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untaemedqueen · 2 years ago

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At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 9.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor

Warnings For This Chapter: Making Out, Pet Names, Praise, Jeongguk Has A Tongue Ring, Daddy Kink, Cunnilingus, Big Dick!Jeongguk, Begging, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Cream Pie

By the time you got home from the long night of social interactions with people who count money like sheep, it was just simply too dark to drive further from your mansion to take Jeongguk back home to his apartment.

It's not that you couldn't drive but then the rainstorm began and it wouldn't be safe with the slippery roads.

So now as it strikes one in the morning Jeon Jeongguk is paralyzed with fear to even be in your mansion at such a late hour.

"So where am I even supposed to sleep?" he inquires softly.

He sounds almost like a lost, scared child looking for his parents.

And you would feel bad for him if it wasn't hilarious and he wasn't almost thirty years old.

"Well none of the guest rooms have furniture so either on the couch that's harder than a rock or in my bed. Your choice, really," you reply, pulling your gloves slowly off your arms.

He opens his mouth to respond before tilting his head to look at the artistic couch down below the banister of the second floor, his eyebrows notch and he groans long and low at the prospect.

"I can't sleep in your bed! I'd be violating your privacy!" he guffaws, shaking his head sternly as if to wipe away any bad thoughts.

"Guk, the bed is from wall to wall. You don't have to sleep on top of me. You'll fall asleep and won't even remember a thing," you promise, unzipping the back of your dress and stepping into your closet.

"But…But… Why don't you have any furniture in your rooms anyway?!"

He sounds nervous and anxious, a sign that just screams to you that he might actually enjoy it if he just allows himself to.

When his eyes rake over the smooth skin of your back, the wildest of thoughts flit through his brain and he really loses all sense of self then.

"Because I don't want people staying over… duh," you chirp, stripping out of your dress.

"But I'm an exception?! You have no backbone!" Jeongguk scoffs, folding his arms childishly.

When he notices that he can catch the reflection of you getting naked in one of the glass doors that house your couture gowns, he wrestles with himself for a moment before turning to face the large fish tank at the end of the long hall.

"You sound embarrassed," you tease, grabbing your nightgown.

When you slip it over your head, your eye catches your shortest nightgown and you freeze.

You haven't had fun in a long time, probably longer than what most doctors would consider to be normal. So maybe tonight, just tonight, you'll have some fun.

"I'm not embarrassed! I could sleep next to you just fine! I just-just… It's not right! It'd be taking advantage!"

"It's not taking advantage," you counter, stepping outside of your closet, "and if you feel that way then you could sleep on the floor."

"I'm not gonna sleep on the floor! It's marbl-"

Jeongguk stops mid-sentence to choke on his own spit as you step in front of him. Your nightgown is incredibly short, the rich lace hem landing right below the curve of your ass. As for your breasts, well, he's lucky your nipples are covered.

With his eyes widening to the size of saucers, he opts to staring up at the ceiling.

"I think you're a baby," you tease, heading off towards your bedroom.

With every step you take, his eyes seem to become grounded more and more until they're watching your hips sway with criminal intent towards the room that has brought this panic on to begin with.

"Change," he begs, his voice sounding weak.

If his body did what it wanted without the help of his brain, he'd be crashing to his knees and crawling toward you begging to let him have any inch of you that you'd offer him.

"No, you're a baby," you giggle, entering your room.

"But-"

"Guk, it's just sleep. It's almost two in the morning. I'm exhausted. You can either sleep with me or on the floor, it's up to you but I'm laying down now."

The handsome escort makes his second fatal mistake by watching you crawl into bed. Your breasts sway and you look at him with these doe-like eyes that make his legs go weak.

Luckily, he's holding himself upright as he leans against the doorjamb.

"I'm not staring at you all night as you loom over me in the distance like some kind of fever dream monster or something," you sigh, laying down on your side and putting your arm beneath your pillow for comfort.

"God!" the handsome man complains, walking over to the bed beside you.

He begins to strip off his clothes, revealing more and more of his golden toned skin that sings with black and grey ink.

