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softevnstan · 2 years ago

Note

*NSFW PROMPT*

Imagine Bucky masturbating to the thought of you.

pairing. bucky barnes x gender neutral!reader

summary. returning bucky's laundry to his room after owing him a favor, you're spooked at the abruptness of someone returning. taking shelter in the closet on impulse, you find yourself getting a front-row seat to bucky taking care of his pent-up frustrations.

warnings. voyeurism, unintentional exhibitionism, panty stealing, masturbation, soft!dark!bucky (he steals your underwear but he's not a creeper past that), panty sniffing, uncircumcised p (mentioned, not relevant past that), light dirty talk. SMUT - minors DNI. reader technically is breaking and entering but bucky took their underwear so they're even. reader wears thongs but nothing is ever gendered as men's or women's, just implies the reader wears similar things.

a.n. ok so not as long as my usual things but i wanna start finishing requests in general rather than making all of them super longer - it's daunting for me. so have some slightly pervy bucky and you caught him :) no beta, we die like men.

w.c. 5.3k

The sound of skin on skin is obscene; Flooding the quiet air alongside the labored pants and muted groans from Bucky. The slick slide of his fist is hypnotizing - working over the impressive length of his aching cock and twisting his wrist on the upstroke. Bucky moans low, and the sound reverberates to your core.

You hadn’t even intended to intrude on the moment. You’d brought him his laundry after taking the liberty to do it yourself since you knew Bucky suffered from rough days (anything to make it easier for him). It was a relatively simple task in the grand scheme of things - Laundry. When did it so complicated?

Bucky wasn’t even supposed to have been back yet! How did you get yourself into this mess??

You owed Bucky his laundry due to a favor; he’d come to your aid one night in the rain when you’d run over a bottle and flattened your tire. Bucky had helped you on the side of the road, in the rain, changing your tire. To pay it forward, you insisted you’d help Bucky out with odds and ends given his schedule suffered from hectic changes from having to be on standby for Ross. You knew the help certainly couldn’t hurt and you’d feel better about having him come out to your rescue. After moments of bickering, Bucky agreed for you to help with his laundry; It was the only thing he’d been comfortable letting you do for him. Still learning to let people in.

And you were more than happy to help out a friend. But when you’d insisted to pay back Bucky, you didn’t expect it to bite you in the ass in the sweetest yet worst way possible.

Admittedly, you were in the wrong to an extent here. Going into Bucky’s apartment while he wasn’t there? Big no-no, but leaving the basket outside the door wasn’t an option. Someone could steal it! Then what kind of friend would that make you?

Bucky lived above you in your shared building. You’d met at the laundromat around the corner one late evening and eventually weened yourself into his friend circle through tokens of affection - such as making plates for Bucky on nights when you had extra, or talking to him when you’d catch him on the fire escape overhead while watering your plants. Through persistence and patience, you were proud to say that you were one of Bucky’s friends. It especially elated you when Bucky would confirm such statements.

With becoming Bucky’s friend, you also eventually became aware of the rock that sat on the metal grates on the fire escape above yours. The first time you’d spotted it, it’d confused you - how did a rock get in a place like that? Your apartment was on the second floor, Bucky’s on the third! Was someone throwing rocks at Bucky’s windows? You never heard anything shattering or breaking, and as far you were aware, the window seemed well intact when you’d stretched out to sneak a glance at the casement. Nor had you recalled any mumbled gripes about the potential disturbance - therefore ruling out that as an option. You’d pondered it for a long while.

Eventually, you found the opportunity to inquire about the rock to Bucky one day a few weeks ago - ‘Spare key.’ was all he had told you.

It made sense; Bucky was an enhanced super soldier - scaling the side of the building to get his spare key (or just going out through your window - you’d let him if he asked) was a minimal feat at best. He wanted multiple fail-safes.

That fail-safe had come to your aid earlier that day. After shakily climbing the flimsy metal ladder to the floor above you, you’d been relieved to come into contact with the flat landing of Bucky’s fire escape. You found safety in the more-so-stable steel grate that held your weight; The cool breeze of the afternoon served as a reminder that you were three stories above the ground and falling would be extremely inconvenient.

Clambering with the rock was… Interesting. On the surface, it really did look like a simple rock. In your hands was only when you could tell it wasn’t; It was light in your palms and there was a line dividing the ‘rock’ into halves to anyone who was paying attention long enough to find it. Weighing in your palms, you took a moment to examine the rock and appreciate the ingenuity of the hiding place.

After attempting to pry it open with your fingers - trying to find the best means of opening it - the phony rock popped open into two pieces. Briefly, it sent a strike of fear wracking your body. The key clattered against the fire escape, stealing your breath with a shrill gasp. You quickly attempted to scoop the key up before it slipped between the slots in the steel and was lost on the ground. The last thing you needed to do was lose Bucky’s spare. Sure, you could go looking for it on the ground, but it’s about principle and responsibility.

With the brass clutched safely in your fingers, you breathed a sigh of relief before slumping against the brick wall of Bucky’s apartment behind you. Everything after that would be a piece of cake. The only thing left to do was head up to Bucky’s apartment and drop his laundry off. You’d give the key back in person when you caught up with him rather than taking your chances on the rickety metal that made your heart drop to your stomach with every creak.

After safely returning to the comfort of your apartment, you pocketed the key in your jeans for safekeeping. Then after gathering the blue, plastic laundry basket full of all of Bucky’s folded clothes, you left your apartment and climbed the stairs to the third floor. Eyes traveling the corridor, you’d scoured the orientational numbers on each beige door before halting at the door with golden numbers counting out ‘306.’

Rather than knock, you balanced the long basket on your hip and used your free hand to fish for the key and unlock Bucky’s apartment - telling yourself it’d be a simple in and out; Unbeknownst to you it was about to be anything but.

Bucky’s apartment was far drab compared to yours. Filled with the bare essentials, his walls didn’t hold photos or paintings of the things he loved. The coffee table he had was overwhelmed with stacks of books; A bookcase still in its box and unassembled sat perched against the living room wall. You didn’t help yourself to his home past entering, but it didn’t stop your eyes from searching curiously. His kitchen was so empty; The fridge only held a grocery list and the drainboard was full of clean dishes Bucky must’ve done recently after a build-up. Everything looked so untouched; So empty - it was disheartening to you. If Bucky were to take the time to actually personalize his space, maybe his bad days would take a little less of a toll on him without bare walls threatening to close in on him.

That was for another day. In the meantime, you made quick work of carrying the basket to Bucky’s bedroom. Simply telling yourself you’d set the basket down and leave it before returning to your own apartment and getting a start on dinner. But when you pushed the door open to Bucky’s room, you were surprised by how lived in it seemed compared to the rest of the apartment.

There was an empty glass on Bucky’s nightstand, as well as two half-full water bottles and a digital alarm clock. Alongside the bottles sat a small, red pocket notebook with a pen next to it. The bed was half unmade; The queen size bed only being ruined on the right side, next to the nightstand. So much of his room appeared second-hand; The area was a mess of items and clutter but nothing too gaudy or expensive. You half wonder if this is a contributing factor/result of the man’s depression; Especially considering none of it looked dirty - simply unkempt. Mustering the energy must’ve been far few and in between when his priorities tend to lie with work. By the time Bucky returned to his apartment after a day’s work, perhaps he didn’t have the energy by then to keep the room maintained.

Maybe you could help him with that one day.

A desk nearby was lined with journals; Stood against the wall with their empty spines outward towards you. There had to be roughly ten to thirteen - you hadn’t counted out each one, simply guessed. A small lamp was left on at the desk; Casting the desk in a yellow light. Sticky notes and pens are scattered across the flat, wooden surface. There was a roll of tape, a bottle of paste, scissors, and the clippings of what looked like a newspaper detailing the refurnishing of the Captain America exhibit left out. A brown leather journal sat left out and untouched amongst the supplies, and you assumed it was Bucky’s most recent diary.

Setting the laundry basket on top of Bucky’s dresser, you took a closer look at Bucky’s desk. Temptation left your fingers to twitch curiously at what could be hiding in the drawers but knowing better than to help yourself. As many secrets this room no doubt had that could bring you closer to Bucky, you knew being any more invasive than you already were would deter him. Push him away. You wouldn’t want someone rifling through your things, either.

Bucky always held you at an arm’s distance. One day you hoped he no longer did; That you’d be welcomed into these spaces freely rather than technically intruding in on them. You could only hope Bucky wouldn’t be too upset; You had good intentions, you swear.

Though, as the saying goes, ‘curiosity killed the cat’. After abandoning the basket, you tentatively moved to Bucky’s desk. Crouching to peer into the round trash can that was full of crumbled and torn papers, and excess clippings that Bucky hadn’t needed for his journal. It was trash, yes, but you were curious. You’d only managed to search for a few seconds in shifting through the papers when you were suddenly jarred by the sound of the lock in the foyer sliding open. You heard the door opening next. The apartment was silent save for your breathing, which made it easy to hear, but it also made it easier for you to be heard.

The abruptness of someone’s return shocked you; Jumping right up to your feet and eyes flickering for somewhere to hide - you were somewhere you shouldn’t be, after all. In retrospect, it was the wrong option. The only reasonable person it would be was Bucky, but you didn’t know that at that moment. And in a world where aliens and robots co-exist and the world has been on the brink of end countless times, you come to expect the worst of situations. Better not to take chances. So hiding out in the closet was instinct; Even if it was the wrong choice. And if you’d taken a moment to remember entirely where you were, you’d have been able to put together that it was Bucky returning but the thought was far from your mind in those short few seconds it took you to get to your feet. Without thought, you quickly advanced towards the closet that was a quarter of the way open; Hanging clothes peeking back at you.

Sliding the door open, you hid inside the closet without a second thought - silently trying to slide the door back as you had found it and leave the room as untouched as you could manage. It was only then, standing on Bucky’s extra pair of shoes and attempting to not stumble over yourself, you thought to yourself: Genius idea - now what?

You didn’t have to ponder the next course of action for too long.

The heavy footfalls of Bucky’s boots on the wooden floor resounded through the empty apartment, drawing nearer and nearer. Your heart jumped into your throat, holding your breath as your mind scrambled for the next reasonable phase of action - springing out on Bucky would no doubt startle him, and lying in wait was hardly an option. Perhaps he’d leave again and a window of escape would open, even if it meant clambering down the fire escape and praying Bucky’s enhanced hearing didn’t catch your commotion.

That meant getting to the window itself, though, which was going to be a monumental feat. Especially when you hear the click of Bucky’s heels entering the same room as you. Bucky comes to a halt somewhere around the entrance to the room; You hear no movement, no sound. Your heart pounds in your chest; Fearful he may somehow know you’re there. The last thing you wanted to do was shatter your trust in this man. It was a long moment before Bucky’s feet pick up again and he enters the bedroom. Great. Getting out undetected just became leagues more complicated.

A hollow sigh emitted from the man behind the door, and in the seconds following you could hear the springs of his bed whine under his weight. The shuffling of sheets, and still, you’d hardly breathed in that time. Body kept as stiff as possible in the cramped, dark space.

It’s the sound of a zipper that surprises you. Not daring to peek, you allow your mind to attempt to fill in the blanks. The long ‘ziiiiip’ leaves you to believe it’s Bucky shedding the layer of the coat he lives in - he runs cold easier. He explained it to you one time; His serum and all of its laced dysfunctions.

Bucky mumbles something to himself about the thermostat and what temperature it's on, and part of you realizes you missed his voice. Sure, Bucky was only going about his daily work while you both were apart, but hearing him and knowing you were in the same room with Bucky did bring about an odd sense of natural comfort. Just beyond this door, he was at arm’s length. What would it be like to welcome Bucky home after a long day of work?

Your thoughts are jarred when you hear the slide of a drawer. Tentatively, you lean towards the barely-there gap between the door in the wall to peek through. Bucky is sitting on the bed, one leg draped off the side and the other up with him. He’s tight up against the headboard, sat up as the soldier shuffles through his nightstand drawer. Bucky’s brown leather coat is abandoned on the edge of the bed, leaving him in his dark navy jeans and a black t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination in regard to miles and miles of muscle. It’s only then you notice the fact that Bucky’s fly is unzipped as well; The flaps of his jeans are pulled open to show his gray boxer briefs that hug his hips all too well.

The moment feels utterly invasive. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be seeing any of this - this is Bucky’s private time, but there you are, with a front-row seat, helpless but to watch.

What Bucky produces from the drawer is a clear bottle of water-based lube and… Underwear. It only takes a few seconds for horror to creep up your spine and realization dawns. It’s your thong. Specifically, a black pair that you’d thrown into your laundry the other day; You feel shame creep up your face and color your cheeks - a sense of violation but that would make the both of you even, wouldn’t it? You’re intruding on him after all.

You follow Bucky’s hand holding the bottle of lube as he slots it between his legs and propped up on his inner thigh; Your glance moving further to acknowledge the semi-bulge in his underwear. The angle is perfect, his headboard facing the closet doors and providing you with the best view of his spread thick thighs.

It makes your heart pound in your chest; Your guts swoop with something akin to excitement and guilt ebbs in your mind for the fact that this is bordering on arousing. For a moment you humor the thought of how thick Bucky must be fully erect; How the weight of his cock might feel on your tongue. It’s not the first time you’ve indulged yourself privately in such explicit thoughts of your friend, and part of you had always felt silently contrite for the sexualization, but now you had a direct show. It was like finally having food for thoughts; A burning in your chest. It can’t be real, can it?

Coming to your senses, you tear away from the display face a hot face and a dizzying mind. You take a deep breath, scrubbing hands down your face attempting to cool the flush. You can’t watch something like this - how did Bucky even get your thong? Did he go snooping in your apartment? Did he take anything else?? Confliction tugs in your chest, almost frustrated with yourself for finding a sense of arousal in the thought.

Bucky going through your things when you’re not there, taking something so intimate like a trophy… It should disturb you - someone breaking into your apartment. But thinking about it longer makes your gut feel tight and arousal swell between your legs. Were there chances he’d watched you in other intimate moments? Moments where you cried his name, muffled by your pillows and impaled on your favorite toy? It was more than just a thong, it was all the implications that came with the gesture. Was this the first time? Were there others? Questions ran a hundred miles a minute through your mind. Grounded in reality for half a moment and reminding yourself this isn’t a fantasy. It’s real, it’s wrong, it’s— A low, husky groan stops your train of thought. Going stock still, you take a moment to actually listen to what’s happening. Paralyzed in the dark, you realize you could now hear the slick slide of what you assumed was Bucky’s hand on his cock. The short pants from Bucky hung in the air; “Aw, that’s it…” Bucky husks, arousal thick in his quiet tone. “Needed this so fuckin’ bad…”

Another burst of arousal rings from your core and makes your skin tingle. The sounds are so obscene…

Against your better judgment, you redirect your attention to the gap in the door.

You’re greeted with the delicious sight of Bucky’s pants shimmied down his thick thighs, bunched up before his knees. His cock stands half erect, his flesh fingers wrapped around the length with fingers slick with lube. You can see his heavy sac, the curve of his cock, and the way the head of his cock is slick with pre-come when his foreskin is drawn down on the stroke. He has a pretty dick, all things considered; Bucky keeps himself well-groomed in regards to his pubic hair from what you can tell, and his cock looks thick - even he barely manages to wrap his fingers entirely around the base of his cock and pump.

The motion is hypnotizing, and as much as you’d love to continue to swallow the sight whole, you can’t help but be distracted by his vibranium arm. The one that’s holding your thong between sleek black and gold fingers, held to Bucky’s face as he breathes you in. Eyes closed in bliss.

Nose buried into the fabric while he fists the length of his cock, the pornographic act surprises you. The way Bucky is so enthralled and aroused at that moment, knowing that it’s because of you, and having the dirty little secret of watching Bucky jerk off. To watch him in one of his most intimate positions.

You’re already stuck here. What more is there to lose? You can only sell your soul once. Your hands slink down between your legs, fingers slipping past the hem of your pants and into your underwear; Fingers getting to work at coaxing your arousal.

“F-Fuuuck,” Bucky huffed out, fingers tight around the base of his cock as he jerked himself off; Fucking up into his own fist with minute thrusts, his slit weeping copious amounts of pre-come. His face still buried in the fabric of your thong, the long draws of inhales through his nose making you squirm.

You could only imagine what was going through Bucky’s mind when it came to you. What he could possibly be thinking of to egg on his own arousal so deeply? He pumped to the thought of you, and you watched his angry red cock drool at the attention. You wanted to stay with Bucky through this. Feel good with him; Pretend you were part of the equation.

With your heart pounding in your chest and your head feeling airy, your circle your fingers around your needy hole before working them in. Working experimentally to loosen your aching hole and allow the penetration; Sinking to the first knuckle as you fucked your fingers in and out of your entrance. Nowhere near the same brutal pace Bucky maintains, working yourself gradually to take the intrusion. The slide is made easier when your wetness slicks the inside of your underwear and ruins another pair.

Your needy hole swallows your fingers easily; made simple by the arousing nature of the situation. The guttural sounds from Bucky’s throat as he inhaled your scent, sending shivers down your spine with the raw display.

“Oh God, Y/N,” Bucky groans low in his throat, the sound of your name rolling off his tongue taking you off guard. "Mm, yeah, I love your hands…" his voice is breathy, the way it hits your ears makes it feel as though Bucky is right behind you and whispering it in your ear for half a moment - you clamp a hand over your lips to avoid squeaking out a noise you shouldn't as your fingers make progressively faster work fingering yourself open.

Bucky is pretending it's you there.

You feel like butter, bracing against the wall of the closet as you became a victim to your own lust. Fucking yourself open in the rhythm of Bucky's tugs on his hard cock.

"Ri-Right there," Bucky speaks to himself through labored pants. "God, mm, such a good baby… Yeah, y-you're my sweet little doll-baby..." The praise coaxes you on; A barely audible muffled whine vibrates along your palm. You freeze entirely and go stock-still upon the realization you’d made some sort of noise, but Bucky’s rhythm doesn’t falter. He hadn’t even heard you.

Relief washes over you, tight shoulders going slack before you allow yourself to melt into the euphoria of the moment again.

Bucky creates such beautiful noises on his own, but part of you imagines he’d be too self-conscious to be nearly as vocal with a partner. When you peek out at him, his jaw fluctuates between slack and baring his teeth with a clenched jaw. His swollen lips curling into a perfect ‘o’ shape as he strokes his delicious cock before worrying the flesh between his teeth again. The sight burns into your memory; Forever immortalizing itself. You’ll never need to look at another man again, truly.

Still he holds your thong to his nose, breathing in the scent deeply until he changes things up. Bucky sits up just a little more, and you bite back a keen that the show has come to a pause. Bucky shifts his weight on the bed in what you assume is an attempt to get more comfortable. He rucks up the black t-shirt to reveal the pleasant happy trail that cascades over his navel and belly button - the star of the show and stealing the spotlight is his abdomen; The man looks chiseled from marble, even with the scars that are speckled throughout his physique. Bucky’s perfect.

Bucky, still holding your thong, alternates his hands. Wrapping the fabric around the length of his cock and resorted to quick flicks; Using something that touched your most intimate places to aid in his solo session. You watch Bucky’s cock jerk with interest, and he husks out a delighted chuckle that bleeds into a blissed moan.

His eyes never shut. Steely blue gaze always peering open and aware, it just adds to the adrenaline of hiding for you. It excites you. Wondering what would happen if he peered towards the closet and caught your gaze; In an ideal world, he keeps jerking off to the thought of you - sharing the filthy moment together and shamelessly.

“That’s it, sugar,” his voice rumbles, and if you close your eyes, you can pretend it's you and him, not your defiled thong. You screw your eyes shut and strain to listen, fingers still working meticulously between your slick wet inner thighs. “Y’take it so fuckin’ well, made for my cock…”

You imagine what it’d be like to feel him slide home in you. The way your walls would flutter around the stretch and how Bucky would stretch you open. You’d feel so full, you imagine. Taking inch after inch until he was buried in the hilt. Would he be a rough lover? Would he jackhammer your poor hole until it was simply stretched and dripping with his come? Would he hold you missionary so he could see your face when you came around his cock?

You squeeze your thighs together and exhale shakily into your palm - attempting to control yourself even as you still finger-fuck to the beat of Bucky’s strokes. Your legs tremble with want. After a moment, your eyes squint open to see what Bucky is doing now…

Bucky’s intent focus is fixed on soiling the material he holds. Smearing his pre-come into the fabric and staining it with traces of him. He ruts into the fabric before fucking into it all together. Fisting it around his aching girth and wrapping his dick with the cotton and treating it as if it were his own hole to fuck. Though you imagine it not nearly as gratifying.

His head falls back; The column of his throat is exposed and you imagine littering it with kisses and hickeys that wouldn’t last. He’s utterly lost in that moment, hips fucking subtly off the bed into your underwear that’s wrapped around his cock. You try to meet the pace with your fingers, thrusting into your slick channel and the arousal creeping into every last crevice. Your skin feels hot, mind fuzzy with desire. Your hand isn’t enough, you wish you had more, but it’ll have to do. Fingers thrusting in, you eventually manage a third alongside your two. Bucky’s fingers would be bigger, thicker. They could hit every best part of you, or perhaps they could fill your wanting mouth while his cock takes up every last inch and then some inside of you.

“O-Ohh, oh fuck, doll, m’gonna come,” Bucky moans, and your heart jumps into your throat. “Yeah, m’gonna fill up your greedy little hole, gonna fill you up with my fuckin’ come ‘til you’re drippin’ with it…”

You wish you could consider it a promise, the words egging you closer and closer to your own teetering edge. His voice is so rough, the words so sultry and filthy - you’d never heard Bucky speak in such an obscene way and it reached to your core.

His hand impossibly quickens as lube-covered fingers come to roll his balls between them. Watching Bucky play with his sac left you on the cusp of drooling; You could only imagine the lewd sound his balls would make clapping against your flesh in the haze of his animalistic fucking. He’d sink balls deep into you, making you take every last drop…

“Please, please, please,” you whisper a litany in barely a breath to yourself. Begging for a man that doesn’t even know you’re there; Reduced to such a needy and wanting thing as you draw on the cusp of your own orgasm. It’s only when you angle your fingers just right and curl against that sweet spot, you see stars. It drives you right over the brink of your orgasm, hand clutching over your mouth so hard it hurts.

It’s perfect timing. As you unravel in Bucky’s closet, knees nearly buckling under you, Bucky reaches his own climax. You can tell in the way the crease forms between his brows and his eyes finally screw shut; Groaning like an animal in rut out into the air as his hips stutter and falter. You watch the fabric dampen, and the slick seed trickle down to the seam of his balls and stain the sheets under himself.

“Fuck!” Bucky moans, and you tremble.

It’s an absolutely gorgeous sight. Watching the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, the sweat glistening on his flushed skin, and the mess of come that Bucky unloads into your thong. You’ll never look at the pair of underwear the same if you ever even see them again.

You pant, feeling like jelly and rather defeated by being stuck in the closet. You long for nothing more than to pull that door open and crawl into bed with Bucky, or at the very least, find sanctuary in your own apartment.

You nearly laugh when you remember the turn of events that even brought you to this moment.

Carefully, you coax your fingers from your used hole. Biting your lip to bite back the whine that nearly leaves you when you clench around nothing; Empty. The floor of the closet is littered with shoes, and without much thought, you brace your hand on the door in an attempt to steady yourself and find better footing before you go crashing to the floor. The door gives. The way you’re holding on with your palm flush to the cool surface, the door braces against the metal horizontal rig and leaves the door to shake. The applied pressure makes the door give, and slide open; before you could find leverage on anything to save you from the fall, you stumble harshly in Bucky’s closet - meeting the carpeted floor below. Your heart is suddenly pounding in your ears, pierced with a new sort of fear and a way less sexy one.

