can be a hint to look a little closer.

Do you ever see hints of their writing process? Can the writer talk about their characters or what they want out of the story or anything like that? Do they ever post a story organically in response to a request or whatever? Not all writers know in-depth everything about their story or characters or plot, but the main point here is that the finished product is the tip of the iceberg. If someone is a writer than there is more going on beneath the surface of the posted stories.

I hope this helps!

[majesty-madness]

On My Mind - Levi Ackerman x reader (nsfw)

Summary: She didn’t know why, but the only thing she could think of was how good he made her feel. 

Word Count: 4400+

Warnings: smut, 18+, MINORS DNI, female reader, missionary, rough sex, being bent over a desk, begging, overstimulation, fingering, handjob, crying, multiple orgasms, creampies, cursing, dirty talk, sweet sweet aftercare, several 'I love yous' thrown in for good measure

a/n: I have no idea where this even came from and also I didn't expect it to be so freaking long, but whatever. Not proofread. 

Main Masterlist

Commissions are open!

All day. All fucking day her thoughts have been on nothing but him. 

Y/N didn’t know what came over her today, but from the moment she woke up all the way to now, nearing midnight, Y/N could think of nothing except the idea of Levi pounding her into next week. 

She didn’t know if it was because despite his short height, he possessed maddening strength or the intensity behind his eyes no matter what he was speaking about, or maybe the way he’d carefully touch her hand whenever he passed by her, maybe it was a collective of all those things. 

Whatever it was, it caused her hormones to sky rocket and the only thing on her mind was the sensation of Levi splitting her open. 

Like a good girl, she waited until their shift was over, late into the night when everyone was well into dreamland. As soon as the night arrived, Y/N rushed to Levi’s office. She attempted to keep her steps collected and quiet, but the vivid memory of how Levi stretched her out she began to speed walk down the corridor. 

Her heart thundered in her chest, she felt herself become flustered before she even reached Levi’s office and the moment she did the heat rushed to her core. 

However, she didn’t want to reveal her intentions just yet so she took a quick breath to stabilize her rapid heartbeat before knocking. 

A muffled ‘come in’ sounded out and she did exactly that. 

The second her eyes came into contact with Levi’s figure, she sucked in an aroused gasp. Y/N had no idea why she was reacting this way as normally she was rather tame but the mere sight of him was causing her body to go into overdrive.

Levi hadn’t bothered to glance up yet as he finished writing on some random document to which Y/N took the opportunity to lock the door behind her. It was only after Y/N took a couple of steps towards his desk that he finally looked up. 

His expression went from the usual pensive face to a much softer one, causing the heat to now burn in her gut. And if she looked hard enough, there were the beginnings of a smile forming on his lips. 

“Hi.” Was all he said.

Y/N flashed him a smile, trying desperately not to squirm in her spot. “Hi.” 

Levi looked back down to the documents in his hand, a heavy sigh leaving his mouth as he did. 

The sound caused Y/N to suddenly become worried, and the scourging heat that wracked her body was quickly waning. 

“Are you okay, love?” Y/N asked, a clear tone of concern. It was only then that she realized that Levi could be under an enormous amount of stress, and sex might be the last thing on his mind. So despite her desire to jump his bones, if he truly didn’t feel well, she was not going to force herself on him. 

She would be able to put her lust aside for his well being. 

However, he nodded. “I’m fine, there’s just so many documents to look over though at least they're not an urgent priority.” 

Y/N breathed out relieved by his answer and Levi sharply noticed. “What’s that sigh for?” 

She waved her hand at him, lightly brushing off the question. “Oh nothing, I’m glad that you’re alright.” 

Levi shook his head then moved his eyes to look back down to the paper in front of him. There were a few moments of silence as Y/N contemplated how she should go about this. Perhaps she could play with him a little. 

Carefully, Y/N made her way over to his desk, placing her hands on top of the wooden surface with a kind of seductive elegance she didn’t know she had. It was a subtle move, however Levi knew that this wasn't her usual behavior as his eyes flicked up to meet her’s. 

“Levi, baby, can I tell you something?” 

He didn’t say anything but instead nodded, urging her to speak. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Levi raised a brow inquisitively at the undertone of that statement. “Is that so?”