He's staring at you hoping you don't stare at him but you do. Your eyes are becoming less and less dead by the second, every time a new ab is revealed your head is even lifting up off of the pillow.

"I thought you were tired?" Guk chuckles.

Now it's your turn to get defensive.

"I am! I'm not looking at you!" you retort, turning away from him with pinched eyebrows.

Now he's got his confidence back.

When you're flustered it's easier for him to play around, he's not used to being flustered himself.

"Come on, baby," he purrs playfully, crawling into bed behind you and pressing his bare chest to your back, "kiss me."

"God! Go sleep on the floor!" you hiss, squeezing your eyes shut and shimmying down the bed away from him.

His chuckle is deep and delighted, almost carefree to the point of dangerousness.

"That…" he begins, wrapping his arm around your stomach and pressing his lips to your ear, "would be uncomfortable. You were right, it's just sleep. I can stay the night in bed with you."

His cologne is still pleasant and it tickles your senses to have him so close.

Guk's arm is warm and comforting around you, not so much claustrophobic as you would have assumed.

The air is turning into something tumultuous, something powerful and Earth shatteringly dangerous.

You're getting turned on.

You can feel every inch of his hard muscled chest and stomach digging into your scantily clad back and the escort is doing nothing to stop it.

"I'm not paying you for this," you remind him, grabbing a pillow and squeezing it to your front for comfort.

"You're not paying me at all, Y/N," he counters, closing his eyes, "If you want me to stop, just say so. I respect that no means no."

But you don't utter a word.

Jeongguk shifts closer, allowing you to feel the effect you have on him.

The globes of your ass are supple against his hips and you can feel his erection digging into you for relief.

Your lips open in surprise but you only squeeze your eyes tighter.

"You don't fuck clients," you whisper, gripping the pillow against your chest harder.

"No," he agrees, drifting his lips over the shell of your ear slowly, "you're not paying me, you're not my client, baby."

Jeongguk fucking wants this. He's throwing caution to the wind, he might be making a hell of a mistake but he'll take that on the chin too.

He knows you both have a connection, he knows he's into you and he thinks you're pretty into him too.

"Do you not want me to touch you, Wednesday?" he asks seriously, sitting up on his elbow.

"No," you answer immediately.

"Okay," he breathes, pulling away from you.

You shimmy your way farther across the bed before the encroaching loneliness begins to eat at you again.

When Guk is around you, you don't have time to feel it.

So all you do is pout.

You're confused! You don't know what to do! You want to be happy and live in lalaland but can you really indulge in that?!

"Yes," you say in the silent bedroom.

The escort is on you in a matter of moments, pressing his full lips to yours in a searingly hot kiss.

Your hands tangle into his black locks and you tug softly. He hums against you greedily, the sound sending tingles through your limbs at a satisfying pace.

"C'mere, c'mere," he hisses, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up into his lap.

He feels like a drug addict, he's strung out on you and he needs more to function

Your legs wrap around his waist and when you whimper against his lips, his eyes roll back.

"Is this expensive?" he inquires, wrapping his fingers in the spaghetti straps of your nightgown.

"Yes," you answer, pulling away from him.

"Oh, good," he breathes, tugging roughly and feeling the fabric turn to strings before him.

He lays you down softly, watching how your hair billows out around you in tendrils on your pillow. Guk stays nestled between your thighs, running a free hand over your skin.

"You're so smooth and soft," he groans, pulling the useless fabric away from your body to see all of you.

At this moment, you want to cover up and hide. You want to push him off and just curl into the fetal position.

He can see that. He can see the sudden fright in his eyes and his heart hurts at the sight.

"I'm right here, just focus on me," he whispers, pulling at your hands until he lays them flat against his chest.

Your nails dig into his skin softly and the hiss he gives, the way his hips rut to yours on instinct has you distracted all over again.

Finally, he lets his eyes travel down your body.

"God, you're perfect," he mumbles, cupping your breasts.

"Guk, I-I don't know. I'm not… I don't…" you whisper, looking up at him.

When his mocha irises meet yours, they soften. "We can stop, do you want to stop, baby?"

He goes to retract his hands but the prospect of not having him might eat you alive more than if you do.

"I don't know," you answer honestly.