When you prop your arms under yourself to lift up, Bucky is already standing at the closet door. Your eyes nervously raise up the length of his legs, over his half-soft cock that’s eyes level with you, to the used thong in his hands. Further up, you find that piercing gaze looking down on you. Cast in Bucky’s shadow, you suddenly feel so small as he looms over you. A grin fixed on his lips and pupils blown; it looks like he wants to eat you alive.

“Well, well, well, what're we doin' in here…?” Bucky purrs, the opposite of the anger you expect. “B-Bucky!” You gasp, the ecstasy of your high gone and instead holding a prickling knot in your stomach. “I– I wasn’t— This—” “Oh, sugar, what’re you makin’ excuses for…?” Bucky asks, voice low and almost threatening. “You think I wouldn’t notice the basket when I came in with an unlocked door? How stupid you think I am, pretty thing…?” Bucky’s sultry and rough voice sends another jolt between your legs and straight to your core. Your face burns with shame and humiliation with the implications.

Bucky knew you were there the whole time.

“Aww, nothin’ to say for yourself, baby…?” The tone is almost condescending albeit with an underlying heat. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer uselessly, voice quaking with a mix between arousal and fear.

Bucky holds up your defiled thong before tossing it into your lap. You jump, lifting up the thong with your fingers and only then see the load stained on the inside of the underwear. You swallow around the tightness in your throat, tentatively looking back up at the hulking man.

“No, you’re not. But you will be.”

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vxmpyree · 3 months ago

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Nikto with a very clingy reader sounds so silly, so clingy he can't even go to the bathroom without tears in readers eye's you know?

giggles and kicks my feet (im turning this into angst). no beta we die like men

[hades in the dead of winter - my dead girlfriend]

[P. 1 ⇨ P. 2] anxious attachment! reader x avoidant attachment! nikto.

nikto is never home.

at first, you thought you’d be okay with it. he would get deployed every couple of months, and come back to you quietly.

this is not the case. nikto gets deployed once a month, and does not return for a week, maybe even two. you find yourself lingering in the spaces he frequents, wondering, hoping, that he will return safely. and he does each time, although it is with swollen bruises and itchy scabs.

your friends caution you on the habits of military men often. they say that they are promiscuous, that they fall easily into the arms of other women while deployed. you say “no, not my nikto,” but at times you wonder if he really is seeking the company of others while away from you.

he’s quiet when at home. in the beginning, he was always chatty and cracking poor jokes until your cheeks hurt. there’s now a perpetual silence, one that stretches out for hours. only you try to interrupt it, and when you do he curls away from you and closes up, unwilling to speak more than a few curt words.

does his heart no longer yearn for you? you don’t know; he won’t talk to you. he doesn’t respond to all the texts you leave him at work but you know that he’s reading them.

every passing day, you grow more and more afraid.

you start clinging to him, hardly letting him get up without you. you’re whispering pleads and begging for some sort of reassurance that he still loves you. he dismisses these fears, muttering that everything is fine while turning away from you in bed. you’re left curled up and staring at his scarred back.

your lips struggle to form a question, to press him on why he’s pulled away from you, but in the end, you remain quiet.

#tw toxic relationship #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #cod drabble #cod fic #cod x you #nikto #cod nikto #nikto x reader #call of duty nikto #anxious attachment #avoidant attachment #vxmpyree

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lis-likes-fics · 3 months ago

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Property of Blue

Pairing: Blue Jones x Reader Word Count: 15.5k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, light degradation, light praise, a lot of throat grabbing, daddy kink and daddy issues, oral (m!receiving), dacryphilia, intense dry humping sesh, a lot of making out, a sprinkle of voyeurism, a shit ton of smoking, creampies, rough sex, Blue deserves his own warning tbh... A/N: This is the rewrite of Property of Blue from like...two years ago. I should be working on other things but like...who even does that anymore. For reference, the first one was 9.7k words. The Panther is absolutely imagined as Pedro Pascal because how could he not be? Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Thank you! P.S: No beta, we die like men.

Your sneakers squeak against the dark linoleum floor, and the sound reverberates along the expensive walls enclosing you in what you assume to be your future prison. These men surrounding you—two of them dull bodyguards in suits and one, your father—practically push you along as you lazily resist at every turn. Though you want to scan the area surrounding you, you keep your eyes on the path ahead, but it looks like you’re in a fucking pleasure house.

It’s got the whole shabang—dim golden lights, long winding halls, a dark tabled hall, and a huge stage lined with a dark red curtain. What kind of bullshit was this?

You’re torn from your thoughts when you meet an abrupt stop. You actually bump into the guy in front of you, who acts like he hadn’t even felt you. You don’t know if he’s doing it to be kind or condescending, but you scowl either way. He steps out of the way, and your eyes fall once again upon the large stage.

There are people going through a run, their clothes rather entirely unfitting for the act they're rehearsing. They’re dressed so casual, but there are men grinding on the floor and women standing over them feeling themselves up. You swear you see one of them wink at you. If you weren’t so pissed, you’d wink back.

“Mr. Pleasant.”

You focus again, turning your attention to a man walking your way. He’s dressed for the best, his tailored suit the picture of perfect. He’s got slicked back hair, a golden chain hidden under a deep blue tie, a pencil stache on his lip, he’s wearing dark eyeshadow. He looks like a fucking pimp.

He doesn’t look at the man in front of you, he doesn’t look at anyone around you. His eyes fall directly upon you. They’re dark, they’re cold. You suppress the shudder attempting to work its way up from the base of your spine. He watches you like he’s imagining every little curve and every little mark you’ve got hidden beneath your clothes. You try not to squirm.

When his eyes finish sweeping over you, he sweeps again. He takes in the sight of your biker boots, your dangling chains, your messy hair. He hums lightly to himself, stepping even closer until he’s hardly inches away from you. You’re forced to look up, swallowing the lump in your throat at whatever it is swarming inside of you. Your restless limbs ache to fidget, but you force them not to move.

He raises a hand, and you flinch away from it with a scowl. His lip twitches, ignoring it and brushing his knuckles along your cheek. You can’t stifle this shiver. It makes your whole body shake. He runs his fingers through your hair, an appreciative sigh passing through his nose. You take in the scent of his cologne with every breath and feel like your brain chemistry is being altered with each inhale.

When you can’t take the scrutiny so close anymore, you take a step away from him. It’s a small step because of the guard standing so closely behind you. You’re only glad he doesn’t shove you forward again. This man—Mr. Peasant, was it?—preens under the amusement of your distaste. He finally turns away.

“What have you brought me today?” His eyes sneak back to you only moments after asking.

The man introduces your father to speak, and he stands a little straighter. He seems quite proud of himself as he adjusts the old tie he’s wearing. “Mr. Pleasant, hello. We spoke on the phone.” He doesn’t respond. It gets awkward for a moment until your father begins to recap the reason he had brought you to him. Mr. Pleasant’s eyes keep watching you as he does, paying him little mind.

Your jaw clenches with every stupid word that falls from his disgusting mouth. Your skin seethes with the urge to hit him, to spit in his face, to do something. This man, your “father”, was selling you. Isn’t this illegal? This is supposed to be illegal.

Although selling you was a bit extreme in your opinion, you cannot say that you find this outcome entirely outrageous. You are, through your hardworking efforts, a difficult daughter. A difficult person in general. It isn’t unprompted, of course, your father has dealt his hand in your efforts. You can’t blame him for this abandonment. You made his life a living hell, in exchange for him making yours so.

If he had been kind…

But now he would be rid of you, for good. You would never see him, and he would never see you ever again. Perhaps you should be thanking him for this. But that would be too much credit, so you won’t.

Even with this deep hatred, it’s hard to focus on his traitorous words when Mr. Pleasant’s gaze remains constantly glued to you. It’s hard to stare back at him when he so rarely looks away from you. It feels like an obligation to hold his contact, as it is so cold and dark. It holds a possession and predation that ignites your urge to disobey, anything to avoid being thought of as a scared little girl. You couldn’t be weak.

Long after your father has shut his mouth, he stares without a word. When he speaks again, he does it with a long breath that is followed by another long silence. “I’m sure we can find a place for you here.” He takes a small step toward you. His voice is low, not to be mistaken for passive. He is well aware of his power and control. You’re well aware of it, too. “Lennox is the perfect place for…wayward girls just like you.”

He breathes in, and you hear the slightest waver that you know isn’t some kind of infirmity. Whatever is on his mind can’t be good for you.

You pool a lot of attention on keeping your feet firmly planted on the floor. You have to be strong, you are already vulnerable by the hands of your father. His eyes pick you apart, breaking you down to see what you’re made of, to see what would make you bend…what would make you break. He wants to know what he’s going to do to you.

After far too long, he steps away from you and turns his attention to the man at your side once more. He moves his hands to his pockets. “Have Sweet Pea show her around. I’ve got work to do.”

Just like that, you seem to be out of sight, out of mind. He begins to turn on his heel.

“I expect you’ll behave now,” the sorry excuse for a father says, smirking down at you like he’s won. “Here, you can’t afford to be the little brat th–!”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’ve raked your nails into the flesh of his face. He shouts, garnering the attention of nearly everyone within the vicinity, as he brings his hand to touch the angry red marks that have begun to bloom upon his skin. When he pulls his fingers away with a hiss, he sees the blood you’ve brought on. He glares at you with eyes full of rage.

You spit at his shoes, your voice low with your malice. “Fuck. You.”

Shock is ice cold along every inch of your body when your jaw is gripped by the hand of Mr. Pleasant. That frost is replaced by a consuming heat when his dull nails dig into your own flesh and he jerks you away from your father. You can feel his breath against your face, and your cheeks burn with his tight grasp. You’re only inches apart, your lips puckered by his hold as your charged breaths mingle between you. It really hurts, you have to bite back your squeal.

He seems amused, a smirk and a sneer mixing across his lips as his hold has you shaking. He laughs, shaking his head as he drinks in the sight of you. This is the first time he’s seeing your fear clear among your face, and he’s loving it.

“Look at that,” he breathes. He looks past you to lay his eyes on the men watching the two of you. He can hardly contain his amusement, not when you react so well to his obvious threat. “My new pet has claws,” he hums, watching you once more.

The pressure of his hand clasping your face is only growing under his excitement, and you swear you’re beginning to taste the phantom taste of blood on your tongue. You can’t tell if it’s better or worse when his nails drag back along your cheeks to graze over your skin until he reaches your throat. His fingers press into the sides of your neck, and your head feels warm. Your breath sounds so strained as you gasp against his hold.

He mulls over something in his mind, nodding down at you as he does. Something goes off in his eyes, some kind of spark. You shudder.

“Yeah… That’s what I’ll call you.” He grins. “My new…little…Kitten.”

You huff at the mere idea of it, of being called on left and right with the name “Kitten” plastered to your forehead, wrapped around your throat like a collar as you answer his every beck and call. You turn your face away from him, attempting to resist him, only to be met with his correction.

His other hand raises up as his palm clasps over your mouth, his thumb brushing your ear as he turns your face to look at him once more. He leaves no room for debate, he ensures that you have no choice but to obey him.

“No, no, no,” he tuts, shaking his head. “Look at me, Kitten.” You mumble against his hand, protesting him but finding your protests to be weak. Not longer after your defiance, you find yourself submitting—for the moment—to the man whose hand is clasped around your throat. He currently had your life in his hands, and you are already beginning to understand how much that meant to him. He could hurt you at any moment. It wouldn’t take much…

He smiles at your compliance, a dangerous edge to his voice as he speaks. “Now,” he begins, “you’re gonna find that we do things a little differently here. Nothing you do is without my say-so. You do not eat, you do not sleep, you don’t even use the fucking bathroom unless I tell you you’re allowed.”

By the time he’s reached the end of his sentence, his voice devolved into a low, rough growl. He keeps you close, your bodies nearly touching, if it weren’t for his hands on your face.

“We do things my way, and I don’t like it when I don't get my way.” His eyes glint with something dark, something truly sinister.

After a moment, he takes a deep breath and sighs nice and slowly. His hand eases from your throat, shifting to cradle the side of your neck as his palm on your mouth moves to the other side. He holds you, his hands suddenly so soft but just as threatening as before. You don’t move.

He seems a little calmer now, tilting his head to look down on you. “I want us to be friends. Okay? I do… And all you have to do to make that happen is listen and do things my way.” His thumb caresses the front of your throat. “Do you understand that, Kitten?”

You don’t know what it was that possessed you to speak—Defiance? Plain stupidity, perhaps?—but it didn’t really matter. Your voice is quiet, still trembling with the adrenaline coursing your veins. “That’s not my n–”

His hands squeeze as he jerks you a bit, stunning you to silence as the smallest whimper falls out of you. His thumbs shift to cover the front of your throat. You fall in line immediately.

“See, I’m sorry. Really, I am,” he mutters. “But that didn’t sound like a ‘Yes, sir,’ to me, and ‘Yes, sir,’ is part of my way.” He turns to his guards, his brows furrowed. “Did that sound like a ‘Yes, sir,’ to either of you?”

They both shake their heads quickly. “No, sir,” they stagger.

He turns back to you. “No, sir,” he repeats. “So I’m going to ask you one more time, just so we’re absolutely clear.”

He leans in close enough that you think he’s going to kiss you. You hold your breath, your eyes wide and your limbs charged with fear.

“Do you understand, Kitten?” You’re so stunned, you forget to speak. This does not please him. His voice is a growl. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

He lets go of you immediately, his hands falling back to his side as he smiles. He’s pleased. He inclines his head, nodding to himself. “Good girl.”

A rush is sent straight down your spine, settling in the base and curling in your belly. Your knees feel weak, and you think you forget how to breathe for a moment.

The slightest sound of a chuckle from your father turns your rousing heat to a raging one that curls your fists and furrows your brow.

But you’re not the only one irritated by this.

“What the fuck do you find funny?” he asks, turning a dark gaze to him. Your father’s gaze slowly fades from his face, turning into something a little more frightened than he anticipated. You try not to be too smug, lest you receive the same punishment, or worse.

He clears his throat, glancing down to the floor as he stuffs his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. “Nothing.”

He stares at him for a long time, watching him until he squirms. And he does, the minute shuffles of his feet barely perceptible but not going unnoticed. Mr. Pleasant huffs finally. Wordlessly, he nods to one of his guards, who escorts your father away where you shall never lay eyes on him again. He says nothing more before he’s turning away at the sound of a woman’s voice.

“Sweet Pea, honey,” he says, casting a grin at the blonde beginning to make her way over. He wraps an arm around her waist as she comes to stand next to him. You stifle the curl in your belly, willing it away. “Come show around our newest girl.”

She nods, granting him a cordial smile. “Yes, Blue.”

“Thank you, darling,” he says, letting go of her as he takes a step away. He grins darkly at you, chuckling under his breath. “Goodbye, Kitten.”

You swallow thickly, watching him take his leave.

Sweet Pea weaves her arm through yours, pulling you away from the guards. She walks with you slowly, but there’s no fondness in her hold. She’s very pretty, you decide, even with the coldness in her eyes.

“Rule number one,” she begins, her voice stern but quiet. “Don’t be an idiot. Blue tells you to do something, you do it. No questions asked.”

You coast past it. “Your name’s Sweet Pea?”

“Blue given,” she says. “And you’re Kitten.”

You hesitate, unsure of how well you’re taking to this new nickname. “Blue given,” you mutter. “My real na–”

“I don’t care what your ‘real name’ is.” Her interruption is abrupt and cold. She stops walking, watching you and ensuring you hear every word she says. “Forget it exists because one is ever going to call you by that name again. From now ‘til the day you die, your name is Kitten. Understand?”

You blink a couple times, slowly sighing as you nod. “Rule number one,” you agree.

She nods as well, satisfied with your answer.

“Good.” She turns, beginning to walk once more with you at your side. She walks a little faster. You keep up with her. “Rule number two…”

There’s something swirling in your belly that consumes your mind, this gnawing feeling that you know you’ll have to sort out later. Whatever it is, you know everything is going to be different from now on.

You feel like you’re going to fit in better than you realize.

Sweet Pea had been right, though you never doubted she was. From the moment you stepped into the building and until the moment you die, you are Kitten.

It wasn’t a hard role to fit.

You do what is required of you. You sing, you dance, you cook, you clean, you do as you’re told and keep your head in return. Your old life has faded away into something entirely null and void. It doesn’t exist anymore, that name and everything that came with it was gone. Considering everything… you’re okay with that.

You belong to him, this man called Blue. He is your employer, your owner. You serve him, you do it his way.

It’s sort of fun, in a twisted sense of the word, being owned by him. He treats you rather well, as long as you behave. He loves his girls, loves all that they do for him. When you’re good to him, he’s good to you. He spoils you all with gifts, clothes and jewelry and all the things a girl needs to be happy.

The girls warned you about him. Told you about all the things he’s willing to do, implied some of the things he has done. It should have kept you away, holding him at arm’s length to ensure your preservation.

But it hasn’t.

That swirling in your belly, the curling in your gut, it had taken root into something rather…unorthodox.

You wanted to please him.

You danced, and you danced well. You’d taken lessons as a child, continued to dance sparingly in later years. It came naturally. Madam Gorski was impressed by your skill, the girls were impressed, too.

But most of all, Blue was impressed. And that was your goal.

You want to be worth watching. You want his eyes to follow you wherever you go. Once intimidating, a shiver rushing down your spine, it’s now the kind of thing you dream of. You long to feel his eyes on your body, drinking you in, appreciating you for the pet you’ve become.

So you became his favorite. You thrived in this place. You work hard in the hopes that he will notice, and God, did he notice.

He notices the way you dip a little lower when he enters the dance room. He notices the way your eyes find him through the reflection in the mirror. He notices the way you stride through the halls, your posture the picture of poise, whenever he walks by. He notices every little detail.

But you don’t.

He’s dragging it out. He pretends not to care, he acts as though the sway of your hips is nothing of an allure to his obsessive mind. He doesn’t want you to know just how much he craves you. Not yet.

So when it comes time for you to finally be put on stage, you decide that tonight has to be the night he knows just how good you can be.

You’re standing in the wings, covered in glitz and glam, wrapped in lace and silk and a tight corset you’ve grown accustomed to by this point. Your white pantyhose are thin, your powder pink skirt is tiny, your hair was done to the Nines. Every inch of your body is coated in glitter, so you’ll shine like a diamond under the lights of the stage.

Your finger wraps around the leather of the collar slapped around your throat. There’s a little golden bell on it that rings whenever you move. They put fucking cat ears on you.

You’re rubbing your palms along your thighs as Madam Gorski’s voice rises above the crowd, the music of the last show fading away as she steps up, just as painted and primmed as the rest of you.

“Such a riveting performance from our girls tonight, don’t you think?” she announces, her accent rolling off of her words as the audience whistles. “For our next act, I would like to personally welcome a new girl of a new spirit.”

You straighten your spine, calming your beating heart. “Gentlemen, this lovely lady is known for her silky smooth purrs and her razor sharp claws; so if you favor your hands, you’ll have to treat her well.” You have to roll your eyes at the theatrics, especially when the men in the audience snicker at her remarks.

“Gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce to you,” she holds her arm out toward you, “the little Kitten.”

The lights blind you for a moment as you step onto stage, the music slowly building as you stalk toward your starting position. They had begun cheering before you had begun to dance, the choreography you’ve practiced a million times becoming as natural as breathing.

As you glance out into the audience through the glare of the spotlight, you finally find Blue. He’s staring as he always does, one hand in his pocket and a cigar in the other, looking as though he’s going to snap. You send him a wink, and you can’t mistake the smirk that crawls onto his lips.

As the others begin joining you on stage, shadowing your dance as your scene partner comes to accompany you, his eyes don’t leave yours. Anthony’s arm wraps around your waist as he pulls you close, and Blue’s jaw clenches when you’re staring into the each other’s arms, being dipped and spun and knelt across the stage like he’s going to fuck you right there.

The men drink it all up, and Blue devours it. Such an intoxicating draft you are, something he’d like to consume whole. The moment he gets his hands on you, you shall be ruined for anyone else…

After that, you truly become his top girl. If it hadn’t been for your charm, it would have been all the money you’re bringing in.

You come in high demand. Every man wants a piece of you, and some women have come in for a taste, too. As much as he hates all these people coming in, putting their hands on his pet, it’s profitable. Every time he boosts the cost, someone comes in offering more.

He has to find solace in the fact that he knows you crave him. As long as that remains, it doesn’t matter how many people touch you, you’ll always belong to him.

It isn’t long before a big-name patron comes stalking through those doors. One of the girls told you about him, had spoken so highly of this “Panther” for his undeniable charm, his dark alluring, his arousing seduction. He’s supposed to be just as dangerous as Blue, but he was too charming for anyone to care.

“He always shows up when we get new girls, especially when they’re so popular,” she’d said, excited by the idea of you bringing him in. She runs a hand through her hair, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m one of his usuals.”

You’d been wanting to meet him, to see what all the fuss was about. And if he does come in looking to scope you out… you could probably use it to your advantage. If this doesn’t work to allure Blue, at least you’ll get a good lay.

Blue has been anticipating his arrival, but had hoped against all hope that when he arrived, the Panther would seek out his usual conquests instead of Blue’s favorite girl.

When he comes in, Blue greets him with a firm handshake and a box of his most expensive cigars.

“You spoil me,” his smooth voice rolls off his tongue as he removes his glasses from his face, slipping them into the pocket of his sleek black suit. He takes one as Blue does, lighting them both up and taking a generous breath, and sighing out his smile.

The Panther runs a hand through his dark hair, turning toward his friend. “Now…” he says, “show me this little Kitten I’ve heard some muh about.”

Blue jaw aches as he opens his mouth to say you’re busy today, or you’re not working, or you’re not available. Anything to get him to forget about so he can keep you to himself. Before he can get a word out, you’re stepping on stage with a wink in your eye and a sway in your hips. You’re in baby blue tonight, your skin sparkling just as much as it had the first time.

Blue sighs, partly out of arousal from seeing you and partly out of frustration at you being seen. Turning to his friend, he strains a smile. “You just saw her.”

The Panther grins, raising a hand to his chin as he brushes it over his lightly bearded face. “Promising,” he hums, turning toward Blue. “Very promising.”

Blue nods stiffly, watching him turn to find a seat to watch you from. He sucks in a hefty amount of smoke to swirl in his lungs before going to join his “friend”.

The Panther lounges in his seat, crossing his legs as he watches you. “I’ve heard a lot of good things. Some say she’s like an angel,” he says. He looks over at Blue. “But you’re up close with her every day. What do you say?”

Blue sighs, his finger stroking his lip as he shrugs. “If she were like an angel, I would have named her Angel.” He shakes his head, his eyes falling back upon you as he drinks up. “No… this one’s just a kitten.”

The Panther hums. “Well, if this kitten is as good as they say,” he lets out an appreciative sigh, “then I will pay you handsomely for her.”

Both men look toward the door to the private room when it opens, Madam Gorski stepping inside to introduce you. You trail in behind her, your eyes hooded and a smirk settled gently upon your lips. Gorski closes the door behind you.

The Panther smiles at the sight of you, your charm rolling over him with a smooth seduction. You only glance at him as you make your way first to Blue. You set a hand on his shoulder, stepping between his legs as your hand smooths along his neck until you’re cupping his jaw. You give it a light scratch.

“Hello, Blue,” you purr.

His dark eyes gleam with possession and something darker. He smirks, resting a hand on your hip and squeezing. “Hey, Kitten.”

The lightest chuckle puffs from your chest before you’re turning back to lay your eyes upon the Panther once more.

The girls weren’t lying. He’s a very handsome man with sunkissed skin, eyes just as dark as Blue’s, his hair soft and tousled. He’s beautiful.

Your hand falls gently on his shoulder, the other falling suit as you stand between his legs. You shift them to cup his neck, brushing your thumbs along his chin. He sets his cigar in the ashtray.

