#it's a dubious prize to be sure | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ericsprincess · 4 months ago

Text

until you overflow

nc-17, Na Jaemin/Reader, historical au, queen!yn, war prize!jaemin, mildly dubious consent, cunnilingus, penetration, breeding kink

~~~

You need an heir.

~~~

“I already SAID, I am NOT going to do this now,” you spoke through your gritted teeth, holding yourself back the best way you could to not smash your fist on the table out of anger. The atmosphere in the room was tense, and yet the scene was all too familiar for everyone.

"B-but you need an heiress! Your highness, the war is over so now we should focus on important internal affairs, one of which is ensuring the succession!" scuttered one of the ministers, a capable, but also an extremely annoying woman with a particular penchant for bureaucracy. One of those people who never knows when to stop, whether they mean well or not.

“The war is over and we should focus on repairing what it ruined first, don’t you think?” you replied sarcastically, but the minister as if she were deaf to your tone.

“But..what if something happens to you? We need to have the security of an heiress! The people need it, it will boost the morale of the entire nation too!”

And this was already going on for 20 minutes. For the third time just this week.

Thankfully, this useless exchange was interrupted when one of your highest advisors, an ancient noble lady, an advisor of your mother before she was yours, stepped out, essentially ending the bickering.

“Your highness, there is still the..new war prize. You surely know which one I mean,” the advisor bowed deep in front of you. “He seems very strong. He could give our queendom many heiresses. It would silence many mouths, not only about the ones talking about you, but also those that are raising concerns about his future and purpose. Please consider that.” she spoke and retreated back amongst the others.

Of course you knew which one she meant. Ever since the moment he was brought by your army, and as a part of war prize paraded around the capital to be finally thrown to kneel at your feet, he’s been the talk of the entire country. There were many captives brought in that day, but this one, as if he had put the spell on our entire country. All the men and women alike were marveling at his beauty, mouths hanging open with fingers pointing at that one, do you see that one? as the procession of soldiers and captives and carriages full of gold was passing through the capital city towards the Queen’s Palace. People soon started spreading eyewitness accounts and half-truths as well, even sharing made-up stories how he was so strong and raging that he almost fought off an entire squad of your soldiers before he was captured, how they had to bring him bound in thick iron chains and muzzled, a beautiful, but rabid beast.

Most of that was not true. As far as the generals’ report that was handed to you said, he was ambushed while he was quietly traveling on his horse alone on a forest path, and went willingly, with a smile. He just let himself get captured, even shooting a joke or two, greeting his captors goodnaturedly like old friends. However, under his plain clothes, your soldiers found out he was armed up to the teeth.

They tried to interrogate him, but even after hours, no one was able to figure out where he came from and where he was going. He spoke with an accent not native to the conquered kingdom, so he clearly wasn’t a local citizen, but refused to prove his ties to another country to avoid being taken as a war captive. Nothing about his clothes or things he had on him specified anything. He provided his name when asked, but it was a simple, plain name, very common in any country around, so no one even believed it’s real.

So they just followed the orders and just like any other captive, they brought him to the palace to have his fate decided there, and most court people half-expected you would have him publicly executed, as a statement and also just to simply get rid of the potential threat. They threw him at your feet, and he didn’t beg for his life as everyone expected he would. He raised his head from where he was kneeling, dirty with hands tied behind his back, but said nothing and only smiled at you, before dropping his head back down. The crowd gasped at the audacity of him daring to even lay his eyes on their Queen and immediately started whispering, everyone expecting you would immediately order your guards to have his head cut off, bloodthirsty atmosphere rising in the hall.

But you didn’t want to. You have learnt years ago, by necessity, to have no qualms or hesitation about ending an unworthy life, but something drawn you to him. You couldn’t tell what, but you didn’t want to kill him, at least not before he would give you an actual reason. You didn’t want to waste his life, just for the fleeting enjoyment of the masses. You wouldn’t have admitted it, not even to yourself at that time, but you were also intrigued.

You couldn’t decide and you ended up stalling, staring at the back of his head that was hung between his shoulders, with his forehead almost touching the cold marble of the throne room as he was slumped on his knees. The throne room was completely silent, everyone waited with bated breaths for the verdict.

Then a sharp pain in your rib woke you up from your stupor. You startled and looked at the source - your closest court lady, who was until now only standing at her usual place by your right hand, entirely bored, has just elbowed you to bring you back to earth.

She leaned over to you, covering her mouth as she whispered to your ear.

“Keep this one. We will put him to good use.”

You rolled your eyes at her as she drew back, and she just shrugged. What? Sue me, she mouthed back at you before she resumed her bored expression.

You sighed and irritatedly waved your hand to the right, signaling the guards to take him to the dungeons instead of beheading him right on the spot. The crowd groaned a little, annoyed that they couldn’t witness an almost poetic death of an exquisite beauty, but no one dared to raise a protest. They all knew better than that.

~~~

This is all entirely her fault, you were rubbing your temples two days later to stave off the headache, thinking about what to do about him, cursing your best friend and her one track mind.

But she did have a solid point, and you are a benevolent and generous queen so you decided to put him where he would be appreciated the best and guarded the most - a royal harem, private only for you and your court ladies to use at your leisure.

Despite his dubious and potentially dangerous origins, you weren’t afraid for the safety of your court ladies. None of them were here just for decoration - all highly trained professional guards and assassins, the loyal extensions of your power, you weren’t afraid of them getting hurt or letting him escape. Vice-versa too - if anyone decided to become some kind of a vigilante justice and lay a hand on the mysterious dangerous man who could be seen as a threat to the queendom, he would be well-protected.

It really seemed to be the best solution.

A solution that would make everyone happy - you would have one less problem, the man would be out of prying and gossiping public eyes hidden well within the palace walls, the court ladies would get a new shiny toy and him…Well, no one cares about what he thinks or wants.

But even this turned out to not be an issue, because as it was reported to you a month later, the new harem addition was settling into his new role well. Maybe even too well, as you have found out from the gossips and giggles between the court ladies. Apparently, not only he didn’t have any reservations about the kind of services that were expected from him, but also he provided them very willingly and enthusiastically. Seemingly impossible to tire out, he was always happy to let himself be used by any woman, even multiple at once! as you heard the whispers.

The never ending rumors about his skills with his fingers or tongue were constantly making you blush every time you overheard. But not only that, part of why he was so popular was also how comfortable and desired he made the ladies feel. He seemed to always figure out very quickly how each woman wanted to be touched or talked to, or whichever kink she might have. He was also not shy about his own body or sexuality, but his own needs always took a back seat. He seemed to be born for this role, made to please the others.

The only thing he was not approved nor allowed to do was penetration. He was not deemed fit or deserving to sire a child for your queendom yet, that was an honor and a privilege reserved for only few distinguished harem members that have been in service for a long time. But the potential was there and everyone acknowledged it.

The beautiful, charming Probably Na Jaemin has quickly become the darling of the harem. Friendly with everyone, staff, servants, even other harem members liked talking to him and had nothing to say about him but high praise.

No suspicious behavior was reported, no escape attempts, no strange questions, no forbidden items found hidden between his possessions. Na Jaemin seemed to be fully satisfied and content with his living situations and when the servants asked if there were anything he could be missing, he only asked whether there would be a teeeny tiiiny possibility of getting a cat, maybe? If it wouldn’t cause too many problems, of course?

This bastard is just having a vacation on my account, you fumed as you were stamping your Queen’s Approval seal on the request to purchase a ragdoll for the palace.

Despite the continuous nagging and encouragement from your court ladies, especially your best friend, you haven’t seen him yourself yet. Actually, you haven’t seen anyone from the harem recently, because you were avoiding the entire palace wing by a mile. You wouldn’t admit that to anyone, but you didn’t even want to run into him in the corridors.

And now you’re expected to consider him as a possible father of your daughters. And you didn’t even have any good reason to reject this idea outright.

~~~

You have been tossing and turning in your bed for hours already and sleep was yet to come. The full moon has been shining into your chambers so strongly you could see everything even with the lights of. That must be the reason why you can’t sleep, you fumed as you were annoyingly shutting the curtains.

And then you were lying down staring at the ceiling in complete darkness for one more hour.

Okay. I give up. You said to yourself and climbed off the bed, picking up a robe, some slippers and a candlestick holder for some light to take with you.

You left your room quietly and let your feet lead you while trying to not think about where you are going. You passed a few guards on your way, replying only with a curt nod to their deep bows. At the very least you could see for yourself that they are doing their job properly.

You finally ended up in front of the door that was the target destination of your night trip. You put your hand on the handle and were just about to open it, when the door flew open and a young giggly lady ran out straight into your arms, startling you both.

You did your best to not drop your light or burn either of you, while she quickly (and with complete horror) realized who did she run into, composed herself and started apologizing, bowing deeply and begging you for forgiveness. You just dismissed her with a wave of your hand and she didn’t need to be told twice - she bowed once more for good measure and disappeared into the corridor.

Once the commotion calmed down you were free to look into the room. It was a normal harem room, nice and spacious, beautifully decorated with imported furniture and full of lights and candles, with a big bed in the middle. And just there, in the middle of the bed, leisurely spreaded on the finest silks your country could provide, was Jaemin. And what a sight for sore eyes he was - dressed only in light silk pants,so thin, you could almost make out what’s under them, with only his upper body on display, all in its tanned and muscular glory. Lying there, like a picture perfect example of debauchery, sweaty, used, and covered in lovebites and bodily fluids, as if letting himself to show you what he's there for.

He didn’t scramble off the bed to bow to you, which would be a punishable offense and he must have known. Instead, he let his head drop back on the pillow and with drowsy eyes, tired voice and wide smug smile he asked:

“Your highness… How can I help you?” he drawled slowly, without any care about what’s proper and what is not. He seemed to enjoy being seen in such a state, especially by you.

You clenched your jaw. You will not be entertaining this kind of behavior. You promptly turned on your heel and left his room, slamming the door behind you.

You took on the way back to your quarters, fuming the entire time, but trying to not think about why exactly.

~~~

It’s been a few days and you can’t sleep again. But this time, you are not trying to. You’ve been periodically alternating lying restlessly in your bed with pacing around your room. You might have checked yourself in the mirror once or twice. And now you’re back in bed, more nervous and anxious than you should be. You keep glimpsing on the clock even though it’s still a little bit too early - your instructions were clear - better later than to be seen. But you still can’t wait, you’re not sure if it’s just the anxiety or also maybe some anticipation.

The heavy door to your chambers slowly opens, revealing your visitor - Na Jaemin, slipping through the door silently like a cat, closing them after himself without any sound. He’s wearing only a thin, almost translucent white silk shirt and some light linen pants - both entirely inappropriate attire even for slinking through the palace corridors deep at night. He is looking at you, his facial expression neutral, not exposing any of his thoughts.

“Your highness,” he greets. He doesn’t bow.

You nod in reply, but don’t know what else to say. Usually you wouldn’t be so shy or embarrassed, but none of your harem members unsettles you like he does. You could just order him around, but it doesn’t feel right, you don’t want it like that. The moment is so awkward that you don’t know whether to start laughing or not, as you are just staring at each other. So you decide to slightly break the tension by lifting the silk duvets in invitation.

He doesn’t wait a second and swiftly joins you in your massive canopy bed, throwing half of the bedding off on the ground. He settles between your legs, laying down on his belly and pushes your nightgown up. With just a brief glance at your face to confirm his intentions he gets to work. He starts eating your pussy with the skill and talent of someone who, well, eats pussy as a profession - and it would have felt maybe too impersonal if he weren’t so good at it. He’s enthusiastic and he clearly likes doing it, with his eyes closed and occasional humming. It feels good, his tongue feels like it’s everywhere at the same time and the tempo is perfect, even more when he dares to slip two fingers inside you.

It’s good, too good and you don’t want to come. Not yet, not before he does what needs to be done. But he doesn’t know that yet.

You reluctantly grab him by his hair and unstick him from your pussy. He looks so beautiful, his eyes are closed and his face is flushed, with sweat gathering on his temples. His lower face is all wet and his lips are so red. He opens his eyes, slowly, blinking:

“You don’t want to? Is that not why I am here?” he asks, looking surprised. You are not sure whether to trust it or he’s just pretending. But you don’t feel like you are obligated to explain yourself to him.

“Take it out. Put it in,” you order.

“Oh, so it’s like that, is it?” his face transforms completely, his smug wide shark smile back on his face. You let his hair go and he gets up, keeling between your legs, towering over you. He starts to untie his pants.

“Is that what this is about?” he asks, while grabbing you by your hips, pulling you closer to him so easily as if you weighed nothing. “I heard some gossip about an heir. So are you just using me for breeding?” he says, putting on a fake accusatory tone. How does he have the mental presence to pretend-pout while he’s literally pushing his hard cock inside, flashes through your head.

He stops when he’s all the way in and leans forward over you, unmoving and staring right into your eyes, his unsettling smile plastered on as usual.

“Yes.” you do your best to keep your voice stable as he starts moving. You relax and lift your legs to wrap them around his back to push him deeper. His movements are fluid and he’s gentle, clearly thinking of your comfort first, not just hammering in without consideration.

“The royal court has found you a purpose,” you breathe out, closing your eyes. You drop your head back on the pillows. “And I am not using you, you should be honored.”

“Does the royal court not care about the father of its heirs being just a lowly pleasure slave? Maybe we are more equal than you think, you know” taunts Jaemin. You run your hands over his wide back, holding on for the dear life and he’s starting to fuck you more thoroughly, his tempo getting faster. Despite that, he doesn’t seem to get any winded, his stamina is solid and his self-control clearly impeccable, as he doesn’t seem to be affected in any way. But he is, you can feel him sweat, you can feel the slick wetness between your bodies just as well as you can feel how hard he is.

“It’s-it’s not important,” you stutter between thrusts. You’re slowly getting there and it’s becoming hard to think. He’s going fast and deep and finally you can hear him getting out of breath.

“Okay,” he breathes out. He lowers down so he can kiss you on your neck. “I’ll give you your daughters” he puts his lips close to your ear, his deep voiced whispers accompanying his final thrusts, as he loses the rhythm and cums inside of you, with your orgasm following right after, triggered by his and his words.

You keep holding on to him tightly as you feel pumping his cum inside of you, both coming down from your orgasms. You’re enjoying this closeness and you don’t really want to let go, but everything is getting too hot and sticky, so you reluctantly let him drop on the bed next to you.

You feel completely liquid but when you glance at him, he’s already recovered, with his breath back to normal and wits fully gathered.

He grins at you. “Your highness~~ Were you satisfied with my services?”

Yes. “We will see that soon.”

He turns to his side and gets close to cuddle up to you. You don’t know what to do with your limbs, but let him do as he wishes. Which is sticking himself fully onto you like an octopus.

“I was thinking, If it works out well, maybe you could let me make a few more babies for your court ladies, so the throne heir has friends to play with, what do you think?” he mumbles into your skin.

Fuck no. It’s not that you are possessive, not over a measly harem member, but something about this proposal rubs you the wrong way. You frown and start to fight your way out of his embrace to scold him from a more dignified position, but you’re stuck in an iron cuddle grip. And the more you try to wiggle out, the tighter it gets.

“Noooooo? Does your majesty not like this idea~~?” he asks. “That’s okay then, we will just have to work eeeeeextra hard to make this one a twins,” he laughs, already scrambling up so he can get between your legs again.

And you can’t help yourself, and laugh with him.

~~~

a/n: i like to imagine that this jaemin is actually a runaway youngest prince of some neighboring country who decided to become a hitman for hire, because that’s just so much more fun. he loooves killing people, but he really did need a vacation :)

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 5 months ago

Note

Can I get some steter with morally dubious Stiles?

You sure can! @kevaaronday made this list.

A Darkness Follows by havok2cat (9/9 | 41,994 | Explicit | Steter) Stiles serves his community service at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. He's assigned to a mysterious patient and finds himself quickly becoming obsessed.

As most wrong theories are by PotatoYoghurt

(46/46 | 35,150 | Explicit | Stetopher) The world takes everything from Stiles.

Stiles decides to take it back.

Null & Void by skargasm (18/18 | 28,762 | Explicit | Steter) In a world full of the supernatural and superpowers, everyone eagerly awaits their 18th birthday to ‘receive’ their gift. On his 18th birthday, Stiles Stilinski comes into his powers and finds out in the most horrific way possible that his gift is more of a curse – one unguarded touch, and he absorbs both a person’s gift andtheir life-force.

Determined to keep his friends and family safe, he moves away from his home and takes a job with the government, taking away the gifts of those who would abuse them. As one of the most powerful – and potentially dangerous – people in the world, Void feels completely alone.

Peter Hale’s gift is incredibly prized – mainly because no one is allowed to openly discuss what their gift is. Working within the P.A.C.K. bureau, he keeps his family safe and does the world a service. No-one’s gift can touch him, and he is one of the very few who can tell what someone’s gift is from one simple touch.

So what does he do with this ruthless but attractive new partner who refuses to let Peter touch him?

To Court a (Oblivious) Werewolf by StilesIsMySpiritAnimal (5/5 | 25,437 | Explicit | Steter) There was no mistaking that this was the Spark.

He walked with a lethal grace, hands in his pockets and head tilted down slightly. His entire body had a soft glow to it.

Three bodies moved in unison to flank him, and they walked the remaining distance to the pack.

As if sensing his perusal, the boy looked up, right at Peter, his whiskey-colored eyes flashing in the sun.

Oh. Peter briefly wondered if the young man hid his face for safety, or because every ‘wolf within ten miles would be looking to court him.

Perhaps by Triskuit (1/1 | 7,168 | Explicit | Steter) Stiles and Peter run into each other when attempting to kill the same people. They get together and go a-murderin'.

-----

“Should we be comparing lists or something?”

There was an amused snort. “Perhaps.”

They stood around awkwardly for a few moments and then Stiles went to get a closer look at the thoroughly shredded Body Formerly Known As Todd.

“You’re not going to ask?” the werewolf blurted.

There was surprise and incredulity in his voice. And was that a hint of disappointment? Stiles bet he had a whole spiel prepared. He smirked.

“About what? You’re a guy who turns into a wolf-bear creature. And? Do you have another trick up your sleeve? Some fascinating hobby?”

The werewolf erupted into a full-body laugh, mouth open and eyes sparkling — Stiles was close enough now to see that they were blue — and he was pleased to elicit such a response. He wanted to hear that sound again.

Aconite is Forever by threedices (1/1 | 5,636 | Teen | Steter) Magic helps Stiles find his soulmate. Knowing Peter exists is a comfort after his mother's death.

While magic doesn't stop the Hale fire it allows Stiles to bring Peter back when he thinks sacrificing himself for Stiles is a good idea (the fool).

Too Good to be True by stellewrites (1/1 | 5,256 | Teen | Steter) “This is a big fucking job, Ali,” Stiles said tiredly as he looked over the blueprints for the banks. “I’ll be doing you more than a favour if I do this. It’s peak time for tourists, so that means that cops are going to be more alert than usual. We won’t have much time.”

“So, you’re in?” She confirmed.

“Yeah, I’m in,” he said

“Who the fuck actually robs a bank in Las Vegas?” Peter murmured, feeling hysterical when he saw the masked group spread around the bank.

---

Peter's on holiday with his friends in Las Vegas when he gets caught up in a bank robbery. One of the robbers has really pretty eyes - not that Peter noticed…

To Captivate a Killer by Noxnthea (1/1 | 2,000 | Teen | Steter) “The problem is that I’m not sure whether I want to kill him or kiss him.”

There’s silence from the Sheriff’s end of the spell before his father says, “Really, Stiles?”

Stiles has accepted a contract to assassinate the Hale prince. It’s not panning out quite like he expected.

Just Calm Down by SnakePit1995 (1/1 | 1,085 | Gen | Steter) Stiles putting wards on Peter's apartment was easily the best decision he ever made. They worked perfectly and saved them time and time again. The intent wards were an everlasting argument but Stiles was never going to take them down.

The intent wards don't let Peter into the apartment when he's angry and Stiles finds it endlessly entertaining.

#teen wolf #steter #stiles stilinski #peter hale #bamf!stiles #anon

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mochirimochi · 1 year ago

Text

Somewhere Safe

William Afton X Reader

I wanna smash the pervy dilf in the rabbit suit ok?

-This is now officially part 1 in a series!-

p1 ● p2 ● p3 ● p4

-----

You just need somewhere safe to hide from your abusive ex. Unfortunately for you, you're about to stumble into the arms of something much, much worse.

18+ Minors DNI.

~3700 words, no use of y/n

-----

cws: abusive relationships, degradation kink, breath play if you squint, smut, rough sex, EXTREMELY dubious concent, a sprinkle of spanking

You can also read on ao3 if you prefer: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51567985

-----

Your arms shake as you push up the rusted steel door that separates the pizzeria from the outside world. Every clatter and rumble of the metal makes you flinch and sweep your eyes over the abandoned side lot. There shouldn’t be anyone out and about to catch you at this time of night, right? Regardless, your heart pounds as you force the heavy door up, inch by agonizing inch. As soon as you’ve made enough space for your body you toss your bag under and swiftly crouch to follow it.

Breaking and entering is far from your typical Monday night activity, but circumstances have left you with little choice in the matter. You need somewhere you won’t be found, somewhere no one will think to look for you. A dilapidated former birthday attraction certainly fits the bill, you don’t think you’ve ever mentioned the place to your ex before and if you have he probably won’t remember anyways.