"That's not an answer," he chuckles, leaning down and kissing you softly.

His tongue fights for dominance with yours and it wins so easily that you can feel the ice cold walls around your heart melt within seconds.

You don't want to stop.

But you're scared.

So you're truthful with him and you voice it.

"I'm not going anywhere, Wednesday. I'm not Jasper. I'm here with you, I'm not leaving," he promises.

He's so confident and so heartfelt with his words that you just let yourself be.

You don't want to be this person anymore.

You aren't this person with Jeongguk and you really like that.

He makes you forget heartache and pain, he makes you forget anger and emptiness.

"Do you want this?" he asks, brushing some stray hairs from your face.

"Yes," you nod, giving a shaky breath.

His smile is wide and beaming and he caresses your cheek with the softest touch.

"Good girl," he praises softly, going back to his earlier route.

The praise has your mind spinning, like you're on some kind of serotonin drug.

His hands cup your breasts and he can only compliment them as his lips trail down your neck. "You've got a gorgeous body, Wednesday."

His thumbs flick at your hardening nipples and your back arches with a whimper that sounds so odd tumbling from your lips.

"That's it, gorgeous," Guk hisses, wrapping his perfect lips around your pert nipple.

He hasn't touched a woman in ages either, he himself hasn't been touched in what feels like years.

The escort wants this so badly, he can't even remind himself to pace himself, he just needs you, he just wants you so badly that it feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest.

"Say my name," he whispers, moving to your unattended breast and flicking your nipple with the tip of his tongue.

The action sends shivers up your spine and you cry out softly for more.

"Jeongguk!"

His eyes flutter closed at the sincerity of the word and he's all but ready to just give his whole self to you.

He could fall in love with you right now if he's not careful.

One hand continues to play with your breast, pinching and plucking at you until you're short of breath while the other rips your satin underwear away from your core with ease.

"Oh my God," you gasp, putting your head back and squeezing your eyes shut.

The escort kisses down your stomach until his arms are wrapping around your thighs to cage you into a device of his making.

He licks his lips, ogling how much arousal has made you a sodden mess before him and he wants to scream to Heavens to thank them for this opportunity.

"You okay?" Guk inquires sweetly, kissing from your knee to your inner thigh.

"Y-Yeah," you breathe, lifting up on your elbows.

"Good," he hisses, licking a flat stripe up your folding.

Your hands grip at the sheets, mouth dropping open at how warm and wet his mouth is.

"Tongue ring or no tongue ring?" he asks, letting his tongue hang past his lips.

"J-... I-... What?!" you whine, bunching your hands up in his hair.

His smirk is devilish and he chuckles deeply. "Tongue ring it is."

He begins to devour you, suckling and licking at your slit like a man possessed and you crash back down to the bed with moans ripping from your throat.

"Oh fuck! Guk!" you cry out, tugging roughly in his hair.

"Call me daddy," he murmurs, wrapping his lips around your swollen nub.

You're so blissed out that you can't even process his words but you still do as told. "Daddy! Oh my God!"

"Good girl," Guk breathes, inching two fingers towards your entrance.

Your lungs heave with heavy breaths and you watch with rapid fascination as he inches his fingers inside of you.

"You're fucking tight," Jeongguk groans heartily, attaching his lips back to your clit.

He fucks his fingers into you quickly, subsiding the burn of the stretch immediately.

Your legs tingle with pleasure and your toes curl, your mind is jumbled up and all you can feel is this deep ache within your stomach getting bigger and bigger.

When you had sex before, Jasper never looked up at you. He never even went down on you usually but Jeongguk is so present with you.

He stares up at you like he wants to see your pleasure, he wants to treasure this moment. He adores how you writhe and moan for him, he wants you to give everything over to him.

There's adoration in his eyes and you've never seen that before so it pushes you towards the precipice even faster.

He fucks his fingers into you dilligently, groaning at your taste and how loud your moans are that echo off the mansion walls.

"Give it to me, baby," he seethes through his teeth, "I can feel your pussy begging for it."

The handsome man between your legs curls his fingers quickly to the soft patch of muscles inside of you and you yelp softly at the overwhelming feeling.