He hums, tilting his head. “Not a shy little thing, is she?” he wonders, never looking away from you.

Blue grunts. “Not shy, at all. In fact,” a ghost of a smile shifts onto his lips, “this one scratches.”

One of your hands travels over the bump of his throat, your finger brushing his skin until your hand rests atop his exposed chest beneath his blazer. Your gaze never strays from his even once, content to watch him forever.

“Well, that’s just fine.” His hands come to your waist, pressing his thumbs into your side to rub soothing circles. He pulls you forward a bit, moving his hands to lay flat against your back. “I’m a biter myself.”

He snaps playfully at you, and you actually let out a giggle. The sound deepens his smile. “You’re such a delicious little talent, you know.”

He hums as he looks down your body, making you squeal when he turns your back to his chest, pulling you down onto his lap. His nose presses into your back, trailing along your spine as his hands caress your sides. You shudder as they gently squeeze the top of your thighs.

“Do you know what they call me, sweet Kitten?”

A slow nod tilts your head as you lean back into him. Your voice is soft, as soft as a feather as you reach a hand back to run through his hair. “The Panther.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Blue watching the two of you, his eyes on his hands, on your thighs, on your fucking fingers curling in his hair. The smoke of his cigar swirls around his head.

He hums, pressing his nose to your neck and inhaling the scent of you. He thinks you’re deletable. “A panther and a kitten are a good match, no?”

You breathe a chuckle. “I think so.”

Again, he hums his agreement. With a deep breath, he smiles, “Me, too.”

His hands stroke along the length of your body, feeling you up like he’s trying to estimate your size. He squeezes your thighs, your waist, your breasts. Breathy sighs leave your chest as you continue to lean further into him. Your hips roll absent-mindedly into his lap, making his hands tighten where they squeeze.

“Kittens are much smaller than panthers, aren’t they?” he breathes. “Small and precious…sweet little things.”

It’s your turn to hum as you slide down from his lap, sinking to your knees and turning with your hands on his thighs. He stares at you, his gaze dark as he watches you look up at him through your lashes. You can see the bump bulging at the seat of his pants.

“Maybe not as sweet as you’d think,” you murmur, leaning forward to press your mouth to his belly, just above that rise in his pants. The slightest grunt spills from his mouth.

He chuckles, reaching for his cigar as he watches you feel him up. Smoke rushes from his lips as he shrugs. “No?” He tilts his head. “What are you, then?”

He cradles his cigar between two fingers, placing it once again between his lips. As he takes a hefty breath, you move up to his mouth and breathe in the cloud of smoke he puffs out. Your hands continue to squeeze the meat of his thighs, your ass swaying slowly in the air. He chuckles deeply when the smoke releases from your mouth.

You smile, your eyes hooded as you lick your bottom lip. You bring a leg up to rest next to his own, the other following suit. As you lower yourself into his lap, he sets his free hand at your side, allowing his touch to travel wherever he pleases. You wrap one arm around his shoulders, taking the cigar from his fingers and setting it between your own.

Your gaze never strays from the other as you bring the cigar to your lips, inhaling the smoke and allowing it to swirl in your chest, clouding your mind with the haze of it and the lust tainting your skin. You lean forward, your lips ghosting over his as he opens his own mouth to meet you.

Deciding you aren’t close enough, the Panther wraps a hand around the back of your head and pulls you in as your lips crash down against one another. You moan into his mouth, pressing your bodies flush against the other. He’s so intoxicating that you nearly forget about the heavy gaze burning into your back.

You whimper when the Panther’s fingers tangle in your hair, pulling at the locks at the base of your skull and making you weak. His other hand grips your ass, and you’re putty in his hold.

When he pulls away from you, your breathless lips parted with your growing desire, you smile when smoke pours out of his nose. A smirk curls his lips.

Fully enamored by you, he pulls you close. “Such a prize.”

He rolls your hips when he says it, and a small whimper slips out of you as your clothed heat rubs against his own. You do it again of your own accord, seeking out the friction as you relish in it.

It turns into some sort of dance as you grind yourself down on his lap, your breath heavy as you lay your forehead in his neck. You catch sight of Blue, his eyes glaring at you. It burns your skin, spurs on your pleasure. You raise your head, tipping it back just to frustrate him further.

The Panther’s nibble on the white leather collar wrapped around your throat, chuckling to himself. “I like this. I like you,” he breathes, ghosting his lips over the circular golden tag attached to it.

KITTEN

This amuses you as you continue to move your hips upon his lap. You set his cigar down to tangle your hands in his hair, shuddering when his teeth nip the skin of your neck.

“I’m interested to see if this little kitten can handle a bigger cat like me.” His hands encourage your hips, becoming even more insistent. You shudder at his implication, looking forward to seeing if it was true. Your head drops down to his neck once more, your mouth pressing against him as your lips and teeth and tongue make quick work of tasting him. He clouds your senses, makes it hard to think straight. When his hand travels up and down the length of your spine, your mouth devolves into something less organized, just a mess of raw desire.

“Unfortunately…”

The both of you turn swiftly to Blue, partially torn from your heated bubble, which has been burst by his potential decline. There’s something so dark in his eyes, a dangerous kind that tells you you’re probably going to be in trouble after this.

“This little kitten can’t do that for you tonight.”

You sigh gently, moving back to his neck to return to your work. You tug at his hair, revealing more skin for you to lick and suck and bite. He hums at the feeling, his attention still turned towards Blue.

“And why is that?” he asks, raising a brow.

Blue’s eyes keep trailing down to you, watching the way you move, the way you serve this man who isn’t him. He breathes in a heavy breath, releasing it on a heavier sigh.

“She’s been put on a strict ‘Look, Don’t Touch,’ basis,” he drops his cigar to his lips.

You press your lips against his Adam’s apple, darting the tip of your tongue out to lick his skin. The Panther snickers as you do, clearly amused by Blue’s claim, especially when you grind your hips down into his lap again.

“You should tell her that.”

He gently tugs at your hair, guiding you back to expose your neck to him. His nose presses to the underside of your chin, breathing you in again as he kisses your neck gently. You shudder at the softness.

“I’ll pay you extra,” he tries.

Blue sighs, clenching his jaw. “I’m sorry, my friend,” he says. “No deal.”

“Double.”

His eyes almost twitches. He shakes his head. “No deal.”

The Panther’s hands fall to your waist, his thumbs smoothing circles into your sides as you allow him to touch you as he pleases. “I will pay you six times the normal amount.” Blue nearly chokes on his own saliva but remains still. “I can go higher, Blue. You know I can.”

You tear yourself away from the Panther’s neck to watch as a long silence fills the air between them. The two stare each other down, even as you pull his head to rest on your chest, the warmth of his cheek in your bosom. It’s amazing, being in between it all, to know how deeply these two men must desire you in order to have a cock fight over it.

Blue takes his cigar between his fingers, his lip nearly twitching and his hands itching to break something. He shakes his head with a heavy sigh.

“No deal.”

A deep sigh works its way through his chest. Leaning back in his seat, he shakes his head, disappointment settling in his bones at the thought of this night turning out to be a dud.

He smooths his hands along your sides, his thumbs still working gently into the dip of your waist. You cradle his head in your hands, shrugging a shoulder with a sigh of your own. It was a nice thought.

Without looking at Blue, he speaks. “I’ll pay double for a lap dance, then.” He taps your ass twice. “And I’ll take my usual, as well.”

Blue nods to himself, running a hand down his face before pulling a generous amount of smoke into his mouth. “Sure.” He stands, fixing his suit.

Blue walks over, setting a hand in the crook of your shoulder and bending down to your face. His palm rubs your skin as he mutters. “Treat our friend.”

You nod obediently, closing your eyes and smiling almost slyly when he leans in to kiss your forehead. He lingers there for a while, his kiss almost forceful against your temple as his hand tightens at your shoulder.

You’re in a lot of trouble.

He sighs loudly when he straightens his spine and begins to walk away. He stops by Madam Gorski at the door, leaning in close and keeping his voice at a murmur.

“Send her to my office when she’s done here.” He glances over his shoulder, his lip nearly twitching as he watches the way you hover over his lap still, your hips swaying in a faux grind. “Make sure he doesn’t get too handsy with her.”

She nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Blue storms out of the room, his barely controlled rage leaking out of his ears. So much time, so much money—Wasted! Down the drain in a matter of seconds because of you and your damn seduction. Your cruel, evil seduction. It all comes so easily, like some fucking siren trying to drown his entire ship.

His blood boils, his fists clench and unclench alongside his jaw. This simply would not do.

You needed to be reminded who it was you truly belonged to.

The long winding halls of Lennox can drive a person to madness—you should know, you’re close to it now. (Though, you’re sure there’s probably another reason why you’re so close to losing your head.)

The sound of yours and Madam Gorski’s heels clicking against the laminated floors resound off the walls, and it’s the only sound you can hear. It’s so deafeningly silent.

You’re already worked up after your lap dance (and, let’s be honest, dry humping session) with the Panther. You’re burning to your core, and the anticipation of seeing Blue pissed off by your, in his mind, insolent behavior is making it all the worse.

You haven’t felt a high like this in a while.

It’s part of the whole reason you’re here in the first place—defiance. It was the whole point of you, being the biggest nuisance and pissing some people (mostly your father) off. You’ve gone as far as gotten arrested and made him pay your bail—in return, he locked you in the basement for three days.

But you don’t think Blue’s going to lock you in a closet.

All the ideas rushing through your head about what he might do to you is making it a little harder to walk in these heels. You’ve definitely caught his attention now.

As you reach Blue’s office, Madam Gorski turns to you with a reassuring breath. She raises a hand to your cheek, pats it gently two times, and then nods as she turns away again. She knocks three times on the door before she opens it to let you pass. She leaves once you’re inside, closing the door quietly behind you.

Blue sits behind his desk looking at a file. He rests his head in his hand, his pinky nestled on his top lip while the cold of his ring pressed against his face. His second hand holds his cigar, allowing a stream of smoke to lift into the air. It looks the same as when you left, as if he’s put it out and re-lit it. He’s vaguely disheveled—his hair is slightly tousled, his tie is loosened, and he’s missing his blazer. You couldn’t help but to let your eyes fall on his forearms, exposed by his rolled-up sleeves.

He doesn’t acknowledge you in the slightest, acting as though you aren’t even there as you stand awkwardly before him. He doesn’t even look at you, and you can feel your confidence leaking out of your fingertips like water from a dripping faucet.

When his eyes finally find you, your breath is almost forced out of you by the hardness in them. Lifting his hand, he gestures toward the chair at the other side of his desk, his voice just as stern as his glare.

“Sit.”

You think, briefly, about denying him…but you really don’t think now is the time. He seems fairly upset already. So you sit, timidly sinking into the chair and bowing your head. His gaze never leaves you, gliding over your face, your chest, anything his hungry eyes could find and devour before he must speak.

When he stands, he takes the files he had been examining and folds it as he puts it back in his drawer. He puts one hand in his pocket, the other setting his cigar between his lips as he stays there for a moment. There’s more silence as he stands there, smoking, watching, seething.

“Twelve grand.” You look up at him, your lips parting. “That’s what he was going to pay for you.” His lips twitch in a sneering grin, shaking his head as he wipes his face with one hand. He looks away, chuckling humorlessly. “Twelve thousand fucking dollars.”

This is doing nothing for your ego. You have to fight the tiny smirk trying to find its way to your face at the idea of that—rather god-like of a man, in your opinion—would pay that much just to spend a single night with you.

You’re not as slick as you think you are. Blue sees the expression on your face, the smile in your eyes, the chuckle caught in your throat. He turns to you, his head tilted to the side as he smirks at you. His eyes are hooded with a possessive intent in them that sets you on fire.

“Oh,” he chuckles, “you like that, don’t you, Kitten?” He motions a hand toward you, lifting a brow. “You feel special now? You like knowing someone wants you that badly? Hm?”

You bow your head once more, finding his gaze, his taunting a little too intense now. You rub your hands together, lacing them and rubbing some more. But he’s not having it.

“Look at me.” You obey his command, his livid glare boring holes into you. He leans forward, pressing his fingertips against the cold wood of his desk, his cigar still snug between his thick fingers.

“I know you’ve been wanting my attention…” he sniffs. “Well, now you fuckin’ have it. All that money lost just because I said no.”

Your tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip, a single question bouncing off the walls in your head as you think about everything that’s gone down tonight, the past few weeks, the past month. Your voice is weak, faint, as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Why did you?”

He turns his ear to you, as though he can’t quite hear what you’re asking him. He feigns surprise, his eyes squinted. “Why did I– Why did I say ‘no’?” It’s like he can’t fathom how you could ask him such an ignorant question. Again, you look down at your lap, playing with your hands.

Blue sets his cigar in the ashtray, the smoke lifting into the air and intoxicating you both. He walks toward you, rounding his desk to stand in front of you. You hold your breath, refusing to look up at him as he bends down with his hands gripping the arms of your chair. Your faces are so close, merely inches apart as you breathe each other’s air.

You don’t flinch as he lifts his hand, sliding his two fingers underneath the white leather and pulling hard on it. He tugs you so you have to look at him, and your noses are nearly touching as he does it.

“Do you know what this is?” he asks, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips. His fingers grip tighter around it and his thumb brushes over the golden tag, your breath hitching.

You swallow thickly. “My collar.”

He nods. “Do you know what it says?”

Your mouth feels so dry, but you squeeze your thighs together as you try to keep your breath in check. Your voice is so small, merely a squeak of a thing as you nod with as much room as you’ve got to.

“Kitten.”

He hums, licking his lip. “Do you know why it says ‘Kitten’?”

You’re barely breathing, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “That’s what you named me.”

“And why did I name you that? Hm?” His grip tightens even more. His knuckles dig into the skin of your throat and make it harder to breathe. “Why did I give Kitten a new name?”

You whisper your response, too caught up in the closeness, the whirling sensation of his cologne invading every part of your senses. “Because I belong to you.”

He clenches his jaw, tugging on the collar as he presses his cheek to your own, growling in your ear. “I can’t hear you.”

“Because I belong to you.”

The smile that devours his face is wide as he lets go of your collar just to wrap his hand around your throat. You gasp lightly as his fingers tighten just right, making your breath thin and your head light with the feeling. Heat covers every square inch of your body and makes it hard not to let yours search his out.

“That’s right!” he praises, chuckling heavily. He lowers his voice just above a whisper. “That’s right, my sweet, little Kitten.” He punctuates every word, caught up in the powerful sensations of his dominion over you.

His hand slips off your throat, taking the tag between his thumb and forefinger as he strokes the cool metal. “Have you seen the back of my little trinket?”

You shake your head, your eyes falling between his and his lips. He seems pleased by this.

“You’re the only one here with this, you know?” He flips it over, reading the back with a huge swell of pride both in his chest and in his pants. “Property of Blue Jones.”

You like the sound of that. It’s fitting. You’ve gone through guy after guy after guy, you’ve picked them up and dropped them, not even your father could keep you in his house, much less in line. And now…now you’ve found a man who could actually keep you, with a collar slapped on your neck to display his possession of you.

He lingers there, staring at the pendant like he’s been put in a trance. His lip twitches, his fingers tighten, you can feel his breath pick up by the way it fans against the mostly exposed flesh of your chest.

You gasp when his hand wraps around your neck, this time with a little more force as he tightens it and forces you to stand. You raise your hands to grab his wrist, his grip barely loose enough to allow you to breathe.

“Me,” he growls. “My property. My sweet, little Kitten. I got you this collar because I thought it would help you to remember, but you seemed a little forgetful before.”

He lets go of you, and you almost stumble as you try to take a deep breath in. It feels good, breathing. He watches you, a gleam in his eyes that tells you he enjoys doing this to you.

He walks around you, examining every inch of you with the hunger of a predator stalking its prey. You feel every layer being pulled away, bit by bit—first your jewelry, then your clothes, then your flesh, then your meat, until you’re nothing but chilly bone.

“Did you like the way he touched you, hm?” he wonders as he comes up behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling your back flush against his chest. You can feel the hardness in his pants pressing against you, and it’s maddening.

“You like the way he groped you?” You shiver at the words he whispers into your ear, his voice low, hollowing you out until you’re nothing.

“You like the way he kissed you?”

His other hand lifts this time just to feel the way his hand slots so perfectly around your throat. You sigh, your breath so light and the feeling stirring within you so teasing.

“Answer me.”

You nod, the movement so slight but he can feel it in his hand. “Yes,” you whisper, your knees weak and trembling. You feel like you’ll fall if he lets go of you.

But he does. He lets you go like you’re nothing, and you stay on your feet. You look down at the floor, catching your breath as he walks away to sit back down in his chair. He sinks down, spreading his legs wide as he takes his cigar between his fingers again.

It’s uncomfortable, the way your panties are sticking to you. You don’t want to move your thighs and entice Blue some more with his tactics, not like they aren’t working already.

Smoke billows from his nose as he juts his chin toward you. “Come here.”

You swallow thickly, turning and walking slowly over to where he lounges in his chair. He watches you the whole time. He’s always watching you.

When you stand before him, he hums lightly. He looks you up and down, thoroughly enjoying the view before patting his thigh. “Bend down.”

You set your hands on either side of his chair, like he’d done to you, and lean down so your faces are barely inches apart. He raises his cigar slowly to your lips, and you let them part as he sets them there, watching your mouth wrap around it with an earnestness that feeds your ego as the Panther’s generosity had done.

You breathe it in, nice and slow, filling your lungs as easily as you had done before. It’s a lot stronger than the smoke you’re used to—cheap cigarettes and rolled up blunts—and it feels good. He pulls it away when you stop.

Your eyes flutter as you lean forward just a bit, your lips ghosting over his parted ones as you begin to blow the smoke into his mouth, feeling the way his breath sucks in to taste it and you on his tongue.

You pull away when your breath blows clear, and he stays there for a moment as he lets the dissipating smoke linger in his mouth.

He breaks the silence. “You started smoking to piss off your father, didn’t you?” His eyes open, and they’re black with lust.

You nod. “Yes,” you admit. “I was…rebelling.”

He shakes his head. “You are rebelling,” he corrects you, sitting up a little straighter as he flicks the ashes of his cigar into its tray to hide the way he fixes himself. He sniffs, turning back to you.

“But no worries,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “Daddy can fix that.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, and you forget to breathe. Your eyes go wide and heat flushes into every crevice your body has to offer. It curls in your gut and leaves you practically shaking before him.

A smile spreads over his lips, it’s this dark thing that does nothing for the curling lust in your belly. “Oh, yes…” he purrs, sitting up just to be closer to your face as he raises one hand to your chin. He cups you in his palm, his fingers finding their purchase in your cheeks in a less than kind manner. “I read your file. Part of my job is to know everything about my girls. It helps me know how to keep them in line.”

He pats his thigh, his eyes unblinking as he watches you. You swallow dryly, moving on unsteady legs to do as he wants and lower yourself onto his lap between his spread legs. His hand falls on your lower back, rubbing dangerous circles up and down the length of it.

“Your father thoroughly complained about you. Wrote about all the stuff you used to do,” he begins. You fight the urge to bite your lip when his palm comes to rest on your knee, stroking the bare skin like treasure. “You used to stay up late blasting your music, go out all night with your little friends—and you wouldn’t return ‘til morning. You smoked around the house, cursed, talked back.”

He tuts like he’s disappointed in you, though you can see the amusement glistening in his gaze. “Said you used to bring back boys. You’d lock yourself in your room and scream all night,” your breath hitches when his hand travels away from your knee, moving up and up and up until he’s caressing the delicate skin of your inner thigh. “You moaned and whined, and you kept him up the whole time.”

You bite your lip when his fingertips brush the soft fabric of your panties, already soaked through with the arousal he’s been pulling from you since day one. You can see the delight whispering in his eyes. He hooks his arm around you as he shifts you onto his lap, your legs on either side of his own to make you straddle him, to make your tiny skirt ride so high up your thighs that your sheer underwear is easily exposed to him. It’s a nice position, albeit a jealous one. He must have been quite upset, seeing you doing this to the Panther a mere hour or two ago.

“You’d yell ‘Daddy this’ and “Daddy that’,” he sighs. His hands grope your ass tightly, and your lips part on a sigh at the way he grinds you down into his lap. “What were you saying, hm? What were you begging for?” His expression shifts into that of a pout, his lip jutting out as he mocks you. “‘Yes, Daddy’, ‘Please, Daddy’, ‘Fuck me, Daddy’.”

Your head is dizzy with the pressure of his hands, his meanness, even simply his breath on your skin. You keep grinding your hips in his lap, back and forth, enjoying the feeling of his bulge pressing against the wet fabric of your panties.

“Is that what you were saying? Hm?” His heavy breaths keep fanning over your skin, driving you to madness. “Were you a good little kitten for all those ‘bad boys’ you fucked?”

You don’t respond, you can’t. Between the grinding, the gasping, the teasing, your mind is so full of all the things you want to happen.

You’re torn crudely from your fantasies as he stops the insistent movement of your hips, his hand already wrapping around your throat before you can even open your eyes. He pulls you close to his face, the smell of tobacco and leather and wood filling your senses.

“Tell me what you did,” he demands. “Show me.”

You fight the urge to smile, lifting your hands to rest on his shoulders to steady yourself. You gently push him back against his chair, slowly leaning forward so your lips brush the lobe of his ear as you speak in the sweetest, softest voice you can muster.

“I did whatever he asked me to,” you breathe, rolling your hips once more onto his lap with a slow, teasing, maddening leisure. “I moaned, I screamed. I bent over and let him fuck me.” The tiniest whimper slips from your lips, your voice going just the slightest bit higher the more you grind and the more you imagine. You press your hand to his chest, feeling his beating heart underneath your palm as he watches you with hooded eyes and parted lips. He’s just as bad as you. “I got on my knees, and I sucked him off. I obeyed…” your lips curl into a little smirk as you lean down to his lips, “...like a good little kitten.”

You know you’ve got him in the palm of your hand by the way his eyes flutter, his unsteady breath fanning over your lips. Now that you’ve both got a hold of the other…it’s mutually assured destruction. Neither of you are letting go.

“Well,” he says, “you don’t have to concern yourself with boys anymore.” Just as you had done for him, his lips brush your ear and a shudder runs down your spine. “Daddy’s got you. You belong to me now. Only me.”

He pulls you back, his hand rough at the back of your neck. He lowers his voice to a dangerous murmur, each word distinct as just as threatening as the last. “And no one else is allowed to touch you, unless he wants his head wrapped around a bullet with my name written into the side. Do you understand?”

Breathlessly, you nod, realizing how very real his threat is and not caring enough to be properly scared. This is what you want, this is what you need, and no one is going to take that away from you now.

“I’m yours,” you whisper. And this time with conviction, “I belong to you, Daddy.”

His lips twitch, thoroughly pleased with your declaration. He leans in, so close yet so far.

“Now give us a kiss.”

The kiss that consumes you both is the equivalent to a wild beast ripping out the throat of its food. Neither of you knows who is who, and yet you both breathe in the scent of the other’s succulent blood through your nose, taste the sweet iron in its flow, embrace the warmth of it on your skin. You’re starving for it as your teeth sink into the skin of his bottom lip between the glide of your mouths against the other’s.

His hand wraps securely around your throat as he devours you, and you moan at the fuzzy feeling tingling in the back of your brain. He tastes of tobacco and whiskey as he licks into your mouth, taking what is rightfully his as you explore your pleasure with a roll of your hips.

When he pulls your face from his own to slot his lips over your throat, you feel your mind reeling. His teeth nip at your flesh, his tongue laps at the taste of your sweet skin, his lips suck at the unmarked skin, ready to right the wrong of you being unclaimed by him until this moment. You can already feel it, the purpling of your skin tomorrow when you get to see the results of his conquering.