You give the door a tug to close it behind you, flinching as it slams back down into the concrete, and pick your way through the broken glass of the entryway. The smell of mildew is heavy in the air, clawing at your lungs and making your eyes water. This place used to be so vibrant and full of joy once upon a time. You’ve attended many a birthday in the restaurant that stretches out in front of you, even had a few of your own. This place had always been a favorite of the local parents due to its… generous wine portions and the ability to outsource their children's supervision. As a result it had been a kids paradise, the ability to run wild while mom and dad got lost in the sauce on a Saturday afternoon? Few things could rival that sense of freedom for a kid. Ironic as it was considering what had come later, it had always been a place where you felt safe and happy. Maybe that was why you’d chosen the pizzeria when you needed to hide from your abusive boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend now you suppose. It wasn’t like you had any plans to go back to the man after tonight.

You give yourself a shake, attempting to bring yourself back to the moment at hand. This isn’t exactly the time to be spacing out after all, you’re technically committing a crime. Actually, there isn’t anything “technical” about it, you’re definitely breaking multiple laws right now. You shoulder your backpack and cast a glance toward the stage, it’s concealed behind a dusty red curtain but you can practically picture the animatronics behind it ready to jolt into song and dance just like they did years ago. You wonder if the owner removed them when he shut the place down. If you pull back the curtain will you find the shabby remains of your childhood heroes? You shiver, maybe it’s best not to find out.

If you remember correctly, the staff always entered and exited through a door next to the prize counter, maybe you’ll find a staff room with a couch through there. It seems like as promising an idea as any so you flick on your flashlight and make your way past the dining area and through the arcade. Sure enough, you’re greeted with a “staff only” sign and an unlocked door to boot.

The hallway beyond is dark, lacking any of the color of the show floor. Interestingly, flickering yellow bulbs hang from the ceiling sporadically. The emergency power must still be on in this part of the building, you reason as you cautiously move through the hallway. You round a corner and let out a yelp as you collide with something huge, brown, and strangely soft. The impact knocks you off balance and you land rather gracelessly on your ass. It takes a moment for your brain to comprehend what you’re looking at as your gaze travels upwards over pudgy brown legs and a round plush stomach.

“Fredbear?!” The exclamation comes out before you really have a chance to think. “How in the world did you get all the way over here?” Your heart, which has been about ready to leap out of your chest, slows as you take in the animatronic. It’s in surprisingly good shape considering the state of the rest of this place. You push yourself to your feet and take a few steps back. “I can’t believe they actually left you guys here, you’d think they’d have moved you. Poor guy, all this time stuck in this dingy old hallway.”

It’s strange when you really think about it, who would leave him just standing in the bowels of the restaurant? It seems like an awfully strange place to just leave your star animatronic, rushed closure or not. After a moment, a distant memory of the animatronics being wired to wander through the pizzeria comes back to you, in fact now that you think about it you can remember getting a big warm hug or two from the Freddy animatronic. That would explain it, maybe his circuits got damaged over time and had triggered that unique function.

“Sorry to bug you big guy, I promise I’m not here to cause trouble. I just… needed somewhere safe.” Not for the first time that night you feel tears well in your eyes. “Nope, I am not going to cry over this. Not happening, you didn’t see me cry as a kid and you’re not gonna see it now.” You blink the tears away and the absurdity of your situation finally hits you. Not only are you hiding from your psycho ex and breaking the law for the first time in your life, but you’re also talking to a decrepit old robot like it can actually understand you. You heave a shaking sigh to ground yourself and pull your shoulders back. This might be your lowest moment but you refuse to let yourself wallow in it. With a determined huff you give Fredbear an affectionate pat on the arm before moving further into the building.

Before long you stumble across the staffroom, a long cluttered room with an extended plexi-glass window looking out into the hallway. Maybe at another time the window would serve to make the room feel brighter and bigger but now the dust covered plastic is shot through with a spider's web of cracks that barely allow you to see into the room. The door is unlocked though, and after a few quick shoves the warped wood releases its hold on the frame to allow you entry. Luckily, the room seems fairly well preserved and you spot a few dusty but intact couches pushed up against the wall. Jackpot. The exhaustion you’ve barely been keeping at bay all night hits you like a freight train and you lurch across the room to the couches. You collapse onto the nearest one, sending a fine cloud of dust into the air. You can’t bring yourself to care as you curled into a tight ball, finally letting sleep take you.

–

William watches the security cameras with curiosity as you wind your way through the building. Normally the animatronics would have taken care of any intruders well before they got to this point. This is new, novel even. He leans forward at his desk, squinting at the video feed in an attempt to get a better view. His jaw almost drops when you collapse onto the couch and fall still. Even through the grainy monitor he can tell that you’ve fallen asleep. What in the world is your deal? Who in their right mind would break into an abandoned establishment of dubious repute only to take a nap? He clasps his hands in thought as he watches the slow rise and fall of your chest. This calls for a more… hands on investigation.

–

A tickling in your nose rouses you from your slumber and you begin to sneeze yourself awake with surprising force. You check your watch, barely 4 in the morning. You’ve only slept for an hour at most and exhaustion threatens to pull you back into sleep. It might too, if not for the insistent vibration of your phone in your pocket. You flip the cursed thing open without hitting the button to answer, bracing yourself for what you know you’ll see.

Unsurprisingly, you’ve got 53 unread texts, 20 missed calls and 16 voicemails. You don’t need to check the contact info to know who they’re from. Against your better judgment you navigate to your sms messages and begin to read through the backlog when your phone finally stops buzzing. Some of the texts are pleading, others threatening. A few texts claim to “love you so much” and be “so fucking sorry”, while others rail at you “you fucking bitch” and “how dare you fucking run off like that?”. The messages paint a grim but unsurprising picture, a picture that’s unfortunately all too familiar. You raise your hand to the tender bruising that you know must be beginning to come to the surface on your neck before you navigate to your most recent voicemail. You flick on the speaker before staring into the green light of the screen.

“Where the fuck are you, you fucking bitch?” You flinch as an angry voice fills the room. “You think you can fucking run away from me? You think you can fucking end shit? You’ve got another thing coming to you, used up fucking slut. The next time I lay eyes on you you’re fucking dead, you hear me? Run the fuck away from me again and see what happens. I’ll-” You don’t give the voicemail a chance to run its course. With a raw, frustrated scream you launch the phone across the room. It hits the wall with a satisfying clatter. The battery and casing skitter across the floor and the voicemail cuts out abruptly. Not satisfied with just cutting the bastard off you stomp across the room, still screaming, and smash your foot into the body of the phone. It gives with a satisfying crunch and you roar as you kick it for good measure, sending the now useless device across the room once again. All the fear and rage of the last few hours overcomes you and you let yourself scream until you run out of breath.

Suddenly a flash of something yellow through the hallway window catches your eye. You push your hair out of your face as you try to catch your breath, attempting to squint through the aged plexi-glass. A hulking, inhuman figure stands on the other side of the window, seeming to peer back at you. For a moment neither of you move, it seems to be taking you in as much as you’re taking it in. The strange standoff breaks when the figure, still indistinct through the dust and cracks in the glass, starts to move slowly and methodically towards the staffroom door.

Finally your brain springs into action. Shit. Whatever that is, it’s not good. You sweep your eyes frantically around the room, weighing your options. Any windows to the outside are boarded up, and the only door in or out is the one the massive yellow figure is making its way towards. The only viable option seems to be to take the defensive. There’s a tiny kitchenette against the wall, and you rush towards it in desperation. Frantically, you yank open the drawers in search of anything you might use to protect yourself. The best you can come up with is a wooden spoon. In another situation that might be laughable, but you can’t take a moment to consider how absurd you look brandishing a wooden spoon like a sword. The rattle of the doorknob tells you that you’re out of time.

Whatever you had expected to be on the other side of that door it certainly wasn’t a massive yellow rabbit suit. It’s huge, so large that it has to duck to get its ears under the door frame. As it tilts its head to take you in, your blood runs cold. You hold your ground as the thing stalks closer, its movements slow and deliberate as it moves towards you.

In a moment of desperation you launch yourself forward, attempting to dodge around the looming figure and make a dash for freedom. You don’t have a chance. A pair of strong arms wrap roughly around your waist, jerking you back with enough force to knock the air from your lungs. Your makeshift weapon clatters to the floor. A dark chuckle rumbles from the depths of the suit as a hand drags its way from your waist and up your chest to grab your chin.

“What. Have. We. Here?” The voice that comes from the suit is deep, taunting, and undoubtedly mascuine. He punctuates the last word with a rough but controlled yank, pulling your chin up and your head back into his chest. You whimper as it strains your already aching neck. With your head tipped back you can see the yellow rabbit head looming above you and it tilts to the side again as if in curiosity. “I asked you a question.”

“I-I-...” You can barely get your mouth to move and you lick your lips in a desperate attempt to draw words from them. Your obvious fear draws a satisfied hum from the depths of the suit and the hand on your waist tightens noticeably. The hand on your jaw however, disappears. You pull in a shaky gasp and buck your head forward in an attempt to build up enough momentum to break free. The vice-like grip on your waist is unaffected and your captor grunts in amusement.

A rustling above your head draws your attention and you look up to realize that the hand that had just been holding your jaw captive is running along the neck of the suit. With a single, deft movement the head of the suit comes off and your captors face is revealed. There’s an almost rugged handsomeness to his mature features, graying stubble covering his cheeks and eyes that in another life may have looked almost kind. The expression he’s peering down at you with now is anything but kind or gentle though. There’s a hunger there, and a barely suppressed rage. He places the head on a nearby table and returns his hand to your jaw. With agonizing languidness he leans forward and presses his lips to your ear.

“Who gave you permission to sleep in my restaurant?”

You gasp as his stubble rasps against your jaw and his hot breath ghosts across your face.

“I’m sorry. I just needed a place to stay. I’ll leave right now. I’ll-”

He cuts you off. “A place to stay, huh?” His lips are still brushing against your ear and despite yourself you feel a chill run down your spine that has nothing to do with fear. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with that absolute delight of a man on the other side of the phone, would it?”

“He’ll kill me.” As soon as the words come out of your mouth you know they’re true. Honestly, you’re lucky to have survived him this long.

“Oh, little mouse, what makes you think I won’t?” The grip on your jaw releases for a moment and you hear something fall to the floor. When it returns it’s a very warm, very human hand that takes its place. His other hand briefly lets go to do the same and you can feel his nails digging into your flesh as he presses you against him.

“Please.” It’s barely more than a whimper as the hand at your jaw dips to circle your neck. “I just needed somewhere safe.”

“And you chose here? Bad luck.” He presses his nose to your jaw and draws in a deep, ragged breath. “But you know, we might be able to work something out.” The hand at your waist begins to travel, burrowing its way under the hem of your shirt before splaying wide across your stomach. His long fingers barely brush the underside of your bra but you feel the heat of them as if there’s no fabric to separate you. “I’d hate to see a pretty thing like you put out in the cold.”

“Anything.”

–

William can barely contain himself. The feeling of your trembling body in his arms is oh so delicious and your intoxicating scent floods his nose, every breath sending a thrill through him. You’re so soft, so malleable, so utterly breakable. It’s brilliant.

Using one hand to keep you pinned against him he uses the other to work his way out of the suit with practiced skill. Initially he’d just wanted to watch you, figure out the enigma that was your survival after breaking into his restaurant. Normally people don’t last for more than a few minutes. But you’d dithered around, chatted up his ace in the hole, and then taken a nap? He couldn’t contain his curiosity.

The phone call had derailed his plan and given him an idea. Sure, he had planned on killing you once he’d solved your mystery but maybe there were other things you could be useful for. There was something captivating about you, and the perfect leverage had just fallen straight into his lap.

He makes quick work of the suit, and soon he’s reveling in the feeling of your body against his.

“Anything?” He asks, stroking his thumb gently over your jugular before giving your throat a controlled squeeze. Your startled gasp is almost enough to send him reeling. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, little mouse.”

–

This is wrong. Everything about this situation is wrong.

And yet, your body seems to have some of its wires crossed because it is not getting the message. The only thing you should be feeling right now is fear, and sure, there’s a very healthy dose of that tying your guts in knots but beyond that there’s an underlying current of heat. None of what’s happening should be causing your core to tighten, and the goose bumps forming on your neck should be from terror.

But they’re not.

His hand drifts up even further, pushing your bra up and out of the way to capture the smooth skin of your breast in his hand. You can’t help it, you roll your hips back into his, pushing against the hardness that’s growing there at an almost alarming pace. He growls behind you, pulling you even closer to grind against your ass.

“So that’s how it is?” His voice in your ear is even deeper now, heavy with lust as he gives your breast a hard squeeze. Even you’re surprised when you let out a wanton moan. “Imagine such a dirty fucking slut falling right into my lap.” His words have you clenching around nothing and you don’t even have the presence of mind to feel conflicted about your body's reaction. He releases your breast and his hand burns a trail down to the top of your jeans, he flicks the button open with ease and slowly undoes your zipper. Then he stops, his hand ghosts over the crotch of your jeans before it stills. You let out a needy whimper that you barely recognize as your voice.

“Beg for it, little mouse.”

You groan, canting your hips forward in a desperate search for pressure. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please, fuck me.”

His control seems to snap and he spins you around before shoving you across the room and face down into the couch, barely giving you time to yelp in surprise. He pulls your hips into the air before yanking down your jeans and panties in one harsh motion. The animalistic groan that escapes him at the sight of your dripping pussy sends a shock of arousal through you. He grabs a globe of your ass in each hand, digging his fingers in so hard that you gasp. His nails bite in deep enough that you’re sure they’ll draw blood.

“God, look at you.” He grunts, releasing your ass and stepping back as if to admire the view. You hear the clinking of his belt buckle and wiggle in anticipation. “What a fucking freak you are, so fucking wet and ready for a strange man in an abandoned building.” He lifts his hand and lands a stinging blow on your ass. You flinch and yelp at the unexpected pain and he does it again on the other cheek. “Dirty slut.” The sting brings tears to your eyes, but it also causes your arousal to coil even tighter in your abdomen.

Suddenly and without warning he grabs your hips and slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in one fluid motion. You scream as he stretches you, your channel burning around his thick cock. “Take it.” He grunts, slamming into you. All you can do is whimper in response as he sets a punishing pace, thrusting into you again and again. The burn eventually melts into a building and rising heat that threatens to sweep you away.

Your scalp stings as he tangles his fist in your hair and yanks your head back, changing the angle so that he drives impossibly deeper into you with every stroke. Any train of thought you may have been able to carry is lost as he bombards you with pleasure. Your eyes roll back as your hands desperately grip the couch cushions. A few more thrusts and you’re coming undone, screaming out your release. He follows close behind you, letting go of your hair to grab your hips again. His fingers bite into you as he pulls you back against him, trapping you to him as he fills you.

“Fuck.” He grunts, his voice raw and his hands trembling at your hips. You both still for a moment and your brain finally starts to realize what you’ve just done. But in the throbbing, warm throes of your afterglow you can’t seem to bring yourself to care how truly fucked up this situation is. When he finally releases his vice-like grip on your hips you groan at the loss of contact.

The chuckle that he gives is warmer than any of the others so far, and he gives your ass a final squeeze that you could almost consider affectionate before he steps away.

“Yes, I think we’ve come to a satisfying agreement.”

-----

I don't know what came over me last night, but this was the result. I've never written smut before, but I sure have read a lot so hopefully it's enjoyable.

#william afton is a pervy old man and that's how i like him #look im not here for the serial killer to be nice to me #william afton x reader #william afton x you #william afton smut #fnaf smut #fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #springtrap #william afton #matthew lillard #fanfic #fnaf fanfic #mochi writes

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anabdaniels · 8 months ago

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Rodeo prizes

Paring: Joel Miller x Female reader x Agent Whiskey

Summary: After meet Jack and Joel, you couldn't resist the idea of get into their bed.

Word counting: 1.6k

Rating: +18

Warnings: Oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, double penetration, p in v sex, anal sex, face sitting, slight voyeurism, aftercare.

A/N: I don't even know what to say about this one. Highly inspired by the masterpiece written by @cerridwen007.

Divider from: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

You never thought a simple tour on the rodeo could get so out of hand.

Yet, there you were, sitting on Jack’s face while he was eating you out and having Joel’s hand wrapped in your hair as you moaned with your mouth full of his cock.

Yes, definitely not a common Saturday night.

You started to flirt with both of them just for fun, but at some point, you were fully conscious that if any of them wanted to take you to their bed, you would say yes without flinching. You just weren’t expecting the proposal to involve both of them at the same time, and you expected even less your positive answer.

Any hesitant thoughts you could have vanished once both of them had their hands all over you, making you realize that their rough exterior had been completely undone while they showered you with kisses and praises, letting you free to put your dubious fantasies into practice. The last one was the reason why you ended up kneeling on the mattress with Joel standing next to the bed with his cock weighing on your tongue while your rationality was extinguished at each move of Jack’s mouth on your soaked cunt.

You were for sure loving every crumb of that, bucking your hips back and forth without even realize as you eagerly sucked and savored every inch of Joel you could, one hand resting on his stomach while the other squeezed the hand Jack had resting on one of your thighs.

As the knot in your lower stomach grew, you knew you would have to throw the towel; the soft scratches on your scalp and tugs on your hair Joel was providing you with along with the hoarse moans coming from him and Jack weren’t doing any favor to your self-control, so you didn’t try to keep it, letting go of the cock on your mouth, you rested your forehead on Joel’s stomach while you sank your nails on Jack’s wrist, rubbing yourself against his face, crying out when his nose nudged your clit, sending your over the edge, making you wet all over his face and start to melt, being promptly grabbed by Joel.

“She’s so responsive, isn’t she?” Joel’s voice came out husky as he petted your head.

“And tastes like heaven.” Jack’s voice came from behind you and you sighed when he planted a kiss on your shoulder, his lips and mustache still moist with your juices. You remained still for a moment as you enjoyed your laziness post-orgasm, biting your bottom lip as you felt both of the men soothingly caressing your skin.

Sitting on his heels, Jack pulled you to his lap, biting your nape and caressing your hips, resulting in you squirming and sighing with Jack’s throbbing erection pressing against your buttcheek. You were about to tilt your head, but Joel grabbed your jaw, making you look at him, causing your whole body to feel like your skin was burning. You squealed and sank your nails into Jack’s thigh as you felt his hard length sliding between your buttocks, slowly stretching your tight hole, making you give up and let your eyelids fall as your eyes rolled back. Jack smirked as you melted on his lap, wrapping one arm around your waist and softly nibbling your shoulder with one hand sinking in your hair. Unquestioningly you were about to turn into a puddle, what didn’t get better as Joel’s warm chest touched your torso, already convincing you that being the middle part of that sandwich was for sure a life-changing experience.

Needing an enormous effort, you opened your eyes to watch Joel effortlessly sinking his cock into your dripping cunt, taking a loud moan out of you; if you ever got told that someday you would be squashed between two southern cowboys, you would have laughed out of pure disbelief, but being living that situation, you started to ask yourself why took you so long to give it a try. You knew that every possible inch of you was filled by both of them and you couldn’t be more satisfied by it.

Jack occupied himself with kissing and nibbling the back of your neck and the curve of your shoulder as his hands moved to the front of your body, groping your breasts and rubbing your hardened sensitive nipples, causing you to whimper and melt under his touch. Savoring every detail of the beautiful view of you being all cockdrunk, Joel kept his gaze glued on every little part of your body, letting his calloused hands squeeze your soft stomach and caress your hips, smirking at the little squeal you let out as both he and Jack began to move more intensively.

“Y’such a precious lil’ thing, sugar.” Jack teased and nibbled your earlobe, making sure to let out a heavy breath against your ear. You were just about to turn your head to look at him while still processing his words, but Joel grabbed your jaw before you could do it, making you look into his eyes.

“For sure an unfairly pretty doll.” Joel praised while caressing under your chin, then leaned to kiss you, ruining the little crumbs of breath you still had, taking a deep sigh of you when his gray beard softly scratched your face. When Joel leaned back and broke the kiss, you inhaled slowly to catch your breath, but Jack didn’t give you the chance, turning your head gently and kissing you hungrily while wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you steady as he increased his pace once again. You could only whimper while your hand rested on his arm, scratching his skin hard.

As he felt your throbbing cunt squeezing his cock, Joel leaned to savor your slightly sweat skin, trailing kisses from your neck to between your breasts, then moving to softly suck one of your nipples. You contorted abruptly with that, making both of the men groan with the sudden motion of your hips. Needing to catch your breath, you had to break the kiss, leaning your head back and resting your nape on Jack’s shoulder as one of your hands sank into Joel’s hair.

The much you knew your body, you were aware that that knot on your lower stomach wasn’t being caused by the soft nudges of Joel’s cock against your cervix or because Jack was balls-deep sinking into your ass, but the result of their unstoppable attempts to send you over the edge, especially when they were way too good at doing it. You tried to say something between your gasps and moans, but all that came out was an incomprehensible mumble.

“What’s the matter, sugar?” Jack questioned while gently kissing your cheek.

“I’m… I’m c-” You were once more interrupted by your whimper as your hips moved involuntarily again.

“We know, darlin’.” He whispered against your temple with his mustache softly scratching your skin.