It's like he already knows how to coax what he wants from you.

"Cum for me and I'll give you my cock," he promises.

It's strange how even in the throes of pleasure you can still find the sassiness you've become so used to peeking out of you. "Wh-Who said I want it?"

Guk chuckles against you, the ragged, hot breath making your back bow. "This pretty pussy says, now cum for me."

He curls his fingers faster until the ache in your stomach bursts and your thighs lock around his shoulders.

Your orgasm is filled with loud moans and white eyelids, your body quivers and racks and Jeongguk sits up to watch it all.

Fuck, you're gorgeous.

Why don't you understand this?

How is he going to make you understand?

Pulling his cock out of his briefs, he strokes it leisurely, waiting for you to come back down to Earth with him.

When your ears stop ringing, you blink once or twice only to be met with the beautiful sight before you.

His cock is long, longer than you expected and so thick that it makes your breath catch. The mushroom tip is red with need and the precum that weeps from his slit is so enticing that your legs open up for him without a second thought.

"Do you want to?" he inquires, leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss is slow and passionate, and he lets go of his cock to hold your face between his hands.

You nod against his lips and he can only smirk.

"Fuck me," you beg, dragging your fingers over his arms.

"Yes ma'am," he whispers, leaning up on his elbow.

You don't know this but he's not going to fuck you. He's going to make love to you but he won't tell you that because it would probably scare the hell out of you.

He positions himself at your entrance, staring deeply into your eyes.

This feels almost too emotional for you but you can't seem to tear your eyes away from his for even a second.

Guk enters you slowly, groaning at the tightness before kissing you languidly to distract you from the stretch.

"Oh my God!" you groan against his lips.

"I'm sorry, is it too big?" he asks with a knowing smile.

"No!" you hiss, letting your eyes flutter shut.

"Oh, no? It's not the biggest cock you've taken in this tight little pussy?" he teases, pulling out and thrusting roughly into you.

Your moan is so loud it could constitute for a scream and you grab for anything to steady yourself.

He gives you his hands, intertwining them and holding them over your head.

"You're so beautiful, Wednesday," he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Daddy!" you whine, squeezing his hands.

"I got you, baby. I'm not going anywhere. I promise," Jeongguk avows, thrusting into you harder.

His promise is heartfelt and sincere and that radiates deep inside of you.

Every thrust has meaning and an intention to solidify that.

"God, this pussy feels so fucking good. You're so fucking wet!"

"All for you," you breathe.

You're sincere too.

And he knows it.

"Fuck," he curses, picking up the pace.

Your breasts jiggle with his movements and your mind is muddling again all on its own.

He lets one hand go to slide it down your stomach until it nestles against your throbbing bud and he rubs smooth, fast circles.

"Daddy! Fuck! Yes!"

"Yeah? You like that? You want more, baby? You want to cum for me again?"

You nod incessantly, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Then cum," he coos softly, burying his face in your neck.

Your perfume wraps him in this loving shroud where nothing could ever bother him. You keep him peaceful in this moment.

"I feel it, baby, give it to me. Your pussy is milking my cock so nicely," he groans muffled into your skin.

"G-Guk!" you cry out, squeezing his one hand tighter.

The way you call his name, the anxiousness behind it has him lifting his head.

"I'm right here, Y/N," he whispers, kissing you and coaxing the orgasm from you peacefully.

You whine loudly against his lips, letting go of everything.

The escort groans loudly at how your pussy clenches around him, practically begging him for his seed so he can only comply.

"Oh fuck! I'm cumming! I'm cumming, baby girl!"

His thrusts become shorter and harder until he spills his seed inside of you with shaky breath.

"Baby," he moans loudly, wrapping his arms around you.

Both of your hearts are beating so fast that it feels like they might just give up out of nowhere without warning.

He pulls out of you slowly, laying down by your side and he doesn't even give you a chance to pull away. He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your hair as he closes his eyes.

There's comfortable silence for a while, it's so comfortable that you haven't even had a chance to begin to worry yet.

"I want you to meet my dog," he mumbles sleepily, kissing your shoulder.

"Your dog?" you inquire with a tired giggle.