Blindly unlacing the strings of your corset is hard, especially when your fingers shake with the thrill of his touch, when there are so many strings and not enough mind to undo them all. It loosens from your chest and you gasp at the feeling, feeling a shudder rushing down your skin at the way the corset brushes your sensitive skin. And when it’s gone, the heat of his flesh against yours is igniting. You squeal lightly when his large hand swallows your breast whole, kneading and groping and pinching until your nipple is a hard peak upon it.

“Fuck,” he sighs as he ventures his mouth down to suck your other one between his lips. You arch your back into him, pulling him close and enjoying the feeling of it, the attention, the sensation. You glide a hand down his chest, feeling the soft material of his button down, hardly hearing the gentle tap of your nails against the buttons over the sound of your breathing. You bite down on your lip—now cut from his insistent kiss—as you tug on the belt still wrapped around his waist.

His free hand grasps your own so quickly that you hardly have time to process it as his teeth graze the delicate flesh of your earlobe. You hold your breath as he whispers in your ear. “Beg for it.”

He pulls away to look at you, tilting his head as he awaits your response, his hooded eyes unblinking as his gaze bears into you. Blue watches as your face changes. He watches your bottom lip jut forward and tremble, he watches your brows pinch together. He watches as sadness suddenly fills every little feature of your face.

But he knows there’s no agony in those eyes.

“Please,” you whimper weakly, your voice pitched and almost whiny. “Please, Daddy, need you to fuck me. Please, I need it.”

The sound of it goes straight to his cock, which grows harder and harder with every second you spend pressed against his body. He grins, leaning in until your foreheads are pressing together so he can look up at you like he pities you. “You should beg more often,” he chuckles lightly. “You’re so pretty when you beg.”

“Please, Daddy,” you indulge him. “I’ll do anything.”

Fuck, he loves hearing that. It’s like music to his ears as his hand tightens so slightly around your throat. If he squeezed a little harder, pressed his palm just a little more into the column of your neck…

A surprised yelp tears from your throat when he stands to his feet, his arms wrapping tightly around you to hold you up. You hook your ankles so tightly behind him that you feel like you’re squeezing the life out of him.

Blue retrieved his cigar before sweeping everything off the desk and onto the floor with little regard for having to clean it all up later. He laid you down on the desk, looking down on you with a smirk. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

You do as you’re told, and you’re happy to do it as he sets his cigar between your delicate lips once more. “Hold that for me, won’t you?” You nod with a little smile, watching as he begins to undo his belt with deft fingers. If he weren’t standing between your legs, you would have rubbed your thighs together to ease your rising need for him. And as he unbuttons each and every single little button on his shirt, unveiling more and more skin for you to discover, you feel like you’re going to blow.

You shudder when he grabs your hips, feeling the skin with an appreciative grin. He turns you on your side and grabs the top of your skirt, pulling a shocked sound from you when he’s ripping the clothing off by the zipper until it’s entirely useless. He strips you bare with as much barbarity and as much kindness as he cares to give.

He straightens his back, peering down at you as he begins to circle the desk. He stands on the other end, bending down to take the cigar from your lips when he’s met with a cloud of smoke billowing in his face. He breathes it all in, chuckling deep in his chest as you smirk up at him.

He looks at you, a primal grin spreading over his lips as he stubs the end of the cigar until it flickers out. He attacks your lips with his own, enjoying the taste of you as you raise a hand to bury in his hair and keep him close to you. When his mouth travels to your breasts once more, you pant and huff at the way he tastes you.

It all becomes so much worse when you feel his finger dip between your folds, brushing over your clit before teasing the lips of your pussy. The slightest whimper escapes you before he even does anything.

But then he pulls away from you, standing up again with his unbuckled belt as his hands grip his pants to push them down his legs. You lose breath at the sight of him, his hard cock so close to your face as it aches for you.

“Open wide, Kitten,” he orders, his eyes as black as licorice.

Once again, you do as you're told as you let your mouth open wider to let him in. He guides the tip of his cock to your lips, and you suckle around it, eager to taste the drop of precum that immediately leaks out onto your tongue.

He groans, his need slipping into something more volatile as he presses himself farther into your mouth. It’s warm and wet and irresistibly glorious as you suckle around him, eager to please, eager to make him feel good as you accommodate for his size.

“Good girl. That’s a good kitten,” he pants, his eyes drooping low as he looks down at the way your throat stretches around him the farther he goes.

When you’re tapping his thigh, telling him to pull out to let you breathe, it takes a moment for him to even heed you. You just look so delicious, feel so delicious. He pulls out, and you’re gasping for breath as you attempt to catch it.

He doesn’t give you too much time, though. No, he likes you too much. He slides his cock back between your lips, going farther and farther until your lips are pressing against his pelvic bone. He places a hand on your throat, not caring that your chest shudders for breath as he feels his cock through the stretch of your throat.

He groans, pulling out and pushing back in and pulling out and pushing back in as you try to get used to his rhythm, catching breaths where you can catch them. When his fingers tease your folds, it becomes so much worse, and it only continues to do so when he pushes two of them between your folds and curls.

He pulls out of your mouth to let you breathe just as he begins to thrust his fingers in and out of you, his deft fingers working to make you high off the pleasure. You arch off the table, your mouth wide open and your thigh opening and closing of their own accord. You’re caught off guard when he pushes his cock back into your mouth at his own need.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he breathes, his hips seeking out that pleasure. Your lungs squeeze, begging for air as little gasps and gags wreak havoc over your body.

And when he finally pulls out, catching his breath with his fingers still shoved inside of you, you’re entirely breathless attempting to do the same.

You watch with teary eyes as he pulls his fingers out of you next, bringing them to his lips to taste you. With a heavy sigh and a deep hum, he licks your arousal clean. “Like fucking honey,” he breathes.

You wipe at your tears as he walks around the desk again, his eyes never leaving your body. When he’s bending over your body once more, his lips hovering over your own and his hands coming up to pin your arms at either side of your head, you can’t help but to breathe in the scent of his cologne, his breath, the fucking gel in his hair.

“Do you know what I’m going to do to you, Kitten?” he whispers, his lips ghosting over your face. You shake your head gently, staring up at him with wide, wet eyes, like you’re just terrified of what he’s about to say, as though you can’t feel the arousal flushing through you at the mere idea of the possibilities rushing through your head.

His voice is low, gravelly, a growl in your ear as his grasp tightens around your wrists. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

Your tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip. Your breath is shallow and unsteady as you speak in a whisper of a voice, “Please, Blue. Please ruin me.”

The humor has left his eyes, any that may have been lurking within them. His face drops into something devilish, something possessive and twisted as the grip of his hands tighten. The slightest whimper escapes you, the pain ignites something both in you and in him at the buzzing pain in the tips of your fingers and the pressure of your wrists.

You lean forward—as best you can. Your words are gentle breaths in his face. “Ruin me so that no one can please me but you.”

He grunts as his heavy breaths erupt. You don't have time to think before he's turning you over so the front of your body is pinned to the dark wood of his desk, your warm cheek pressed into the chilly wood beneath it.

Without warning, Blue thrusts himself into the wet plushness of your pussy, his thick cock stretching you out in such a delicious way. You moan as you grip the edge of the desk to steady yourself, closing your eyes shut to enjoy the stinging sensation of his sudden intrusion.

Blue presses himself into you until his pelvis pushes insistently into your ass, burying his cock inside of you. A heavy breath forces its way from his chest, his whole body relaxing at the way you squeeze around him.

“Fuck, my perfect little Kitten. So fucking perfect for me,” he rambles. His hands find your waist, holding you tightly as he begins to pull himself out of you.

“Perfect, just for you– Mmph, fuck!” You're cut short when he thrusts into you again, a spasm of pleasure consuming every nerve in your body.

Blue’s thrusts are hard and rough but in no way measured or controlled as he fucks you to his need. His mind is reeling with his own pleasure, his gasps and grunts in your ear making you clench around his cock and inspiring another rough thrust.

“I'm gonna make you fucking scream for me, Kitten,” he huffs, accentuating his words with hard thrusts. “You want that? Hm? You want Daddy to make you scream? You wanna fuckin’—Mmh!—scream for Daddy?”

You nod, his—rather teasing—pace driving you insane as you yearn for the erratic and cruel rhythm you know he's dying to show you. You've known since the moment you saw him. The moment he gave you that dark and monstrous gaze, you've known he's always imagined you as the precious little kitten he's come to know just so that he can bury his teeth in your neck and rip out your throat.

You know there's no possible way this predator isn't dying to tear you limb from limb and enjoy the taste of your blood dripping from his lips.

“Wanna scream for you, Daddy. Make me fuckin’ scream.”

You would die a happy woman for a fucking like this.

He's rough and ruthless. He grabs you by your hip and hair and holds you down while he fucks into you. His thrusts are so hard that every time he punches that spongy spot inside of you, you see stars. He grunts on top of you, pulling on your hair and smacking your ass like he's punishing you for something—perhaps he is.

His hips continue to snap into you as he drives himself deeper, rougher, pulling each sound from you like plucking the strings of a guitar. The tight leather of your collar is a welcome feeling, like his hand around your throat, keeping you safe and warm. It reminds you with each and every thrust who it was that wrapped it around your throat in the first place.

It feels nice—dizzying, even—to be owned. You have no worries, no cares. You serve Blue, and you gain all the luxuries a girl could want. They’re easy conditions, ones you would happily live by. You don’t think you’d care if you spent every day crawling on your hands and knees, eating and drinking from a bowl, taking treats out of the palm of his hand. If it meant he’d fuck you like this, growling in your ear that you belong to him, that he will take care of you, that he’ll protect you—dare you say, that he’ll love you, even if it’s love in the way that a dog loves his favorite chew toy—you would do it with a smile and a purr on your tongue.

You don’t know when you began to cry. If you hadn’t felt the warmth of hot tears spilling over the apples of your cheeks, you don’t think you ever would have noticed them through the rush of pleasure. A broken moan slips after a harsh thrust. You felt Blue’s hand detangle from your hair and slip his thick fingers over the column of your neck.

He pulls you roughly back to look at your face, watching your tears change course to rush down the sides of your face. His face twisted into a pout, a mean and cruel pout that mocked glistening in your eyes, like diamonds.

Never missing a beat, he let out a faux whine. “Aww,” his brows knit together, “is my little kitten crying? Hm? Is it too much for her to take?” The fake sympathy is interrupted by another drive into you, his fingers flexing around your throat. “You can't handle how good I'm making you feel, is that it? My little slut is just so hungry for more.”

You whimper weakly, clenching around him and nodding, a disheveled mess underneath him, a slave at his mercy.

He smears your tears all over your face, smudging your already messy lipstick and mascara. “You're so beautiful when you cry, Kitten,” he groans, his heavy breath loud in your ear.

Your mouth falls open to let out a breathy cry as your hand flies up to wrap around the beck of his neck. You pull him down, your lips mashing in a brutal kiss. It's a primal sort of passion, the hot and heavy air is charged with the desperation and desire for destruction and decimation. You kiss with mangled lips and biting teeth, reaching for the other in a reckless attempt at consuming the other.

He wants to take you in his jaws and rip your throat out, pick you from his teeth and savor the taste of your blood on his lips. You want to bury your claws in his flesh and never let go.

His name dangles off your lips, and he laps it up hungrily. “Fuck, Daddy, don't stop.” Your senseless blabber fills the space between you, accompanying your whines and his grunts and the slick sounds of his cock pressing deep inside your sopping cunt. “Feels so good, I can't—mmph, Blue!”

He lets go of your throat in favor of wrapping an arm around your neck, pulling you into him as he buries his face in the space between your neck and shoulder. He inhales your scent, reveling in it—the smell of your sweat, your perfume, the shampoo in your hair.

You can’t what?” He taunts you with all the sympathy of a parasite draining its host. “Oh, you can’t handle it? Huh? You can’t take my cock like the good little kitten you’re supposed to be?” His voice is laced with all his mocking, his meanness and venom corrosive to your skin and creating the most delicious burn. He takes the lobe of your ear between his teeth, grunting harshly at the way you clench around him. “You’re gonna have to, baby,” he says, thrusting into you like it’s taking all his strength not to completely ruin you for even himself to use. “You gotta be good for Daddy. You’ll be good for me, right?”

You bury your face in his arm, kissing the flexing muscle at your face and trying not to sink your teeth into him like you really, really want to. “Yes,” you stutter. “Yes, I’ll be s-so good, Daddy.”

He smiles, admiring the teardrops on his arm, your kisses on his skin, the brush of your tongue. “Good,” he laughs. “Good girl.” He presses his mouth into your neck, shifting so that he’s sucking and biting at the skin, eager to mark you up some more, show everyone who you belong to in the rare case that they ever forget—in case you ever forget. You mewl at the feeling, unable to fight back the urge to taste his skin as you nibble at the little slips of flesh that you find.

His thrusts begin to stutter after a while, rough and erratic, losing their rhythm as he devolves. His low groans have weakened into shorter mewls, desperate gasps. The pleasure deepens and your head spins with it. It’s so much, too much and not enough as it purges every space in your body as your clit aches for his touch. You’re so, so close to the edge but so, so far without the rough pad of his fingers abusing your mewling bead.

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum, Kitten.” His confession is followed by a heavy breath. “I’m gonna cum, and you’re gonna take it all.”

A shudder rushes down your spine but gets lost in the muddle of ecstasy coursing through your confused mind, full only of the sounds of your slick and his grunts and your moans and the squealing of the desk beneath you, abused under the weight and exertion of you both.

You mumble through the fuzzy, hazy mess of your brain. “Yes, Daddy. M’gonna take it all.”

His arm tightens around your neck, his hand crushes your hip in his grasp. The sloppy smacks of his hips against your ass continues on as he fucks into you with all the enthusiasm of a man seeing his treasure waiting for him.

Blue cums with a growl, spilling inside as he pumped his cock in and out and in and out and in and out of you. He paints your walls with his warm cum, his head spinning with the way you milk him with your squelching cunt. He presses inside of you as deep as he’ll go, ensuring none of it slips out as your name and little curses and uncontrolled gasps fall from his lips.

You whimper as he crushes you under his weight, glad to take it all, everything he had to give you—his weight, his touch, his cum, the mercy of even allowing you the pleasure of this.

You listen to the way his breath slows, feel the way his thrusts become slow and deep, grinding inside of you just to relish in the feeling of you responding to him in the perfect way that you do.

After a moment, you feel him pulling out of you and whimper at the empty feeling he leaves you with. He breaks away from you, standing and walking away with a deep breath and a sniff. You lay there, your limbs trembling and charged with an unshed tension that continues to coil in your gut without his cock to soothe you.

You lift yourself onto your hands, looking over your shoulder at him and feeling the need and desperation gnawing at your bones. He doesn’t even look at you, like he’s completely disregarded you from his mind. You feel like you might cry—as though you hadn’t been already. You need so badly to cum, to come apart by his touch.

You sit up on his desk, knowing that if you tried to stand, you would only wobble in place. You lick your lips, bringing up the courage to grovel at his feet. He’s already broken you down to this mewling creature crushed under his weight, there’s no lower you can go right now. You just need him.

“Blue?” you nearly whisper, your lip jutting out just a bit as you try to make yourself look as small as you can. He just hums, his back still turned and his attention still divided. You lick your bottom lip, taking in a gentle breath. “Please, Daddy,” you plead gently. “Can I cum?”

He looks over his shoulder at you, leaning back against the wall as he looks at you, his eyes still dark with the lust eating away at them. He rakes his gaze over your body, taking in the sight of you: your hair and makeup a mess, your body completely bare, your skin stained with his marks, your thighs smeared with his cum and your arousal. You look like an angel.

Perhaps he should’ve named you “Angel” instead.

“I don’t know, Kitten,” he says. “I don’t think you’ve been a good girl for me, yet.”

You push yourself off his desk, walking over to him as you take his face in your palms. “Please, I’ll be good,” you beg, pulling him close as your lips hover. “I swear, I’ll be good.”

He grabs you by your hips, still sensitive from his abuse before. Blue hoists you back onto the desk once more, standing in between your thighs as he raises a hand to wrap around your throat. “You’ve been teasing me, fucking taunting me.”

You hold your breath as he leans in close, so close yet so far from kissing you that you can’t help but to whine. His hand brushes your skin until he cradles your cheek, offering a false sense of security as he holds you with the softest hand you’ve ever felt. “I need you to know that you’re my plaything, not the other way around.”

Your breaths fan over his face as he stares at you and you at him. You raise a hand to hold the back of his, your eyes fluttering shut to feel his embrace. You think, for a moment, that you could stay here forever.

You’re broken from the intimacy of his touch when his hand wraps once again around your throat, tightening so slowly around the collar he’d slapped onto you. He sighs deeply, serving as your only warning as he steps even closer.

“Do you understand that?”

You nod, your eyes fluttering at the way he holds you. It’s an intoxicating feeling. Your hand travels down his until you're grabbing his wrist, pulling his hand even closer as you yearn for him to grip you just a little tighter. “Yes, Daddy,” you breathe. When he doesn’t move, you open your eyes again just enough to see him. He watches your face change, watching your brows knit and your lip pout. Your eyes glitter with submission. “Please, I’ll behave. I’ll be so good.” He tilts his head, and you actually manage to shed a tear. “I belong to you. I’ll always belong to you, Daddy. Blue’s good little kitten.”

The way you whisper the last part makes his eyes flutter, the muscles in his neck flexing to contain himself as he inhales sharply. A smile begins to curve his lips until he’s tightening his grin on your neck. He leans in, fully aware of the way you hold your breath as he whispers in your ear. “Good girl.”

No. He’s certain now. You’ll always be Kitten.

He picks you up, pushing you back onto your back and pulling you to the edge of the desk. He wraps your legs tightly around his waist, pumping his cock three times before he’s pushing into you. You gasp, arching your back off the desk as your head spins with the quick and sudden pleasure. He holds you tightly by your hips, filling the office once again with the sound of your wet pussy and filthy moans, the loud smacks of skin and helpless little mewls.

Blue builds his steady rhythm, and once he’s got you right where he wants you, he reaches between you as the pad of his thumb finds your aching clit. A deep gasp rips its way through your chest at the pleasure that blossoms there. It’s immediate and it comes with a dizzying mind as you struggle to keep it together.

He circles your clit, his pace quick and messy and perhaps a bit too rough. The heels of your feet dig into his back, pulling him in and trying to heighten your pleasure as you already feel that perfect release nipping at your fingertips. You reach up and wrap your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him down until he’s forced to press his body against yours, his pace still quick and harsh, building his own release along with yours.

You tuck your arms underneath his own, burying your nails into his back and raking them down. You can’t wait to see the angry red lines that are bound to embed themselves into his skin. A whimpering sort of groan slips out of him at the way you scratch him, marking him with your own claim.

“My kitten still has her claws.” He smiles through clenched teeth, pride shining behind his eyes at the stinging of your sharp nails.

You bite your lips as the sparks of pleasure fill you up, your mind cloudy with the haze of your ecstasy. Your body is buzzing, and your limbs are trembling. You could feel your building climax taking you higher and higher, closer and closer to that sweet release.

Blue continues to rut into you, fucking you with all the energy he has left as you moan and whine and whimper. “Who do you belong to?” he demands, his lips mere centimeters from your ear. “Who owns you?”

It’s hard to speak through the fog of your mind, but you know that if you don’t, he’s going to stop, you can’t think of anything worse right now. “You, Daddy,” you gasp.

He shakes his head. “Say my name. Who owns you, hm?”

This pathetic whine unfurls from your throat and he knows you’re going to cum. His hips snap harder into you, startling his name from your chest. “Blue.”

He nods, the flick of his wrist working harder to bring you closer. He growls into your ear, “Say it again.”

The coil snaps just as you cry out, “Blue!” You cum with a shout, your vision flashing in and out as all the sounds of your pleasure blur into this strange symphony. All the breath is knocked from your lungs, your nails sink into his back to mark him once more in your own claim. Your words are entirely incoherent, but along the lines of “fuck” and “yes, daddy” and “oh, Blue”.

You flutter around him, your walls climbing down as you cum. The last of Blue’s restraint is flushed away by the way you clench around him. He buries his face in the crook of your neck as he spills inside you once again, clenching his jaw as he floods you with the last of his cum. “Mm-fuck, Kitten.”

Your bodies rock with one another, grinding and moaning and searching for the other as your pleasure fills the space between you. You imagine this is what it feels like to be so full of the adrenaline and bloodlust that a predator gets when it catches its prey within its jaws. This pulsing, rushing feeling throbbing in your ears and filling every nerve ending with pleasure. You can taste the blood and sweat on your tongue, you can feel the meat in your teeth.

Slowly, very slowly, you come down from your highs. It’s a slow dwindle, like a leak in a faucet, but you do. The ebb and flow of your releases dulls to a quiet wave in the back of your mind as you catch your breath. You feel so full, filled with his cum and his possession as you lay there, your thighs aching with the stretch of being spread so wide for so long.

Blue pulls away from your neck, your nose brushing and your breaths mingling. You’re consumed once again by him when he captures your lips in another bruising kiss. He tastes you, memorizing the feel of your soft lips, your warm tongue. It’s hard to keep up, but you do. Because you’ll be damned if you miss one beat of this primal play that keeps your heart pumping with this hunt that goes both ways.

Blue straightens his spine as he pulls out of you. He chuckles when another whimper comes out of you, mourning the loss of him. He pats your side twice, once again reaching for the nearly spent cigar in its tray. He sets it between his lips and lights it, letting the smoke billow from his mouth with a heavy sigh.

He turns around, stretching his limbs. You nearly drool at the sight of his flexing muscles, the red scratches lining his back, all the way down. You couldn’t help your smirk, proud of your good work.

He is yours. Blue Jones belongs to his Kitten, just as much as she belongs to him. You’re in his blood, in his lungs, in the very fabric of his skin.

“Like what you see?” he mumbles, feeling your eyes on his back. He glances over his shoulder, smirking. “I bet you got me good.” He chuckles.

You lean onto your elbows, watching him with all the tired lust left in your eyes. His gaze wanders from your eyes and down between your thighs, watching the way his cum begins to leak from your abused hole.

“You’re making a mess.” He bends down to pick his slacks off the floor, stepping into them absent-mindedly.

“Hm,” you mutter, standing to full height and ignoring the feeling of his warmth slipping down your leg. You grab his white button down, discarded somewhere on the floor. With your clothes destroyed, you have nothing to wear. You don’t think he’ll care about you stealing his shirt. “Something tells me you don’t care much.” You raise a brow at him, smirking slyly.

He smiles darkly, walking toward you with his cigar between his fingers as he takes your face in your free hand and kisses you again, still as hungry and as possessive as before, but a little softer than it had been in the mess of desperation that came with fucking you. His kiss is smokey, and you breathe it all in.

As he separates from you, his eyes darted from your own to your lips, then down to your breasts, and up once more to your eyes, he sighs. “I want you back in here tomorrow night. You and I have an appointment.” Your eyes flutter when you feel his hand drift down your body and back between your legs, cupping your leaking heat and pressing two fingers into you to shove his cum back in.

You swallow thickly, smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Yes, Daddy.” He licks his lips, kissing you again quickly. When he pulls away, his hand follows as he’s bringing his cigar back to his lips. You pluck it from his fingers and set it between your own lips.

You turn away as you smoke it, listening to him lower himself into his seat as he watches you with a great amount of interest. You don’t bother even looking at the scraps of clothing left on the floor. You bend down to pick up your shoes, turning back to him and seating yourself on his spread lap.

You straddle him, arms wrapped around his neck and faces inches apart. You perch the cigar between two fingers, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke into his face with a very long breath. His lashes flutter, and his lips form a large grin. He loves when you do that. He breathes it in like the sweetest perfume. You’re in his lungs.