You got the last straw as Joel softly brushed his teeth against your nipple, letting yourself go, squeezing their cocks hard as your whole body started having small spasms and, even though you had two handsome men to look at, you couldn’t do more than close your eyes hard, feeling every muscle of your body tensing up before you got slightly boneless with that almost overwhelming orgasm.

Your non-stopping moving and whimpering made Jack throw his composure out of the window, sinking his face into the curve of your neck, moaning against your skin as he emptied every drop of his cum inside you, causing you to arch your back and bite your bottom lip. Mesmerized by the delicious scene of both of you falling apart, Joel couldn’t do any better than join the moment, biting the other side of your neck and letting his face rest there as his hands grabbed your hips tight enough to leave a soft bruise, keeping you steady as his thrusts became erratic and he filled your pulsing cunt.

You didn’t bother to try to move, feeling completely boneless and drained. After a while, you realized that somehow you ended up on Joel’s lap with him soothingly caressing your back and kissing the top of your head. No much later you felt Jack gently spreading your legs and carefully cleaning you with a fresh towel that felt like a caress on your hipper sensitive skin.

Once you were clean, you moaned lazily as Joel made you sit straight on his lap and you needed a moment to process that what was placed on your hands was a glass of water. You drank every drop from that glass, just then realizing how exhausted you felt.

With too much delicacy for someone with that constant grumpy face, Joel settled you on your side on the bed and spooned you without second thoughts. After turning off the light, Jack joined the two of you on the bed, also holding you and kissing your head when you tucked your face against his chest.

“Can I ask something?” your voice came out quietly.

“Of course, darlin’.” Jack answered in the same tone and Joel just nodded lazily behind you.

“Do you guys have any plans for tomorrow?” you couldn’t help a smile as both of them chuckled.

“What a greedy lil’ lady.” Jack finished his statement with a kiss on your temple.

“Don’t worry, honey. We wouldn’t dare choose any plan over you.” Joel confirmed and kissed your nape, nuzzling his face against your skin.

Tagging: @missladym1981

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels #jack whiskey daniels #Kingsman: the golden circle #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fic #tlou #pedrostories

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kaisaerinlover · 1 month ago

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prize - sae itoshi

tw: kinda dark but not like my other stuff kinda dubious consent i guess

why are you even here? you have no idea, you don’t even remember how you got here, you don’t even know what’s going on, all you know is you’re some possession now, how could you know what’s going on anyway? no one filled you in, you just remember being led to the dorm room of someone, someone who you don’t even know, and left to sit on the bed. unfortunately for you that someone is sae itoshi. he won you, you think, you think that’s what’s happening. are you seriously being used as some motivational prize for a bunch of soccer players? this is seriously sick. you only know his name because there’s a jersey hung up on the closet handle that says it. you’ve been left alone in the room for what seems like an eternity, yearning for someone to come in and extinguish the loneliness, but the moment you see him enter, you instantly regret that wish.

sae walks in the room with someone behind him, a manager you think, and simply looks you up and down. his face is so empty, he’s unreadable. “is this her?” he looks at the older man behind him. “yes that’s her, she’s…” you zone out after that, they’re talking about you like you aren’t even there? like you’re some pet? you can’t even listen to their words anymore, you’re so horrified at the current predicament. you’re snapped out of it when the sound of the door closing echoes ever so slightly throughout the room. when you look up, you see the redhead towering over you, looking down at you. you feel even more self conscious than before and shift awkwardly.

“do you know why you’re here?” he bluntly asks, looking disinterested. you shake your head no, because you genuinely don’t, maybe your initial assumption was wrong and it’s just a big misunderstanding and maybe- “because you’re my prize now, understand” you wished too soon. what kind of misunderstanding would this have been anyway? stupid girl. you don’t do anything in response, you can’t even bring yourself to nod because you feel so tense. what does being a prize entail anyways? prizes are usually a fancy looking trophy sitting on a shelf, or a medal wrapped around the neck of some athlete, or maybe a money prize, maybe some stuffed animal, maybe an autograph. prizes are material possession usually, so why are you labelled as such a thing now? you were a normal person before this, so why? how can you even know what to expect when this is so… so… abnormal???

“what does- what- what’s a prize- what’s going to happen to me-“ you sputter over your words in anxiety. the prodigy in front of you simply stares at you and shrugs lightly. “anything i want” that doesn’t help soothe your nerves at all, actually it just made it worse. you’re so panicked you haven’t had any coherent thoughts since meeting the stranger, you didn’t even consider you were completely at his mercy. now you’re even more stressed. he notices it of course, how could he not? he finds it cute, like you’re some small animal freaking out over a predator looming over them, a cute bunny, or mouse. he doesn’t say that out loud though, he doesn’t so much as show it, fuck, he doesn’t say anything. his silence is so… eerie. he’s a unique guy, isn’t he?

what’s this guy’s deal anyway? he hasn’t shown a single emotion except indifference since walking through that door. he’s- suddenly a hand extends, touching your head and your face, the way you would touch some doll, or some sort of pet. it’s the first time he touched you. he’s examining you, you think, you can’t know for sure, usually you can tell people’s motives or even just a fraction of their thoughts from their facial expressions, this guy is just stuck on bored expression number 4 all the time clearly. you don’t protest though, you know better somehow, despite barely knowing him. “cute” he mumbles, having pulled his arm away from you and simply looking down at you now.

he’s weird, very weird. is probably what you would have observed about him in a normal setting. unfortunately you’re here as some sick prize for performing well in football matches. you had a life before this, don’t these people consider that?! what will your friends think, or family, or employer, or teachers, or anything? well, they never really cared that much did they, sweet girl? you’re just realising that now. you were never much of anything, nothing special, but nothing too weird worthy of getting picked on. did you even have friends? you never really talked to anyone. and now you’re paying the price for it, social connections are important, who’s going to notice you’re missing now? seriously, you went through life with the punishment of being a complete loner, and now you wound up here as well. does it get any easier ever? sae’s voice snaps you out of your slowly increasing nihilistic moment of realisation. “i had a long day today” he looks at you expectantly. you’re confused, does he want something? a massage? sexual gratification? are you supposed to know? you’re looking at him, head tilted to the side, hair sitting on your shoulders ever so cutely, god, he could ravage you here. you have those big innocent eyes he loves so much, you look so so clueless. very endearing. he locks his eyes on yours again as you answer him in an ever so small voice “o-okay-“ you manage to sputter out. seriously, what can you even say?

your dumbness is cute, to sae at least. he’s not even sure you know who he is, honestly. he hopes you do, but not knowing also comes with its share of benefits. he thought you would take the hint though, isn’t it obvious? can’t you just help him destress after a long day? unfortunately to sae, empathy is not his strong suit, actually it’s nothing to him. he’s devoid of it. so naturally he doesn’t understand that after you get swooped from your regular life and left in a dorm room belonging to some weird, yet albeit, handsome man you’re not really thinking things through critically. it was cute at first but he wants relief now. he guides you off of his bed and pushes you down gently onto your knees, and takes your spot on his bed. you go to protest but you’re silenced by his long finger pressing against your plump lips. wow, they feel really good pressed against his finger, his finger alone. how are they going to be on his cock? crazy good, probably. really fucking good. he’s excited now. he’s not the type to care for women, or anything really, but he’s interested in you for sure by now. you’re looking up at him, you know what he’s about to make you do, but you try and delude yourself. that works for the brief few seconds of him simply admiring you before he starts sliding down his shorts and boxers. he looks down at you with what anyone would say is a bored expression. “open” and you do. you do exactly what the prodigy says. you open your mouth ever so meekly. you don’t even know why you were so quick to oblige, but you tell yourself it’s fear, because why would you even want to consider the possibility of it being anything remotely positive in a situation like this.

he’s gentle at first, for the most part. he has a hand situated on your pretty little head but he’s not pushing you. just massaging your head. playing with your hair. like a pet. maybe like the way a child shows affection to their baby dolls. he breathes heavily as he’s slowly playing with your mouth using his cock. it’s scary, you never did this before ever, it’s the first time, you would rather not tell him that out of fear of sounding like you’re protesting. it’s easy at first, too easy, you ease up a little bit. what a mistake that was, sweet thing. he gets so relentless after a while, so fucking relentless. he grips your hair with such strength your eyes actually sting from it and your mouth is stuffed with his cock. he’s fucking your mouth so brutally, but when you look up at him with blurry, tear filled eyes, he looks so beautiful. maybe if you didn’t have his cock fucking your mouth right now you would even blush at the sight. sae itoshi is gorgeous. but do you know how annoying it is to find the owner of the prize you are attractive in such a moment? you feel a vague sense of self disgust wash over you. you’re pulled from those thoughts as he fucks your mouth harder than what you thought was even possible. the day you lost your innocence truly came sooner than you thought. sae is in ecstasy right now, wow, he doesn’t care for girls at all, he doesn’t ever grant himself sexual gratification including women most of the time, so the warmth of your mouth and throat are so welcoming to him. he likes you, he thinks. you look so cute on the floor, mouth all stuffed like a little mouse or hamster, greeding for treats. he almost laughs at that, he shouldn’t compare such a thing whilst he’s fucking your mouth like this. you’re like a pretty little flower, he can tell you’re innocent. he has a good sense when it comes to these things. you’re a cute lily, or something, he doesn’t know much about flowers, but what he knows about you is he wants to pick the petals off of you 1 by 1 and reap your innocence. god, you’re so fucking cute. taking him so well.

both of you are relieved when he finally cums, for different reasons of course. you’re so glad it’s finally over, your jaw aches in a way you’ve never felt it hurt before. that’s truly the sensation of losing your purity, or a small part of it. you’re sure sae will take more soon, and he’s sure too. sae is relieved he came too, but wow. you look so nice down there on your knees, panting, tears streaming down your face, hair messed up in a manner that he’s not sure if it’s actually cute, or if he just finds YOU cute in general, but he doesn’t care and doesn’t dwell on it. you have a mouth full of his cum. gross, it tastes of salt, and the texture is as slimy as sae’s personality. he’s gross and this is gross. you go to spit it out, but you’re stopped by his hand. he’s kneeling on the floor in front of you, panting too, out of breath as much as you are (stupid bastard, you think to yourself, you’re tired from the pleasure i gave you? please). you didn’t even notice he knelt down. his index finger pushes your chin up, you know what he wants. he’s waiting expectantly for you to give in and swallow. you’re not feisty, you’re not some charismatic, strongminded girl from a series or book. you oblige. and he looks at you, still expressionless, but his eyes are telling you he’s glad you obeyed so mindlessly. he stands up and looks down at you, “good girl” he says it so effortlessly. it sounds really nice actually. your cheeks heat up at the simple praise. ah. why do you feel this way for him?

all you did is overthink since you got here, not a single coherent thought was formed, and you just became acutely aware of the ache in your whole body. your knees hurt so much, your head is aching and your back feels stiff. on cue, the oldest itoshi extends a hand out to you. should you take it? you could be like the girls in the movies, the series, the books, all of those works of fiction you’ve read countless times, heard stories of so often, you could slap his hand away and show him you’re more than some prize, heck, you aren’t a prize, you’re an individual too. you have individuality don’t you? you’re strong too, and you don’t need him. you won’t be his mindless toy. is that why you accepted his help then? he helped you stand, you are naturally a little off balance, you kneeled for quite sometime, didn’t you little trophy? you’re like a bunny caught in the wind, a small mouse, a baby animal taking its first steps, a flower succumbing to the conditions of the fall season, harsher than what it was accustomed to in the summer. that’s how sae sees you. he doesn’t play for prizes, he doesn’t play for rewards, he’s not a greedy man. he’s not looking for anything like that. but you’re the best thing he’s gotten in a long while from playing soccer so often. what a great prize you were, he wasn’t playing to get you anyway, he didn’t care, all of the other guys went crazy over the thought of winning such a prize, having their own woman to fawn over, do whatever they wanted with and face little consequences, whilst avoiding the effort of finding one too, but he didn’t care at all. but somehow, he’s glad he’s the best. he’s glad he’s the best because it brought you to him. you’re his now. you haven’t quite fully accepted it yet, but you will. you’re only resisting because you don’t want anyone to think you’re weak. or desperate. or stupid. or anything negative. but no one will think that anyway, you’re a prize now, trophies don’t need to stress about such trivial matters. your world is sae now. you can be as mindless and carefree as you want, because you don’t have any other responsibilities any more other than being a subservient little princess for sae itoshi. he knows you’re probably having an internal conflict, but he has patience. he has patience that spans for miles and miles. he could wait a decade. he’s not an angry guy, he doesn’t care at all. he’s not an anything guy really. one thing he’s pretty sure about though is that he won’t need that patience, you’ll crack. and it won’t take long. he’s happy at that fact, but he won’t show you it.

he knows his thoughts were correct when you trusted him enough to sleep in his bed the first night. you must have been really tired, huh? tired angel. sweet girl. that’s what he’s thinking. he thinks you’re all sorts of things. all positive, but all so demeaning. you’re just a possession after all, he still won you, and you’re so easy. you took no effort at all. you’re just something to be doted on, and used, not someone with a mind of their own, you aren’t equal to him. you’re more akin to… to a doll, he supposes. it’s fitting for you. he pats your head as you sleep against his chest and strokes your hair a bit. god you’re cute. yeah, you’re really his doll. being the best has never felt as good.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #blue lock x y/n

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shadowtriovibes · 2 years ago

Text

pt. i: break a sweat

pt. ii: blood, sweat and tears || pt. iii: sweat it out || pt. iv: never let 'em see you sweat

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV sex, dubious safe sex methods, even more dubious interpretations of how the room of requirement works

Summary: sebastian makes the house quidditch team after training all summer. before his first match, you let him talk you into a bet over its outcome that will in all likelihood ruin your friendship. (merlin, you sure hope it does.)

"Speaking of which," you say, leaning out of the hug just enough to see Sebastian’s face. "What prize will you not be winning?" Sebastian lets his hands drop down to your hips as he murmurs, "I have something in mind." You force yourself not to get distracted. "Do tell." "If I win, I’d like to take you to the Room of Requirement after the game," he says, and the way he grips your sides through your skirt ensures you have no way of misunderstanding what he’s suggesting.

Seeing Sebastian for the first time since the end of your sixth year at Hogwarts is quite the shock.

You knew from his detailed letters that your dearest friend had spent the better part of his summer break training for Quidditch tryouts in the fall, frequently flying down to the Poidsear Coast to log hours and hours at their pitch.

Sometimes he would even bring Anne along with him when she was feeling well enough to ride on the back of his broom. He’d convince her to release a secondhand Snitch for him to track down, and while he hunted it down, she worked on the assignments your professors had set to help her prepare for her return to Hogwarts in the fall.

He’d even written to tell you that he’d never felt more confident on a broom, and that if he only got to have one last season on your house team before leaving school, he was determined to make the absolute most of it.

You knew all of this, and yet when you first see him in the Great Hall for the start-of-term feast, you nearly swoon like a Muggle schoolgirl at the sight of him.

The first thing you notice is that he’s taller. Even seated next to Anne at the Slytherin table, you can see his entire head whereas you can barely make out the top of his sister’s. Sebastian had never seemed that much bigger than his twin before, but things have clearly changed.

Then, you notice that his complexion has changed as well. He’s tan from spending all summer training in the sun, his button-down shirt suddenly looking so crisply white against his sun-kissed face.

His freckles, too – there are so many more.

But that could also just be because there’s simply more Sebastian now. His shoulders are broader, his chest wider, and even his hair has grown long enough to brush upwards into a less haphazard style (though certainly not as severe as Ominis’).

It’s as if your boyish Sebastian from the previous school year had quite suddenly become a grown man in just three short months, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of him.

It takes you a few minutes to adjust as you slide into a seat across from him next to Ominis, and based on the look on Anne’s face, she at least knows what’s got you so flustered.

During a lull in conversation about Anne’s return, you tell Sebastian, “You’re looking fit.”

You hope you can casually get it out of the way, and that no one will dwell on it.

“Am I?” he asks with an easy smile.

“I mean physically,” you insist, remaining one step ahead of him. “I nearly mistook you for one of the Beaters for the Magpies.”

“Sebastian could never be a Beater,” Anne interjects. “He’s too much of a show-off to be anything but the Seeker.”

“I’ll be whatever the team needs me to be,” he insists. “I practiced for all four positions this summer, so wherever they want to slot me in is fine.”

“Silly Sebastian,” Violet McDowell calls out from a few seats down, a wicked grin on her face. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that there are many more positions than just four?”

Your entire end of the table bursts into laughter while Sebastian simply flashes a wicked grin, and you think about using your ancient magic to hurl one of the stacked platters of food in front of you at Violet’s head. (Or maybe you should simply toss her out into the courtyard.)

“Is this how it’s going to be this year?” Anne sighs. “When I left, Sebastian was just an awkward boy with his nose always buried in a book, and now the girls are lusting after him.”

“I’m not thrilled about it either,” Ominis agrees. “He had a big enough head before he was attractive.”

“I think it’s excellent,” Sebastian laughs. “It’s about time everyone realized that I’m the perfect man, and all it took was a little bit of Quidditch practice and one last growth spurt.”

“‘All it took,’” Anne mumbles at the same time Ominis exclaims, “‘Perfect man?!’”

While both his sister and best friend take turns putting dents in Sebastian’s inflated ego, he takes it in stride and sneakily winks at you from across the table when he catches you silently observing, your gaze firmly settled on the sharp line of his jaw.

Sebastian makes a mental note of the fact that you immediately go red. Even if no one else notices, he certainly does.

—

Two weeks later, you and Anne link arms with Ominis to walk down with him to the Quidditch pitch to watch the Slytherin team tryouts.

“Now that I’ve got a brilliant witch on each arm, I suppose I won’t be needing my wand as often to get around,” he teases.

“Please, I know a thing or two about that wand of yours,” Anne replies. “Last year I spent a full month reading books on wandcraft that Sebastian brought me from the library. If I had to guess, I think you can probably ‘see’ more clearly than either of us can. It’s powerful.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Ominis demurs. “I’m just naturally perceptive.”

Once you arrive at the pitch, the three of you take seats along the practice bleachers with a few of your housemates, who chat excitedly when the Slytherin hopefuls begin to take the field.

You spot Sebastian quickly, even among nearly two dozen others in green practice uniforms circling for warmups on their brooms. Compared to how big he’d looked at the start of term in just his school robes, he’s huge now – equipped with pads across his shoulders, forearms and shins that accentuate his muscular form.

He’d declined a helmet, of course, because despite his newfound bulk he’s still the same exasperatingly headstrong boy you’ve nurtured a crush on for nearly your entire school career.

“Between us, what do you think his chances are of making the team?” you ask Anne.

“Truthfully?” she smirks. “I think he’ll have his pick of positions, unless Imelda wants to humble him on purpose.”

“Which one would be humbling?” you ask, amused.

“Probably Chaser,” she muses. “He’d be an excellent Chaser, of course, but it’s his least favorite.”

“I’ll bet he becomes a Beater,” Ominis offers. “Without the Dark Arts, I’d like him to have some sort of outlet for his intensity.”

“Fine, then I’ll say… Keeper,” you say, smiling to yourself at your private joke that only Sebastian would appreciate. “Because that way he’ll get to stay in one place the whole game and know that everyone’s eyes are on him.”

—

Shortly after tryouts wrap up, Imelda sequesters herself in the girls’ dorm to put together her official roster and the majority of Slytherin’s upperclassmen start passing around Butterbeers while they settle in to await her decision.

Sebastian is inarguably the center of attention, casually leaning against a table in the corner with Anne at his side. A flock of fifth-year girls crowds around him to listen intently as he talks about the impressive diving save he’d made, capturing the Snitch just feet from the ground.

“He’s going to be insufferable now,” Ominis groans while the two of you watch from across the room. “There’s barely enough room for his ego in this friendship as it is.”

“Come now, we can keep him in check,” you laugh. “Especially with Anne here.”

“It’s really good to have her back,” Ominis agrees softly, smiling to himself when he hears Anne’s voice through the noise, telling Sebastian’s fan club how he’d attempted a similar save over the summer and ended up crashing into a derelict poacher camp.

Huh.

However, before you can spend too much more time thinking about Ominis and Anne, you hear the noise in the room spike as Imelda saunters down the stairs, a rolled-up piece of parchment in her hand.

“Who’s ready to meet this year’s Slytherin Quidditch team?” she calls out, and the entire room bursts into excited cheers.

She starts to read off from her list, allowing brief pauses for applause after each name. You and Ominis snake through the common room to stand by Sebastian. He seems to be perfectly calm, but by now you can recognize some telltale tension lingering in his jaw.

Anne holds one of his hands to reassure him, swaying a bit nervously herself.

While Imelda works her way down the list, the four of you learn that hasn’t been named Slytherin’s Keeper. He’s not a Beater either, nor is he ultimately a Chaser.

“Lastly, your newest Seeker,” Imelda teases as she reaches the end of the list. “...It’s obviously Sallow!”

Sebastian beams brilliantly while Anne pulls him into a tight hug, and Ominis smiles and murmurs his congratulations to his friend, assuring him he always knew he’d make the team.

There are several other girls quick to offer their congratulations as well, but you wait for the crowd around him to thin out and for Anne to escort Ominis to get more Butterbeers before you sidle up next to Sebastian and nudge your shoulder against his.