Y/N nodded, briefly biting her lip then letting it go. “I missed you so much today too.” 

He leaned back in his chair, gently placing his pen down onto the table while his eyes took in her figure. “We see each other every day.”

“Oh I know, but I still miss you.” Y/N answered seemingly timid as though she were embarrassed to say it out loud but the chuckle she let out said otherwise. 

She pushed herself off the desk, leaving one hand to lightly trace the edge. “I miss your voice, your dark eyes, the slight smile whenever we see each other…” It was then that Levi noted her slowly walking around the side of the desk to meet him behind it. 

“I miss the way you hold me in the mornings, the way you nudge my leg when we eat together in the mess hall, the way you kiss me when you think no ones around…”

Now she was only a few inches away from him, hand still resting on top of the desk near the pen that Levi has previously been using. 

“I miss the way you make me feel, how gently you touch me when you patch me up after getting hurt, how you go out of your way to help me when it’s that time of the month, even how you reassure me…” 

Then she leaned forward, cupping his cheek with one hand while the other laid against his shoulder. She watched his eyes widen a bit curiously with his mouth opening a little. “But more importantly…”

Instead of going straight for his lips, she ignored them and hovered her lips near his ear; voice hushed and laced with desire. 

“I miss the way I feel when you’re inside me.” 

His face changed completely, morphing into stunned arousal, his mouth gaping open at her choice of words. But it didn’t stop there.

“God, the way you stretch me out makes me fucking shake. It’s so addicting.” Y/N kissed the part of his jaw that meets his ear, feeling Levi’s entire body jump from the intimate contact as well as the hand that now rested on her waist.

“You always know how to find those parts of me that I Just. Can’t. Reach.” She punctuated each word with kiss after kiss to his jaw, savoring in the slightest hitch in his breath. The hand resting on her waist began to tighten up all while twisting the fabric of her uniform in between his fingers. 

The hand that had rested on his shoulder, traced downward, firmly pressing against the rippling muscles under his shirt, going down and down until hovering over his most sensitive area. Y/N groped the bulge beneath his pants, savoring the hiss of breath leaving his mouth. 

“Does that feel good?” Y/N teased, giving him another squeeze. He shut his eyes briefly as the pleasure rushed through him but soon opened them again to glare at Y/N. 

She could tell already that he was going to make her eat those words later but for now, she would enjoy this in full. Keeping her hand pressed against his growing erection, she moved her head to kiss along the other side of Levi’s jaw until she met his chin. Y/N pulled herself back just enough, lips barely grazing together, their hot breath mingling as she fiddled with his belt buckle. 

It made the familiar light clinking sound as Y/N pulled the tale of the buckle from the metal loop, busying herself with the button. As soon as it came undone, Y/N finally pressed her lips heatedly into his. 

It was hot, near feverish as their mouths moved in tandem. When one would pull away the tiniest bit, they were swiftly chased by the other in a desperate attempt to stay connected. As Levi took the opportunity to bring her into his lap to straddle him, Y/N slipped her hand under the hem of his underwear, feeling the burning skin of his length. 

Levi ripped himself away from her sinful lips to lean back into his chair, both hands caressing the thick flesh of Y/N’s behind while she tugged him out of his uniform pants. The cold air hitting the scourging hot skin caused him to let out a light gasp before Y/N began to carefully stroke him.

“Y/N…”

His soft moans made Y/N unwittingly whimper in return, turned on by the simple fact that she was pleasuring him and he had hardly touched her yet.

“Oh Levi, you sound so pretty like this.” She continued her ministrations, hand wrapping around him tightly. 

Levi couldn’t help but to close his eyes as he let himself succumb to Y/N’s touch, thighs clenching with every stroke and puffs of heavy air leaving his lungs. For a moment, Levi thought he could get lost in the pleasure entirely that was until he felt the warmth of Y/N palm caress his cheek.

“Levi, sweetheart, look at me.” Y/N whispered, voice soft and smooth like honey. 

He did as she asked, begrudgingly opening his steel gray eyes to peer up at her. While he had thoughts of getting back at her for her teasing, when he did finally look at her, he admired the shining gleam in her own eyes and the slight biting of her lips. 

Although she had teased him, taking control over him and his body, it was obvious how much this was affecting her too. 