You lean in and kiss him again, addicted to the taste of him as you giggle. He meets you with just as much need, adoring the taste of you on his tongue. You sigh when you pull away, returning his cigar to his lips as you stretch your arms tightly over your head with a moan. Blue watches appreciatively, sighing as his eyes drift down to your perfect breasts.

You relax after a moment, like putty in his arms as you lean in too close, your face in the crook of his neck as you press kisses into the skin just to have an excuse to be this close. His hand flattens against your back, and he’s kind enough to rub two circles into it as he offers a long and unsteady breath.

Then he pats you gently, pulling his cigar from his lips. “Go get some sleep, Kitten.”

You sigh, pressing one last kiss to the skin before pulling away. You smile at him, full of faux innocence and all the charm in the world. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Blue.” You kiss him quickly before hoisting yourself out of his lap.

“You better.” It’s not up for debate, but you weren’t going to argue in the first place.

As you laid in bed that night with your collar in hand, you couldn’t help but to stare at the words engraved into the back of the tag like the claim you’ve both engraved into each other’s skin.

Property of Blue.

Oscar Isaac taglist: @loki-hargreeves @hb8301 @tessarqctt @fanreader @alexxavicry @gublur @katsukis1wife @hatterripper31 @papichulo120627 @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @minigirl87 @woahhajime @notzammm @queer_poncho @motopoppp @feyresqueen @quickslvxrr @patchesofwork @rattymess @hc-geralt-23 Tag yourself here...

#blue jones #blue jones x reader #blue jones x fem!reader #blue jones smut #blue jones x reader smut #blue jones fanfiction #sucker punch #sucker punch fanfiction #reader insert #female reader

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anonimusunnoaniswriting · 8 months ago

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Fucked my way up to the top

A follow up to Clumsy Office Intern

Boss!Sukuna x ClumsyIntern!Reader

WARNING: THIS IS A HEAVILY DUBCON FIC. BUT THAT IS ALL IT IS FICTION. I do not endorse such behaviors. If this is happening to you God forbid, it's not sexy or cool it's abuse seek help. Reader is very much hierarchically lower than Sukuna who is her boss. And he takes advantage of this. He is not a good man. Sukuna is also older than reader by a bit. Reader does not say yes. Read at your own discretion.

This has been betad now. We die of cholera like normal people in the Victorian era or poverty or whatever. Many thanks to my beta reader @ominous-meme for all her help.

Ryomen Sukuna, forty-five, manager at the company, a well-known dictator among the employees – even ones not on his team – had his eye on you. The stupid blubbering intern who kept messing up and kept getting saved by her co-workers. Why, though? Why were these men and women so devoted to you? It was simple. You had enraptured them like a demon of lust straight from the second circle of hell.

He watched you now, eyes trailing up your smooth thighs to the pronounced curve of your ass; to your thick tummy; to your soft breasts just barely peeking out from the pale blue shirt you wore with its first two buttons undone. Around your neck, you wore a thin silver chain with a small gemstone that glinted in the light catching his eye. A gift from an employee – Gojo-kun. “For doing so well in your first month here, Intern-chan!” he had announced to the cubicle. Sukuna had rolled his eyes then, and he did so again now. It was clear that the blue topaz was a stupid way of him trying to claim you as his own. Geto and Ieiri liked bringing you little treats too – snacks from the vending machine, an “extra” coffee “accidentally” made. And Nanami… Sukuna scoffed to himself. The biggest simp. Always softly smiling at you, making sure you’re going for your lunch break, waiting with you till you finish up work. Effectively making sure that all the time you spent in the office, you interacted with Sukuna minimally.

It was infuriating. So now that he had gotten hold of a chance, there was no way in hell he wouldn’t let it go. Here you were, all alone in the office, working late on a project that he had strategically told you about only this morning, knowing that Nanami Kento’s watchful eye was on a work trip out of the office for the day...

He approached your little desk (littered with small notes of encouragement from your co-workers and your cute stationery) and scoffed at your hunched back seeing the Cinnamoroll and Kuromi pen and pencil alongside the Hello Kitty eraser. Hearing him, you turned around in your chair slowly, wary of what he might ask. “Sukuna-kachou, I’m working on the ta–”

“That’s not what I’m here for.” He cut you off brusquely. You waited for him to speak, anxiety slowly growing in your chest. If only Geto-senpai or Nanami-senpai were here, you thought. They might have acted as a buffer or if only just to calm you a little. “We should have a chat. Wrap up and come to my office please.”

This was it then, you mused. At least you weren’t going to be fired in an office full of people. It would just be you and him; everyone else having left for the weekend, probably enjoying themselves in clubs and bars; drinking and doing karaoke.

Saving the file you were working on, you packed up your things and headed to Sukuna Ryomen’s room. It was a nice spacious office, with a large desk and even a sofa set around a coffee table. Being on the thirteenth floor meant the large windows displayed the sprawling city in front of you, the lights scattered all around with none of the usual bustling city sounds.

Sukuna sat at his desk leaning back in his chair, his thick arms crossed behind his head, pushing up his hair. He indicated with a nod of his head for you to sit in the chair opposite; you did so, carefully trying to glean what it was going to be. A reprimand? A firing? Were you going to have to look for something new now? Your mind was running a hundred miles an hour thinking up all the possible scenarios you might have to face.

Your boss’ voice cut through your thoughts, “How long have you been working at this company now?”

“Sir? O-one month and a few days, sir.” You squeaked out a response.

“Hmmm…This is your first time working in such a big place isn’t it?”

You nodded, “It’s my first time working, sir.”

Sukuna felt his cock twitch. The softness in your voice, the innocence. He couldn’t wait to absolutely ruin you. He wanted to mould your cunt in the shape of his cock.

There was a lull in conversation. As clumsy as you were, you didn't want to lose this job.

You were about to tell him that you’d work harder when he suddenly spoke up. “You’ve improved a lot since you first came here, you know. But you still have a long way to go.” He paused as if he was thinking, then said, “I want you to do something for me.”

You nodded your head vigorously, thinking you'd do anything to save your position here; such a prestigious company with a good name and so much potential for growth.

“You see, I need to know that you’re dedicated to your work here.” You were so dedicated; you could show him! “I need to know you’re dedicated to me.” You would do anything to prove it! “I want you to get on your knees and suck my cock”

Anything…?

You spluttered, unable to form the words needed for an adequate response. “You want to keep this job don’t you?” he asked smoothly. Your head slowly nodded in response while your brain frantically tried to process the situation you were in. “Then get on your knees and show me just how dedicated you are, slut!”

Sukuna barked out the last word, startling you into getting out of your chair and going around his desk. You barely understood what you were doing, only that he had angled his chair as you walked around to him, to allow you the space to kneel before his crotch...and then you were dropping to your knees.

“Good girl.”

You watched as your trembling hands unzipped the black slacks, pushing the band of his boxers down. These small hands pulled out his cock from inside, the pink of your nail enamel reflecting your face – wan and blank with eyes wide, lips slightly parted. It was this that made you pause.

Sensing your hesitation Sukuna caressed your cheek – an uncharacteristically gentle touch that made you drop your guard – which was all the opportunity he needed to shove his cock into your mouth. The slight graze of your unsuspecting teeth made Sukuna hiss.

“Oi, watch yourself brat. Come on. I thought you wanted me to know how dedicated you are.”

You couldn’t help but open your mouth wider, pink glossy lips stretched around his thickness. Sukuna had thick veins running down the sides of his cock that you could feel against your tongue as you licked down.

A groan made you look up at the man through your lashes. You looked so young and soft. Sukuna felt himself twitch in your mouth. “Suck, brat. What are you looking at me for?” You dipped your head low, taking in as much of him as you could and felt him grab your ponytail.

If he wasn’t before, Sukuna was now completely under your spell. Your warm mouth wasn’t just sucking his cock, your hands weren’t simply wrapped around his thickness. You were milking him, for all he was worth, his lust, overpowering. For a moment he had to wonder if you were really human. That you weren’t in reality a succubus sent by Satan.

He used his grip on your hair to shove your head down along his cock. You couldn’t help but gag. “Ganbare ganbare…” The soft words of praise that fell from Sukuna’s lips came with a hidden warning that you couldn't help but heed. Do this well, Intern, your job is on the line.

You laid your tongue flat out and forced yourself to suck, pulling yourself off his cock with a pop! Then a kiss on his purplish head. You started licking up and down his length the way you’d seen so many times in porn. All those unrealistic situations had now come alive; here you were kneeling in between your boss’s legs and sucking his cock, taking him deep into your mouth while you played with his balls. The dark hair at the base of his dick tickled your nose and you resisted the urge to scratch it. Sukuna let you go at your pace for a while, let his cock explore the confines of your mouth as he watched your small head bob up and down in his lap.

But he was never known for his patience, so without warning, you found yourself deepthroating him as he thrust up into you. Head held down by both hands, Sukuna shoved his length down your throat, over and over with little regard for your whimpers. Tears streamed down your eyes while he abused your poor mouth. Your nails dug into his thighs but he barely noticed, lost in the bliss of how you felt.

“Come on, little girl. Take it! Take my fucking cock!”

Your jaw was starting to hurt now from the stretch. You found yourself thinking of your kind co-workers. What would they think if they saw you in this deplorable state? You never wanted to find out.

A jerk—-and Sukuna was cumming in your mouth. Bitter and acrid on your tongue, you almost spat it out, but Sukuna pushed himself deeper and growled, “Fucking swallow, brat! I don’t want to see a single drop wasted.”You forced yourself to swallow. The disgusting taste clung to your tongue, making you gag. Sukuna pulled you off his cock, to your feet, and onto his lap. One hand explored your body, while the other stroked your hair. “You did a good job, little intern. Perhaps we can see about getting you a more permanent position in the company now.”

The intern position isn’t good enough for you anymore. Sukuna thought to himself. Maybe you’d be better off as my personal assistant…

Masterlist

#anonimuswritings #anonimusunnoan #jjk #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna #dubcon #fanfiction #FICTION #NOT REAL #SUKUNA IS NOT GOOD #bad #bad man #walking red flag

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redeyerhaenyra · 1 year ago

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Bondage in the hearts of men

Summary: After a night of drinking, you accuse John of being unfaithful, and punish him.

Warnings: Smut, bondage (John is tied to the bed), dom/sub dynamics, fem reader, fem masturbation, reader leaves John with blue balls, a teeny tiny wee bit of cbt if you squint, ye olde language, no beta we die, let me know if I missed anything!

Notes: I know we all hate the blue contacts so I've specifically written this bratty Prince to have beautiful brown eyes✨️

Wc: 1.1k

His eyes blinked open, squinting in the morning sun, and he groaned. John's thoughts wandered back to previous night.

Oh... wine and women galore, what fun. If only you had been there... Oh well. He'd find you today and fuck you to make up for your absence last night, despite his oncoming bottle-ache. He moved to brush his curls out of face, only to find his arm did not move. He tried again, and again it did not move. John turned his head, to discover both his wrists had been tied to the bedposts. He tried to move his legs- they had been tied down too. A little panic rose within him, but sizzled out upon realising you, were sat at the opposite end of the bed.

He giggled, still half drunk. You admired the image before you, your Prince tied to his luxurious silken bed, naked apart from stray blankets that covered his groin.

"Good morning." "It's the afternoon." "Oh". John groaned again, "Well, I've never claimed to be an early riser."

You hummed. He licked his lips, and nodded to his restrained wrists; "You've tied me up?" "I have."

He laughed again. "Funny, come on now, release me."

Silence passed between you both, and you did not move, staring him down. He furrowed his brow, "Release me." He tugged on the restraints, now finding he could not break them with brute strength alone. His aura grew whiny, pathetic, his voice went up in pitch. "Release me-!"

You stood up, as if to walk away, he cried out- "-My love!!" "Your love???" You questioned harshly, John whimpered under your glare. "..Yes?"

"That is not what I heard last night." Like a tiger, you stalked your way around the bed. John shivered. "Last night?" "Last night yes. I heard the commotion, I heard you with your whores." You reached over to roughly dig your nails into his cheeks, squishing his mouth together into a pount. He groaned.

"Have you nothing to say?" "Mmf-" You relinquished your grip, he moaned at you. Simpering brat. "Mmmmm, dearest mine, I confess there were many a woman of the night in my company, but I touched not a one of them, "I don't believe you." "Ohhhh I did not! Mayhaps before I had known you I would have, but now?" John grinned up at you. "I can not lie, my sword will only rise for you."

He winked at you, and you scowled. "Come now, I know you like it." "What, that you can't get it up without me?" "Yes," he breathed hoarsely, grinning once again. You moved now to kneel next to where he lay, whispering in his ear;

"Mayhaps I do, even if you are so wanton as to rise even now-" You traveled you hand down his chest as you spoke, down, down, until it was hovering over the tent in the blankets, right where his cock would be. Taking your index finger and thumb, you carefully caressed the head, giving John the false sense of pleasure, before you snatched it away by squeezing your two fingers together tight around his cock.

He threw his head back and moaned. A pathetic display. You held that position for a few agonising minutes- if you squinted you might have been able to spy tears beginning to form in his eyes. Until finally, you let go. He huffed, cheeks flustered, leaning up to kiss at your neck, mumbling about how much he adored you.

You got up, away from his touches, and he whined impatiently.

"Daaarliiinnngg-!" "Cease." The bastard pouted at you, but seemed to forget his annoyance upon seeing you now straddle him, and pull your skirts up. John licked his lips. Your fingers danced at the hem of your bodice- John was pouting again.

"Please." "Hm?" "My love.." "If you do not speak, I will know not what is you crave." You locked eyes with him, gaze firey with lust;

"Your heavenly bosom, let me see, please," Laughing a little at his description, you opted to allow him one small victory, pulling your dress down just below your tits, making a show of it. Pushing your breasts together and rubbing your nipples just out of his reach. His hands clenched, desperate to touch you.

"You are a cruel mistress." "Am I?" "Yes! Taunting me with such a godly vision-" The prince's complaints were cut short, as he spied your hand travel down from your chest to your core, diving under your skirts out of sight. He whined again, thrusting his hips up so that he might gain pleasure from friction- but you saw it coming, and lifted your hips up further than he could reach, earning you another brazen sob from him.

He looked up at you mournfully, as you fell silent, so as to make sure he heard loud and clear the wet squelching of your cunt, as you played with yourself right on top of him. Your head fell back, and you sighed, as you sunk ever deeper into the fells of pleasure.

Then, he smiled at you, almost hopefully; "Ride my face?" It was meant to sound like an offer, despite really being a plea. Your voice was a little stuttered, "No." "No???" "No." "Why not???" "I will not give you the satisfaction." John mewled in despair- you saw through him so well.

Now, it seemed, until you reached your peak, John would be left to sit and watch, sorrowful that he could not join in. You did your best to draw it out, though you could not keep yourself from climaxing for long. It came in waves, soft and warm, rolling like desert dunes inside of you. John watched the ruffling beneath your skirt with a fixed, steely gaze, his brown eyes strangely soft, and unsuccessfully resisting the urge to coo at you as you came down from the high of orgasm.

Phew. The torture was over. You would untie him and he would plunge his length deep inside you until the both of you passed out. Or... that's what John expected. After a few moments to gather yourself, you moved to dismount him.

His shit-eating grin fell when he realised you weren't moving to untie him, you were pulling your dress back together and walking away.

"My love???" "What?" You turned back to him, feigning confusion. A beat of silence, and John realised you planned to leave him there.

"Release me!!!" He yowled out, high pitched like a hungry cat. You turned forwards again, each step you took away from him earned you a threat from him;

"When I am free I am going to tear your clothes off and fuck you till you can no longer beg me to stop!! Till you peak so hard you piss yourself, do you hear me?!? I will ruin you!!!!"

You paid no mind to his threats- they all sounded quite fun anyway. Besides, it was hilarious to hear him still wailing after you even as you were halfway down the hall.

What must the servants think of him?

#prince john #prince john x reader #prince john smut #oscar isaac prince john #robin hood prince john #smut #oscar isaac smut

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drelldreams · 2 years ago

Text

Since Miranda could think, she had a set purpose in life. As a child, and for most of her teenage years, Miranda had been under strict control of her father Henry Lawson, giving everything to live up to his unrealistic, evergrowing expectations. To be the perfect daughter, a faultless example of a human being.

Nearly everything she did was not by her own choice. Nearly everything was something her father demanded her to do, and even the things she choose to do, required her father’s approval. The most minute of freedom Henry seemed to grant her had been nothing but a mere illusion of such freedom; little exceptions and luxuries he would grant her so he could take them away later to use them against her.

After finding herself free from his control, Miranda Lawson joined the pro human organization Cerberus, but she hadn‘t been really free under their employ, either. She liked to think so; but after twenty years of working for them, she had finally seen Cerberus for what it truly was, leaving the organization on her final mission against the Collectors.

Ever since then, her life had been thrown upside down. It felt as if Miranda had wasted twenty years of her life. To know that the organization she had been working for her entire adult life, had also been working with her father all along, to know that Jack had been right, that perhaps the Illusive Man was aware of the horrific experiments that were done on children at the Teltin facility — it sent her spiraling into a chaos of self-doubt and despair.

Once again, she had been nothing but a pawn. A tool. The Illusive Man proved to be no different from Henry Lawson - once Miranda announced her resignation, he began to send assassins for her, even after everything she had achieved so far. It didn‘t matter. Just like Henry Lawson hadn‘t cared how much she fought to please him; only for him to eventually choose to replace her.

But now? Now the Illusive Man was dead. The Reaper War was over, the Relays were repaired. For the first time in her life, Miranda was truly free.

Yet, Miranda had never felt this helpless. She was a master when it came to problem solving; it was written in her very DNA. Miranda Lawson liked to claim there wasn‘t a problem she couldn‘t fix. She had done the impossible and brought Shepard back from the dead, after all. Was there any bigger proof to sustain the claim?

But figuring out who she was? After thirty six years of living to prove she was „perfect“, Miranda had absolutely no clue how to be normal.

She knew exactly she could do any job she wanted, in theory. But was there something that could make her genuinely happy?

She was a brilliant scientist, but she could not bring herself to consider the idea of going back into genetics for the faintest bit.

That was a path she had decided to no longer follow; as it was something that reminded her too much of her father. No matter how much other people disliked the idea, telling her to make use of her intelligence.

Miranda didn‘t want this to be about making use of her fancy genes, for once. She wanted to find something she was passionate about.

Just like Oriana did.

It took her a lot of patience to not immediately write anything off that she wasn‘t perfect at. Oriana had introduced her to a multitude of what she promised were „fun things“, but Miranda found herself frustrated quickly with most of those activities. Even after twenty years, there still lingered the voice of Henry inside her, criticizing everything she attempted.

It isn‘t about performance, Oriana told her. It’s about fun. They‘d tried everything Oriana could think of, for the whole summer, things Miranda was never allowed to do when she was a teenager, or that she had been conditioned to think were a waste of time. She soon started to find some.. peace in doing mundane things, and Miranda didn‘t even feel bad when her cookies turned out to taste a little bit too much like flour.

They‘ve even visited an amusement park. Miranda had to admit, that day proved to be one of the happiest memories of her life. Not just because Oriana was there. That was a big aspect - that she was there with her sister, the person in the galaxy she loved most. That she saw Oriana being happy. No doubt that seeing Oriana happy alone made Miranda happy.

But finally, she felt a sense of normalcy, even if she wasn‘t sure if going to amusement parks was really her thing.

And soon, Miranda had agreed to Oriana‘s idea of joining college. Part of her felt anxious about the whole thing. Her, Miranda Lawson, being anxious about going to college, was never something she ever would have expected. The thought of her having such a.. normal experience made her scoff. Oriana had found it amusing that Miranda, ex-Cerberus Agent, who had helped defeat both the Collectors and the Reapers, was nervous about going to college.

Miranda was an undecided major. Just.. dabbling in everything. She tried out all sorts of classes. Things she would never have considered. But Oriana, well, she was very persuasive. She could sweet talk Miranda onto a lot of things, and Miranda didn‘t even see it as a weakness. Not with Oriana.

Creative writing. Photography. Ethnology. Fashion Design. Miranda tried all of those, and much to her surprise, she found herself enjoying photography and ethnology most. It was no surprise that Miranda had gifted Oriana a photo album for her birthday, full of photos she had taken during all the time they‘d spent together.

After a year of attending college, Miranda decided to pick ethnology for her major. Maybe it was all the time she had spent on the Normandy that led her to making this decision.

Asari culture was always something she thought humans could learn from, even if she found some asari could be quite arrogant.

And Miranda had found herself fascinated by the diversity of the Normandy‘s squad - so many people of completely different species and backgrounds, but somehow Shepard made it possible to make a team out of them that could defeat the Collectors and the Reapers.

She‘s never met so many.. colorful individuals in one place before. During her time on the ship, Miranda had changed drastically. In large parts thanks to Shepard; who saw through her icy exterior and didn‘t write her off as just some bitch; who believed that there was a person underneath (and was proven right).

In other parts.. It was speaking to a member of a race with eidetic memory, who was given to the hanar in order to be trained as an assassin; like many of his species are.

It was speaking to an old salarian genius who went from modifying the genophage to developing a cure. It was getting to know a young, loyal krogan with a kind heart and something about him that made even a krogan seem adorable. (Though Miranda wouldn‘t admit that to his face, ever). Who was struggling with the way he was created, just as she was.

Miranda thought that this is what the galaxy could need. More understanding between people; between different species.

Her whole adult life, she had dedicated her life towards human advancement; even if the methods were ruthless. But now? She was, as Oriana called it, being a „total geek“ and studying alien culture.

#no beta we die like men and women #miranda lawson #drabble #fic #my writing #miranda lawson headcanon #headcanon #oriana lawson #oriana & miranda

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animereaderinsertwriter · 2 years ago

Text

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: bakugou x fem!reader, mdni, smut, group sex, almost crack treated seriously? whatever it's goofy and funny and lewd and doesn't take anything seriously at all so there's that, no beta we die like men

Final Word Count: 3k

Plot summary: Dynamight's agency has a reputation that they earn only once a year- and this year, you're invited!

Excerpt:

They called it the Love Shack.

You’d heard Mina talk about it forever and ever— this magical, midsummer day of sex and scandal— but never with any names, and never in any kind of detail. It was like a lewd fairy tale that your best friend told you at sleepovers to pass the time. It was a fun, juicy little piece of gossip, a part of Mina that you got to keep all to yourself.

Until, one day, she asked you if you’d want to come with her.

(No pun intended).

There were… rumors about pro-hero Dynamight’s agency.

The ominous, omnipotent they said that there were wild parties at Mina Ashido’s place on every second Friday of the week— nothing illegal, sure, but plenty immoral, with everyone drunk and half-dressed and writhing—

Ahem. Right.

Other theys said that Red Riot was having an affair on his wife with his best friend, Dynamight; still others claimed the same of Pinky and Cellophane when Ejirou and Mina’s baby came out with a shock of black hair (nevermind the numerous brands of red hair dye that Red Riot publicly reviewed when he used them to cover up his own naturally jet-black hair). If a body looked hard enough, they might even find tabloid articles about Chargebolt’s drinking problem, Hitoshi Shinsou’s secret life as a rentboy, and Earphone Jack’s moonlight job as a dominatrix. No matter how you sliced it, there was one thing that all the theys agreed on:

As far as the public was concerned, Ground Zero was one giant den of depravity.

Why the theys thought this, it is generally unclear— though it was nonetheless true, if only for one day out of the year. For three hundred and sixty-four days out of the year, the members of Ground Zero behaved impeccably, navigating the world of pro-hero fame with dignity, grace, and humility; as far as anyone could prove, they were all perfectly normal. On the one day of the year that they were not well-behaved, well, no one else was around to see it. They traveled long and far to ensure that fact.

At least, that was the way it was supposed to be. Why the damn fools wanted to change that, Bakugou had no idea.

“It’s because you never participate,” Mina told him one evening, her hand gliding through her husband’s soft hair. “We feel like you’re left out.”