“Excellent work, Bash,” you murmur. “You put on quite a show at tryouts.”

“Only because you were watching,” he flirts back, and you roll your eyes fondly.

Since the start of term, he’s been relentless with his play-flirting. You resist it as much as you can, but it always makes your heart race when he calls you “love,” or offers to carry your books for you, or even charms little notes poking fun at your classmates into tiny birds that gracefully land on your desk during classes.

(You don’t have the heart to ask him to knock it off, because even though you know he doesn’t mean it, it still feels nice to be the center of his attention.)

“Then I’ll have to come to see you start in next week’s match,” you offer. “Especially if you only play that well when I’m watching.”

“You can be my good luck charm,” he jokes. “Felix Felicis is prohibited, but you’re not.”

“That was awful,” you laugh, but Sebastian just grins.

“Tell you what,” he says after a moment. “We should make a bet on it.”

“A bet?” you ask. “On what, that you’ll win?”

He shakes his head. “Too easy, we’re playing Ravenclaw, we’ll obviously win. I mean something more challenging.”

“You’re clearly confident,” you tell him. “What are your terms?”

He considers his offer for a moment and then says, “I’ll bet that I can catch the Snitch in under thirty minutes. I’ll even let you be the official timekeeper, since I’ll be a bit preoccupied.”

“Under thirty?” you ask skeptically. “That’s nearly professional, Sebastian. Ominis told me most games last at least an hour.”

“I’ve been practicing all summer,” he insists. “Anne would release a Snitch and I’d even give it a five-minute head start, but I never let one get further away from me than the far side of Marunweem Lake.”

“Careful, Sebastian, you sound quite cocky,” you murmur, and you think you see Sebastian’s gaze dip down to your mouth for a split second.

“I am,” he agrees. “In fact, I’ll even let you pick your prize first, for if you win.”

“Alright,” you laugh. “When I win, I want… for you to write my History of Magic assignments for the next month.

“That’s it?” he scoffs. “You could have anything and you want me to write your essays?”

“I didn’t start studying magic with the rest of you lot, and I don’t know a lot of the foundational things that Binns wants us to reference,” you remind him. “You know your history much better than I do, and I need to bump my ‘Acceptable’ up to ‘Exceeds Expectations’ by the time N.E.W.T.s roll around.”

“Love, I would’ve done them for you anyway,” Sebastian says dismissively, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning at the nickname. “Pick something fun.”

“Fine,” you reply. “I want…”

You consider your options for a moment, trying to think of something that isn’t either obscene or pathetic. Finally, you have an idea.

“There is one thing I’ve been thinking about,” you tell him, a secret smile on your lips.

Sebastian perks up, leaning in closer. “Go on then.”

“I want you to help me set up Anne and Ominis,” you say carefully, watching him for any signs that he’s about to blow up.

He just blinks at you, bewildered. “What.”

“I think they would be a lovely couple,” you croon. “And I know she’s your sister and you’re, y’know...”

“I’m what?” he demands.

“You’re very protective of her,” you say tactfully. “But we’re all adults now, and I think they really understand each other. I want you to help me convince them that they should give it a chance.”

Sebastian is quiet for several long moments.

“Well,” he finally murmurs. “I would prefer it if Anne never dated anyone so I wouldn’t have any more reasons to worry about her, but I suppose if she must, Ominis is a good man.”

You shout excitedly and wrap your arms around his impossibly broad shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. He easily allows it, fondly pressing his nose to your hair.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter though, since you won’t win and I’ll never have to aid you in your scheming,” he murmurs against your temple.

“Speaking of which,” you say, leaning out of the hug just enough to see Sebastian’s face. “What prize will you not be winning?”

Sebastian lets his hands drop down to your hips as he murmurs, “I have something in mind.”

You force yourself not to get distracted. “Do tell.”

“If I win, I’d like to take you to the Room of Requirement after the game,” he says, and the way he grips your sides through your skirt ensures you have no way of misunderstanding what he’s suggesting.

“O-oh?” you ask softly, squirming a little in his grasp. “Just me?”

“Just you,” he confirms.

His eyes are dark, and despite the cacophony of the room around you both, he’s focused solely on you.

“And what would we be doing in the Room of Requirement?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t even dignify your question with a response. Instead, he deliberately drags his thumbs across your hips, raking his gaze down your body and back up with a pointed look.

“You mean it?” you ask him quietly. “You aren’t just teasing like earlier?”

“When was I teasing?” Sebastian asks, amused.

“This whole time,” you insist, fidgeting nervously with the laces at the front of his Quidditch shirt. “All the flirting, all this back-and-forth… You’re just winding me up.”

“I’m not,” he says quietly. “I thought about you all summer, love. I missed you like mad, and I sincerely want you.”

Merlin.

Some bold part of you steps a little closer so you can lean in close to his ear and ask, “Are you sure we shouldn’t just go to the Room of Requirement right now?”

You hear Sebastian swallow and exhale sharply.

“N-not now,” he answers. “After the match. I just…”

He doesn’t really have the words to articulate it, but he wants to earn your affection. He has to prove he’s good enough first, that you aren’t making a mistake by letting him finally force your close friendship into something more.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, gently brushing your lips against his cheekbone. “Just don’t get too distracted and fall off your broom, because I actually want you to win.”

“The match or the bet?” he asks in a low voice.

You just take a step back with a teasing grin, and before you disappear into the crowd to find your friends, you murmur, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Sallow.”

—

It’s so many flights of stairs up to the Room of Requirement. You almost feel bad for Sebastian, but not enough to stop relentlessly tugging him up countless flights in the quiet Astronomy Tower.

He must be exhausted already, you assume. While the match itself had only lasted twenty-seven minutes and forty seconds, he spent nearly all of them racing around the pitch alongside Ravenclaw’s Seeker, eyes trained on any flash of light that shimmered like gold.

He’d even taken a Bludger to his right thigh. You’d felt like you were going to be sick just watching it collide with him, but he’d merely dropped a few feet with a wince and sped off again.

Not even a damn Bludger could knock him off his broom.

(As soon as your nausea had dissipated, you’d felt another dizzying wave of sensation take over slightly south of your stomach.)

Just as he’d promised, he quickly caught up with the Snitch near the base of the Hufflepuff student section, landing not-so-neatly in the muddy grass with one arm thrown up in the air. He was evidently clutching the struggling Snitch and beaming so hugely you could see it from your spot in the stands fifty feet in the air.

As soon as Madam Kogawa blew her whistle, the Slytherins had begun to move en masse toward the stairs, preparing to turn their common room into the official site of the year’s first not-so-clandestine party.

You, however, snuck away from the group and lingered outside the team’s changing area. Inside, you could hear raised voices.

“Imelda, you don’t understand,” Sebastian was whining. “I need to go now.”

“There’s a way we do things here, Sallow,” she had argued “I’m the captain, and if I say we’re going to discuss the game before anyone leaves, you stay.”

Sebastian had a few choice words to say to that but ultimately relented, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly while you leaned against one of the canvas walls that lined the interior channels of the pitch. Ultimately, it only took about ten minutes to discuss how everyone could improve – and Imelda’s only suggestion for Sebastian had been to try to find a dryer patch of grass on which to land next time.

Seconds later, he’d burst through the door and started to take off toward the castle.

“Bash!” you called out. “Not so fast.”

When he turned and spotted you, his face lit up.

“You waited for me,” he breathed.

“Of course I did,” you said. “I believe you’ve won a prize, and the nature of it is time-sensitive.”

He looked like an utter rake with that crooked smile on his lips. He was still in his uniform head to toe, his hair even messier than usual thanks to his helmet. He’d even kept his pads on, so when he reached out to take your hand, you felt impossibly small next to him.

“Shall we?” he asks, and then the two of you were off.

By the time you reach the Room and ensure no house elves are present, you’re both out of breath and panting.

“Come here,” you whine, throwing your arms around his shoulders and messily kissing along his jawline.

“W-wait,” he stammers. “Let me get these pads off, and–”

He cuts himself off, making a face.

“I need to clean up,” he tells you, suddenly self-conscious. “I must look like hell.”

“You look obscene,” you reply, dragging your hands down his chest pads. “Which is obviously a compliment.”

He wraps his hands around your wrists to stop you from attempting to undo the laces at the front of his trousers. “Just – just let me clean off first, the prefects’ bathroom isn’t far and I got the password off of Weasley.”

“No, don’t leave,” you whine, and Sebastian is merely a man, he can’t resist the girl he’s been in love with for years when she’s begging him to take his pants off.

“I must smell foul,” he laughs. “You’re – you’re seriously okay with this?”

“Look where we are, Sebastian,” you croon, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck. “Just imagine what you need.”

For your part, you imagine a plush armchair where you can wrangle Sebastian into finally taking a seat, and one quickly spins to life just behind him. You take advantage of his distraction to shove him backwards toward it and climb astride lap.

“It’s the Room of Requirement,” you tease him, straddling his thighs and dragging your nose along his cheek so he’ll tip his head back for you. “If you require something, the Room provides.”

“I require a bath,” he drawls, cursing quietly when you gently bite just over his pulse point. “Quickly, please, Room.”

Sebastian waits patiently while you eagerly strip him of his pads, but the Room doesn’t change.

“I thought you said you’ve taken baths here,” he points out skeptically. “In a huge basin, like the prefects have.”

“I have,” you insist, frowning. “I don’t know why it’s not…”

Then you trail off, your realization making you go red.

“Go on, love,” Sebastian murmurs, sliding a hand up the back of your thigh to lazily palm at your ass underneath your skirt. “I know that face, you’ve figured it out. What’s the problem?”

“W-well, it’s my Room,” you tell him sheepishly. “So it, um… I suppose it defaults to what I require.”

“And what you require,” Sebastian says slowly, “is for me to not take a bath?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“I… I suppose the Room must have deduced that I – I like you like this,” you whisper, dragging your hands across his rumpled Quidditch shirt. “And I don’t need to wait for you to clean off.”

“You don’t?” Sebastian asks, his eyes now impossibly dark. “You’d let me touch you just like this? I’m a mess, I’m covered in sweat and mud and probably some blood, even.”

“Don’t care,” you breathe, sliding your hands underneath the hem of his shirt. “I want you now, Sebastian, exactly like this.”

He says some absolutely filthy words under his breath, sitting back so he can strip off his filthy uniform shirt. You can’t get your hands on his body fast enough, hurriedly familiarizing yourself with his sculpted core, broad chest, and strong shoulders.

He’s less of a mess underneath where his shirt had lain, but his skin is still warm and damp with sweat from the match. You want to put your mouth all over him, everywhere – and there’s so much of him to explore.

“I couldn’t believe it when I first saw you like this,” you confess to him. “You’ve gotten bigger since last spring, and so handsome… how did you become a man in just one summer?”

“You think I’m the only one who changed this summer?” he asks with a low voice. “Look at you.”

“What about me?” you ask dumbly.

His hands go straight for your chest, roughly tugging open your uniform shirt with no regard for the longevity of its buttons.

“Here,” he murmurs, his hands cupping your breasts through your thin brassiere. “I can assure you that I noticed where you’ve grown bigger.”

You gasp softly as he tugs down on the cups of your bra until he can lean in and press his mouth to your skin, sucking on one of your nipples and then the other.

“And here,” he murmurs into your chest, his hands returning to the backs of your thighs and sliding up your ass. “You have all these curves now, love, and they’re driving me mad.”

“Sebastian,” you whimper. “Take off my clothes.”

He helps you wrestle your skirt up over your head and tosses it recklessly as far as he can. When you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, Sebastian wraps one strong arm around your lower back and hooks the other below your hips, easily standing up from the armchair to walk you over to the bed you’d hastily imagined into existence.

Once he has you on your back, he tugs down your last remaining garment and leaves you bare and exposed to him, breathless and flushed all over.

“Your turn,” you remind him, even though part of you wishes he could leave the uniform pants on (despite the impracticality).

Once he manages to peel off the last of his clothes, he settles on his knees between your legs and skims a hand up your body, from the curve of your hip all the way up to your cheek.

“Is this too fast?” he asks you softly. “Did I ask too much?”

Your heart aches. Sebastian always stuns you with his sincerity when you least expect it.

You turn your head to kiss his palm and murmur, “No, love.”

His shoulders drop a little, the last of the tension he’d been carrying all week draining from his body. He wants, he always wants so damn badly and he would never forgive himself if he marred your first time with each other by rushing you.

“Can I touch you?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“Please,” you whine, letting your knees fall wide.

(Whether or not the other has ever done this before is still a mystery to you both, and it’s not something you’ll discuss until afterward. But right now, it’s of no importance to you.)

For a while, Sebastian’s hands roam your body without an agenda, acquainting himself with your breasts, your hips, the insides of your thighs. You moan softly when he drags his thumb along your slit, spreading your wetness around until he can easily rub slow circles over your clit.

“How do you feel?” he asks you.

“Good,” you gasp. “So good, Sebastian, like that.”

“Do you want more?” he offers, and you frantically nod, one of your hands fisting the pillow behind your head.

He carefully presses one long finger inside you, glancing between your face and your entrance to make sure you’re comfortable the entire time. One finger quickly becomes two, and when two nearly becomes three, you have to pause and take a breath.

“Enough,” you pant. “That’s enough.”

“Are you sure?” he asks you.

You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock, giving him a few slow strokes while he leaks precum onto your hand and groans helplessly.

“I want you,” you insist. “I’ve wanted you.”

“R-right, yeah,” he agrees, trying to clear his head and focus on the task at hand. “Enough.”

He gently nudges your hand away so he can guide himself inside you, one hand wrapped around himself and the other gently pressing on your inner thigh to keep you still for him.

Underneath Sebastian like this, pinned to the mattress by his hips and hands, he completely overtakes your senses. He’s all you can see, all you can touch — you even taste and smell him.

Masculine sweat. Dark brown eyes. Crisp autumn air. The curve of his collarbone where it meets his shoulder. Woodsmoke. A million tiny freckles. Metallic blood from a split lip. Flashes of copper in his messy curls. Singed pine needles.

Sebastian groans low in his throat as he presses in, his hair falling into his eyes before he frantically brushes it away so he can see you take him for the first time.

Once he’s fully seated inside you, he bends down and presses his forehead against yours.

“Tell me,” he begs, his hand curling gently around the back of your neck to hold you close.

“Tell you what?” you whisper, your lips brushing against his with every syllable.

“Tell me that it feels like this for you,” he practically breathes into you. “It feels like you’re — you’re everywhere, like you’re all there is.”

“Sebastian,” you whimper, and his hips snap against yours.

“Say it,” he growls. “Please.”

“You’re all there is,” you gasp. “You’re all mine, Bash.”

He makes a sound like you’ve sucker-punched him, messily kissing wherever he can get his mouth on you – your cheek, your jaw, your lips. All the while he’s fucking you open with relentless, eager thrusts.

He’s not going to last long, but you don’t expect him to. You just want him to feel good – the two of you have already wasted enough time not doing this, so why delay satisfaction?

You wrap your legs around his hips to hold him against you, rocking your own hips upward to meet him and coax him closer to the edge.

“I’m going to come,” he grits out, grinding into you desperately the closer he gets to his climax. “Can I finish inside?”

“N-no,” you whimper. There’s a potion you can drink to make it safe that takes an entire week to brew, and the batch that’s currently bubbling away at your potions station across the Room isn’t quite ready yet.

“Where?” he begs.

“Anywhere else, wherever you want,” you promise him, your mind quickly tossing out mental images of him spilling himself across your breasts, into your mouth, on the curve of your back.

He pulls out of you with a reluctant moan and kneels between your open thighs, wrapping a hand around his cock to finish himself off. You watch his eyes while he takes you in, seemingly torn between meeting your gaze and staring transfixed at your fingers between your thighs as you get closer to finishing yourself.

“Next time, love,” you murmur softly. “The next time you fuck me you can finish in me, I’ll take it all.”

“Promise?” he asks breathlessly, still an incorrigible flirt even when he’s seconds away from his orgasm.

“Promise,” you whine, spreading your legs a little wider when you catch his gaze lingering again.

You’re so close, desperately rolling your hips against your own hand until you tip over the edge, the rush of your release arching your back before you collapse lazily against the bed.

He shuffles forward and groans your name just before he spills, leaving a warm, wet mess all over your stomach and between your hips. You feel properly claimed – especially when he flops down next to you and immediately tugs you against his chest, unbothered by his release smearing between your bodies.

“You’re amazing,” he breathes into your hair. “Merlin, I love you.”

“You love me?” you whisper against his collarbone.

“Enduringly,” he says.

You rest your cheek against his chest and listen to his racing heartbeat for a few moments before you tell him, “I love you too, you know.”

Just then, the Room starts to rumble.

“What’s going on?” Sebastian asks, urgently peering around for his wand.

He quickly settles and even laughs under his breath when he sees the Room shifting around the two of you to provide a spacious, sunken bathtub in the middle of the room, complete with a luxurious amount of taps that undoubtedly offer an array of bubbles, salts and soaps.

“Oh, now you want to let me clean myself up?” Sebastian drawls. “After you’ve completely worn me out, hmm?”

“It’s more for me,” you giggle. “I can’t possibly sleep like this, but you’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

As if Sebastian would ever pass up the chance to feel you up in the water.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #my fic #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #ominis gaunt #anne sallow #ominis gaunt x anne sallow #(it's subtle but it's there)#unbeta'd we die like men #how do we feel about “bash” as a nickname because it's my favorite 🥹

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absurdthirst · 25 days ago

Text

Kinktober 2024: October 29th

Day 29: Branding // Hunter - Prey // Uniforms

Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Forced marriages, escaping/running, being chased, slightly dubious consent, vaginal sex, rough sex

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You can hear the dogs barking, the hounds going crazy for your scent. Hunting you, chasing you down.

Your dress is in tatters, ripped and muddy, heavy around your ankles as the slippers you are wearing provide no protection from the sticks and stones that cover the ground you have to trek.

It’s a race for freedom, for escape. It feels useless with the number of coins that have been offered for your return. Your very life depends on not being caught but the sounds of the horses get closer, the pounding of their hooves sealing your fate.

You are running for your very life, the man you are to marry is more monster than man. Sure to kill you like he had killed his other wives. Terrified of him and the scar that bisects his left cheek, a reminder of his violent nature every time you had look upon him.

The stream is nearby. Stumbling to your knees, you cry out in pain when your knees hit the stones and you feel the bite of the rough surface scratching against your palms and cutting them.

Panting, you struggle to your feet, nearly falling again and cursing your sex. If you were wearing trousers, you would be farther than you have made it.

Pushing away the need to sob as you clutch your hands and rush towards the water that could conceal your scent from the hounds. It could provide you an escape.

The pounding of the horses' hooves gets closer, breaking through the clearing and you hear a shout of your name. Making you scream as you break into an awkward run. One last push to get away.

He swoops in, leaping off the beast’s back and snatching you up by your waist. Your flailing is no use against his strength and agility. He has been a mercenary his entire life, only newly made a lord after saving the king’s life.

“Let me go!” Your kicking and beating on his arms does nothing but make him chuckle. Amused by your feeble attempts to rescue yourself from your fate.

“Never.” He growls the word into your ear, holding tight to you and carrying you off towards the small cave. Whistling to his horse, you curse the beast as he dutifully turns and follows his master.

The sounds of the dogs faded, the men who had been riding with Pero Tovar obviously moving in a different direction, but it is no use. He has you. Not letting you go even as you fight him every step of the way. Screaming out curses and struggling to get out of his tight grip. His prize to have.

The rain starts to beat down on you right before he reaches the edge of the cave, soaking your already soaked dress and making him spit out a curse that is the only grim satisfaction you will have. Dropping you to the cold ground and reaching for his belt.

His attack is quick, fierce. His lips smashing agaisnt yours and his tongue forcing it’s way into your mouth as his hands unlace his breeches and push your skirts up to your hips.

“Per-”

With an accuracy that forces the air out of your lungs with a sharp yelp, Pero drives into you. Burying his cock deep with a hiss of pleasure when your walls squeeze him and he immediately starts to rock into your body harshly.

“Fuck.” He growls, his weight pinning you down and holding you in place while he takes you. Claims you. Ruins you. “You will never escape me.” He promises, kissing you again so you cannot argue with him. Swallowing your sounds down greedily as he ruts on top of you. Your cunt aches, stretched out on his thick cock and you fear that he will split you in two.

His grunts are harsh, rough, just like he is. Greedy for the softness and pleasure your body brings him, he pushes inside you again and again. Feeling how tight you are, how your cunt takes him with ease.

Your fingers dig into his hair and you pull it, but that just makes him fuck you harder. Snapping his hips forward with a determination to breed you right here in this cave. To make sure that everyone knows that you are his no matter how often you try to run from him. You will never make it far. You are the prey and he is your hunter.

Your body heats up, cunt weeping from his cock hammering into it and your stomach twists in pleasure. Starting to thrash under him for another reason rather than trying to escape. Your moan makes him chuckle breathlessly.

“That’s it.” He growls. “Moan for me. Your cunt wants me, even if you don’t. I will just keep you pinned to the bed with my cock, no?” He flashes a grin as he thrusts deep again and you cry out. “Good girl.” He hisses when your walls clench down. “Taking my cock so good.”

You want to hiss and spit at him, but you can’t. Not when every drive of his hips takes away your ability to speak. To even think, so you just yank on his hair again.