"He's the only other one that means more to me in this universe than anything."

"The only other one?" you breathe curiously.

He smirks tiredly, closing his eyes.

"Yeah. You heard me, Wednesday."

<----- Last Chapter Next Chapter ----->

#at your service #ays #chapter 9 #chap 9 #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #bts fic #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jeongguk fic

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starryevermore · 2 years ago

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to be loved by him ✧ tech

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: Tech meeting a cute racing mechanic and 100% being smitten and stumbly and bumbly but when he races he's cool and calm and confident. They 100% make out in the pit stop after he wins - @captainsbestgal

pairing: tech x fem!mechanic!reader

summary: when tech comes to safa toma, you find yourself smitten. lucky for you, he feels the same.

word count: 2,085

warnings?: mild spoilers for season 2 episode 4 of the bad batch, fluff, making out, little bit of teasing, pet name (cyar’ika), not proofread

Working as a mechanic at Safa Toma Speedway was not the sort of work you always dreamed of you. Working as a mechanic? Sure. That had always been the plan. Machines made more sense than people, after all. There were only so many responses, so many actions, a machine could make. People, though? People…Well, they didn’t like you. They thought you were “too much”. They thought you talked too loudly. They thought you laughed too much. They thought you overbearing, annoying, exasperating, irritating. But machines? Machines didn’t think those things. Except for droids, of course, who were maddeningly opinionated. But that was why you didn’t often work with droids. Until now, of course. But these were extenuating circumstances.

When the Republic became the Empire, everything changed. Your home planet was no longer safe—or, at least, it wouldn’t be. You may not have liked people, but you knew enough to know to recognize patterns. And the way things were looking, you could already feel the cold, iron grip of tyranny squeezing your home. You took the first ship out of there, which, unfortunately, put you on Safa Toma.

Safa Toma wasn’t…a great place to be. It housed criminals, smugglers, gamblers, and the like. It wasn’t exactly the safe haven you were hoping for. You supposed it was your fault for not paying more attention when you bought your ticket. But, you were here now, and you made do.

You ended up being employed at the Safa Toma Speedway. It wasn’t the best work, but it paid well. All you had to do was make sure the droid racer, TAY-0, was working fine and that his speeder ran well. And, of course, aid him in modifying the speeder, since the speeder wasn’t designed for racing. You were grateful for the work, so you kept your head down about the seedier aspects of Riot Racing. Don’t kick a gift horse in the mouth, as they say.

And, oh, were you glad that you decided to stick around.

Cid, who often bet on TAY-0, had come to the track, alongside two…bodyguards? And a child. (Part of you wondered if the child was also a bodyguard. Though she didn’t look much older than ten or eleven, she looked like she packed a punch.) You more interested in the handsome, goggles-wearing bodyguard, though. If you weren’t busy working, you would have made a proposition or two. Though, you mused, you might just still have the opportunity.

The race had gone well, until it didn’t. The other racers destroyed the speeder. It crashed. In the wreckage was the broken bits of TAY-0. An unfortunate turn of events for Cid, who bet her freedom on TAY-0 winning. But then the child—Omega— but in, and raised the stakes. If TAY-0 won the next race, Cid was free.

Your hand was brushing against Tech’s—one of Cid’s maybe-bodyguards (you still weren't sure on the arrangement)—as you reached for a tool to repair TAY-0.

“Ope, sorry,” you said, pulling your hand away.

Tech passed you the tool you had been reaching for. “No need to apologize.”

You offered him a smile before turning back to your task of reconstructing TAY-0’s arm. Kriff, you felt like an idiot around him. Tech, you mean. Not TAY-0. (TAY-0 could kick rocks.) You usually had so much to say that people would tell you to shut up. But when you were around Tech, your mouth suddenly became dry. Your palms became clammy. You struggled to even figure out how to form a sentence. What the hell was he doing to you?

“So, uh,” he coughed, “how’d you end up working here?”

You stared at him. Was he trying to do small talk? Curious. He didn’t strike you as a small talk sort of person.