“I do participate,” he huffed, his infernal cheeks burning at just the thought. “Just— by myself.”

That is to say, he liked to watch. The idea of being touched by someone other than himself— by his friends— was entirely too much. There was a certain power in touch of that kind. Bakugou wasn’t interested in giving that up, not even to the men and women he trusted with his life.

“That’s exactly it,” she told him, and Enjirou groaned as she scratched his scalp. “It’s not that any of us mind, but you look— you always look pained. And lonely. Would it be so bad to find somebody you could play with while we’re all… indisposed?”

Bakugou tried not to think of those times. If he did, he’d pop a stiffy right here in the middle of the Kirishima family living room.

“I’m fine like it always is— I don’t see why anything has to change, Mina. Really, just leave it.”

Mina frowned. Perfectly in sync with his wife, Ejirou shifted to look up at Bakugou with dark, pleading eyes.

“C’mon, man,” he said, that reflective gaze piercing Bakugou’s very heart. “Would you be okay with us just looking for someone for you? It won’t need to go any farther than that if you don’t want it to.”

It was a stupid idea. It was monumentally idiodic to even consider saying yes— but Bakugou never could deny his best friend anything.

“It’s three weeks until June,” he said, relenting. “You have until then.”

Mina beamed, and Ejirou gave him a soft smile that made Bakugou feel a little sick and squishy inside.

“Thanks, bro,” Ejirou told him, patting his thigh with a large, warm hand. “You won’t be disappointed.”

Bakugou wasn’t sure about all that. He was beginning to think he might be in some trouble.

***

They called it the Love Shack.

Until, one day, she asked you if you’d want to come with her.

(No pun intended).

“And do what?” you laughed. “I’d like to be a fly on the wall, sure, but my tastes run a little more monogamous than that.”

“Well,” said Mina, leaning in conspiratorially as though the both of you weren’t cuddling on her bed while her husband rubbed her feet, “We have a friend who also likes to watch, if you know what I mean. He just— needs something a little… less than the group stuff. He sits in the corner by himself and fucks his hand until he’s nearly raw with it, but keeps on going because he’s just so…”

Mina trailed off, her eyes glazing over as she remembered some unspoken memory. After a moment, she shook her head and snapped out of it.

“He sounds kinda like a loser,” you admitted, cracking a grin.

Mina laughed, and Ejirou chuckled right along with her.

“If only he could hear you now,” Ejirou laughed. “He’d either die of shame or implode the building.”

You frowned.

“You’re not building a convincing case for him, Kirishima-kun.”

Mina rolled her eyes.

“Look, you said you’re in a dry spell?” she asked, and you nodded. “This guy will pop you like a fucking glowstick as many times as you want. He’s freaky good at sex.”

“And how would you know?” you demanded, shoving her lightly. “Apparently he won’t come within three feet of you!”

Things got awfully quiet, and Ejirou Kirishima’s face turned as red as his hair.

“No,” you laughed, but when no one denied it, your jaw went slack. “No!”

“Yes,” Mina replied, poorly stifling a laugh.

Ejirou hid his face in his hands.

“Guys, please,” he begged, but there was no way you were letting him go that easily.

“Oh no no, you’re not getting out of this,” you laughed. “Who is this mystery guy, and how do you know what he’s like in bed?”

“We went to U.A. together,” said Mina, patting her poor husband’s hand. “They had a whirlwind romance senior year, fucked like rabbits the whole time until he finally broke it off because they really, really were better off as friends. Otherwise, it got… obsessive. On both sides.”

You were burning with curiosity.

“Who? Who was it, Mina-chan?”

“You gotta give your answer first,” said Ejirou, propping up on his elbow. “Will you or won’t you?”

Oh, who were you kidding? You were fucking horny all the time, and besides, the suspense was killing you!

“Of course I’ll go—now tell me who it is!”

Mina smirked.

“Katsuki Bakugou.”

You nearly fell off the bed.

“Why the fuck didn’t you lead with that, Mina?”

Your heart was racing. That evil, wicked, acid-slinging she-witch knew you’d had the biggest crush on him forever! Dynamight was the hottest pro-hero working, damn it— you'd have agreed immediately if she'd told you!

“Because you needed to know he’s a loser!” she insisted. “Because he is a loser! A big one, that needs you to keep him from killing himself via orgasm!”

“Mina!”

“What? It’s the truth!”

“Mina!”

And that was how you ended up like this.

The room was cozy, complete with soft vintage furniture and colorful afghans. Somehow, the entire party had managed to fit comfortably into the living room of the quaint, countryside cabin, and you watched on in awe and wonder as everyone kissed and touched and let their instincts lead them as they went.

"Can I touch you, Bakugou-san?" you asked, entranced.

Bakugou, who was currently the color of a freshly-picked cherry, wouldn't even look at you. You tried not to take it personally when he replied in the negative.

All around you, Bakugou's friends were in various states of undress. Hitoshi Shinsou was kissing Mina with a hand up her shirt as Denki Kaminari rubbed his long, bobbing cock against Hitoshi's boxer-clad ass. Ejirou's eyes were closed as Sero Hanta helped him out of his shirt, and Kyoka Jirou was fiddling with the buttons on Sero's ridiculously tight pants. They were all ridiculously, unfairly beautiful— and, unlike Bakugou, they were all sneaking nosy looks at you, curious and perhaps a bit hungry.

In hindsight, it would have been a better idea for you and Bakugou to start alone together in a separate room. That would have allowed the two of you to get to know each other more intimately in a private setting, and surely it would have made him more comfortable, wouldn't it? Well, maybe that would have made it worse. You certainly couldn't imagine trying to take your clothes off in front of him if he was just as unresponsive then as he was now.

Now, though, there were other folks watching— and you didn't see a reason to deprive them of a show.

Slowly, you removed the silky dress separating your itchy, awful lingerie from the open air. Grinning at Mina, who was currently in the process of bending over a couch cushion, you unhooked the clasp of your black lacy bra, baring your breasts to the chill of the room.

"Mira," Sero murmured to Jirou, his eyes fixed on newly-revealed flesh. "Isn't she beautiful?"

Jirou grinned, her eyes shadowed with a thin veil of appreciation.

"She is. If you don't want her, Katsuki, we'll take her— no harm, no foul."

Your cheeks glowed at the compliment, heart racing at the thought.

"Back off," Bakugou snapped. "You fuckers picked her out for me, didn't you?"

Still, he made no move to touch you— but his eyes were now yours, for better or for worse.

"That's right," you agree, voice soothing and even as you smile at him. "I'm afraid I'm reserved for the day."

And just like that, Bakugou turned away, as though ashamed.

This would not do.

Projecting confidence you did not feel, you moved from your spot on the loveseat and onto the floor in front of Bakugou, kneeling sweetly. Crimson eyes watched you, guarded, wary; you placed a hand on top of his, testing the waters, and he allowed you to take it. Gently, you placed the callused palm of it on your cheek. It was warm and a little sweaty against your flesh, and heavy where you held it.

“You have big hands,” you noted, turning slightly to press a kiss to his wrist. “They’re very pretty, too.”

Bakugou grunted, but did not pull away. Allowed this far, you decided to push for more; you pulled away, then pressed kisses to the pads of his fingers, allowing him to become acclimated to your touch. When he still did not resist, you figured it was all or nothing— you wrapped your lips around a long, thick digit and sucked it into your mouth, simulating oral.

“Fuck,” he swore, and you knew you had him.

Slowly, you pulled off of his finger with a wet pop. The next thing you knew, his mouth was on yours, the smoky scent of his aftershave enveloping you. Big hands caged your face, holding you still; surprisingly soft lips nudged against your own, and the moment was so tender that you nearly lost yourself in it, forgetting momentarily the larger context of what they were there to do.

A rowdy wolf-whistle made sure that didn’t last, though.

Distracted, you turned to grin at Kaminari— doubtless the guilty wolf-whistler— but sudden pain burned in the form of fingerprints on your jaw, turning your gaze back to meet Bakugou’s.

“Eyes up here, sweetheart.”

You shivered.

“Yes sir,” you replied, allowing yourself a small smile, and Bakugou grinned in return.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

What came next was more than you had expected. With pro-hero strength, Bakugou lifted you bodily from the floor and sat you on his lap, your knees on either side of his hips. His sweats were soft against your skin, but there was little time to process anything else before his mouth was on your tits, tongue dragging across a peaked nipple. Startled, you moaned, and a large, warm hand squeezed at your hip, pulling you down to feel the hardness growing in his pants. The length of him brushed against your sex as you started grinding, encouraging his erection; the stimulation was muted but perfect as he played with your tits, leaving his mark across bare flesh with lips and tongue and teeth.

"So fucking pretty," he murmured against your flesh, his breath hot and his hands heavy. "I want to fuck you."

"That is what we're here for," you teased, but all laughter left as the thong you were wearing ripped beneath his hands, falling uselessly from your hips.

"Turn around. I want you to watch them with me while I get you off."

You turned your head over your shoulder, following Bakugou's gaze. Mina was spread-eagle on the couch, watching you from upside-down as Shinsou ate her out. Somewhat strangely, his eyes were on you as well. This became something of a trend; you and Bakugou, it seemed, had the attention of the entire room.

"Yeah," you agreed, dismounting his legs in order to turn around. "Yeah, I like that."

When you returned to your seat, facing the rest of the room, Bakugou's thighs were bare. The soft down of his hair tickled the backs of your thighs, which might have made you laugh if something warm and large hadn't brushed your entrance, forcing you to catch your breath. A hand moved to your hip, squeezing the fat of it, and then Bakugou was pushing inside you, filling you with length and girth that you wouldn't previously have credited him with. You felt… fuller than you had expected to be, and the sensation left you moaning at the penetration.

"Mm, fuck yeah," he growled, his lips close to your neck, raising the small hairs there. "Moan for me, baby."

There was a noise behind you, and then damp fingers snuck around your waist and then between your legs, searching for your pleasure. His thick middle finger circled your clit, and almost involuntary, your hips bucked, shifting the long, hard cock inside you at a different angle. You moved again, chasing that feeling, and soon you were riding Bakugou in earnest, fucking yourself on his cock.

In front of you, Ejirou was slowly stretching Sero"s ass, murmuring praise with a smile like sunshine. Sero, whose cock was in Jirou's mouth, made eye contact with you and winked, speaking fragments of Spanish that you couldn't decipher. Across the way, Mina was being spit roasted by Shinsou and Kaminari, who were sucking on each other's tongues as they took their pleasure from her. The whole scene was graphic and lewd and terrible and wonderful, and you couldn't think of anything that was quite so terrific when Bakugou managed to exceed your expectations, prying his lips away from your neck long enough to say,

"Fuck yeah, princess, you're so fucking hot. Lean back, lean back— I'm gonna hold you up and fuck you hard."

Before you could protest, he manhandled you backwards, crushing you against his still-clothed chest. He made good on his promise of fucking you hard— his hips rutted up into yours with strength and purpose, filling you up and stretching you out, forcing himself further inside with every thrust. His finger on your clit was relentless; it was all you could do just to breathe and tremble and shake and take all he had to give.

"You close?" he grunted, never slowing.

"Yeah," you confessed, almost embarrassed by it. "Yeah, m'really close."

"Good." Relief was evident in his voice. "Me too."

In the space of a few strokes more, you found your peak. With Bakugou groaning in your ear, you came hard and fast, your orgasm crashing over your head with the force of a falling oak. Bakugou, not far behind, actually lifted you up and off of his cock before he came, spilling hot seed over both your thighs. Really, it was ridiculous how much he came; looking at the volume he spilled, you almost wanted to feel it inside of you.

In the afterglow, Bakugou was still a beast. Seemingly unbothered by the strength he'd had to exert in the last few minutes, he shifted you bodily until your back was against the loveseat and he was above you, straddling your thighs and kissing your mouth with the hunger of a starving panther. His cock, long and heavy even soft, twitched as you moved your hands up his thighs and to the curve where his hips met his back.

"I want to suck you off," you told him, filterless as you thought of his big, heavy-looking balls in your mouth. "Wanna feel you get hard in my mouth."

"In a minute," he said, taking his shirt off, expression tender "I want to enjoy you for a little while more."

This part— the ravenous hunger followed by strange softness— found you woefully unprepared. Your heart pounded as his hands grew gentle, touching you like a lover would; how could you ever have prepared for such sweet exploration? Even his kisses had lost their bite, and were now soothing and something more than they'd been before.

All around you, the others were reaching their own climaxes. Moans echoed throughout the cabin, but in the here and now, all of that seemed distant, fading. All of a sudden, you were intensely glad that Mina had asked you to come here, to experience this with them— but you were especially glad that it was just you and Bakugou, separate from the rest of them as he gave you his kindness and attention as well as his passion.

Really, you thought as Bakugou lowered his head between your legs, you wouldn't have it any other way.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x y/n #mha x reader #mha smut #mha headcanons #bnha smut #bnha headcanons

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 6 months ago

Text

Title: Endearment

Rating: Gen

Pairing: Gabriel x gn!Reader (2nd POV)

Warning: slight description of nightmare but vague.

A/N: I went down a Gabriel rabbit hole and got inspired. No beta we die like spn women. 🤣 Fluffiness. Dedication. Gabriel.

Want more? Please let me know! I would love to hear from you. Thank you. 💛🩶

Waking up in the dark with a body that’s not much taller than yours surprisingly except it was incredibly heavier than expected. When you move, you feel the softest thing on you. You look and it’s a fucking wing, giant golden wings. Your mouth gapes open.

Unknowingly to you, Gabriel has not moved and remains relaxed but his eyes are open and his angelic senses are very much aware of you. He inwardly chuckles and preens at your reaction to his wings.

You slowly turn, shifting slightly to not disturb the wings as much as possible, to see who is cuddling you. “Gabriel?!” You stage whisper, seeing his golden yellow eyes watch you. He smiles softly at you.

“Hey, Sweet pea,” Gabriel quietly greets.

“Why are you in my bed?” You looked down at yourself and felt you were still in your PJs so you didn’t get up and do something stupid. You quirk a questioning brow at him.

“You prayed to me in your sleep,” he stage-whispers back.

You open your mouth to deny it, and then your eyes down towards Gabe’s wing without seeing them. You think about your nightmare, men doing indescribable things to you that make you scream in pain but you don’t remember what you said. It somehow turned good when Gabriel showed up in all his angelic glory and amazing battle armor with his wings out to defeat the bad men hurting you.

“I prayed to you?” You ask him.

He nods.

You roll fully over and get as close as you can to him. Suddenly, you realize he is shirtless and in boxers or shorts, you’re not sure. The heat crawls up your face to your ears.

Gabriel smiles. “I love it when you blush. Your freckles pop.”

This causes you to warm further knowing your face darkens.

“Hey,” he says, gently. “I told you. You call me, I’ll come running as fast as I can. I said I’d be here for you. I am.” He pauses. “I know I can’t be here all the time but I’m trying.”

You grin at his words and move to scoot up to be face-to-face with him.

“Hey, lovely.”

“Hey, flowers.”

Your nickname for him since his eyes match so many yellow flowers. Depending on his mood, the tone changes.

He rolls his eyes and you can’t see it but know he did. You know him pretty well.

“Thank you,” you say barely above a whisper.

“Always.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you lean forward and lightly rub your nose against his with a small smile on your lips. He returns the nose rub in kind.

“Come ‘ere, pumpkin.” He wraps his arms around you, pulling you down then against him, so you can put your ear on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

“I’m not a pu’kin,” you mumble against him.

“Right, no gords. Check. What about puddin’?”

You sleepily giggle at ‘puddin’’, shaking your head.

“No desserts. Hmm.” He kisses your head and lays his cheek on your head.

“I like honey or, um, sweets.”

“Anything else?”

You press your lips together not wanting to tell him your favorite since you’re embarrassed. You shift up a little, putting your head on his shoulder.

“I can hear your thoughts, you know.”

“That’s cheatin’,” you mumble against his neck.

He grins and chuckles. He lays his cheek on yours. You can feel the smile on his lips as he says it into your ear. You hide a small shiver that runs down your spine, and then he says in your favorite language with a shiver you can’t cover up.

You bite your lower lip and place an awkward, small kiss below his ear as confirmation.

He chuckles, deeply. So much so that you can feel the vibrations in his chest. It’s comforting to hear and feel him talk.

“Are ya stayin’?”

“For as long as I can, Y/N.”

You hum your approval and move down slightly to cuddle against his chest again. “Your wings are soft”

Gabriel hums approvingly with a slight flutter from his wing.

#supernatural #archangel Gabriel x reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #spn #wings #elle em bee #fluff schmoop #endearment

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kiwi-solace · 2 years ago

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Yandere!Ateez: How You Meet (Pairs)

Warnings: pussy eating, *cough* eiffel tower *cough*, unprotected sex, creampie, yandere themes: obsession, implied stalking and legit stalking for now, dubious consent. If this isn’t your cup of tea, then kindly skip.

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: Soooo February is coming up and even though I have not written in so long (college and other stuff) I wanna get back into it. Plus I am lacking in yandere content (my guilty pleasure) so I decided fuck it I’ll do it myself lol. Plus y’all can’t tell me you don’t find yandere!ateez fun. BUT, I have to layout the groundwork first from the beginning before diving on into their profiles. I did not mean for San and Wooyoung’s to end up as a straight up smut. I haven’t written smut since like 2017 so that was a shock lmao. No beta read we die like men 👀

♡ THIS IS NOT A REAL REFLECTION OF THEM IN LIFE ♡

♡ Hongjoong - Seonghwa ♡

Order, Dilligence

Every few months, you like to dress in your best evening gown and treat yourself to the city's best operas. Normally these places are out of your price range, but your college had managed a deal with the opera house with its prestigious drama department. However, you don’t go unless you feel you’ve earned it by successfully passing a critique, surviving midterms or finals, and other things of the sorts. Just last week you finished by not only surviving your finals week, but passing with flying colors that included your critiques for pieces that made you feel passion you hadn’t felt in a long time. Why not let that passion grow by watching a show stopping performance practiced and perfected by performers out of your league in expertise? It’s a chance to finally relax and enjoy the arts surrounding you.

You know it’s common for the wealthy to appear at the opera house on a regular basis, which gave you a lovely excuse to buy an elegant gown, but you knew to stay out of the way for the most part. The last thing you wanted was to get on the wrong side of some celebrity or accidentally offend someone’s future CEO. On the other hand, this was a great opportunity to grow your network and make connections that would help you out in the near future and you will one day–you just haven’t worked up the courage to do so. That didn’t stop you from random conversations during intermissions and finalies on occasion, which brings you to your current situation. It’s unfortunate you know the celebrity that you caught the attention of would only cause trouble rather than provide any future positive aspects into your life. Little did you know during this interaction two stark personalities were watching you closely from the private balconies.

“I appreciate the kind words Jinyoung, but I believe there are far better prospects in this room than just me.”

“Nonsense. Nothing could be better than your divine presence. I should be thanking you for letting me be this close,” he smirks as he leans in closer, arm snaking behind your back. You can feel the stares this is garnering and the malice of envious women are even louder. You start to shuffle away in an effort to get away from his grasp, but his grip only tightens at the movement making you fall stiff in the denial of your efforts. “Trying to get away doll?”

You really want to roll your eyes at that. “I just think it’d be more appropriate for the setting if we were not so close to each other. I do not want to ruin your reputation.” You could care less. What you do care about, is the amount of attention you’re earning yourself instead of staying the invisible nobody you believed you were. It’s nice to pretend once in a while and act like you are desired by such high profile people, though you actively avoid trouble as you’d not like to be on the receiving end of hate campaigns online or in person. “I appreciate the consideration, but I can’t let such a person leave me now,” he purrs. In that moment, you spot a glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before making you freeze in place before you could comprehend what was happening. It seemed like everything stopped around you, including your own body against your will. As panic begins to settle in, two figures approach behind you and one of them places a hand on your shoulder, making you jolt in place.

If you weren’t in such a public setting, you’d be freaking out at Jinyoung, wondering what the hell just happened to you. You’re cursing him in your head as the fear that rose starts to turn into anger when a voice from behind you brings you back to the situation at hand. “Who’s this lovely lady Jinyoung?” a deep voice says. You shift your body to face the mysterious speaker only to come face to face with the city’s most prestigious CEOs and high society couple–Park Seonghwa and Kim Hongjoong.

Your eyes widen as you acknowledge their presence and politely bow to them. “A lady with manners is always a plus in my book,” Seonghwa states as he gives you a quick once over then turning his attention to the now silently glaring Jinyoung. “I’m sure you won’t mind us stealing her from you now would you Jinyoung?” Hongjoong questions, but anyone watching could tell it was rhetorical. You don’t know why you willingly looped your arm around Seonghwa’s arm as you made eye contact. You don’t know why everyone seemed to be looking away as they moved out of your way when the three of you walked towards the exit. You don’t know why you willingly got into their limo, squeezed between the both of them even when there was ample space to spread out. Your mind felt empty. Nothing was being comprehended besides bits and pieces of conversation between the two of them and sometimes aimed at you.

“Just let us lead you doll, we’ll take care of you,” Hongjoong cooed as he hooks his arm around your lower back. “You were right on coming tonight Seonghwa. It seems like others have become just as intoxicated with her as us.”

“When am I ever wrong dear?” He smirks. “But this little stunt will bring some unwanted press unfortunately…we should also do something about Jinyoung touching what’s ours,” he scowls.

“Nothing we haven’t taken care of before. You know the drill by now,” Hongjoong’s eyes gaining that similar glint before he steels his face as they approach their limo waiting for them.

“Ah~ our love is finally with us darling,” Seonghwa purred as he tucked his face in the crook of your neck and took a deep breath. “Even with all the years of life we had, she’s the most intoxicating I’ve ever been connected to…besides you love.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Hongjoong laughs as he mirrors Seonghwa, dragging his unusually sharp teeth along your neck. Had you been in a better conscious state, you would’ve pulled away from the both of them. None of this was making sense. You felt trapped in your own body, thrown into the lion’s den in their presence as the driver began the journey to god knows where.

“W-where…” you attempt to speak, but it’s taking much more energy than you can expel at the moment. An intense wave of exhaustion washing over you just from that one word.

“Oh. Our love really is meant for us. No one is able to even utter a word when compelled by you Seonghwa~” Hongjoong teases before leaving a light peck in the crook of your neck and sitting up. “But this better not be a sneak peak of future disobedience,” he sighs. “So troublesome.”

Seonghwa laughs a little as he also sits up and rests his hand on your thigh. “She’ll be the perfect little pet in no time even if she did Joongie. She is our soulmate after all. She’s the missing piece to us.” He pauses to turn your head towards him, a smile gracing his face as his eyes begin to glow an ominous red. “You can rest (y/n), we’re finally taking you home where you belong with us.”

And with that final command, you lean into him and fall into a deep slumber.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

♡ Yeosang - Jongho ♡

Service, Attentive

Had you known you would be catering your kingdom’s royal anniversary party you’d think someone was playing a prank on you. In fact, you still think it’s all a dream as you and your team bring in the large order of pastries into the kitchen to be inspected and set up in the ballroom for the kingdom’s kings to celebrate their anniversary of taking the throne a millennia ago. You weren’t alive when they first began their rule, only being a young enough witch, your kind isn’t really known for their longevity in age unlike other supernatural beings in the world. It really all depends on the class and path your magic chooses. You had known since young that you weren’t cut out for the more offensive or combat driven magic. Enjoying helping others, you learned that you could pair spells into objects including food to be digested for the masses. After years of training and perfecting your technique, you finally opened your own modest bakery that sold pastries based on health, luck, and fortune. Each category had varying effects, but your strongest spells were the ones in health, including longevity and especially disease ridding spells. It had become the talk of your small seaside town that had spread through the kingdom within a few years that led you here, in the kingdom’s grand palace today.