That spurs him on. Another bruising kiss slotted against your lips and his tongue curling into your mouth to tangle with yours. He loves this. The chase is in his blood. He is a hunter and now he has his prize.

Squeezing your eyes closed, you squeal into his mouth, your body shaking under his when he pushes deep and presses against something incredible inside you. Making stars burst behind your eyes and your cunt gushes around the ever deeper thrusts of his cock.

Pero groans, his pace faltering when he feels your walls quivering around him, plunging deep and painting your walls with hot spurts of his sticky seed. Planting his seed deep in the hopes that it takes.

Your limbs feel heavy and your hands fall away from his hair, listening to him pant against your neck before he starts to chuckle. “You almost made it to the river this time, amor.” He rasps out, squeezing your hip and twitching inside you. Your walls contract around his softening cock and you huff as he kisses your neck softly.

“I did, but the damn dogs were rushing me.” You point out.

“Just like the first time you ran from me.” He hums in amusement.

“I really was scared of you then.” It seems so silly to have been so afraid of your husband so many years ago. How you had listened to the rumors of his brutality.

“Come, the servants will have your bath ready when we get home.” He murmurs, pulling back and slowly pulling out of your body.

Home. A place you had once feared and now delighted in returning to. You had run and he had caught you, both of you discovering you had delighted in the chase and now this game had been born of it. Marking the yearly anniversary of your initial race for freedom and your mercenary catching you.

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #absurdthirst kinktober #pero tovar #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar smut #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar fanfiction

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yanderes-galore · 7 days ago

Note

Yandere Crocodile and yandere Robin who both fallen for the same darling in Alasbasca while their do work together to win the reader affection; their won’t hesitate to one kill another once their rival usefulness runs out .

Those two are already tense around each other... So this'll be fun.

Yandere! Sir Crocodile + Nico Robin with a Darling

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Ownership, Isolation, Kidnapping, Biting, Attempted murder, Forced/Dubious relationship(s).

Both of these characters have trouble trusting people.

Let alone one another.

Sir Crocodile is known to use deception and not trust his subordinates.

They're pawns to his goal, even Robin doesn't have his trust.

Robin, on the other hand, has been on the run since a young age.

She's used to betrayal and has trouble trusting people due to that.

I imagine you'd be part of Baroque Works in order to be close to them.

That or someone forced to work for Crocodile that lives in Arabasta.

Obviously I feel the one best for you is Robin.

She seems like she'd genuinely care for you when she sees how Crocodile is with you.

Meanwhile Crocodile has a better chance of treating his obsession like a doll for his entertainment.

I imagine this rivalry is relatively quiet.

You don't know much about it as Robin and Sir Crocodile are subtle.

Those two already have their own goals.

Crocodile only wants Robin for her ability to read Poneglyphs.

Robin, however, is simply there because it's the only place she can be right now.

Crocodile provides protection for her services.

Neither of them like or trust one another though.

The only person the two would "trust" is you.

Even then, for Crocodile it isn't really trust.

It's hard to trust anyone in Baroque Works.

Even you struggle at times with other agents.

For the sake of this rivalry, I'm going to say you're an assistant of Crocodile.

You're like a personal servant that Robin often speaks with... yet you're mostly around the Warlord.

If I read your request right... The two may work together for minor things when it comes to you.

For example, Robin will help Crocodile with keeping you under Baroque Works control.

For now, Crocodile will allow Robin to speak to his prized pet since she helps keep you under control.

Although even this deal is fragile.

Crocodile only allows Robin access to you because she helps with his own goals and your discipline.

While she may seem like an enforcer or oppressive force to you.

When Crocodile isn't looking... Robin may tell you she's on your side.

She may work for Crocodile, but she never dehumanizes you.

Even as Miss All Sunday, Robin treats you more like a friend than Crocodile.

While calm, mature, and mysterious... You may trust her as a friend compared to everyone else.

Robin feels you are one of the only people she can trust.

She tells you to keep your bond secret from Crocodile....

While part of her has a feeling you might tell Crocodile things out of fear... She's careful about that.

As her feelings increase, she makes sure it's hidden from Crocodile and you temporarily.

After all, while Crocodile lets Robin have access to you...

The Warlord may not enjoy Robin getting involved with his pet in any way other than business... especially romantically.

Crocodile is a possessive man.

He wants to be the only person who gives you any "romantic" affection.

In reality, he likes the control of it.

He likes having you in his lap while he does paperwork, whispering to make you flustered as he nibbles your neck.

It's even better when Robin enters and visibly tenses at Crocodile staking claim over you.

It makes her upset as she doesn't like the idea of you being owned or used.

Not only that, but she feels her affection would be so much nicer than his.

You no doubt sense the tension between the two as you interact with them.

Crocodile's grip is tight when Robin is around, he often orders you to stay in his office while he discusses things with Robin.

Meanwhile when Robin gets you alone, usually during escape attempts, she expresses distaste for how Crocodile treats you.

Who knows, maybe when you and Robin are alone, she offers to comfort you.

She wants to show you love isn't what Crocodile gives you... and she wants to experience it with you.

I imagine the rivalry would come to a peak when Luffy starts getting involved.

It's around this time Crocodile is getting impatient and suspicious of Robin's actions.

He suddenly isolates you from Robin, keeping you in his base of operations and having other agents keep an eye on you.

Crocodile has a feeling he knows what Robin's doing.

She's trying to seduce your loyalty, trying to make it so you love her more, so you help her against him.

He won't let that happen.

Crocodile is always sure to mark you, to show everyone he's claimed you.

He's more aggressive now.

He often snaps at others and isolates you more and more.

Robin rarely gets to see you unless Crocodile needs you to follow him somewhere.

Around the end of this arc, Crocodile actually makes an attempt on Robin's life.

Until Luffy steps in.

So the rivalry dynamic becomes Crocodile trying to keep you as his pet in Alabasta... while Robin insists on taking you from Crocodile and later joining the Straw Hats with you.

Robin acts like she wants a better life for the both of you.

Yet even if she does get you from Crocodile... She may just be bad for you in an entirely different way.

Honestly, I can see Crocodile threatening your life if Robin doesn't forget about you.

He has poison in his hook... If he really wanted, he could prevent Robin from having you by poisoning you.

Especially if she plans to make you a Straw Hat.

He doesn't mind killing you if it means Robin doesn't have you.

You belong to him, after all, so better hope someone has an antidote.

Although, this rivalry may end with Robin having you in the end with help from Luffy.

You may not be much of a fighter... yet Robin seems hesitant to leave you alone.

Even in Water 7, she feels you'll be happiest with the Straw Hats as they're a capable crew.

Overall, their rivalry is mostly just tension since they both need each other.

But you are right that they'd kill one another...

Robin would only win with Luffy's help.

Yet if Luffy wasn't there, Crocodile would have her killed for daring to steal what's his.

If we're going with the ending closer to canon... Robin promises to take good care of you.

She'll show you her love is much better than Crocodile...

Even if she's isolating you in another way.

Let's just hope you aren't at Marineford later on...

Reuniting with them both would only bring more tension.

#yandere one piece #yandere one piece x reader #yandere nico robin #yandere sir crocodile

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justanotherarmyfangirl · 1 year ago

Text

Taped! (2/3)

For their viewing pleasure, they make sure you know you’re theirs.

Warning: 18+ smut, dubcon/noncon, let me say it again, noncon or very dubious consent, if that’s not you’re thing stop reading now! reader manipulation, yandere, voyeur, rough sex, fingering, somnophilia, revenge porn?, hidden camera, restraints, praise kink

You pull against your restraints, hands tied behind you, pressed tight against your back and Hoseok's soft sheets. Hoseok's kisses are suffocatingly persistent, like he's trying to swallow you whole, tongue exploring as far down your throat as he can reach. You can't push him away, he's made sure of that, his tie looped tight around your wrists. He's in a good mood, a playful mood, enthusiastic in the way he devours your cries after winning four music awards at tonight's ceremony. But to him you're the real prize, so soft and warm, so addicting to smell and taste.

"What are you doing?" You ask breathlessly when he pulls away and grabs his phone, starting a video. "Why are you videoing this?" your naked chest heaves, your ceremony dress pushed down to reveal your tits to him. Hoseok pushes the rest of the expensive fabric over your hips, showing off the thin lace of your thong. You squirm uncomfortably, eyeing the camera lens worriedly.

"It's just for me, I would never show anyone else this, this is only mine to see," he reassures you.

"I know that, but what if you get hacked?" you ask worriedly, thinking of how both your careers would be destroyed by such a thing.

"That won't happen," he says confidently.

"Famous last words," you huff, still squirming as you're unable to cover yourself, your hands tied tightly by Hoseok.

"Don't be like that, Baby, c'mon, be good for me." Hoseok aims the camera lower as he reaches for the hem of your panties and presses two digits against your hole, slowly filling you up.

You bite your tongue, quieting yourself, still uncomfortable with the idea of being filmed. "Hobi, please," you pant. "You shouldn't film this. What if-"

He silences you with a kiss and another finger deep inside your cunt. You whine against his lips. His hand reaches out and places the camera to his right as he continues to kiss you sweetly, ravaging your insides with his fingers fervently, so the sound of your slick can be heard on camera as you shake against him.

Hoseok works you up skillfully, until your mind goes blank with pleasure and you completely forget the leering presence of his camera as you shiver and pulse around his fingers.

The pressure becomes too much as he continues his ministrations. "No more, no more," you cry, convulsing in a mixture of pleasure and pain under him, unable to pull your arms out of his restraints.

"One more, one more time for me, you're doing so well, baby."

You shiver from head to toe as his thumb works over your clit again, sending jolts of pleasure running throughout your body.

You turn you head and notice his phone again, and jolt for another reason. You turn your head quickly away in embarrassment.

But Hoseok grabs your jaw tightly, shoving your head back towards his camera, holding your face down against his bed as he thumb presses harder onto your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Tears stream down your face as you close your eyes in shame. You can't find your voice, forgetting the right words to tell him you want him to stop, forgetting how to do anything but succumb to his unforgiving digits deep inside you.

You groan, limbs locking one more time as you release, and your body quickly stiffens and goes limp.

Hoseok looks at you surprised, fingers slowing down but not stopping as he taps your cheek softly. "Baby?" He tests you by circling your clit again, watching intently as you stay still. "Oh."

Did you really pass out from coming? How cute, Hoseok chuckles softly, pushing your leg open wide and turning you on your side.

Now he can do whatever he wants with you.

He releases his stiff cock from the confines of his pants. This video is going to be his best one yet, trophy worthy. And if you ever try to leave him, this will be the one he uploads first.

You finish towel drying yourself and pull out a large night shirt, changing quickly. You use the lotions and essences on your nightstand, going through your usual nightly routine, and turn every light off but the lamp on your bedside, jumping on your covers as you start to scroll through your phone.

What should you watch tonight? Anal? BDSM? Hentai? No...

Maybe...

You type in, "Korean Boyfriend."

You're too horny to feel shame at the moment, even if there was a good reason for such a particular search.

You couldn't get your friend out of your thoughts, and as you scroll through the multiple videos in your search, you know there's a certain one, amateur looking, that looks exactly like him.

It only shows the bottom half of the user's face, and the sexiest body you've ever seen as the young man strokes his leaking cock for you, but the resemblance is uncanny. He even has the same mole under his lip like Jungkook, your new friend.

You were too shy to ever tell him your achingly strong feelings for him, so this you can settle for for now, imagining his muscular taunt body over you, his fingers stroking your soaking cunt instead.

Jungkook groans.

You stop, lean over and fumble around, looking through your bedside table, until you find the pink vibrator you were searching for and settle back down against your covers, spreading your legs wide open.

You turn the vibrator on and press it against your clit, starting the video again, intently watching the man on your screen fall apart while you allow yourself to imagine his cock stuffing you full instead.

How nice it must taste, how good it would feel to gag on it. Fuck, fuck, you want him so badly. You want Jungkook inside you, fucking you, cuming all over you. Fuck...

Jungkook grips the tip of his cock and whines for you.

You imagine his tongue sucking up your puffy clit instead, his mouth all over you, lapping up your slick. Fuck, he's so hot, just as muscular as the man you're watching, he would wreck you, fuck you so hard and deep you'd be sore for days.

You let your mouth open as you whine in pleasure, you bet his cock would taste amazing, smell just as good as the rest of him. Just imagining how nice it would taste to have his cock down your throat has you pulsing.

Jungkook pumps his cock steadily, faster, so close to release.

He's so close. And you're so close.

Jeon Jungkook scrolls through his phone as he pours himself a bowl of cereal. He can't find a clean spoon, so he washes one quickly, filling his bowl with milk before setting the bowl down on his coffee table.

He takes a large spoonful and opens the newest app on his phone and-

"Oh fuck!" Jungkook chokes on his cereal, dropping the spoon on his pants. "Ahh fuck," he wipes the dripping milk off his chin and shirt, sitting up at attention.

You're there, as clear as day, clearer than Jungkook was anticipating.

He's thankful he paid extra for the HD version. He holds the screen right to his eyes.

This was the live feed.

At this moment, you were half naked, spread open, toying yourself to climax in front of Jungkook's very eyes.

See, because the last time you had hung out, Jungkook had strategically placed his cameras all over your bedroom, hopeful to record something exactly like this.

The wide shot is perfect, in direct line with your pussy. Jungkook is already stiffening at the very sight of you.

He sloppily tries to eat the rest of his cereal as he watches you, transfixed in the way you writhe on camera. He wants more of you, fuck, it's not fair, he wants to feel how wet you are.

"Dammit," for the second time tonight Jungkook drops milk and cereal on his clothes, losing himself in thoughts of you momentarily before the cold liquid brings him back to his lonely present.

Well, at least he has a reason to remove the offending material now. He pulls off his sweatpants, lying down and freeing his hard cock from the confines of his boxers.

He watches you wide eyed, dick hard and throbbing as he edges himself to release.

Fuck, you look so delectable, cute and whiny. He was always curious about how you'd look falling apart, and his curiosity got the best of him, and thank god for that, now he could watch you as many times as he wanted, and oh god, there would be more opportunities just like this one, fuck...

And now that he had a live feed straight into your bedroom, he'd know when you were out, and he could pay your bedroom a visit. Maybe even come over while you're doing the deed, and be able to see the effects up close and personal if you decided to open the door for him.

The possibilities now were endless. Whatever qualms he had before about invading your privacy were all out the window. It was your fault anyways, you couldn't pick up on his advances, or you wouldn't, whatever it was, it made him-

"Oh, Jungkook."

You arch your back and spread your legs wider as your vibrator sends you closer to release.

What?

What?!

Jungkook's cock twitches in his palm as your quiet whimpers filter through his phone's speakers. He clicks to a closer camera. You said his name?

He had to have imagined that, sometimes his imagination did make Jungkook think and experience things that were not-

Wait. No fucking way. Why can't he zoom in?! Did he just see-

He switches to the closest camera, situated in between the panels of your headboard.

Jungkook stares at the reflection of your phone and laughs to himself.

What are the odds? Jungkook is already twisting the revelation into a his own dark fantasy. It's fate, you really are meant to be.

He's sure you won't mind if he uploads this to his account next...

---

1 | 2 | 3 (Upcoming) which member’s version was your fav so far?

#bts smut #yandere bts #bts yandere #jungkook yandere #hoseok yandere #jungkook smut #hoseok smut

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scriberye · 4 months ago

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🔞 For Glory: Angron

──────────────────────────────── ANGRON x GN!READER ⚠️🔞 Forced Relationship, Rape, Dubious Consent, Violence, Coercion, Power Imbalance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Butcher's Nails You're given as a prize to Angron for his latest win in the arena, a reward he didn't want but one he has to take if he wants to spare you from a crueler fate. a/n: This was a journey and I came out with an OC for it. I did my best to approach the subject matter as thoughtfully as possible.

It’s a cacophony as the crowd cries out for blood and death. You stand at your master’s side, balancing a tray laden with food and wine. The canopy above provides respite and shade against the blistering heat of the sun.

Your attention, however, is on the figure in the arena — Angron. He’s massive, moving with an otherworldly grace as he cuts through his opponents. Even from the high seats, you can see the ripple of his muscles, and your heart races, captivated by his strength.

And then it’s over, and Angron has won, standing amongst the blood and carnage. His fierce eyes scan the crowd until they find yours, and there’s a spark. And something in him lifts, his seems seem to brighten.

Your master notices, too.

As the sand settles, he waves you off, sending you beneath the mountain with his guards. You’ll be a perfect reward for his favorite gladiator.

“Here, a prize,” one guard sneers, throwing you onto the floor of Angron’s cell. You land awkwardly, catching yourself on your hands. The impact is jarring, and pain shoots through your hands and knees, and you bite back a whimper. You’ve learned showing weakness only invites more suffering.

“Make sure to show us a good time!” the same guard laughs, cruel and mocking.

“Yeah! Don’t hold back, beast!” the other chimes in, the disdain clear in his voice as he says the word ‘beast’.

You push yourself to your knees and look around the dark cell. Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness, but you find him — Angron. At the far side of the cell, still fresh from the arena. His chest still heaving from the recent exertion, sweat and the blood of his opponent drip through the grime and sand that cling to his skin.

“Hey!” the guard yells again, banging on the cell. “Didn’t hear us? Don’t think we won’t teach ya both a lesson if you don’t listen!”

You flinch, instinctively trying to make yourself smaller. The threat hangs heavy in the air; they want to exploit Angron’s softer, kinder side.

In one last act of defiance, Angron charges the bars on the cell with a bloodcurdling yell. Rage. Desperation. The guards stumble back, startled. Electro-rods crackle to life, and Angron retreats, spitting at their feet before turning to you, kneeling down.

He reaches out to touch you but quickly pulls back when he sees the blood and dirt on his hands. It feels wrong to touch you with such filth. You’re so pristine — clean, and, in his mind, untainted. Instead, he leans close, his breath hot against your cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

You can see the struggle in his eyes and offer him a weak smile. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he snarls, shaking with a barely concealed rage. “None of this is.”

You cup his cheek, wiping away some of the dirt, your heart aching for him. If only things had been different for him and you. If only fate had been kinder.

But the guards are done waiting. “Get on with it, lover boy!”

“What’s the matter, can’t get it up?!” the other guard taunts. “Pumped him up with too many drugs his cock doesn’t even work anymore.”

With a resigned sigh, Angron’s hands are on you, staining your white clothes with dirt and blood from his hands. He leans over you, angling his body in a way to shield you from the guards’ leering eyes.

You try to focus on him, to ignore the guards whooping and goading Angron on. Tears prick at your eyes, but you hold them back. Your heart feels like a gaping hole, a raw wound. You love him; you want to be with him, but not like this. Never like this.

“Harder! Come on!” a guard yells, slapping the bars with the rod. “Fuck ‘em like the monster you are!”

Angron snarls. It’s a sickening sound of skin slapping echoing in the small cell, punctuated by ragged breathing, and underneath it all, you can hear him chant for your forgiveness. Over and over.

You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. For a moment, clarity flashes in his eyes and Angron cranes his head to look down at you.

You squeeze his hand.

He squeezes back.

Neither of you are alone.

Angron squeezes his eyes shut and succumbs. He lets out a loud, heaving groan as he empties himself inside you.

When it’s over, the cave feels colder. The guards’ laughter fades, leaving behind a suffocating, painful silence. Angron tears himself away from you, retreating to a far corner, his body wracked with a guilt that mirrors your own.

And you lay there, aching, and unsure what to do.

“Little one,” a man’s voice calls out to you. Startled, you look toward the sound and see an older gladiator. His hair has turned gray from age and he’s covered in a crisscrossing patchwork of scars, both old and new. He smiles, and it’s warm — a balm on your soul.

“Come,” he says softly, kneeling beside you and offering a hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You tremble, and look back at Angron, hunched and broken in the corner. The tears come more freely now. “But.. Angron.. He’s…”

“He needs time,” the older man murmurs. “And so do you.”

He helps you to your feet and you take one last glance back at Angron as the older gladiator leads you from the cell.

The days pass in a blur after that. You learn his name is Oenomaus, and he’s the closest thing to a father Angron has. He’s a constant presence, gently guiding you both through the darkness.

The days blend together between the relentless fights in the arena and the struggle to survive in the caves. Between fights, Oenomaus speaks with Angron, offering support and helping him navigate the torment that gnaws at him.

Just as he helps Angron, Oenomaus finds time to aid you as well, teaching the basics of swordplay and self-defense. His lessons fill you with a newfound hope. You aren’t weak. And Oenomaus reassures you, you never were.

One day, Angron returns to the caves more bloodied and battered than usual. He trudges toward his cell, his shoulders sagging under the weight of unseen burdens.

You exchange a concerned look with Oenomaus, who offers you a small, encouraging nod. Steeling yourself, you rise from the table and gather a bowl of water and a cloth. As you approach Angron’s cell, you make enough noise to announce your presence.

“Angron,” you call gently to him. He looks up briefly, then away, still unable to look at you. Your heart sinks, but you’re determined, moving closer and kneeling beside him.

“Let me help,” you say, dipping the cloth into the water and reaching for his hands. He tenses at your touch, but doesn’t pull away.

“This isn’t necessary,” he grumbles, his voice rough and gravelly. Come morning, any wounds he has will heal. Your aid is pointless, but he doesn’t tell you that.

“I want to.”