“If it’s too personal, you don’t have to say,” he rushed out. There was a pink tint to his face. “I thought it might be nice to talk. Fill the air, you know. We’re going to be here all night. Based on my calculations, we’ll be lucky to have everything repaired and in working order before the race begins tomorrow. And—”

You cracked a smile. His words died in his throat. It was endearing, how nervous he got around you. At least you weren’t alone in that camp. “The Empire,” you said. His brows shot up. You were quick to add, “Nothing happened. Nothing specific, I mean. But they took over my home planet, and I got a bad feeling about it. Decided to trust my instincts and booked the first ship outta there. Ended up here, which wasn’t much better.” You took a moment to look him over. “I think it was a good decision, though. I probably wouldn’t have met you if I ended up somewhere else.”

The pinkness in Tech’s face burned red. “Oh—I—uh—“

“What about you? How’d you end up working for Cid?”

Tech eyed you, hesitancy overtaking his demeanor. Had you overstepped a boundary? Had you said something that triggered bad memories? Oh, dear. That was the last thing you wanted to do.

Tech stared at you, unblinking. He didn’t blink very much at all, though. His wide eyes constantly took in his surroundings, calculating and categorizing all that he saw. It should have been unnerving, but it wasn’t. It was…comforting. You liked knowing he saw you. “I would rather talk about you,” he said finally. “How did you end up a mechanic?”

You pondered for a moment, tried to formulate a response. You didn’t want to make yourself sound like a fool. “Just what felt natural, you know? I was always good with my hands, always had a mind for puzzles. That’s all being a mechanic is, really. Figuring out the puzzle of the machine, determining what pieces you needed to fit together to make a cohesive picture.”

Tech nodded along as you spoke. “Is it not what you wanted to do?”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

No one had ever asked you that before. When you told your parents of your chosen career, they shrugged with a quiet sort of indifference. Something about how mechanics are always needed, so you’d always have a job. That it made decent money, so you could have a good life. It was nothing of prestige, so it wasn’t something they got excited about. But it also wasn’t something outlandish, so they didn’t protest, either. Now that you thought about, perhaps your feelings were more similar to your parents’ than you once believed.

“You said being a mechanic felt natural, but there’s no emotions behind your words. Rather, you only speak with a reluctant acceptance. It is reasonable to assume that you don’t care much for being a mechanic. That it is not what you’re passionate about.�� Tech tilted his head. “What are you passionate about?”

You considered his words. There was one thing, a long-forgotten dream that you stuffed away to the far crevices of your mind. It felt strange to be pulling it back out now. “I suppose I always wanted to be a pilot. That wasn’t really an option on my home planet, though. People stuck to the ground. But I remember one time, my family and I visited a cousin on a different planet, and I was mesmerized by the stars, the feeling of traveling through space. When I came here, when I was on the ship that brought me here, I felt like that little girl again. Mesmerized by the stars.”

Tech’s hand came to rest on top of your own. You froze at the contact. When was the last time someone touched you? “When this is over, you should come with us,” Tech said. “I serve as our pilot now, but it’s not really something I care for. If you would like to, I mean.”

“Really?”

“I could teach you the basics, if you’d like, and then you could take over—”

“TECH’S GOT A GIRLFRIEND!” Wrecker shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. He made kissy noises in your direction.

You jumped away like you’d been shocked. Tech whipped around to glare at his brother.

Omega tugged on Wrecker’s arm, forcing him to return to their task. “Shh, let’s let them be.”

Tech looked back at you. “We can talk about it more later, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Now, you worried you would never get the change. TAY-0, who you and Tech worked so hard in restoring, was destroyed just before the race started. All hope seemed lost, but then Tech volunteered himself as the racer. Kriff, it made you sick to think of him on the track. He could handle himself, probably, but there were so many risks. People played dirty out there. If he wasn’t careful, his first race might just be his last.

You muttered a prayer to the Maker as the race began. You didn’t want to lose him. Not when you just met him. You watched as his speeder took off, falling behind everyone else.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” you asked, anxiety biting at your nerves.

“Of course I do,” Tech reported. The nervousness he had around you before had melted away. “I’m being strategic. I have a lot of incentive to win, don’t I?”

Your face grew warm. “Yes, yes you do.”