“Unbutton your shirt for me.” 

His eyes narrowed, a sort of pride bubbling up inside him to not let her have her way, however, that feeling quickly disappeared when Y/N dragged her thumb over his leaking tip causing his body to jolt with ecstasy. 

“Please?” 

Levi made a light tsk sound before reaching up with shaky fingers to carefully remove his cravat and undo the button up shirt. On several of the buttons, Levi had to find the strength to steady himself as Y/N never stopped moving her hand, constantly pumping his hardening length. The precum slicking up his skin, making wet noises between the two of them leaving him to imagine the sound of finally pushing inside her. 

Upon reaching the last button, Y/N took the opportunity to push the fabric aside to admire his muscular torso. She got a feel of them earlier, but now she could touch them in full. And that’s exactly what Y/N did. 

She gently dragged her fingers across his collarbone, then down his firm chest, and down to his abs again, taking her time in tracing every line of his body. Then Y/N leaned forward, beginning to suck the skin of his collar and briefly his chest. 

He suddenly let out a desperate whimper, signaling that with the contact of Y/N’s lips on his skin and still playing with him, he was reaching his limit. Y/N pumped faster, to match the pace of his hips jutting slightly upward to quicken his oncoming climax. 

With only a couple of more pumps of Y/N’s hand, Levi’s orgasm crashed over him, the sound of a whine diverting into a growl as white ropes of his release splattered onto his bare abs. 

Y/N stopped all movement, allowing Levi to simply bask in the afterglow and catch his breath. 

“I love the sounds you make when you cum, Levi. So pretty.” Y/N praised, leaning to capture his lips once more, then pulled away to place delicate kisses against his reddened cheeks. 

Levi stared off into nothingness, mind grappling to regain his composure, chest heaving up and down to supply his lungs with air.

His gaze drifted back to Y/N instead of the plain wood of the wall behind her, taking in her flushed expression, blown out pupils, and eyes swimming with unadulterated love. No woman had ever looked at him the way she did, like he’d hung the stars in the sky, like he was her whole world. Perhaps he was, because if he was sure of anything she had definitely become his. 

However, as sweet as the expression on her face was, Levi didn’t forget that she teased him earlier and though it hadn’t been too bad, he really wanted to get back at her for that. 

Without warning, he grasped a handful of her hair at the base of her skull, not enough to hurt but enough to force her mere millimeters from his mouth.

“Now you unbutton your shirt.” He demanded, watching her bite her bottom lip. 

She did as she was told, and quickly began to unbutton her own shirt like he’d done moments before. At the same time, Levi got to work on her belt unlacing from the buckle with precision and promptly dipped his fingers past her underwear. The second he did, he came into contact with her most intimate place, feeling the wetness of her arousal. 

“Levi..” She mewled, hand reaching up to grip his forearm. 

Levi circled her clit a few times with his thumb, copying her movements from earlier by kissing at her exposed collar before pushing two fingers inside her. Y/N gasped at the sudden intrusion but tried to thrust her hips into his hand for more friction at the same time he began to curl them against her sweet spot. 

“My, my, you really did miss me. I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already grinding into me.” Levi cooed, leaning into Y/n’s ear causing her whole body to quiver. 

“Please Levi, I want-” 

He kissed her neck, “What do you want, sweetheart?”

She bit her lip once more, attempting to formulate some coherent words to tell him exactly what she was thinking. “I want you to- mhm! M-make me cum.” 

As soon as the words danced off her tongue, Levi felt her walls tighten around his fingers the longer he pushed his fingers in and out, curling them at the same time. “Say it one more time.”

Y/N moaned, gripping his arm harder as he stroked her faster. “I want you to make me cum!”

“Good girl.” He smirked, immediately picking up the pace. While continuing his motions, he dipped his head down to capture one of Y/N’s nipples into his mouth and sucked lavishly  at the delicate bud. 

“Oh Levi..” Y/N whimpered, feeling the tension of her orgasm pulling tighter and tighter, right on the cusp of release; the sensation of Levi’s fingers thrusting into her wet hole and the smoothness of his tongue lapping at her nipples almost too much. 

For a split second she wondered if it was humanly possible to feel that way, a state of near complete euphoria. 