The water turns red as you clean his hands with gentle, soothing strokes. You smile softly, admiring his hands. They’re so strong and large, covered in callouses and scars — yet they’re so gentle. You aren’t sure why, but something in you is certain these hands were better suited for defending others.

Angron notices your smile and confusion crosses his features.

“How can you still look at me like that?”

You look up, meeting his gaze for the first time after days of him avoiding yours. “Because it wasn’t you, Angron. It was them. I love you, and it hurts to see you suffering like this.”

His eyes search yours, a myriad of emotions flickering within them — guilt, pain. But in your eyes, he finds only honesty and unwavering love looking back at him.

“I love you too,” he whispers, and the words sound so fragile, as if he says them too loud they might break.

You smile, and to Angron, it’s like watching the sun rise — beautiful and magical. Without thinking, you lean up onto your knees, brushing your lips against his in a gentle, tentative kiss.

His hearts seize, and for a moment, he freezes, caught off guard by the sudden gesture. Then he melts. His hands cradle your face with a careful reverence. The kiss deepens, his tongue exploring your mouth greedily, tasting of salt and iron.

You moan softly, pressing closer to him, your hands wandering over the expanse of his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath and the warmth that radiates off him. You climb onto his lap, the fabric of your tunic bunching up around your waist.

He pulls back slowly, his lips hovering just over yours. “Is this what you want?” he asks, desire seeping into his voice.

“I do,” you sigh against his lips, you burn for him. “Please, Angron. I want this.”

He raises his hand to his, sucking on his fingers to wet them. Satisfied they’re soaked, his fingers find their way between your thighs, pushing one against your tight entrance. It’s not ideal, but spit will have to do.

You gasp, your breath hitching in your throat as a thick finger fills you up. And Angron is gentle, easing you open slowly as he slides his other finger inside you, curling and stroking the tight walls of your body.

“Please,” you whine, unable to bear the building ache any longer. You want more. His fingers aren’t enough.

Slowly, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you empty and aching. And replaces them with something much larger. His cock is thick and hard as he positions himself at your entrance, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

You grab his forearms for support and you slowly lower yourself onto him. There’s a moment of resistance before your body yields to him. You wince when your body burns, stretching to accommodate the sheer size of him. He fills you up completely, and there’s still so much more.

“Angron,” you sigh dreamily, taking a moment to enjoy the feel of him inside of you properly.

“Does it hurt? Should we stop?” he asks, worry bleeding into every word.

You shake your head, smiling up at him. “I’m fine, please. Don’t stop.”

He nods hesitantly, his cock pulsing inside of you as he waits until you’re ready. Slowly, you start to ride him, trying to take him as deep into your body as you physically can. He moves with you, thrusting his hips upward. His cock strikes a spot deep in you that has you seeing stars.

You lean against his chest and moan. Angron grip your hips, pulling you down onto his cock as he thrusts faster into you. Sweat drips down your bodies as you frantically try to match his pace, writhing and bucking against him, desperate for release.

The pressure builds. The tension coils in your gut until it becomes unbearable.

You muffle a cry against his chest as your orgasm hits you, your body convulsing and twitching as you ride out the waves.

And Angron isn’t far behind. The clench and flutter of your walls around his cock is enough to send him over the edge. He cums with a deep, satisfied groan as he floods you with his cum.

You sag against him, feeling heavy and sated. He wraps you up in his arms, holding you tight and secure. You both struggle to catch your breath, hearts beating wildly.

Angron cranes his head down to press a kiss to the top of your head, running his hand over your back. “I’ll protect you always,” he mumbles against your hair. “And we’ll all be free. I promise.”

You smile and drift off to sleep, feeling safe and loved and dream of a future free of hardships with Angron by your side.

#warhammer #reader insert #angron #angron x reader #series: for glory #wh30k

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sunflowersandsapphires · 5 months ago

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A Brewing Storm

In All The World, Chapter 1.2

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: This series of one-shots follows Matt and the music teacher he is steadily falling for, despite her distant familial connection to The Punisher.

warnings: angsty Matthew, Matt and Frank being little shits (mostly Frank), fluff, hints at smut

w/c: 2.3k

a/n: I KNOW THIS DIDN’T WIN THE POLL BUT I WASN’T ABLE TO FINISH THE OTHER FICLET, I’M SORRY! I hope this is a decent consolation prize for you all. The comfort piece should be done by next week!

There are a few things mentioned in this chapter that I won’t go into unless people are interested but here’s the rundown: Matt and Reader started their relationship after her testimony, though the trial had not yet ended. The ABA code of ethics doesn’t really have much to say about attorneys and witnesses, but the general rule is after they’ve testified (as long as the trial isn’t discussed) they can begin a personal relationship. The ethics rules are much more concerned about lawyers and their clients than witnesses. However, Matt asked her out during proceedings so, in his head, he did something wrong. I wasn’t planning on writing their beginning, but if that’s something you all are interested in, let me know!

Trusting the men to keep their word, you left Frank standing over the door mat while you grabbed some bath towels and a jacket he'd forgotten on your couch months ago. Returning to a room frigid with their disdain for each other, you stifled an eye roll while you passed over the items in your hold. “Here. Dry off if you can. Are you hungry? I can set another place for dinner.”

Matt stiffened from his seat at the table, blowing an annoyed breath out of his nose. Smirking in satisfaction, Frank rubbed the towel over his hair, splattering your floor with leftover rain. “Sure, kid.”

Pretending not to see your boyfriend's twisted frown, you padded over to the stove to scoop the remaining noodles into a clean bowl.

“Ok, it's not much, but I wasn't planning on cooking for three–”

“How long?” Came Frank's curt question.

Running the tip of your tongue against your molars, you blew out a breath, shoving Frank's food over to him.

“Um...”

“Eight months.” Matt answered, chest puffing out ever so slightly. Swatting at him with a glare, you grimaced as Frank gnashed his teeth again.

“For fuck's sake. During the trial?”

“Well, that is how we met.” Matt snapped back, posture rounding as the Devil slipped back into control.

“And you thought what, Red? That you could treat my case like your own personal dating pool? You of all people know how dangerous that was for her.”

“I think we are all familiar with the risks taken last summer.” You retorted, taking your seat at Matt's side, letting your knee brush against his in what you hoped was a grounding touch.

What Frank was insinuating wasn't far fetched. You had run into trouble after coming forward as a character witness, but your relationship with Matt hadn't caused that, your role in the trial had. No matter how much guilt he carried over the incident, your boyfriend was in no way responsible for the actions of the Kitchen Irish. Matt regularly got stuck in his head, castigating himself for giving in to temptation. Despite making it ostentatiously clear that you were interested in him from the moment you met, your self-conscious partner was convinced he’d somehow violated an unwritten code of ethics and manipulated you into going out with him. It had taken months of promises before Matt began to believe that your consent had been honest and voluntary the whole time–his fragile acceptance would surely combust if Frank continued to cast more doubt over the dubious start of your relationship. He didn’t need anyone’s help to make him feel like a monster.

Matt nudged your knee with his in response to your touch, though his expression was stony. You could see his walls going up brick by brick, his confidence waning as someone confirmed his worst fears.

“Are 'we'? Cause I, for one, ain’t dyin’ for you to be bleedin’ out in my bathroom again.” Frank hissed, eyes still locked on Matt as he referenced your previous injuries. “You think she's safe with you? You can’t protect her. Fuck's sake, Red–you're covered in blood at her table right now. She doesn't need to be dragged into your bullshit–”

“Enough.” You snarled, cutting Frank off. Inhaling deeply, you lowered your voice and softened your tone. “Matt, can you give us a minute, love?”

Ignoring Frank's sneer at the pet name, you placed a hand over Matt's knee, rubbing circles into it with your thumb. “Can you wait for me in my room? I'll be right in.”

“I can just go home,” Matt shifted uncomfortably, looking defeated and agonized as he slowly clambered to his feet.

“I’ll only be a minute, love. Don't leave yet please.” You squeezed his hand where it hung limp by his side, hoping that his barely noticeable nod was conveying his true intentions.

You set your jaw, watching Matt stalk into the bedroom before whirling towards Frank who was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, looking all too pleased with himself. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Frank?”

“There ain’t nothin’—”

“Nope, it's not your turn yet.” You bit out, cutting him off. “I'm not unhappy to see you, because it means you're still breathing, but you have some damn nerve coming into my house and speaking to my boyfriend as if I'm not in the room. I am not an object, nor am I anyone’s property. You do not get to dictate what is or isn't good for me, regardless of how you feel about it.“

Frank winced slightly, but he didn’t make any other indication that your words were getting through his thick skull.

Sitting back in your seat, you clasped your hands in your lap. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Frank. Lord knows you've saved my life more times than I can count, but Matt is good for me. Your views on our start and on him as a person won't change that.“

Frank scoffed, rolling his eyes to the popcorn ceiling. You grit your teeth. “Alright, if you want to be pissed, that's your prerogative. I'm sorry you didn't find out about us directly from me, but I refuse to accept full responsibility for that because you haven't responded to me for months. You don't get to just pop back into my life when it's most convenient for you.”

The towering man didn’t respond. Fine. If he wasn't in a headspace to hear what you had to say, then you were done talking. Stretching over to a nearby cabinet you pulled out a tupperware and tossed it to him. He caught it without glancing up.

“Have a good night, Frank. Text me if you ever decide you want to listen. And take that food home with you or I will be obligated to hunt you down.”

Using the seat of your chair to leverage your weight, you stood up and paced away from Frank, crossing your fingers that Matt was still in the bedroom when you reached it.

Matt’s hearing was powerful enough to register conversations a block away, let alone one room over, so ignoring the voices beyond your bedroom walls should’ve been difficult. However, Frank’s implications had worn him down, rehashing a mess of anxiety and spurning his feelings of unworthiness. If you hadn’t asked him to stay, he would’ve gone back out to find a distraction lurking in the city streets before passing out on any surface in his apartment. Instead, he lay in your bed, coiled in a ball beneath the sheets, drained of energy–feeling small and useless.

Frank apparently didn’t have much more to say because it was only minutes before he heard you approaching the closed door obscuring him. Your footfalls were light, as always. You did whatever you could to make his existence easier. It was one of the many reasons he loved you.

Your heartbeat grew stronger as you entered, leaving the door open only briefly in an effort to preserve the hideout Matt had taken shelter in. Gently crouching until you were seated on the mattress, you curled your body around Matt’s–shielding him from the abundance of sensory input and surrounding him with the subtle scent of your body wash. It was warm and sweet, comforting like the brief whiff of sugar you smell when walking past a bakery. A stark contrast to the harsh remnants of gunpowder and leather drifting in from Frank’s now abandoned seat.

“How much of that did you hear?” You asked, tracing over his prickly cheek with a finger.

“Bits and pieces.” Matt exhaled roughly. “Did you want me not to listen?”

“Sweetheart, I would never ask that of you. That’s not really something you can control when we’re twenty feet away.” Turning his head into your touch, Matt placed a gentle kiss on the pad of your finger. You took a moment to study him, heart clenching at the weary expression on his face. His posture was tight, you could tell he was holding back. “C’mere, lovely.”

At your prompting, Matt’s blank face twitched, his sorrow peeking through as he shifted on the mattress.

“I’m sorry I let him in.” You murmured, threading your fingers into Matt’s hair as he wriggled until his face was squished into your stomach. “I should’ve forced him to calm down, or take it out on me. It wasn’t fair to subject you to that.”

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” Matt chuckled breathily, the sound coming out choked with emotion.

“I know, handsome. But that doesn’t mean you deserve to be screamed at over a misunderstanding.” Sliding down until Matt was resting against your chest, you tucked his head under your chin, wrapping him in an embrace. He hummed against you, not trusting himself to speak on the matter.

“Matty, you do know that what he said was complete and utter horseshit, right?” Your blunt question made him snort, the noise muffled against your collarbone. “No, I’m serious. He was mad that we caught him off guard, so he said that crap to get under your skin. Classic Frank tactic. He did the same shit when we were kids.”

“Did he really?” Came Matt's amused question.

“Oh yah. He’s damn good at it too. The day I knocked him off the Dig Dug leaderboard at our local arcade, he told me I was adopted. My parents were FURIOUS to hear he’d let that cat out of the bag.” You laughed, your nose crinkling as you pictured Frank hanging his head on your family’s tattered leather couch as he got chewed out by your dad.

Matt made a mournful noise, pressing impossibly closer. Rubbing his shoulders with a flat hand, you kissed his crown. “But, the next week, he took me back to the arcade so I could show him how I did it. And when the dude running the candy counter made a sexist comment about how I shouldn’t even be there, Frank forced him to apologize.”

“What’d he do? Shoot him?” Matt asked dryly.

“Just a stern talking to. With his fists.” You joked, pinching Matt’s waist. His lips tickled your skin as he smiled.

“Moral of the story is: Frank speaks without thinking sometimes, just like the rest of us. And he tends to be protective of the people he cares about, myself included.” Sliding your hand beneath Matt’s shirt, you cradled his waist tenderly, drawing delicate patterns with your thumb. “You have that in common.”

“A talent for lashing out?” Matt quipped.

Ignoring his attempt to deflect, you continued. “You want to protect me.”

“Apparently, I’m not as good at it as I thought.” Matt remarked icily.

“Yes. You are.” You poked him, tone stern. “You protect me and the rest of Hell’s Kitchen every day, regardless of what Frank thinks. You are an amazing man and a wonderful partner, and I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything, love.”

“I love you.” Matt whispered reverently, feeling his insecurities beginning to subside. You always had that effect on him. Your melodic voice and persistently kind nature acting as a life preserver when his own mind seemed determined to drown him.

“And I love you, Matty. All of you. Always.” Cupping his chin with one hand, you drew him towards your face, pecking his lips lightly. “Why don’t I help you change out of your suit so we can shower? If I’m tired, I know you’ve gotta be wiped out.”

Smirking, Matt cocked his head at you—his confidence finally reappearing after the disaster of a night you’d had. “Are you trying to get me naked, sweetheart?”

“Desperately.” You muttered, trailing a finger over the waistband of his pants. “I have not seen nearly enough of you today.”

“It must be so difficult for you,” He lamented, flopping flat on the mattress with a sigh. “Not seeing your partner.”

Snorting out a laugh, you shoved his chest playfully. “Both of us know that is not what I meant.”

He chuckled, fingers of his left hand loosening the knot of rope around his other wrist.

“Let me,” You suggested, cradling Matt’s dominant hand with both of your own, rotating it and unwinding the cord with a gentle tug. As the dirt and blood stained material fell from Matt's arm, it revealed a crisscross pattern of reddened indents in his skin—angry from being bound by the woven line for so long. Tutting in sympathy, you bent forward, kissing the marks gently before releasing your hold.

Without speaking, you tangled your fingers around his other arm, inching one finger beneath the rope, repeating the motions until he was free of them. Trailing another line of kisses down his arm towards his palm, you smiled triumphantly.

With two fingers, you pried the hem of his shirt away from his sweaty abdomen. ”May I?”

Matt nodded, a lopsided smile hanging on his lips as he arched his back off the mattress to allow you to remove his top. Rolling the fabric up and over his head, you dragged your nails up his spine, grinning at the soft whine you got in response.

“Feel good, Matty?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound dissipated into a moan when you licked a stripe over his pulse point.

“How about I mark you up this time, hm? Take care of you first for once?”

Matt rumbled beneath your lips with a small moan, his head falling back as he arched off the mattress.

Giggling, you dragged your teeth over the pulsing vein in his neck, provoking a soft mewl in the back of Matt’s throat. “C’mon, sweet boy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Leaping from the bed, Matt flew after you, snatching you by the waist and locking your lips together as you clumsily stumbled toward the bathroom.

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @abucketofweird @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou

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marsplastic13 · 3 months ago

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'Complicated' (part 15) - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Idea - Kaz Brekker hires a prostitute to overcome his touch aversion, and be a better man for Inej, but things take an unxepected turn. Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Prostitute!Reader, (had to use y/n because I'm bad at names) Genre: modern AU, slow burn word count: 7k notes: let me know what you think!

@millercontracting @coldmermaidhologram @syd649

@luffysprincess @cryptidghostgirl @beekeepingageissome

@hufflepuff-16 @lukepattersin @jay-is-a-pinguin

“Brekker, I’m taking you out for lunch,” Nina said, peering into his office. Reluctantly, Kaz agreed, and the two walked to the nearest restaurant. As soon as they sat down, the conversation shifted to Y/n.

“I started following her on Instagram. She looks like the most irresponsible person ever,” Nina commented, her tone disapproving.

Kaz crossed his arms defensively. “That’s not true. She's responsible.”

Nina gave him a skeptical look. “Responsible? Are we talking about the same Y/n? The one who is always partying and shopping?”

Kaz sighed, clearly irritated. “Yes, that Y/n. She’s more than just what you see online.”

Nina raised an eyebrow, her expression clearly dubious. “Is she? Why don’t you ring her up, maybe she wants to have lunch with us.”

Kaz considered it. He knew Y/n was probably at home at this hour, and despite Nina’s skepticism, he wanted to prove her wrong. He pulled out his phone and dialed Y/n’s number.

“On speaker,” Nina demanded, her tone cold. Kaz sighed but complied, putting the call on speaker.

“Baby, is everything okay?” Y/n’s cheerful voice came through the phone. Nina rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Baby? Really?” she mouthed at Kaz, who flipped her off discreetly.

“Y/n, I’m here with Nina. We wanted to—” Kaz began, but he was interrupted by a cacophony of noise in the background.

“Where are you?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

Y/n hesitated. “Oh, um,” she let out a nervous laugh, “I’m at the emergency room. I dislocated my shoulder.”

Kaz cradled his head in his hands, exasperation and concern warring on his face. Nina leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. “You knew this,” Kaz mouthed at Nina, who nodded smugly.

“Yes, I checked her Instagram,” she whispered back.

Kaz took a deep breath, almost afraid to ask, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Y/n hesitated again. “So, the house was flooded, and we called a plumber, but, funny thing, he was actually a stripper,” she laughed.

Kaz closed his eyes, sighing. “He was very good. If you ever need one, I’ll send you his number,” Y/n added.

“Of course, you let him do his show,” Kaz rolled his eyes, trying to suppress a chuckle.

“Absolutely. And he suggested that since the house was already flooded, we could add soap and play soapy-soccer in the corridor,” Y/n explained, her tone as if it was the most logical decision.

“Y/n, your rib just healed,” Kaz said, now genuinely concerned and a bit mad.

“I know. That’s why I took the responsible decision of being the goalkeeper,” she replied, as if it was the most logical answer.

Nina looked at Kaz with both eyebrows raised. “Responsible decision?” she mouthed.

“That was not the responsible decision, Y/n!” Kaz's voice was sharp with frustration. “You could have seriously hurt yourself. Again!”

Y/n sighed dramatically, her playful tone undeterred. “I couldn’t let them win! The prize was not cleaning the mess we made! It was the final goal!”

“Are you ever going to take something seriously?” Kaz demanded, his irritation clear.

“No,” she laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Why are you so mad? Ghezen, Kaz, tomorrow I’ll be fine. We can try that thing we were talking about, with the—”

“Y/n, you’re on speaker,” Kaz quickly cut her off, his face flushing with embarrassment.

“You didn’t sound that embarrassed when you asked me to—”

“Shut up!” Kaz snapped, but his tone lacked true anger.

Y/n laughed even more, the sound infectious. Nina shook her head in disapproval.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” Kaz asked, his concern resurfacing.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Y/n assured him.

“Did you win at least?”

“Obviously,” she replied with a smirk audible in her voice.

Kaz couldn’t help but smile at her confidence. “So, are you free tonight?” he asked, his tone softening, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, while Nina rolled her eyes.

“Call me when you’re home,” Kaz said, ending the call with a sense of relief mixed with lingering frustration.

Nina watched him, shaking her head. “Come on, Kaz, you can’t be serious about her.”

Kaz frowned, crossing his arms defensively. “Why not? What’s so wrong with Y/n?”

Nina’s expression was incredulous. “What’s wrong? Kaz, she’s reckless, irresponsible, and always getting into trouble. She’s the complete opposite of Inej.”

Kaz’s jaw tightened at the mention of Inej. “This isn’t about Inej, Nina. Y/n is her own person, and she’s—”

“—a bad influence,” Nina finished for him, her tone harsh. “Inej is stable, reliable, and she made you better. Y/n is just... chaos.”

Kaz sighed, trying to keep his temper in check. “Y/n has her flaws, sure, but she also brings out a side of me that I didn’t even know existed. She makes me feel alive, Nina.”

Nina rolled her eyes again. “Oh, please. She makes you feel alive? That’s your defense? You need someone who grounds you, Kaz, not someone who drags you into ridiculous situations like playing soapy-soccer with a stripper.”

Kaz bristled at the accusation. “Y/n is more than that. Just because she’s different from Inej doesn’t mean she’s not good for me.”

Nina’s expression softened slightly, but her disapproval was still evident. “I’m just worried about you, Kaz. Inej was good for you in ways that Y/n never will be.”

Kaz’s eyes narrowed. “And maybe Y/n is good for me in ways that Inej never was.”

Nina shook her head again, her disapproval evident. "Kaz, you know this is just a phase, right? When this crush on Y/n passes, you’ll realize you belong with Inej. You should go back to her before it's too late."