Wrecker bumped his shoulder against yours. When you looked up at him, he wiggled his eyebrows at you. “Lotta incentive, huh?”

“Hush!”

You chewed on the corner of your nail as you watched the race. With every movement, you worried that Tech wasn’t going to be able to pull through. Then he took the tunnel to the left, and it felt like you died then and there. Didn’t he know that he wasn’t supposed to take that one? Didn’t he know that was dangerous?

“Tech, I swear, if you die out there, I’m gonna kill you,” you muttered.

He laughed. “Worry not, cyar’ika. I have not intention of dying today.”

And you were glad he didn’t. As he crossed the finished line, winning the race, all of your worries and anxieties exploded into pure joy. All around you, the crowd shouted his name. Tech! Tech! Tech! He got out of his speeder, looking out at the crowd in amazement. Then his focus turned you.

You ran toward him, throwing your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Oh! This is nice,” he said, his arms wrapping around you.

“If I’m going to go with you, you’re not allowed to scare me like that again!” you said.

Tech’s mouth twitched slightly, a small smirk forming on his face. “You know, I think I deserve a good, proper reprimand, don’t you?” When your breath caught in your throat, he continued, “Perhaps we should take this to the pit?”

That was how you ended up seated on a table, legs wrapped around Tech’s waist, fingers pulling at his hair, kissing him so hard you were sure your lips were going to be bruised. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you close against his chest, like he was trying to mold you into him. His tongue darted out, tracing along your bottom lip. Your lips parted, letting him in, his tongue exploring your mouth like he was trying to commit every part of you to memory.

“We should,” you mumbled against his lips, “go rescue Cid.”

“Wrecker and Omega got it handled,” Tech said, pulling away for a moment to catch his breath. He nuzzled his nose against yours. “Let me enjoy you.”

“Hey, is this is how your flight lessons are going to go?” you asked, your breath fanning over his face.

Tech let out a chuckle. “Only if you’re a good student.”

“Mm, I promise to be on my best behavior then.”

Tech leaned back in, his lips molding against yours. You moaned slightly, tugging him closer. But, you weren’t given the opportunity to enjoy him like you wanted to because—

“TECH? Where are you? We need to get Cid—OH MY GOD!” Wrecker shouted. “We already got one kid to deal with, don’t be adding another to this!”

You pulled away, laughing so hard you snorted. Tech glared at his brother, but reluctantly unwound himself from you. He held out his hands and helped you down from the table. One hand held onto yours, keeping you close.

“We will continue this later.”

“I look forward to it.”

And, oh, you did.

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hoetolegist · 2 years ago

Text

Use and abuse me

Summary: You pressed your forehead against the glass and just took a moment to breathe and think. You listened to the sounds of the heavy winds whipping through the trees as you closed your eyes and inhaled. How did you get here? Why did you let yourself get here?

Warnings: consensual drug use, attempted forced drug use, manipulation, crying before and during sex, yelling, gaslighting, implied betrayal, he's very rough when handling her so I'm gonna put abuse just to be safe, explicit language, Stefan is toxic toxic, poor y/n, rough sex, low-key breeding kink, degradation kink, praise kink, oral (F receiving), dirty talk, slow sex, intimate sex, when I say Stefan gives you emotional whiplash I mean it, everything that happens when they have sex is consensual, they are fucking outside btw, on a terrace, on a small glass table, under the bright stars lol

Note: This is FICTION. I obviously would not enjoy seeing myself or anybody else in a situation like this in real life. I don't own any of the characters used (except "y/n" duh)

"You did this to me!" You banged on the table with all the strength you could muster as you pushed your seat back to stand up, the half full cups of liquor fell to the floor with a thud. "All you do is hurt me! Look at me Stefan! This isn't who I used to be" you shouted into the crisp night air

Stefan just examined you like you were a child throwing a fit. He never really looked at you, he examined you, watched you as if you were some science experiment. He watched as your mascara smudged under your eyes from crying, he watched as your knees got scratched and bruised from kneeling and begging, he watched as you lost yourself and who you used to be completely