It was last month when a messenger had come to her bakery with a royal summons in hand. At first you thought they had the wrong witch in mind, you were only a small bakery owner with a bit of witchiness to add onto it. Very modest. But the messenger insisted the letter was for you and you were to cater for the upcoming anniversary with a variety of your pastries for the established guests that would be attending along with the majesties. Ever since then, you had been working nonstop with organizing the spells for the increased number of people you’d be serving along with your regular customers throughout the normal work day. To say you were tired was an understatement, but you can’t say it wasn’t worth it as you passed through the threshold of the palace. You never imagined you’d be able to step foot into the palace let alone potentially meet the majesties. You’ve heard many rumors about them ranging from their ethereal beauty to their dominating presence. Growing up in a town on the outskirts of the kingdom doesn’t grant you many opportunities if at all seeing them in the flesh. Even in their routine visits around the kingdom, it’s been recorded that they’ve only approached your town a handful of times. Times you weren’t even born yet.

Setting up was easy with the palace servants aiding their help to move things along faster than it would’ve taken if it had been just you and your team of your five apprentices. As you worked, you heard a range of excited whispers about the presence of the kings nearby. Apparently the servants have seen less and less of them over the years for some unknown reason. Many guessed it could be as small as needing a break, but some had believed one of them had fallen ill. You hope it wasn’t the last reason, knowing if that were true they’d have eager invaders in a heartbeat and your town would be one of the firsts to go. The health of the kings is the strength of the kingdom. By the time you dismissed your team to change for the party, the sun had started to set and guests were beginning to arrive at the gates. You knew it wouldn’t be until another thirty minutes when they’d be allowed to enter the ballroom, so you went ahead to change yourself and look for the garden you had spotted when walking through one of the long corridors.

With a few slips up on the path, you manage to find yourself in the middle of the royal garden. You wander around until you see a fountain up ahead surrounded by the tall shrubbery that lines the path beautifully. The sun dips lower, painting the sky in pink and purple hues signaling the moon’s takeover soon. Every passing minute you can feel your own magic radiate underneath your fingertips. Now that you think about it, you don’t usually feel your magic this strongly even when there’s a full moon at its highest peak. You were far from being the strongest witch, but it didn’t mean you were weak either. As you approach the fountain you gaze into its tranquil ripples as you try to pinpoint why almost your entire body starts to vibrate until you hear a sharp sound to your right, alerting you of another presence. The man you come face to face almost takes your breath away as he stares directly at you, questioning. You opened your mouth to greet him, but before you could say a word, you felt an overwhelming pressure suddenly drop onto your shoulders as he continued to stare. He seems to notice your discomfort and approaches you to lift a hand to your arm. “Are you alright?” His voice was much deeper than you expected from the way he looked, but it was a pleasant surprise.

His touch also not only lifted the pressure you felt, but reigned in you magic tenfold. “I am okay now, thank you,” you smile and take a deep breath, noticing he hadn’t let go yet. “Did you come to see the sunset in this garden?” Being silent would only make things awkward with a stranger, and you’ll be damned to embarrass yourself even once in front of him. You can already feel your skin heat up from his lingering touch.

“Yes I did. I believed I needed a time of peace before I made my appearance in the ballroom.” He smiles. You look away from him and at his hand to avoid any more unnecessary eye contact. Just his presence makes you nervous, and you’ve never been one to flirt. Following your gaze, he pulls his hand away seemingly embarrassed to have forgotten he was holding you. “I apologize for touching you without permission. While I wanted to soothe your magic, in turn it began to soothe my own being.” He pauses before stepping away from you toward the palace. “I hope to see you at the party later,” he says before making a swift exit, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The encounter felt important, and yet you couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why. In addition, just his touch was able to reign in your magic, which was already alarming, but your magic seemed to soothe him too if what he said was true. Shaking your head, you decide to compartmentalize that for later deconstruction. As of now, you had a party to attend.

You and your team of apprentices stuck to your display of pastries as the guests mingled and danced with one another. Occasionally, you’d try to push your apprentices to make connections and you could stay and answer any questions the guests had for each pastry available, but they insisted on staying by your side. It wasn’t until a bit halfway through the majesties finally made their appearance, the air changing with the pressure they brought and the guests all stilled and to bow their way. Before you could bow, you stood shocked as you realized the man you spoke to in the garden was none other than one the kings and you barely showed your respect. You moved quickly to bow before the situation fully settled in. As you rose along with the other guests you could feel his stare on you, but you refused to raise your head in their direction as they were announced to the guests. The one you met was none other than King Yeosang and next to him was King Jongho who looked more beautiful than the rumors could supply.

You may have not realized it now, or even as the party progressed and made their rounds, but Yeosang couldn’t get his mind off of you. No one outside of Jongho could settle his turbulent soul and calm his rampant energy that has only grown more restless as the years went on. They’re in a time of peace, while that is good for the wellbeing of their people, it’s not in their nature to remain so kind, so his soul has been more than disobedient ever since. When he left the garden, he made a beeline to Jongho to tell him of this experience. He had to share the news of a particular witch he encountered that was able to achieve such a feat, but knowing how protective Jongho is, he wasn’t surprised by his apprehensive curiosity. They planned to keep you here close to them to explore this new revelation and see if you really are their missing piece.

Their queen.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

♡ Mingi - Yunho ♡

Protection, Adoration

It had been years since you returned to your hometown you think as you open your childhood bedroom door. Ever since you graduated high school, you were college bound in the big city and haven't looked back since. It wasn’t until almost five years later with constant pestering from your family and old friends you decided to finally visit. Placing your bags down next to your closet door, you move over to your window sill to gaze at the old yet familiar view of the right behind your house. You recall your friends growing up had always been afraid to sleep over your house and would only come during the day time. By the time the sun would threaten to set, they’d be long gone so you would usually be the one to travel to them after the fifth disappearance happened while in your middle school years.

Your friends always wondered how you weren’t afraid of the forest right outside your window, but you shrugged off their concerns and told them you didn’t believe the rumors, knowing damn well the people that would go missing were very real. Denial can be a powerful thing if you put your mind to it. Though you know the real reason why you never felt afraid was far from the more rational side of reality. A pull to the forest had always been felt by you, even as you gaze at it now, a deep longing is felt. When you moved away, that longing only increased tenfold as you went to pursue your dreams, to the point after these five years, you couldn’t take it anymore. You know you shouldn’t walk into that dark forest, the light being unable to pierce through its density even in the bright hours of day, and yet you find yourself getting up to leave the house in a daze. It’s like an out of body experience before you realize you’re at the edge of the forest not long after. In shock, you take a deep breath and look at your surroundings to see if anyone could see you standing at the forest edge. I shouldn’t do this–but you must. Even your thoughts are contradicting themselves as you take the first step to cross the threshold. The crunch of the fall leaves sounds louder in the stark silence, making you hesitate on taking your next step. Last chance to back out. Closing your eyes, you take another step, releasing the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You open your eyes to take in the reality of things and turn around only to not see the houses that were once there. Only darkness surrounds you now–panic begins to settle in at your current situation.

“How…” you say to no one but yourself, unable to believe what just happened. Steeling your nerves as best as you can, you turn forward to continue moving, hoping you’d find something that could help lead you back out of this unknown maze this is turning out to be. You don’t know how long you had been wandering, the concept of time lost on you when the sun and moon isn’t there to lend a hand, all you do know is that you’re being watched. That telltale feeling as if something or someone is staring at you hasn’t left ever since you began your path further into the forest. No matter how many times you checked around yourself, you couldn’t find anything except more trees and plants. You haven’t even seen a single animal in this forest adding onto its eerie nature.

Far up ahead, you think you can see the forest lighting up as if there was a light at the end of this endless tunnel. This could be the edge of the forest you were looking for to get back to your home! With that thought, you pick up your pace, not wanting to fully run to conserve energy, but the desire to get out of this forest is overpowering the longing you originally felt that brought you here in the first place. Approaching this edge, you stop in your tracks at the sight you’re met with. A beautiful flower field stretches beyond you as the sun bathes it with its rays. Wandering further in, you’re amazed that something so beautiful was hidden in this dark forest–it almost feels like an entirely different plane of existence. Where the forest filled you with fear of the unexpected and a cold feeling, this field wrapped you in its warmth and happiness as you sat in a patch of grass, careful to not crush any of the neighboring flowers. Looking back up at the sky you see that the sun hasn’t reached its highest point, which means it was still morning. At most maybe two hours had passed since you entered the forest, yet it feels much longer than that. Sighing, you lay back onto the soft grass, lost in your own thoughts of how you got yourself in this situation. Why have other people get you into bad situations when you can do it perfectly fine by yourself, you laugh to yourself at that.

You don’t know when you dozed off, the comforting warmth of the morning sun and the peaceful atmosphere the flower field created leaving you in a tranquil daze, but by the time you woke up the sun was a bit past its highest peak in the day. Blinking away your sleepiness, you don’t register the furry warmth on either side of you, nor the curious yet excited eyes that watch your every move. Lifting yourself to sit up, you yawn and stretch out, arms rising and falling to the side only to land on furry warm bodies instead of the cool grass below you, making you jolt in place. An embarrassingly high squeal comes out as one of the large wolves to your right, with a warm auburn color sits up and brings its face closer to yours. You move to pull back away from you, until you realize the wolf with black fur moved behind you to keep you from moving away, all with an excited tail wagging at an alarming speed. Why are they so excited? If I were their prey I feel like I should feel way more alarmed than just the confusion and shock I have as of now. The auburn wolf moves to clumsily lay in your lap as you’re lost in your thoughts, ignoring the fact its way larger than what your lap could hold. Its whines bring you out of your thoughts to focus solely on them. “H-hello?” You don’t know why you’re talking to it, but from the way it’s looking at you, you can’t help yourself from trying.

The wolf from behind you scoffs and shifts to move in front of you as well. He eyes the auburn wolf and tries to push them off of your lap with their nose, causing adorable whines from them as they reluctantly get up to sit in front of you instead. The black wolf then barks at you before raising its paw to you. With how incredulous this situation is, you’re not surprised at yourself when you lift your hand to grasp their paw in your hand. When you woke up in your cottage today, you didn’t think you’d be shaking hands…or paws with a wolf, but I guess you can check that off your imaginary list. The auburn wolf, annoyed with the lack of attention, rolls onto its back to attract your attention and maybe even a few belly rubs if it's being honest. You let go of the black wolf’s paw and let out a giggle at the display the other is showing. After a quick inspection, you come to realize the wolf was male and reach over to give a few tentative pets on his belly. His tail wags in approval as your petting becomes more confident. The black wolf begins to mimic its friend, wanting the same amount of affection and you happily oblige the both of them. While this interaction was bizarre, it was a welcome distraction from your daily work/life schedule.

People usually say to avoid the forest surrounding your hometown, but finding this flower field in addition to adorably cute wolves was making you think otherwise. If you hadn’t wandered in, you would’ve never had this experience. It wasn’t long until the sun started to set, alerting you to the time that has passed since you awoke from your unexpected nap. Getting up, the wolves perk up from their resting positions from your sudden movement. You sigh as you stretch out from sitting for an extended period of time and turn to face the both of them. “It was nice spending time with you both, but I have to get home now,” you smile as you turn to leave towards the direction you came. However, you only make it to the edge of the clearing before the large black wolf runs in front of you, interrupting your path. Stunned at first, you move to go around the wolf and wave, but he only follows to block you again. The auburn wolf joins him at his side and growls as you move to step aside once again, causing fear to slowly well up inside you. “I have to get home you guys, it’ll be dark soon,” you plead your case. You don’t know why you’re talking to them like they understand you, but their eyes seem to speak louder than your own words. The black wolf nudges you back as the other gently bites your sleeve to pull you in the opposite direction. You try to yank your arm back and move again, but their growls make you still in your movements. Will these wolves hurt me? What was I thinking to trust wild animals? You can’t help but talk down on yourself over ignoring the lessons that you’ve been taught since young.

There’s a reason those who enter this forest never leave and now you’re the next victim. Never enter the forest.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

♡ Wooyoung - San ♡

Infatuation, Dependance

“Sannn, we need another person, they’re not giving me enough energy,” Wooyoung whines as they exit the apartment complex their latest treat lives in.

“It’s not my fault you’re so insatiable,” San retorts with a knowing smile, “but I do agree, we’re gonna need someone new soon.” They continue their walk, traveling with no destination in mind at the moment as they discuss their plans when Wooyoung stops in his tracks before looking around. Even though it was still the middle of the night, it wasn’t hard for them to sense or see anything in the night.

“Over there,” he says and points across the street to you, walking briskly with your headphones in. San looks over in your direction and has to stop himself from running over and taking you right then and there. Normally they have their instincts under control, but even from this distance your soul smelled like the most appetizing treat they’ve had in a long time. Last time they had encountered a delicious soul like yours, they devoured them all that night, while he did regret not savoring them, they sure as hell had a memorable time they’ll never forget. But ever since then, it was like nobody ever lived up to the level their taste had been raised as they were left to feed from mediocre (at best) souls. “Well what are we waiting for,” San smiles as he and Wooyoung begin their trek to you.

On the other hand, you were quickly trying to return home after your shift. Tired from the day, and feeling tense, you’d like to unwind before taking yourself straight to bed afterwards. Seeing your apartment complex finally come into view, you pick up your pace until you’re stopped dead in your tracks by bumping into someone. You could’ve sworn you were the only one out here, but as you look up to see maybe the most handsome man you’ve laid eyes on with a friend with just as much beauty, you take a step back and begin to apologize.

“It’s no problem at all, I should’ve been watching where I was going,” San says as he steps to the side. You nod in response, afraid you’d make a fool of yourself if you opened your mouth. “You shouldn’t be out here alone, you know. We could walk you the rest of the way if you’d like,” Wooyoung offers as he steps towards you with a kind smile. Normally you’d have your alarms blaring in your head, but as you look at them, you can’t help but nod again to allow them to escort you. “Well then lead the way doll.”

It was a quick walk, and really didn’t need an escort, but who were you to say no to them. You could barely think of a coherent sentence let alone have rational thoughts. Now at the entrance to your building, you turn to thank them for escorting you and wish for them to get home safe.

“No problem at all. Hope you have sweet dreams tonight,” Wooyoung winks before they turn to leave.And boy did you have the sweetest of them all.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

You open your eyes when you hear a sudden to the left of you. You don’t know why, but you feel as if you were no longer alone in your room. Slowly turning your head you squint as your eyes try to adjust to the darkness, but are unable to see anything.

“Right here love,” a voice to your right suddenly says, causing you to jolt upright and look to see who’s beside you. You hear a giggle from your other side when you acknowledge the person beside you was one of the men that escorted you.

“W-wha–” you begin before you’re cut off with Wooyoung’s finger. “No need to think about it right now (y/n), we just want to pleasure you. Will you let us?” he asks as San from the other side of you pulls you closer to his lap. His lips trace your ear as they wait for your response, fingers lightly pulling at your shirt. “We can take care of you so well baby,” San whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your back. You whimper slightly from embarrassment of how much they affect you so easily, but also because in that moment San starts to nibble right below your ear, making you feel weak. Wooyoung, not wanting to be excluded from the fun, moves in front of you to open your legs and pull down your shorts.

“No panties?” he smirks at you before lowering himself to your thighs, trailing light kisses that evolve into full love bites the closer he gets to your core. San reaches around you to pull your shirt off and immediately grasps your breasts to fondle them. “No bra either,” he laughs, “it’s like she knew we’d be here.” San moves your head to the side to gain better access to your neck, then latches onto it without hesitation. Your soft pants egg Wooyoung on to finally lick your slit, causing you to instinctively close your legs, but he grabs onto both of your thighs and pushes them back, folding you.

“Let go for us (y/n), we’ll take good care of you. Right Youngie?” San smirks as he looks back at his partner lost in between his legs. He knows he’s not going to get a reply from him as he’s too lost in lapping at your lips to care about anything else around him. You yourself are lost in the feeling as Wooyoung begins to suck on your clit like his life depends on it and easily slips in two fingers in the meantime. San attaches his lips to yours, swallowing your moans and moves his hands to pinch at your nipples. Your breath hitches a bit at the pain followed by a loud moan as San lets his tongue wander your mouth, overpowering your tongue in an instant. You feel like you're going numb yet you’re being lit ablaze between the two. Tightening around Wooyoung’s fingers, he proceeds to add two more as he lifts his head to look at the state you’re in.

“Sannie, she tastes so good, can she be our pet?” Your walls pulsate around his fingers at the implication. You haven’t been able to explore your kinks before, only really having few vanilla experiences, but this is giving you the chance to explore things you never thought you’d like. You moan at the thought of being their pet, being taken care of, punished if you misbehave, but rewarded if you’re good…you need that in your life. Even if this is just a dream, you want this to continue every night if possible. Wooyoung doesn’t wait for a reply, focusing on increasing his pace and lifting his head to leave a trail of love bites along your abdomen. San presses himself against you from behind so you could feel the effect you had on him and what to anticipate.

“Of course Youngie, she can be our pretty kitty,” he purrs happily into your neck. You can barely hear him at this point, too focused on the familiar coil that’s ready to unravel. “I-I’m–” You don’t even get to finish your sentence as you feel Wooyoung pull away from you and hear both him and San laugh at your whines. “I was so close–” you lift yourself up a bit to face Wooyoung, “Why’d you stop?”

“Can’t let you cum unless it’s around one of us kitty,” he teases and finally removes the last few articles of clothing on him, San following suit. From there San moves to the top of the bed, pulling your legs closer to him as Wooyoung situates himself behind you. “On your hands and knees,” San commands as he taps your thigh. You flip over to get in position and look up to see Wooyoung positioning his cock in front of your face with a smirk. You felt him before he was fully hard, but you didn’t expect the size he grew too. What he lacked in girth he made up for in length and it left you salivating for it.

“Open wide kitty,” Wooyoung says and you happily oblige, his tip laying heavy on your tongue. You push yourself forward to take him in more, moaning at the taste and the breath he takes in above you before sighing from the relief. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth now, just relax,” he warns as you open your mouth wider, eagerly preparing for him. He starts out slow to give you a chance to find a proper rhythm before he begins to snap into you. His moans fall deliciously from his mouth, getting lost in the feeling of your mouth, you want nothing more than to give yourself to him. Losing yourself in the feeling of Wooyoung, you’re reminded of San behind you as he presses himself against your core, slowly trailing his cock up and down your slit before lining up with your hole.

“Don’t forget about me kitty, you’re doing so well for us,” he slowly begins to push inside of you, groaning as your walls greedily suck him in. “Fuck, such a slutty hole sucking me in like that kitty.” You moan pathetically around Wooyoung, your walls throbbing around him as he starts his relentless pace. San was thicker than his partner, and he knew how to use it, making sure he brushes against your g-spot with each thrust. If you were able to think before, they’ve successfully fucked you brainless. All you can try to ground yourself with is the intense grip you have on the sheets below you, but it’s not enough to take your mind away from the mind numbing pleasure being given to you. “Shit, she’s perfect for us Woo, how could we have gone so long without this,” he grunts, grip tightening on your love handles. “I’m sure our kitty would love to be bred all day everyday,” he smirks when he feels the effect his words have on you. “Such a dirty girl.”

“I’m sure she’d pass out before we got our fill,” he laughs in between his moans, pulling San forward for an intense kiss. San’s hips stutter a bit, getting lost in the feeling of his lover and his potential lover. After getting a taste of you, they can’t let anyone else even think of touching you.

Hearing them above you pushes you closer to your peak, bringing your hand to your clit to let you reach it quicker. At the movement, San breaks away from Wooyoung’s kiss, eliciting a whine from the latter, to focus on you. “She’s close Wooyoung, and so are you. Be good for me prettys and cum.” With those words, Wooyoung whines as he stills his hips, shoving his cock as down your throat as he can, spilling his seed down it. “Mm, I think she loves the taste of you, fuck,” San’s hips start to stutter, approaching his eye as your orgasm finally washes over you.

You don’t remember much after you came around San’s cock. You vaguely remember San pulling out of you after he reached his own high, making sure he made his claim deep inside of you before Wooyoung began the aftercare for you. “You did so well kitty, you were so good for us.”“Just rest love, you’ll need it for later,” you hear one of them laugh next to you. You feel yourself being tucked in and cuddled on either side of you. After being pleasantly filled, your mind is left fuzzy and you can’t help, but fade into darkness from the comfort being provided.

“We’re gonna have so much fun with you kitty~”

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itsagrimm · 2 years ago

Text

He Who Comes from under the Water

Chapter 6 - Safekeeping

Monster!König X she/her afab Reader

CN dead fish

Notes for better understanding at the bottom!

Beta-read by @queenquazar. She is a writer as well and does amazing work which you should definitely check out.

2,3 k words

Masterlist

The water ran playfully past your bare feet dangling in the little stream. You had taken off your shoes, sitting at the grass covered bank while watching König fish. It was shallow, but you could not bring yourself to go deeper than this. König of course did not mind the water, hip deep, and comfortably towering as he straightened victoriously like a tree surviving the flood to pass you one sorry little flapping creature after another, asking you with much elation if that sorry thing would do for lunch.

“A Pike? Yummy.”

“No, not the Rodd. Too much bone.”

“Please don’t make me eat a snail.”

“Another Pike! How did you manage to catch a second one so quickly?”

As the caught fish collected in a basket next to you, waiting to be gutted and prepared, you leaned back on your elbows. It had been a… strange morning.

König had come inside your home for breakfast, only to reveal you might die due to the dangers of being his underwater queen. His words had felt like getting pushed back into a dark pit you had barely managed to crawl out of moments ago. Every time you gathered back your strength, something happened, and you were back where you started. But unlike you, König was not as quick to give up and dragged you back up once again from the pit.

In fact, you wondered why he had not given up on you, just leaving you to find himself a better, more suitable, queen? No, König was bent on keeping you alive, jumping up from the kitchen table declaring ‘I have an idea’ and running out, shouting for the Heron. Confused, you had stayed where you were, only for König to run back in again, lifting you up in a surprising hug accompanied with a ‘you will live, you will live’-chant. You had squeaked in surprise, and he nearly dropped you on the floor, mumbling an excuse before running out again and returning what felt like no time with a bit of fresh birch bark, asking you for a knife.

“Why?”

“It is to write a letter.”

Confused, you passed him a kitchen knife and he started scratching symbols into the soft bark with it. The little blade looked so ridiculous in his large hands, like a dainty daisy in a bear’s claw. Despite it all, you laughed. A desperate little laugh fighting its way out of your lungs.

He looked up.

“What is it, Bride?”

“Nothing. Your hands are so big and the knife so small. That is all.”

He leaned back.

“Would you prefer to write yourself with this tiny knife in your tiny human hands?”

“I can’t,” you replied shortly, still giggling. What a stupid question.

“Why? Can you only use a knife to chop fish?”

“Yes,” You dead panned and smiled softly, the easing laughter helping you with your heavy mood, “I can’t read. Women do not read or write. Don’t you know? Only men can and Ivar, the village teacher, never allowed girls, despite my brother being a student of his and practising at this table next to me. I still was never allowed to attend.”

König frowned under all the messy tangled hair.

“We should change that. Downstream in the cities, everyone knows how to read and write - man, woman or whatever you humans can be. It would be good for you to learn it - but not today. The Heron will not be able to guard you. They have to deliver this letter and hopefully give us the help we need for you to stay alive.”

He paused, his eyes shifting from the pragmatic to a soft questioning gaze.

“Would you like to spend the day with me instead, Bride? I promise, I’ll keep you as safe as the Heron.”

And that was how you ended up wandering the forest with König. Watching him search for trees to fall for the palace with his big axe, while you followed collecting berries and harvesting herbs with your little, tiny kitchen knife until you grew tired and rested at this little stream.

A little splash of water to your face made you squeal in surprise, and you opened your eyes.