Kaz's eyes darkened, his temper flaring. “What the hell, Nina? You think I’m just going to crawl back to Inej when things get tough with Y/n?”

Nina didn’t back down. “You’re making a mistake, Kaz. Inej is the one who’s good for you, not this reckless fling with Y/n. You need to come to your senses before you ruin everything.”

Kaz stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “You don’t get to decide what’s good for me, Nina. I care about Y/n, and I’m not just going to drop her because you think I should be with Inej. Inej and I are over. Accept that.”

Nina stood as well, her expression portraying both frustration and concern. “Kaz, I’m just trying to look out for you. Y/n is a distraction. She’s going to hurt you, and then where will you be?”

Kaz’s voice was low and dangerous. “I’m done with this conversation. Y/n isn’t a distraction. She’s important to me, and I’m not going to let you or anyone else dictate my choices. If you can’t accept that, then maybe you’re the one who needs to back off.”

Nina’s eyes flashed with hurt, but she didn’t back down. “Fine, Kaz. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when things fall apart.”

Kaz turned away, his anger simmering just below the surface. “I’ll take my chances. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

As he walked away, Kaz couldn’t shake the lingering frustration. Nina’s words had struck a nerve, but he was determined not to let them undermine his feelings for Y/n. He knew the path he had chosen was risky, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was exactly where he needed to be.

***

Kaz knew that he was being petty and that his actions would have consequences, but he was pissed off and he felt an overwhelming need to act out. He pulled out his phone and texted Y/n, ‘Are you busy?’

‘I'm at the gym, finish in 30 minutes’ she replied.

‘Can you pick me up at work?’

Y/n sent him a thumbs-up, and Kaz put his phone back in his pocket, feeling a spark of anticipation. He had been fighting with his boss since the day before. Kaz had meticulously planned a deal, but his boss had criticized every aspect of it, despite Kaz knowing he was right. If his boss wanted to get mad at him, Kaz was determined to give him a proper reason.

‘I'm outside’ came Y/n’s next message.

Kaz stormed out of the office, just as he had planned, with his boss following closely behind, continuing the heated discussion. Outside, Y/n stood by her car, still in her gym clothes, inspecting a new scratch. She smiled when she saw him, tossing him the car keys. “You're driving.”

Kaz grabbed the keys without a glance and went straight to kiss her, trapping her against the car and his body. Y/n hummed against his lips, “I didn't know it was that kind of call,” she whispered, amused.

“Brekker! We are not done. You don't walk away from me like that,” his boss shouted, catching up to them. Kaz moved slightly, revealing Y/n to the man, who paled at the sight.

“This is awkward,” she commented, her tone light but her eyes assessing the situation.

The boss struggled to formulate a reply, his eyes darting between Kaz and Y/n, noticing Kaz's arm around her and the smudge of her red lip balm on Kaz’s lips.

“Oh, Brekker, you didn't,” the boss started, his voice laced with disbelief.

“Oh, I did,” Kaz replied coldly, his grip around Y/n tightening. “You were right, you know? I should have some fun, and she,” his eyes roved over Y/n’s body, and he let out a chuckle, “she is a lot of fun.”

The man’s face turned livid with rage. “Y/n, you’re seriously with him?” he spat, his eyes narrowing at her.

Y/n met his gaze, trying not to laugh. “Apparently.”

He scoffed. “You think this is a game, Brekker? Bringing her here, flaunting her like some prize?”

Kaz’s eyes glittered with amusement as he tightened his arm around Y/n. “Yes, you’re right. She looks absolutely like a prize. Get in the car, love,” Kaz said playfully patting her ass, and Y/n, catching on quickly, got in without a word.

He turned to open his door but then faced his boss once more. “Also, she doesn't taste like candies, she tastes like cherries.” He grinned, enjoying the man’s furious reaction before getting in and driving away.

As they sped away, Kaz's anger began to dissipate, replaced by a twisted sense of satisfaction. He glanced at Y/n, who was watching him with a curious smile.

“What was that?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Kaz chuckled, his grip on the steering wheel relaxing. “A small revenge.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her seat. “Seems a bit dramatic, even for you.”

Kaz shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “I needed to make a point.”

She laughed softly. “And using me as a pawn in your revenge scheme was your brilliant idea?”

Kaz’s expression softened as he glanced at her. “Yep. You were my ace.”

Y/n sighed, shaking her head but unable to suppress a smile. “It was fun. Although I didn’t expect to be part of your little power play.”

Kaz chuckled, his eyes warm as he watched the road. “Did you like it?”

She tilted her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You have no idea how much.”

Kaz’s grin widened, a spark of mischief in his gaze. “Oh, really? I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Y/n laughed softly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “It was actually pretty exhilarating.”

Kaz’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed the show. It was worth it just to see that look on his face.”

Y/n leaned back in her seat, her smile turning more thoughtful. “And here I thought you were all business and no fun.”

Kaz glanced at her, his expression softening. “I have my moments.”

***

Kaz couldn't help but let out a frustrated sigh as he scanned the endless piles of paperwork littering his desk. His boss had made him pay dearly for his little show of confidence, drowning him in paperwork for the past three nights. It was now his third consecutive night spent in the office, poring over books and plans, trying to locate the financial leak his boss was convinced existed. The fluorescent lights flickered above him, casting a harsh glow on the stacks of documents surrounding him.

All Kaz wanted was to collapse into bed, bury his nose in Y/N’s hair, and finally get some sleep. Instead, he was trapped in the office, surrounded by nothing but papers and screens.

As if reading his mind, his phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. Y/N was FaceTiming him. A quick glance at the time—2 AM—made him wonder what she could be up to at this hour. Maybe she was drunk and needed a ride, or perhaps she was just bored. There were countless possibilities.

Kaz answered the call, his voice tired but curious. “Y/N, is everything—”

The words died in his throat as the scene on his screen unfolded. This was definitely not one of the possibilities he had considered, and he silently thanked Ghezen that he was alone in the office.

Y/N’s phone was perfectly positioned to capture a clear view of her bed, where she and one of her roommates were engaged in a heated makeout session. Kaz’s eyes widened in disbelief, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing.

Both girls were on their knees, facing each other, their matching lingerie leaving little to the imagination. The sound of their sloppy kisses filled the office, and Kaz quickly lowered the volume, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t tear his eyes away as Y/N’s hand moved to squeeze the other girl’s breast.

Kaz’s first coherent thought was that this had to be some sort of work-related thing and that Y/N had accidentally called him instead of someone else, but then, as if sensing his gaze, Y/N turned to the camera, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. She gave a small wave before slowly trailing kisses down the other girl’s neck, never breaking eye contact with Kaz.

Y/N’s eyes kept flicking back to the camera, her gaze locking with his, making his heart race even faster. His pulse quickened, his thoughts a jumbled mess as the scene continued to unfold.

The girls finished slowly undressing each other. Every so often, Y/N would glance at him, her look sending a wave of heat through Kaz. He could feel the tension in his body, his breath growing shallow as he watched her.

Kaz’s mind was blank, unable to focus on anything other than the two women in front of him. When Y/N went down on her roommate, her gaze flicking back to him from time to time, it took everything in him not to groan out loud. His hand itched to touch the painful bulge in his pants, but he knew he couldn’t—he was still in his office, after all.

As the other girl’s moans increased, Kaz found himself even more captivated by the scene. Y/N’s confidence and sensuality were on full display, and Kaz could barely contain himself.

When the girl finally reached her orgasm, Y/N kissed her way up from her stomach to her lips, her movements slow and deliberate, like a cat toying with its prey. The two girls resumed making out, their bodies pressed together, Y/N on all fours, hovering above her.

Kaz could barely breathe as he watched them switch positions, the sight of Y/N’s quickened breaths and flushed cheeks nearly driving him over the edge. She turned to look at him, her eyes dark with lust.

“Isn’t she pretty, Kaz?” the other girl suddenly asked, surprising him. Her voice was sultry, teasing. Kaz involuntarily shifted in his seat, seeking the slightest bit of relief.

“Isn’t she fucking beautiful when she’s all flustered and needy?” she continued, her words sending a shiver down Kaz’s spine.

Yes, yes, she was. Y/N’s eyes never left his as the other girl’s fingers worked her up slowly, each movement calculated to drive her wild. Y/N’s moans grew louder, her back arching, hips rolling, putting on a show that was impossible for Kaz to resist.

Then, just as abruptly, the girl stopped, making Y/N whine in protest.

“I won’t let her finish unless you touch yourself,” the girl said firmly, her gaze locked on Kaz’s through the screen.

Y/N’s eyes were wide and pleading, silently urging him to give in. Kaz’s resolve wavered, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him as he sat frozen, torn between desire and restraint.

The girl's hand trailed back up to tease Y/N's nipples, her fingers skillfully playing with the sensitive flesh, and Kaz could almost feel the sensation himself—the cool metal of Y/N's piercings contrasting with the warmth of her skin. It was an image that seared itself into his mind, igniting something deep within him that he struggled to control.

"Please, love," Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible but laced with desperation.

Kaz's eyes widened, his mouth slightly open as the weight of the moment crashed over him. Every ounce of his self-control teetered on the edge, and his body, betraying him completely, began to respond in ways he had long fought to suppress. He couldn't look away from the screen, from the pleading look in Y/N's eyes, and before he could even think, his hand moved of its own accord, sliding down to his pants.

With a shaky breath, Kaz unzipped his pants, the sound almost deafening in the quiet of his office. A soft, relieving sigh escaped his lips as he allowed himself the smallest bit of release. His phone was angled so that only his face was visible on the screen, but it was clear that this was all the girls needed.

Y/N's smile turned wild and victorious, her eyes sparkling in triumph. She knew exactly what she was doing, knew the effect she was having on him, and it only seemed to spur her on further. The other girl’s hand slid back between Y/N's legs, eliciting a gasp from her that reverberated through Kaz’s body.

The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, every sensation magnified as he watched them. Y/N’s body moved in rhythm with the other girl's touch, her back arching and hips rolling in a way that made Kaz’s breath catch in his throat. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, every pulse echoing the escalating tension between them.

Y/N’s eyes never left his, her gaze burning with desire and something else—something deeper, more intimate.

As the girl continued, Y/N’s moans grew louder, more desperate, each sound pulling Kaz further into the moment. His grip tightened, the sensation almost too much to bear, but he couldn’t stop—he didn’t want to stop. The world outside of that screen, outside of that moment, ceased to exist. There was only Y/N, her roommate, and the overwhelming connection that bound them all together.

The other girl’s voice was a teasing purr, almost a dare. “Aren’t you going to tell her how good she looks?” she asked, as she continued to toy with Y/N’s body.

Kaz’s eyes were glued to the screen, his voice barely above a whisper as he replied, “So good…” He leaned back in his chair, his hand moving slowly, matching the rhythm of what was happening on the screen. The sight of Y/N, so vulnerable and yet so in control of his every breath, was almost too much to bear.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice, a wickedly amused smile curling her lips. She arched her back, a silent plea for more, her body responding eagerly to both the girl’s touch and Kaz’s words. The sight made his pulse quicken, the intensity of the moment pulling him deeper into the sensation, until everything else faded away.

The other girl noticed Y/N's reaction and pressed further, her voice silky and persuasive. “Look at the effect you have on her. Do you like that, Kaz?”

“Yes,” he breathed out immediately, his voice heavy with the weight of his growing pleasure. He was completely lost in the moment, his hand moving in time with the pace of the girl’s fingers on Y/N’s body. Every breath he took was more labored, more ragged, as he felt himself edging closer and closer.

Y/N was gripping the sheets, her knuckles white as she moaned, “Please, I’m so close.” The desperation in her voice sent a shiver down his spine, her need mirroring his own. He could feel himself on the brink, every nerve in his body on high alert, waiting for that final push.

The girl’s voice cut through the haze, a final taunt that was almost cruel in its timing. “What do you say, Kaz? Should we let her finish? Has she been good?”

“Yes,” he groaned, his voice raw and filled with desire. “Yes, let her come.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when he felt the wave of pleasure crash over him, pulling him under with an intensity that stole his breath. At the same moment, Y/N’s body tensed, her back arching off the bed in an obscene display of pure ecstasy. Cursed whispers spilled from her lips as she reached her peak, the sight of her unraveling driving him over the edge.

The two girls tangled together in a tender embrace, exchanging soft kisses and gentle caresses with the ease and familiarity of having done it countless times before.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.” said the other girl before ending the call.

Their intimate cuddles were a stark contrast to the wild passion that had just consumed them, leaving Kaz breathless and staring at the now-black screen of his phone, a mess under his desk that he quickly tried to clean up.

As he hurriedly composed himself, wiping away any evidence of his lapse in control, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. He leaned back in his chair, the adrenaline still coursing through him, making his head feel light and his heart pound in his chest. It was as if his mind had been clouded during the entire encounter, and now that the fog was lifting, all that was left was the sharp clarity of regret and self-reproach.

He cursed under his breath, realizing how dangerously close he had come to losing control, not just of himself but of the situation. It wasn’t just about the physical release—it was about how easily he had allowed himself to be drawn into such a compromising position, one that could have serious consequences if he wasn’t careful.

Just as he was trying to collect his thoughts, his phone buzzed with an incoming text from Y/N.

‘Enjoyed the show?’ she teased, the message making his pulse quicken again. He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he tried to think of a response. How could he explain what he was feeling? Yes, he had enjoyed it—more than he wanted to admit—but there was also a nagging sense of unease that he couldn’t shake.

Before he could figure out what to say, another text came through: ‘I was worried you were getting bored all alone in your office :(‘

He couldn’t help but smile at her playful concern, despite the lingering tension in his chest. After a moment, he typed back, ‘How thoughtful, thanks for the company.’ It was a simple reply, one that masked the complexity of what he was really feeling.

A small heart appeared on his screen as Y/N sent her final message, and he shook his head in disbelief, still trying to process everything. What had started as another exhausting night buried in work had taken a turn he could never have predicted. The lightness in his head was still there, but now it was accompanied by a sense of confusion and uncertainty about what this all meant for them.

***

Days after their last encounter, Kaz found himself staring at the ceiling of his apartment, feeling the weight of boredom pressing down on him. Jesper was out with his new boyfriend, and Kaz’s texts to Y/n had gone unanswered for hours. The silence was unusual and unsettling. He glanced at the time—late enough for her to be off work. His irritation grew, and he decided to call her.

She picked up on the third call. “Kaz, did someone die or something?” she asked, her tone playful but a bit strained.

“Oh, hello,” he replied, forcing cheerfulness into his voice to mask his irritation and concern.

“Did something happen? It’s not a good time.” There were muffled voices in the background, and Kaz’s heart sank a little.

“Are you still working?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Y/n hesitated. The pause was enough for Kaz to realize she wouldn’t have picked up if she was with a client.

“Kaz, I—” she began, but another voice cut her off. “Come back to bed, princess, hurry up,” a man’s voice called out.

Kaz froze, the words sinking in like ice. “Are you with the tennis instructor?” he asked bitterly, his mind racing.

“And his brother,” she admitted with a sigh.

“Oh great, they keep things in the family,” Kaz snapped, the bitterness in his voice now fully apparent. “Have fun, Y/n.” Without waiting for her reply, he ended the call.

Kaz tossed his phone onto the table, feeling both anger and hurt. He knew that it was going to happen, but part of him hoped that she wouldn’t, hoped that he could be enough. He had tried to convince himself that he was prepared for this, that he understood Y/n's lifestyle and was okay with it. But the truth was, he wasn't.

He paced around his apartment, trying to shake off the feeling of betrayal that pressed heavily on him. Was it betrayal? Could he even call it that? They weren’t exclusive, but hearing it so plainly had stung more than he anticipated.

He sat down, staring at his phone. He knew he needed to talk to her, to clear the air and figure out what they were doing. His thoughts were a mess of jealousy, confusion, and frustration. Why did it bother him so much? Was he expecting too much from a relationship that was never defined?

The night dragged on, sleep eluding him as his mind kept replaying the conversation. The way she admitted to being with two men for pleasure, not work, left a bitter taste in his mouth. It wasn’t just about the act itself; it was about the ease with which she talked about it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The realization that he might never be enough for her, that she might always crave something he couldn't provide, kept him from sleeping peacefully.

Kaz tried to drag himself through the next day, but by midday, he couldn't take it anymore. He texted Y/n again, hoping for a quicker response this time.

‘Can we talk tonight?’

It felt like an eternity before she replied, ‘I’m free until 9’.

As the day went on, Kaz found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. His thoughts kept drifting back to Y/n. He left work early, unable to focus, and headed straight to her apartment.

Standing outside her door, he took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. He knocked, and she answered almost immediately, her eyes searching his face.

“Kaz,” she said softly, stepping aside to let him in.

He walked in, the tension palpable between them. “We need to talk,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Kaz’s eyes roamed over the carefully arranged makeup on the vanity and the outfit draped over the bed. It was clear she had plans for the evening, it struck him with an unsettling realization.

“I have a bachelorette party later,” Y/n said, her voice betraying a hint of defensiveness as she closed the door behind him.

Kaz’s frustration flared up again. “What happened yesterday?” he asked, his tone blunt. There was no room for pleasantries; he wanted answers, and he wanted them now.

Y/n met his gaze briefly before looking away, her eyes wandering to the floor. “They invited me over and I went,” she replied with a shrug, as though it were a trivial matter.

“Why?” Kaz pressed, his voice taut with barely suppressed emotion. He was fighting to keep his voice steady, but it was clear that the pain was seeping through.

Y/n sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know, Kaz. Because I wanted to. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

Kaz let out a frustrated breath, his gaze falling to the floor as he tried to process her casual response. “Will I ever be enough for you?” he asked, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. Even asking the question felt like a stab to his own heart.

Y/n’s face was a mask of indecision. Her eyes darted around the room, refusing to meet his.

“Look, I can work on accepting your job. I will. But you have to compromise somewhere.” Kaz’s frustration mounted.

“You’re still taking for granted that I want a serious relationship with you,” Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. “What about the fact that I don’t want to be put on a pedestal just because you’re trying to make things work?”

Kaz’s anger flared. “Why do we have to keep doing this? You want this as much as I do. Just admit it, for Ghezen’s sake.”

Y/n’s expression hardened, her eyes meeting his letting her frustration transpire. “How can you be so sure of what I want?” she asked, her voice tinged with defiance and vulnerability.

Kaz stepped closer, his gaze intense as he looked directly at her. “Because I see you, Y/n. I see how you act around me. The way you look at me, the way you talk to me. Just be honest with yourself. Would it be so terrible to admit that you have feelings for me? Would the world fucking collapse if you allowed yourself to have something real for once?”

Y/n’s eyes flashed with hurt. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, her posture rigid. “It’s not that simple, Kaz. You think you have all the answers, but you don’t understand what it’s like for me.”

Kaz ran a hand through his hair, struggling to keep his emotions in check. “Then tell me,” he pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. “Tell me what’s going on in your head, what you want.”

She looked down at her hands, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress. “It’s not just about us. It’s about my life, my choices. I’ve been hurt before, and I don’t want to fall into the same patterns.”

Kaz’s frustration began to simmer down as he tried to convey his sincerity. “I get that you’ve been hurt. But I’m not the same as your past. I’m trying to be here for you, to be someone you can rely on. But I need you to meet me halfway.”

Y/n looked away, shaking her head as though the very thought of it was too much to bear. Her eyes were fixed on a distant point, avoiding his gaze. “What do you want me to do that makes you believe me?” he asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

Kaz’s heart ached at the sight of her struggle. He took a step closer, his voice filled with earnestness. “I’m in love with you, Y/n. I’m tired of pretending that I’m not because you’re too scared.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his confession. For a moment, silence enveloped them, broken only by the distant hum of the city outside.

Y/n’s face paled as she absorbed his declaration. She took a deep breath, clearly fighting with her emotions. “I don’t know if you’ll ever be enough,” she said finally, her voice cracking with the weight of her admission. “I’ve cheated on every single one of my boyfriends. I’ll do it to you too.”

Kaz felt as though he’d been struck by a physical blow. The pain of her words was sharp and immediate. He staggered back, his expression exposing how her words hurt him. “You’re seriously comparing me to your past mistakes?” he asked, his voice trembling with anguish.

Y/n’s eyes filled with tears, but she continued to look away. “I’m trying to be honest with you, Kaz. I don’t want to hurt you, but I also don’t want to be with you under false pretenses.”

Kaz took a deep breath, his anger and hurt slowly giving way to a profound sense of sadness. He closed the distance between them, gently cupping her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’m not asking you to be perfect,” he said softly. “I’m asking you to give us a chance. To not let your past dictate our future.”

Y/n’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, though her voice remained firm, almost defiant. “I can’t do this, Kaz.”

Kaz’s heart ached at the sight of her distress, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “I need you to trust me, to trust us,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. The quiet desperation in his tone contrasted sharply with the mounting frustration in Y/n’s expression.

Her face, once filled with vulnerability, now hardened as anger began to surface. “What if I can’t change, Kaz? What if I keep making the same mistakes?” Her voice trembled with frustration and fear, each word laced with a painful honesty.

Kaz shook his head, his gaze unwavering and intense. “Then we’ll face those mistakes together. I’m not asking for perfection, just for you to try. To fight for us, instead of running away.” His words carried the weight of his commitment, his desire to overcome the hurdles they faced.