She didn’t get to wander about it much longer when Levi gave a particularly forceful thrust of his fingers against her spot causing her to quickly fall over the edge. “Oh fuck, Levi!”

Her walls tightened and gushed around his thick digits, her hips instinctually grinding down into his palm.

He didn’t remove his mouth from her chest, opting to suck bruises into her flesh, his groans of mutual pleasure vibrating into her clavicle as she came down from her natural high. Though unlike Y/N, Levi didn’t allow time for her to catch her breath, instead he picked Y/N up off his lap, forcing her to stand on her weak legs before whipping her around to bend her over his desk; pushing aside the countless papers that littered it. 

Y/N’s arms were pinned beneath her body, legs spread around as Levi reached around to unbutton her pants and pull them down over her ass. He basked in the sight of her glistening entrance, watching her essence drip down her thighs and soaking her underwear. 

“You made such a mess.” Levi growled, his sultry tone playing on the edge of danger with the promise of further bliss. 

Y/N tilted her head back as far as it could go to stare up at her lover, “Only because you make me feel so good.” 

He smirked devilishly at that. “Oh is that so?” 

She watched as he raised a hand to carefully pump himself a few times, taking a step ever closer, the heat of him seeping out onto her exposed entrance. After a few more pumps, he grasped his tip and agonizingly dragged it from her hole down to her clit, then back up, repeating this motion several times making Y/N squirm in her position. 

“You make it sound like I’m the one who started all this, when in fact you-” Levi pants, pushing just barely past her entrance making Y/N keen at the sensation. “are the one who teased me, and made me make a mess.” With that, he fully plunged himself inside her cunt in one swift motion, both gasping at the feeling of him sinking down into her. 

Levi gave Y/N a few seconds of adjustment but quickly began a brutal pace, the sound of skin on skin reverberating off the walls of the small office while their moans harmonized in sync with the other. 

He grabbed a hold of Y/N’s hips, pulling her into him as he snapped his own forward to meet in a forceful collision of intimacy. On one particular thrust, Y/N felt his tip prod at her cervix and she cried out.

Upon her wordless plea, Levi repeated his previous motion knowing exactly where she wanted it and proving that he hit that spot again when she gave another loud whine. So he kept going, pushing harder and faster until he could feel her already beginning to tighten around him, sucking him back in with every movement. 

And before she could say anything, she felt the hotness of euphoria erupt from her gut and spread through her limbs, setting every nerve blissfully on fire. Fuck, she was seeing stars, to the point where as the pleasure rose within her, the glistening of tears blurred her vision. 

Levi pressed himself fully into her back side, taking extra care to still his movements as he could also sense the rapid approach of his own orgasm. He was close, but he wanted Y/N facing him, looking him in the eyes as they both reached their end. As much as he wanted to give in, as much his body burned, he fought to hold it back. 

He took great pains to pull out slowly because any more friction than that would definitely make him explode right then and there especially as Y/N’s insides throb around his aching member. 

Once freed, Levi much more tenderly than before picked Y/N from the desk and turned her around to face him, his hands resting around her waist. His eyes flicked up to her’s, noticing the tears within them. He leaned forward to place a gentle kiss to her cheek, feeling the warmth of her face seep into his lips. 

“Are you okay?” He quietly asked. 

Y/N nodded, “Yes, my love. I’m okay.” 

Levi wordlessly kissed her a few more times then let his hands drift up to pull her uniform jacket from her shoulders, letting it fall haphazardly to the floor. Y/N’s hands reached up to do the same, pushing his jacket from him to let it lay beside her own. Levi’s hand kneaded the skin of her ass once more, fully capturing her lips then moved his hands under her thighs and lifted her off her feet. 

Y/N cupped his face while Levi placed her back on top of the desk, slowly guiding her to lay down, their lips forced apart once her back lay flat. He chased after her by placing a kiss to her stomach, leading a trail down to her hip bone, loving the way her legs jerked as he did so and traveled even further downward. His hands lifted up to grasp ahold of her pants and underwear, pulling them off methodically and leaving her legs bare before him; the surface of flesh illuminated by the soft, orange, candlelight. 

He settled himself between her legs, grabbing them to wrap them around his waist allowing little to no space as Levi finally sunk back inside her aching hole. 