König stood before you, a huge catfish under his arm struggling to get free and splashing water everywhere.

“Don’t fall asleep in the sun, Bride,” König chided softly. “You will get a headache from it. The old man complained about it all the time.”

You giggled. “Yes, grandfather liked to have naps but never chose a good spot for it.”

You got up to move into the shadows of a willow for a quick nap.

König nodded approvingly, the catfish under his arm joining in in an attempt to get free.

“Can you make a fire before you nap? It is not my strong suit and, unlike me, you don’t eat raw fish.”

Surprised you turned to König. The man who appeared to be able to do anything – scare away Ivar, summon speaking animals and swamp lights, catch fish and lift heavy wood – did not know how to make a fire.

“No fire under the water, remember?”

You paused before nodding.

That made sense.

The catfish nodded too before finally wiggling out of König’s grip and slipping back into the water.

With a curse König dived after it, leaving you to make a fire.

With practised ease you build a little pile before lighting it up and feeding it more air and dried bark until it was big enough to sustain itself.

Casually you grabbed a few sticks, sharpened them with your knife, gutted and cleared the caught fish and skewered the pike meat wrapped in some of the herbs. It would make for a great meal and you felt your body going from tired to awake enough for food and an eventual nap afterward.

König emerged from the stream and stepped on land, his unhuman appearance mostly covered by a dripping cloak except for the shimmery wet skin from the water and the sunlight.

“No catfish?”

He grumbled something in defeat before sitting down next to the fire.

“You need to teach me how to do this fire and cooking thing, Bride. Could be useful.”

“Oh yes, I will,” You promised, “Who else is supposed to make meals while I sleep?”

He chuckled.

“You humans are so delicate – always needing rest, food, shelter, air, water – but only the clear sweet waters and none of the green or salty ones. I wonder how you make it through the day laughing. Your lives are so harsh.”

“It is pretty okay being a human.” A grin spread on your face as you shrugged. “Better than coming from the water and having to munch raw catfish. Oh wait, the catfish got away. Guess you’ll go hungry, love.”

The word slipped out of you before you could think - a little treacherous word telling of little, treacherous dreams in your little, hopeful heart.

Love.

You looked down, pretending to concentrate on the fire and picked up one of the sticks to grill the fish.

“Be kind and do not let me starve, maiden.” König called out playfully and picked up one of the prepared sticks. “How do you do this?”

You showed him how to hold the fish without burning it, reminding him he had to turn it once in a while, so the fish will be cooked from all sides, and explaining how you used the herbs on the meat.

“And no bark?” König asked after your explanations.

“No bark.”

“Hmpf.

You looked up at him, his features hidden by his hair and hood. Except for his mouth with gleaming sharp teeth turned down in an unhappy frown.

Very sharp teeth.

You shivered, the reality of your fiancé’s inhumanness hitting you in the face like water from the struggling catfish desperate for life.

“Humans do not eat bark but if you like it so much, do what you want.” Your voice went thin as you spoke, a strange lump of fear and worry weighted down deep in your gut.

“Say, König,” you started. “What exactly is so dangerous about me becoming your wife?”

There, the words were out.

Hanging in the air like the skewed fish over the fire, slowly burning and sizzling away skin – painful and inevitable, unless doing something to prevent it.

König sighed.

“My brother,” he explained with a defeated tone, “Can be very pessimistic. He said I might accidentally kill you by drowning. But,” He looked at you, his eyes clear as ice piercing through any doubt. “I will not do that. I promise you are safe with me and there might be someone who can help with removing that danger. Also,” He continued as a careful, toothy smile grew on his face. “So far I have at least somewhat succeeded in keeping you safe, right? You are here and not hurt or hidden away in the house. Not saying I’ve done it perfectly but…” His voice rippled off in waves, making your eye brows narrow slightly

“It is good enough for now… right?”

You stared into the fire, thinking about König’s words. Yes, you were afraid. His otherness sometimes confusing you, or making you withdraw from him in fear. But never had he done anything to harm you.

At least not willingly.

Yes, there were accidents and mistakes. But, he tried to keep you safe and looked out for you. You could not remember anyone being so honestly interested in you and your well-being. Not the villagers who dropped you the moment you became uncomfortable for them. Not the boys you had kissed in secret, or girlfriends who had stopped visiting you when you started to cry more than you laughed from all the death and misery in your life. And certainly not your family who loved you, but kept you as their obedient child to help at home and carry any expectations they placed on you without opposition. That included your beloved grandfather who promised you to someone without asking your permission, counting on you to just follow his command. Love was complicated. You missed your family, your friends and old life. But there was bitterness thinking about them now. The old house had become as much a sanctuary as it was a prison.

Being with König was not that different: like an axe to build a new palace or yield as a weapon.

Yes, it was unfortunate how you had come to be the Bride of the King from Under the Water.

And maybe it would be your death.

But so far, your engagement has come with much more grace than you had ever known.

“Do not worry, my love,” You whispered those words with a grim dedication to all that it might include. “I know you are keeping me safe, and I trust you will continue to do so.”

The silence of your words weighed heavy as you stared into the fire without seeing the flames.

A hand touched yours and you jerked up. König had moved closer, carefully lifting your hand with the skewered fish up and away from the heat.

“I am not much of an expert on fire but this looks like you could light yourself up like that,” He declared with a soft ring as if trying not to smile. “You said it yourself - ‘turn it so it does not burn’. I would do a poor job keeping my bride safe if I let you burn your fingers now.”

You blinked in confusion, before adjusting the grip on the stick in your hand under his large right palm.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

He kept his hand around yours - warm, strong, pleasant - and you hummed in approval as his other wandered around your shoulder and pressed you closer to his side.

My bride. My bride.

That’s what he had said.

The words rang pleasantly in your ears as you nuzzled into Königs chest.

XXX

Cultural context notes:

König writes in Old Church Slavonic. Old Church Slavonic is the basis of many the Slavic languages written form. It was ‘created’ by two monks named Methodius and Cyril (That’s why the modern alphabet is now called Cyrillic) who were tasked with helping to convert the Byzantian Slavs in Moravia to Christianity. To do that they translated several religious texts, most importantly the Bible, into Old Church Slavonic which could be understood by the Slavs. Old church Slavonic is really cool and can still be understood by many modern speakers of Slavic languages despite coming from the 9th century. Also, the Polish band Batushka / БАТЮШКА sings in Old Church Slavonic if you want to know what it sounds like.

XXX

shoot me a message if you want to be tagged as well. (-:

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ragequeen94 · 4 months ago

Text

DAUGHTERS OF MAN

Copia is faced with the fact that he is all out of siblings and hadn't made much of an effort to further the bloodline that has lead the Church for so long. Pulled between his duty, desire, and awkwardness... just because he is Papa doesn't mean he isn't in danger...

PapaCopiaxoc

Probably more warning along the way. Will eventually be on A03 when chapters are long enough. This is just the beta version. Gotta start somewhere.

MDNI

THIS GONNA GET MESSY.

Dead dove.

PART 1

No beta, no idea what I'm doing. We die like men.

Please... someone be weird with me about Ghost.

Copia had felt prepared when he had been made Papa. He knew he was in line, though he hadn't realized how close he actually had been until he was suddenly (and rather unceremoniously) bowing his head to Papa Nihil and was sworn in as Papa. Now the skin on his face seemed to be permanently stained from the black and white skull paint, his naked faced reflection a stranger when he looked in the mirror. The lines and freckles of his face he had once known were hard to recall... Papa was who he was now. And while he did get long breaks where he was able to regrasp who he was and remind himself of the man he had been before he felt as if the man he had been as cardinal copia... or even before that had been lost. Little pieces of him broken off and lost along the way.

It was a sacrifice he would make over and over again, but it still left an ache in his chest.

He only took orders from some very specific people now, those who heald no documented rank. Advisors in name, in action were more like puppeteers, trying to keep Copia on their strings, to dance to their songs. He followed the same crooked path as his brothers before him. Papa Emeritus iii memory as Papa still so fresh he would still come upon documents delivered to his name, remnants of the life he had been living in the same rooms Copia now occupied.

But he had made it further. He wasn't sure what he had done right, he just acted as he felt he should but what ever it was seemed to please the Clergy. He acknowledged his success was made easier because of his brothers. They had blazed a trail that he was able to walk un interrupted. He pitied the three who had come before him, Primo had had no one to aspire too besides their father, who hadn't been much of an inspiration in his years alive. Death had made him more of a father to Copia.

It was easy to forget when he was on stage. Easy to forget the dangerous world he commanded, easy to forget the darkness that was ever present. Easy to let himself be taken by the crowd and their screams, their praise. Perhaps that is what had cause the end of his brother's in the end. Secondo had been bitter at the end... broken and angry, and he had taken it out on the world. Copia had remembered when the Papalcy had passed from Secondo to Terzo... the seconds rage and heartbreak... but his relief. Now Copia wondered if he had been afraid for his younger brother... the older three had always been so close.

They had been raised together, had gone through school and life together, all while Copia sprinted to keep up. But his awkwardness and youth had set him apart. Always a rank too low, always a little bit too late, to far away...

The Ministry was filled with siblings. Accidental incest was a real issue amongst the lower level sisters and brothers. An accidental romp with someone in the same gene pool was a relatable mistake to be laughed off but not pursued. Luckily Copia had no sisters... that he knew of. Which had made the group of men formidable, the main idea being as long as they didn't fuck eachother there was enough to go around, but there had been... rumors. Copia shuddered at the concept of how many possible nieces and nephews he may be unknowingly passing in the halls. The anxiety of it all was enough to almost keep him away from women all together. His fathers genetic promiscuity haunting him every time he glanced at a attractive Sibling of Sin.

But there were... expectations of a Papa. New ones seemed to appear every day. Ones that he was sure he would have heard about from his brothers... so he was a little concerned why such things were being asked of him. Currently he heald a memo in his hands that to be honest was a little bit too poetic in it's speech for his comfort...

Papa Emeritus IV,

Long has the bloodline of our dark father and lord been unbroken, strong are the hands of the king below that guides us. Strong must the bloodline continue. Seed must be planted and sewn, be fruitful in the honor of our monstrous king. The blood of the womb beckons, it must be obeyed, as are the wished of the one below.

It wasn't signed. Which ment it was from someone who he had in no interest in meeting. He had accepted the letter from a ghoul who had smelled like rotten meat and looked even less delectable. He had no desire to investigate further. He knew what was being demanded of him. The clergy were growing nervous with his lack of progeny... demands were being made not for the first time for him to sire children. Torn between his duty and desire to be a better father... which would require much work on his part... tore him in two.

And unfortunately it wasn't as simple as just getting a woman pregnant. That he was sure he would do if he ever tried... he would be wed to her in black mass until their line had been secured.

And there was a lot of politics in the Ministry. Different sects scrambled to climb the ladder, to offer their most fruitful of vessels to him and hope it secured them favor with the Vicar of Lucifer.

Copia had been the Vicar of Lucifer for years now and had yet to take confession from the guy so he wasn't sure what he would do about getting others in the dark ones good graces, but he'd let them try. The lower sects always had better luck communing with the lower level hierarchy of hell. Any normal day of the week you would walk past one of the various dark ones court. For fucks sake The Whore of Babylon, aka the false prophet aka Babs had her own room in the dungeons.

Before he had been moved up higher in the ranks, when he had been a young man he had always belonged to the line of the true Satan, Lucifer. The same sect his father and father before that had belonged to too, but his mother had come from a small group in their church that sanctified Death himself. They were a gloomy and rather boring lot, Copia wasn't a fan of their lack of enthusiasm.

He was to meet later with some of the ministry to discuss his prospects and requirements for the future of the church. He fought to keep this one event from consuming all aspects of his life. He had more impending things to deal with than just look for a place to put his cock cause Lucifer wanted him too.

He had a pile of books that were unread. He hadn't touched his NES in the last month and he needed the calm it brought him. He wanted to learn how to make gnocchi from scratch... maybe start making taxidermy insects....

Lots of important tasks.

Papa Emeritus the Fourth took a deep breath and took a look around the room he was in, his office. He made sure no soul or ghoul was hiding in the shadows before he let out a shuddering sob.

---------

"Good afternoon Papa!"

"Hello Papa!"

"You look handsome Papa."

"Your ass looks good in those pants, Papa."

"Good day, nice weather, Papa."

Copia walked down the halls, his lifted loafers clicking on the stone flooring of the monastery. The sun shone much too brightly through the windows on his right, it made him squint, no doubt making him look serious and powerful. It made him feel nauseous. He really wanted to go to dinner, but that wasn't for a few hours yet... his mind wondered to the possible meal choices for the night in the church kitchens and if he would want to send a ghoul to pick up something from the Italian place down the road...

He got to the meeting room door too quickly. He had just heard a tune being hummed by a sister walking by, and wanted to ask her where it had come from, maybe he could use it for a song. He tried to commit it to memory.

Bum budum bumbumbun dunnnn

Or was is bum dun dudududnnn bum.... shit.

He turned to call after the sister at the same time the door opened and Soltarian stood in the doorway.

"You are late." The grumpy man cocked a brow at the Anti pope.

Copia jumped a little, wincing and grinning like a guilty dog. He gave a little wave, even though he was 2 feet away from the man, he peered around him to see who else was seated at the table. "Hello..."

"Hello Papa." The room replied. Copia slipped past Saltarian and into the room, headed to his overly ostentatious chair. He liked the drama... but sometimes he just wanted to sit. Everything he dropped his ass on didn't have to be a historical and culturally significant throne.

"Papa, welcome." One of the mother superiors chirped, she had a red veil over her face that obscured her eyes, heavy black make up covered her lips and neck. He knew a Daughter of Man when he saw one...

If she was here he knew he wasn't going to escape the conversation of succession. Apparently he was about to get The Talk in probably the worst way.

The ghost of his father appeared, he strolled over to the table and stood near where Sister Imperator sat at the foot of the table, opposite Copia at the head. Copia knew not to acknowledge the spector... few could actually see him.

"C, we have something we need to discuss." Imperator always addressed him with the childish nickname, he was shocked she didn't still call him "Little Cardi". She had been fond of the taught. She had only said if affectionately in her own way, but his brothers had used it to remind him of his low rank. Terzo had been the worst. Copia would stand on his tip toes and look around, looking over his shorter brothers head and call out 'Who is there? I can't see you?'

Terzo would usually punch him in the balls. But it was worth it.

"I read the summons, Imperator." Copias leg was shaking under the table. "I'm too take a bride. I agreed long ago..." He looked around the table at the faces as they frowned.

"Not... quite. Your eminence." A different woman spoke, Copia could see she wore a signifying patch on her habit but she sat to far away for his old eyes to make it out. She worshipped in the house of Mammon perhaps? "There has been much discussion at the concern of a single bloodline..."

"You are one of four brothers, Papa, it is significant. Strength with numbers." The Mother Superior of the Daughters of Man spoke. Satanas he wondered if there was a shorter name for her...

"C, it had been decided that while you will still be wed in the traditional way to a sister of one of the sects, as has been done for millenia, too secure the bloodline for the next generation of Papas. You will be tasked to sire multiple ofspring from other worthy sisters. The progeny to be raised in honor of our lord. It is the hope that through this system we will achieve greatness outside the walls. Bred not to rule the church you understand." Imperator smiled. She looked so pleased with her self. Copia frowned. Not really predicting that this meeting would be about him fathering the next president of the United states. But that seemed to be what they were planning.

"This is a far step from tradition."

"Tradition had failed to bring us success. The Ghost Project had done more for the dark lord than building any church or after school program. It is time we build on this concept, Papa. It is the will of the one below."

Copia snorted. Would be nice of 'the one below' spoke to him for once. It was kinda the whole point of him. Wasn't he meant to be the voice of the dark lord on earth?

"I don't see why he's complaining. It seems like a good idea! My idea!" The ghost of Nihil complained crossing his arms over his chest. "He is my son, he should have no problem siring children. I did it just fine."

Imperators eye twitched, but she didn't acknowledge the spector. Copia glares at Nihil. Wishing he could kick him in the crusty ball sack that had shot him into his mother. Copias conception was the only thing Nihil had done that Copia agreed with.

Imperator waved her hands to the other people at the table. "C, these are the people who are going to guide you on your journey. Steps have been take to ensure the strongest of blood lines, you will have your choice of bride, it has been too long since a Prime Mover has walked these halls. The position of Papa always takes to so much... attention from its keeper."

Copia didn't miss that his mother was accusing him and everyone before him to hold the name of Papa of being a slut. She guessed she was kind of right... but Copia was not. Not that there was anything wrong with it... he just hadn't quite gotten around to it. Or figuring out the basics of how to get passed introduction. He was a socially awkward man, and rarely kept his feet still on the ground when he wasn't in a rehearsed and controlled environment.

Copia was still a virgin.

In a church of the sexually deviant and open.

They were talking about the ceremony of Lupercalia... about all of the other ceremonies. Copia didn't really have the emotional energy for ceremonies. They were boring.

"Papa..." One of the women at the table spoke, she was definitely a mother of the sect of Mammon. "We have been chosen as the sects with the best prospects for procreation. All are willing and fertile, it our great honor to present them to you. In the ceremony, Sexus ausque ad Mortem, we hope they will your recieve your holy seed pleasurably."

Copia flinched. A little weirded out that his cock was starting to twitch. He couldn't help it... there was a lot of talk about sex right now. He was thinking about it. I mean... it was weird sex talk and his mom and dad were looking at him. But he was an adult man in his prime! They should be proud he could even get it up!

A black folder was handed to him. He didn't open it. "These are the women that have been chosen. Six sects in total. They have been physically vetted and confirmed fertile and open for breeding. They will make good sons and daughters." One of the men at the table spoke up, he wore a the collar of a Padre, head of the sect of Abbadon.

The Mother Superior of the Daughters of Man spoke up, she was the seventh person at the table he didn't know. It would be she that controlled the reproductive ceremonies... that was what the Daughters of Man did. Copia was nervous around the members of the little sex cult... you never could tell which was normal sister and which was an actual succubus. Copia didn't want his soul ripped out through his cock... no thank you. Terzo might have... even Secondo... but Copia didn't want to have to make the trip to hell to get it back just for an orgasm. No thank you.

Copia fiddled with the paper file. He wants to look, he was curious... but now wasn't the time.

"Are there rules about who I choose as Prime Mover?" He questioned the table. It was appropriate, this was all new.

"That will be up to your will Papa. You will have to pick sooner rather than later, the others will need a leader."

Copia didn't like this one bit. He didn't want to... he didn't want to get six different women he didn't know pregnant. He didn't want children raised by the church to become ambassadors and senators... he didn't want to marry a women he didn't know... he didn't want to do any of it. Suddenly he was on his feet. He didn't even know he was standing, he was glad of his papal robes, they hid his rock hard cock that had him so flustered. He gripped the folder tightly.

"My thanks to you. My congregation and your dedication to our lord below and the future generations of our faith... ", Copia was used to bullshiting these kind of mini speeches at this point. He could write a sermon about french toast if he wanted to and know one would think it weird, "you have brought me much to pray on. I will consult with our dark father. Ut Supra."

The other scrambled to stand with him, chanting in reply. "Sic Infra."

Copia didn't even see what they did next. He ran from the room, in a panic. He took the halls in long strides, panting by the time he got back to his private room. He threw the black folder onto his desk and tore open the mini wine fridge. He pulled open the red he had enjoyed the night before and ripped the cork out with his teeth, drinking straight from the neck. It was cold and sweet, it made his nose tingle a little. It was not how one should enjoy a good wine but he didn't care. He had more. Lots more. He took another swig and put the bottle down on the counter top of the en suite kitchenette. He needed to get out of these robes. They were suffocating him.

He was naked by the time he got to his bedroom. The lavish silks and satin left in a trail behind him. He dug around in his closet for something comfortable and non religious. But his aggravated cock kept getting in the way. It bounced around and hit his thigh, he smacked it on a open drawer at one point when he was trying to fine some slippers. He was over whelmed. Copia groaned in defeat. Tugging on a pair of gray sweats and dirty socks he peaked into the living area, the black folder sitting still on the desk next to the sweating bottle of wine. He waddled over to the folder... like it might turn wild and bite him. He was vulnerable right now. The dripping head of his cock poking out of the band of his pants.

He gripped the wine bottle by the neck and took another drink as he stared at the folder. He flipped open the top with one finger and then physically jumped back, hiding behind his desk throne. He muttered to himself, feeling stupid. It was just a profile folder...

"Figlio di puttana..." Copia cursed, slipping into his native language. The folder wasn't filled with informative profiles... it was porn. There wasn't a better word for it. He collapsed into the desk throne. There was actually information written down about the women. Which sect they belonged too, their achievements, age, zodiacs... body measurements. He wasn't a fan of that.

But the printed images were too much

He didn't know what was wrong with a simple selfie or tasteful photo, these women were all in various states of the throws of passion. Or at least they appeared to be...

He picked up the top bundle of images. A black haired woman with a thin figure and brown eyes. She had a tattoo of a dolphin jumping over an island on her hip bone. She looked annoyed but the photo, even though she was rude, groping her own breast, her hand hidden between her legs from the angle of the photo but her public hair had been totally shaved. Her legs were long and thin. Copia thought she had a beautiful mouth.

Her name was Sister Cimeterium, or Molly, she was a cancer and like vactions in sunny places and pop music. She was taller than him. She belonged to the Domus Mortis, the same sect as his mother had come from.

Copia groaned. This was going to be impossible. Six women, these were all... people. Real people with lives and interests and... he didn't want to be in this position.

He was sure they had agreed to be involved in this scheme. He worried they felt they had no choice. This was not how his church was to be run. This was not how he lead his people, This was not how he honored his Dark Savior.

As he grabbed his aching cock he swore to know each woman as a person and if they refused him he would protect their choice.

His fist squeezed the head of his weeping cock. He spread out the photos. His hand pausing.

Sister Ira et Furorem. That was a bit redundant. Born Beatrice. An Aries who likes loud music, red meat, and horror movies. Her hair was almost white but looked dyed, her body thick and soft looking, wide birthing hips and a huge ass. Her eyes were green. She looked angry, like she wanted to eat the person taking the photo whole. She wore the tradional ritual paint of a worshiper of Azazel, and like any other brother or sister under the scapegoat she was highly tattooed and burdened with jewelry.

Copia focused on her, her striking image almost built for his tastes. He wonders if it was intentional...

His hand slowly stroked up and down his cock. Squeezing out drops of cum onto the floor, the porous floor soaking it up. He gasped and groaned, looking at the heavy breasts of the Sister. Imagining their weight in his mouth, his toes curled. He would smear her make up, with tears and cum. She would drool and gag on his cock, cum mixing with saliva. She'd choke, until it it came out her nose. Maybe he'd fuck that fat ass of hers, grab her hair and yank her backwards... he'd have her tied to his bed. Bound and blind folded. He'd whip her pussy until it dripped on the sheets, he'd spread her open... choke her... squeeze her throat until she gasped, her tongue purple... maybe he'd cum on her tits... maybe he'd eat his own cum out of her pussy... he'd fuck her until she screamed and tried to get away. But he'd have his ghouls hold her down as he fucked her from behind. Holding her tattooed arms behind her back...

His mind got darker and darker. Lust always clouded his mind. It went to broken sick places. Desires he was disgusted by in his post nut clarity. But right now he wanted to watch the Sister hump his cock with her panties still on. Lick his cum off the floor. Stuff her full of toys in all shapes and sizes... he wanted to make her bleed and then lick it up with his tongue. Maybe he'd lock her in a cage with a minotaur... she would reach for him, begging for mercy as the beast took her, he'd offer his cock for her mouth to suck on...

He ejaculated so violently his knees hit the underside of his desk. He jolted forward and pulled something in lower back. Copia froze, scared to move as his head cleared.

What the fuck.... where had that even come from.

He had no idea how to summon a minotaur.

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