Y/n’s frustration boiled over, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “I don’t want to hurt you, Kaz. I’m already doing it!” Her voice was loud, desperate, her eyes flashing with a fierce intensity. “Why can’t you see it?”

Kaz’s expression remained steely, though his eyes were darkened with hurt. “If you’re doing this to push me away, know that it won’t work. If you think that what you did yesterday will make me give up, you couldn’t be more wrong.” His tone was cold, resolute, a stark contrast to the pain he felt inside.

Y/n sighed, her jaw tight with determination. “I will make you hate me so much, and I don’t want that.” Her words were raw, anger and sorrow spilling out.

“Why?” Kaz’s voice was rising too, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Why are you so fucking scared?”

“Because I’m in love with you!” Y/n’s voice cracked, the confession escaping in a shout. The admission hung heavy in the air, its impact palpable.

The room fell silent, the intensity of the moment settling over them. Kaz’s face softened, a glimmer of hope and tenderness appearing in his eyes. He took a few tentative steps towards her, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills.

“Was it so difficult—” Kaz began, his voice low and full of hurt.

“Get out.” Y/n’s voice was sudden and firm, a stark contrast to the emotional storm that had preceded it. She moved away from him, her body language a clear barrier to any further conversation.

Kaz stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing in confusion and pain. “Y/n, please—”

“No. Out.” Her voice was resolute, her eyes cold and distant. She crossed her arms over her chest, the finality of her command cutting through the space between them.

Kaz hesitated, his heart breaking with each second he remained. “Please, Y/n, let’s talk this out.”

But Y/n’s resolve did not waver. “Get out, Kaz. I don’t want to see you.” Her voice was firm, almost unyielding.

Kaz took one last look at her, his heart heavy with the weight of their unresolved issues. With a deep, resigned sigh, he turned and walked towards the door, each step echoing his sense of defeat.

Kaz drove home in silence, the hum of the engine a mere backdrop to the chaos in his mind. The city lights blurred past, but he barely registered their presence. The fight with Y/n replayed over and over in his thoughts, each repetition a painful reminder of the depth of his own frustration and hurt.

He thought about stopping for a drink, hoping that alcohol might numb the ache, but he lacked the energy to follow through. Instead, he found himself standing in his living room, staring blankly at the TV. The flickering images and soft sounds from the screen failed to penetrate his numbness. It was as if the world outside had become a distant, irrelevant backdrop to his personal turmoil.

Kaz sank into the couch, his body heavy and unresponsive. The dress he had glimpsed earlier, hanging neatly on the bed, seemed to taunt him now. Y/n had been preparing for a bachelorette party, a vivid contrast to the raw emotion and conflict they had just shared. He wondered, with a sharp pang of jealousy, who she might be with.

The words she had said echoed painfully in his mind, Because I’m in love with you. How could such a declaration hurt so much? Had she been holding these feelings for a long time? When had she come to this realization, and why had it come out in such a destructive manner?

Kaz cursed himself, his thoughts spiraling into self-reproach. He blamed himself for not standing his ground, for not being more resolute in his own convictions. He had let her push him away, and now he was left with nothing but regret and confusion. He felt like a fool for not having pretended more, for not masking his own vulnerabilities better.

He pulled out his phone repeatedly, his thumb hovering over her contact, desperate to reach out. Each time, he hesitated. The image of her dressed up for the party haunted him. Had she already moved on? Was she out having fun, completely indifferent to the chaos she had left behind?

His mind raced with worst-case scenarios—imagining her going back home with someone else. The uncertainty gnawed at him, each question feeding his anxiety.

In the end, his internal turmoil took its toll. He drifted into an uneasy sleep on the couch, his body restless and his mind trapped between wakefulness and slumber. His thoughts continued their relentless cycle, a barrage of doubts and fears. The sleep he did get was fractured and uncomfortable, his dreams filled with fleeting, disjointed images that mirrored his emotional state. He was caught in a state of limbo, too exhausted to confront his feelings fully but unable to escape the painful reality of his own heartache.

A loud, insistent banging on the door jolted Kaz from his restless sleep on the couch. The noise seemed to pierce through the haze of his thoughts, pulling him out of the disjointed, half-conscious state he had been trapped in. Glancing at his phone, he saw it was nearly 5 a.m., and his heart raced with dread. He didn’t dare to let himself feel hopeful.

With a groan, he staggered to the door, his steps heavy with fatigue. When he opened it, Y/n stumbled into the apartment, clearly inebriated. She was wearing a pair of sunglasses, one lens reading “Family” and the other “Destroyer.” A sparkly sash that said “Bridesmaid” was draped across her shoulders, and a sparkly tiara was on her head, adding to the absurdity of her appearance.

Kaz watched as she leaned heavily against the wall for support, her posture unsteady. “Hi,” she said, her voice slurred and her head tilted to the side in an attempt at casualness.

“Hi,” Kaz replied, his voice subdued but edged with concern.

“I lost my phone,” she muttered, annoyance coloring her tone.

Kaz's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry, how was the party?”

“Sad,” she replied with a dismissive wave. “Another one of those bitches is getting married. Why should we celebrate?”

Kaz chuckled softly, finding a semblance of normalcy in her disjointed rant. “For some people, there’s nothing better.”

“Like for you?” she asked, her gaze steady but unfocused.

“Maybe,” Kaz said honestly.

“Did you want to marry Inej?”

Kaz's face momentarily softened at the mention of his past. “For some time, yes.”

Y/n nodded, the motion slightly exaggerated as she fumbled with her sunglasses. She removed them with a slight grimace, revealing eyes that were glassy and red-rimmed from the effects of alcohol. “My head is spinning,” she muttered, her voice tinged with irritation.

Kaz guided her gently to the couch, helping her sit down. He settled beside her, waiting for her to gather herself and explain why she had come.

“So?” Y/n turned her head slightly to face him, her expression a mix of drunken clarity and vulnerability.

“So?” Kaz echoed, puzzled by her abrupt change in demeanor.

Y/n’s eyes, though clearly affected by her state, held a glimmer of the sincerity that had been present in their earlier, more intense conversations. Her makeup was still fairly intact, her eyeliner was now slightly smudged but still dramatic. Despite the disarray, there was something poignantly beautiful about her in that moment.

“So,” she continued, her words more deliberate now, “I’m in love with you. You’re in love with me. What now, Brekker?”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker x you #six of crows #six of crows fanfic #soc #kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker angst

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elusivecagedmockingbird · 9 months ago

Text

Come Doused In Mud

[contortionist!jimin x reader] [3.1k+ smut, yandere, ‼️ nonconsensual/dubious con sex, kidnapping, allusion to drugs, dark themes] This is the next and final part of Come As You Are. Thank you to everyone who gave this fic a chance and read it. Love u!

"I'm telling you, it was really weird, Tae," you complain to your friend as you pull him out of the tent—away from the show, away from the creepy man. "He was staring the whole time, and I couldn't break away, but I wanted to."

Taehyung chuckles, strangely finding amusement in what you are saying. "It was probably an act—fixate on one of the audience. Either way, these shows, they're all smoke and mirrors. We came here to have fun, yes?"

Your nerves were still buzzing with unease. Taehyung sees you close off and offers you his drink to appease you while his thumb circles your knuckles in an attempt to ground you. "We should at least go on a few rides," he suggests. "And while we go around, I'll make sure to protect you from creepy contortionists." Your friend makes a big show of puffing out his chest. His obvious gleaming mood is a huge contrast to yours. It almost doesn't bother you that despite your attempt to convey your discomfort, he had been too consumed with his high from the show.

But you realize you like him like this. You like that you're someone whose company he enjoys, and he's comfortable enough with you to let loose and be childish.

With a newfound determination to keep that boxy grin on Taehyung's face, you nod and agree to stay a little longer—go on a ride of his choice and maybe go back to the burger stand you skipped last week.

Also, if you allow yourself to be deluded, you can pretend you were out on a date with him. Tonight could be a fleeting glimpse of what it means to be like a couple. And here, you were in your own bubble with Taehyung. It truly felt like bliss, minus the creepy show you just witnessed.

“Come on," Taehyung tugs at your intertwined hands, pulling you out of your inner monologue. "Let’s see what’s there.” His free hand points to a mirror maze while he swings both your arms as he leads you to the labyrinth.

“Are we supposed to do something here?” You and Taehyung walk deeper into the center of the maze and as you go further, the light dims. "I mean, what's the point?"

Taehung shrugs in response. “The man said there was a prize in the middle of the maze.” His head turns left and right, hands still clasped together as he leads you through the maze.

You stop walking as you encounter another crossroad, the endless mirrors on each end and lack of light making you dizzy and nauseous. Not to mention that the longer you've been in the maze, with each passing second, your lulled anxiety resurges.

A shudder runs through you, and you can't help but feel the weight of unseen gazes following you and Taehyung. Reaching for Taehyung's hand, you pull him to take the lead. "Come on, Tae," your voice strained with anxiety. "In rigged games like this, left is always the shortest path to the exit, I'm sure of it."

Taehyung, on the other hand, wanted to take in everything. For some reason, he remained unbothered by your growing unease. Usually, he was good at sensing and reading you, but today, he remained partly oblivious. "What's the rush?" He tugs his limbs back, hands gripping yours tighter. "Come on, Y/N. I think we should go right. It could be fun."

"What fun can you have here?" You reason, free hand gesturing to the dingy mirrors and dusty panels.

Great. Not only do you feel nauseous, but you're pretty sure you now feel an oncoming migraine.

Your disagreement echoed off the mirrors, each reasoning bouncing back and forth. You were now growing frustrated. Meanwhile, Taehyung looked unperturbed, excited even—fueled by adrenaline and his 'sense of adventure'.

“Okay, you know what? Why don’t we split, and we'll just meet outside after,” he proposes.

It was a compromise. Sure. But if you were honest, you were also scared of walking alone. You look at Taehyung one last time, hoping he takes pity on you, but he remains unmoved. With a resigned sigh, you agree with a nod. Taehyung lets you walk your way first, and when you disappear from his sight after taking another turn, he takes his.

Frustration gnawed at your insides as you tried to jump and peek through the panels and mirrors, attempting to catch a glimpse of Taehyung or anything that would get you the fuck out of here. Yet, somehow, as the sun sets outside, the place only seemed to grow darker as nothingness bounced off of each surface.

As if to mock you, the dull fluorescent overhead began to flicker erratically, the flashing lights and shadows worsening your migraine and fueling your paranoia.

You really needed to get out of here. Now.

Screaming Taehyung's name, tears start to well up in your eyes. The weight of isolation began to sink into you, and your breaths came in shallow gasps as fear tightened its grip around you.

Oh god. Not now.

You feel around your pockets for your phone and curse when your hands come empty. Remembering you forgot to take your phone from Taehyung, you curse at everything around you—fuck this maze, fuck your jeans for having tiny pockets. Fuck everything. Your vision blurs as you let a sob out.

Looking up, you're met with your reflection. And you could not shake the unnerving sensation that someone—or something—else lurked just beyond your reflection. Mustering up your courage, you resume navigating around the mirror maze with hesitant steps. Suddenly, you hit your face in a mirror from abruptly turning around at the sight of a passing figure from your peripheral vision. You let out a pained groan, your hands shooting up to hold your assaulted nose.

Fuck.

“Tae, is that you?” You wince, eyes squinting, trying to make out your friend's face in the dim room.

"Tae, come on. You're not being funny. I'm really creeped out."

A minute of silence passed before you were answered. “Your friend is gone,” the voice singsongs.

A shaky breath leaves your lips. Okay, it's not Taehyung. But you refuse to think of the worst yet. Maybe this person can help you out. You clear your throat and address the man, “Hi, do you work here?” Feeling your way through mirrors, not wanting to slam your face again, you carefully feel your way around the maze. You’re not even sure if you’re walking closer to a mirrored image or the man himself.

“Could you please show me the way out? I think I broke my nose.” Though you don’t really think your nose is broken, you just hope he would feel sorry for you. And not to point fingers, but you getting hurt was partly his fault for appearing out of nowhere.

A light from outside pierces and bounces through the mirrors, briefly illuminating the place brighter, allowing you to get a quick glimpse of the man.

You freeze at the familiar face you're confronted with. The performer, contortionist, the man from the show earlier was already looking at you when your eyes found his. It wasn’t like a perchance glance like yours but more of a fixed glare. As if he knew exactly where you stood.

You stop shuffling within the space, hands getting clammy, and the room closes in on you. You don't know where to move, but you need to distance yourself from this man.

The shrieking laughter of a child running outside the tent breaks the eerie silence, and your head turns towards the noise. Resigning to the fact that no one could help you, especially this man, you try to follow the sound of mixed chatters and fanfare.

Heart pounding in your chest, you picked up your heavy feet forward. But with every turn you took, every corridor you rushed towards, you found yourself face to face with yet another dead end.

You refuse to give up.

You screamed Taehyung's name again, shrieked for help, and made any noise that would alarm anyone outside.

You will get out of here.

Hearing another laugh from outside, you turn to the source and run with desperation.

Your view turns dark as the bulb completely burns out. You could no longer see anything. As if the entrance to the maze disappeared into the dark. Immobilized by fear, all you could do was crouch. You'll fucking crawl your way out of here if you have to. You're pawing at the dry grass and dirt, telling yourself to put aside your disgust. You.have.to.get.out.of.here.

Then, just as you think you're making progress in the right direction, your fingers freeze upon feeling something unexpected—a sudden, jarring sensation freezes you in place. You recoiled instinctively, heart pounding in your chest as you realized what you had touched.

A foot.

The realization added a surge of fear coursing through your veins, your mind racing with a thousand terrifying possibilities. Again, you refuse to jump to the worst possibility.

No.

Not long after, you feel a warm breath ghost across your face, followed by a soft voice. "There you are."

It sounded so mellow, as if harmless. But your gut tells you it's anything but that. You feel a pair of rough hands hoist you up by your underarms. You squeal like caged piglets and fight against the person holding you. But before you can scream bloody murder, a striking force knocks you out.

Blinking against the harsh stream of light that flooded your vision, you turn sideways to make sense of your surroundings.

"Tae," you mumble—mouth dry and voice hoarse. You feel drilling in your head and your right eye twitches from the prickling pain.

Finally adjusting to the light, you find yourself lying in an unfamiliar room. The first thing you clearly see is the bright bedding draped on you, then a wall adorned with photographs. You force your eyes to make sense of the images, and you regret it. Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the images of you.

Each snapshot was supposed to be a happy memory of you and Taehyung from your first visit to the carnival. But now, you feel repulsed at the immortalized moment, knowing that behind the lights and festivity, darkness lurked. Just as your gut tried to warn you.

You start to wail. And your cries for help grow louder as you realize your hands are chained to the bedpost.

Someone comes closer to you. He plops himself beside you to the bed, demanding your attention. His eyes are alight with a strange mixture of intensity and malice. "Welcome home, Y/N," he smiled. The man reached out a hand, brushing your hair with his fingers. You flinch from his touch and struggle against the restraints.

It takes a minute for your wailing to turn to sensible words. "Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?"

But as you wait for an answer, all you are greeted with is a chilling calmness that you don't share. "Please," you beg.

He remains silent. His fingers still playing with your hair. "Don't you remember me? It's me, Jimin," he introduces himself with a smile.

You thrash around, wanting to mess up his pristine bed, anything that would show him you were against being here.

"Y/N," he calls your name, his voice still calm. Your response is a hard glare. You would curse at him, but you don't trust your voice not to break or turn to sobs again.

"Don't cry, baby." His hands leave your hair to thumb at your creased forehead. "Ever since I saw you, I knew it was you; it had to be you," his words dripping with an unsettling mix of obsession and conviction, "my soulmate."

"You're fucking crazy," you spit your words out; raspy but determined. Disliking your accusation, you stare at you until you shift from discomfort. The weight of his gaze bearing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

"You shouldn't resist, my dear," he deadpans. "We're bound by the red string of fate, tethered together, forever." His face closes in yours and noses at your cheek. His breath was hot against your ear as he resumed talking.

"You felt it too, didn't you?" he whispered, his voice a sinister hiss. "The tug of that thread when you first set foot into my carnival, my home. You cannot deny it any longer."

Your pulse raced with terror as you struggled to comprehend the depth of his delusion. You tried to speak, to protest, but your words were caught in your throat like a knot, choking off any plea, even curse and demeaning words you wanted to shout at him.

How the fuck are you supposed to reason with a crazy man?

Jimin's fingers trail along the curve of your shoulders. "You are finally home, my dear," he murmurs, his touch sending a wave of revulsion coursing through your veins. But you couldn't do anything but take it.

He presses a peck to your cheek. Sensing no movement from you, he slots his lips to yours.

At this, you react violently, your body thrashing to move as far away as you can from him. Your balled fists swing to his face but fall limp, and your feet locked in place tight; you couldn't even push yourself further away from the man.

"Get the fuck away from me," you screech. Guttural screams leave your mouth as you tug at the binds on your limbs.

"Tsk, you're making this difficult, Y/N." He secures your ties, the binds getting tighter, leaving your arms and legs completely immobile.

"I'll show you how good I can be for you, my dear."

"Please," you sob, "Please, enough," the last plea comes out as a moan.

Jimin continuously laps at your cunt, his head locked between your trembling thighs. You twist and turn your body to repel him, but Jimin's head only tilts to look at you. His eyes meet yours, and your breath catches in your throat as you are drawn into the depths of his dilated pupils.

Tingles run on Jimin's back, and if possible, his dick stiffens even more. He's exhilarated as he saw a reflection of his own desire mirrored—a passion so intense it threatened to consume you both. Finally.

He knew you were loving this. He knew he was going to have you. And he thinks he already has.

Unable to tear his gaze away, Jimin feels you gradually surrender to the irresistible pull of his hunger. Your defenses dissolved easily like the cotton candy you loved to wrap your tongue around. Arousal spurts from his cock at the thought of having your sweet tongue wrapped around him. Like cotton candy.

He dives back between your thighs and grazes his teeth to your nub. With his fingers prodding inside you in a come-hither motion, you come undone again for the third time. You're full-on panting as you regulate your breathing. Jimin kneels, and your eyes follow him. He was a sinful delight—lips glistening with your arousal, cheeks flushed, and his cock stands tall and weepy.

He notices your lidded eyes as you stare at his cock and chuckles. "Don't worry. I'll let you feel me sooner than later," he cajoles.

You couldn't find your sanity. You should be resisting, screaming, doing anything to make this difficult for him, but your body just resigns—pliant, submissive to his. You hesitantly bend your knees as far as your bounds let you and ready yourself for him.

With one swooping motion, Jimin leans closer to your body and lines his hard cock to your pussy. You moan in unison as he sinks his tip inside you. His other hand caressed your cheek, and you surprised yourself further as you leaned in. At this, Jimin smiles and smashes his lips to yours. Your mouth locks in a heated, hungry kiss.

Letting his love pour from every pore and hole, Jimin pushes his shaft inside you. The feeling of his bare cock and thick girth pulls an animalistic reaction from you—your nails indent his flawless skin, and your teeth sink to his shoulder, devouring him in all ways. Jimin's hand cups your ass to pull you towards his thrusting hips, his hunger for you never-ending.

And finally, he thinks, you've surrendered to your need for him as well.

A sigh leaves his lips as you move your grip from his back to brush through his hair. He trails kisses along your neck going to your collarbones, each peck turning into love bites. You whimper at the sting, and your lover grows feral at the melodies of your pleasure.

If possible, he would weld you two together like this—forever tangled in euphoria and pleasure. Jimin's hand dips between your compressed bodies, fingers traveling from your tits, taking his time tracing patterns on every skin he touches until he reaches his destination—your clit. His eyes stay on your face as he watches your face contort in pleasure to every flick and motion of his fingers to your pussy.

You stare back, as if beckoning him to cum with you. And so he does.

Your body trembles like aftershocks, and Jimin feels his cock protest in sensitivity.

This is wrong, you think as you have your arms wrapped around your captor. But letting him have his way with you, somehow felt right. This felt like home.

Jimin watches you slumber. His index finger softly traces the slope of your nose. "My beautiful Y/N."

He secures your wrist to the bedpost once again after making love to you. He couldn't risk it yet. Sure, you were no longer screaming at his face, but it's too early, he decides. You've been with him for a week now, and in those seven days, you’ve done nothing but fuck.

A patterned knock pulls his gaze from you.

About damn time.

Jimin opens the door to a grinning man. "Took you long enough," he sneers.

His friend only huffs, "Well, excuse you. I had to deal with the missing reports. Her friends are fucking persistent, and I had to play my part."

"Well, is it dealt with?" Jimin pours water for him and his visitor.

"It's not hitting the local news yet, but I feel like it will die down in a few days." His guest waves off the offered water. "You and I know what could be in that water."

Jimin scoffs. "Why the fuck would I want you passed out in my home." The man across from him just shrugs in response, then says his goodbye.

"Hey, Taehyung," your so-called friend raises his brows, awaiting Jimin's next words, "Thanks for the help with Y/N. I owe you one."

Taehyung only wiggles his eyebrows. He chances a look over Jimin's shoulders to peek at you lying on the bed across the room, then pulls the door close as he leaves.

#jimin fic #jimin x reader #bts jimin #bts fic #bangtanwritershq #once you jimin you can't jimout #dark fic #bts fanfic #bts #bts imagines #jimin filter #jimin smut #park jimin #jimin x y/n #jimin x you

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