“Shit!” Levi hissed, the warmth of her inner walls overwhelming him in all the best ways. If he was honest with himself, he could’ve cum right then. 

“Oh god, you feel so good.” Y/N moaned out once he was fully sheathed inside her. “Please, move…”

Even though the beginnings of his release were approaching quickly, Levi was determined to make her cum first. Without any more delay, he gave a few slow thrusts, pulling all the way out then slamming back in. Each move, causing Y/N’s entire being to shake as she wailed in tantalizing fervor. 

He repeated the motion several more times, soon switching to more eager thrusts. Ones that sank deeper with every drive of his hips. 

“This is what I waited for all d-day, you filling me up completely.” Y/N professed, eyes rolling back as Levi’s cock assaulted her insides. 

“All day huh?” Levi huffed breathlessly, eyes locking onto the point where they were joined together. “You really were needy for me today. Just couldn’t wait for me to fuck you, fill you with my cum?”

Y/N nodded weakly, too dazed in the ridges of his length massaging the walls of her cunt. 

The sparks of previous orgasm reignited, prickling at his nerve endings, and rapidly spreading an addictive heat over his whole being. “Damn it…” 

Levi brought his hand between the two of them to press his finger onto her clit, beginning to rub it in a circular pattern. She convulsed under him, whines bordering on sobs scratching away at her throat, and he felt her clench tightly around him which caused his hips to stutter in their movements.

“Levi! I’m so close!” 

“I know, me too. Fuck!” 

Y/N lifted her legs up, hooking them on top of each other to trap him against her. “Please, Levi, cum inside me.”

He growled, the sound coming from deep within while he ravenously continued rubbing at her clit; thrusts hungry and impatient to reach the edge and finally, Y/N tightened unbearably around him, her mouth hanging open in a silent moan. 

Levi bucked into her a few more times before he inevitably reached that threshold, his cum spilling out in white ropes and filling her to the brim. 

The hot sensation of his essence soaking her insides made her mewl in delight, a barely noticeable smile working its way to her lips. “I love you, Levi.” 

He looked up at her face, seeing her tired eyes and satisfied smile. The sight made his heart flutter. “I love you too, Y/N.”

They took a moment to catch their breath, the sounds of their panting intertwining in the air while the sound of the crickets became apparent once their nightly activity came to a cease.

“Let’s get to bed, it’s late.” Y/N suggested while bringing her hand up to softly caress his forearm. 

He nodded. “Right, good idea.” 

With that, Levi pulled out, both making a low groan at the loss of warmth, but soon Levi brought Y/N up and picked her up in his arms, carrying her to the bedroom behind another door just a few feet from his desk. Once they were in the bedroom, Levi grabbed his handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the mess he made between Y/N’s legs and then proceeded to wipe himself off. 

He reminded himself to wash it as soon as he got up in the morning. 

“Can I wear one of your shirts tonight?” Y/N sweetly asked, already removing what little of her uniform that had remained on.

“Like you wear anything else when we go to sleep.” Levi pointedly stated but handed her one of his shirts anyway. 

She giggled then slipped the shirt over her head, hugging the collar toward her nose to smell his scent had lingered on the fabric. She hummed happily, pulling back the blanket of the bed and shimmed comfortably under it. 

Once Levi blew out the lantern nearby, and dressed down, leaving himself in nothing but his underwear, he joined Y/N under the blanket, wrapping his arm around her back and pulling her into his chest. The moonlight shining a bit through the curtains of the room provided just enough light to be able to see her eyes staring adoringly up at him. 

“I love you.” She said suddenly. 

He scoffed, though dipped his head down to kiss her forehead. “You already said that.”

She snuggled closer into him, her arms wrapping around him as well. “I’m saying it again. I love you.”

This time he actually laughed. “I love you too, you know that.”

“I know.” She tucked her head to lay on his chest, savoring the feeling of having him so close. 

“Now go to sleep, we need to get up early.” Levi half-heartedly demanded, sensing his own exhaustion setting in. He glance over to see that Y/N reaching the cusp of sleep, her breathing starting to steady out and her body relaxing under his touch. 

With one final kiss to her hair, Levi too let himself drift off.