You heard Stefan sigh loudly, letting you know he was annoyed. "Stop crying" he said, straight faced, as if that was all it took to shut you up. He grabbed a bottle of pills and threw them at you "you did this to yourself Y/n. You were doing this long before me. I just gave you the push you needed to truly accept what you do" he shrugged nonchalantly

You scoffed, not knowing wether you should be angry or sad. You loved him, everything you did was to prove your love to him, hoping in the slightest chance that he would love you back, that he would continue to love you back. If you could've guessed that it would end up like this, you wouldn't have been so stupid, you wouldn't have left your whole life behind for him

But Stefan was right, you did this to yourself. You were fucked up way before you met him, meeting him just intensified all of your highs. He was exactly what you needed at the moment. You craved the way Stefan touched you and you craved the attention that he gave you. He just drug you deeper and deeper into the hole that you already dug for yourself

"You'll never admit it but you wanted this life. I just gave it to you baby"

You flinched at the pet name "no no I didn't" you stared at the pills that spilled at your feet "I didn't ask for this". You squeezed your eyes shut and sunk down to the floor, not having enough energy to keep yourself up anymore

"Fuck fuck fuck" you chanted to yourself, clutching your chest and gasping for air, it felt like a weight was being pushed deeper and deeper into your chest. Stefan was by your side in a split second enveloping you in his arms. "Hey, hey, breathe. You're okay baby" he softly brushed your hair with his hand and if you didn't know any better you would have cuddled into his arms and enjoyed the warmth

You didn't have the energy to push the man back or fight him off, you allowed Stefan to hold you on the empty terrace. Maybe this is the life you were supposed to live, maybe this is what you were looking for all along. To be used and broken into pieces. It's what you need, it's what you deserve

Eventually the heavy breathing turned into loud, body aching sobs as Stefan held you and rocked you slowly. "I love you, I love you so much I feel like I might die without you" you confessed through tears "but I can't do this anymore". Your voice was shaky, no matter how hard you tried to stop it. You wanted to sound confident, sure of yourself, you wanted Stefan to see that you were serious

You pulled out of Stefan's hold, momentarily surprised that he let you. "I won't do this anymore" you pulled yourself up onto shaky legs

But Stefan just chuckled lowly. He grabbed two pills off of the floor before standing back up to face you. He watched as you flinched when he lifted his hand to touch your cheek and he softly smiled at the hitch in your breath when he lightly traced your bottom lip with his thumb

He brought the pills up to your mouth with one hand and used the other to hold your chin "baby, I love that you think you have a choice". He traced your lips with one of the pills "remember when we used to take these?" he questioned with a hum "percs used to get us so fucked up, made you beg for my cock all the time" his warm breath fanned across your lips as he whispered about your past choices

You tensed as Stefan pushed one in your mouth. You guys stared at each other for a second and you saw a flash of amusement in his eyes, you weren't surprised that he was enjoying this. Normally you'd cower down in fear and maybe you should've but instead you spit the pill into Stefan's face, pushed him away from you and used all of the strength you had left to run for the door

Stefan stumbled back but caught himself before he could fall. He watched you intensely, narrowing his eyes as he slowly walked closer to you struggling to open the door. You were panicking. The door won't fucking open and you can feel Stefan burning a hole in your back with his stare. It was scary, you wanted to leave, you needed to get out of there and away from this man. You slapped on the door, hoping someone would hear you from outside the penthouse but then you felt warmth press up against you, pinning you to the door

Stefan pressed his chest against your back then he grabbed your waist. "You think you can just run away from me pretty?" He whispered into your ear, feeling you shaking in his arms. "You think I'd make it that fucking easy for you to run away from me?" his voice was rising with each word that came out of his mouth

"Turn around" he demanded

You pressed your forehead against the glass and just took a moment to breathe and think. You listened to the sounds of the heavy winds whipping through the trees as you closed your eyes and inhaled. How did you get here? Why did you let yourself get here?

"Turn the fuck around Y/n!" Stefan banged his fist on the door causing you to jump and the glass to rattle. You slowly turned around to face Stefan with your eyes shut, you didn't want to see the look on his face. You were scared to look him in the eye, scared that you'd cower down again if you did. He had a way of doing that to you, making you feel like you were beneath him

He grabbed your chin so hard it'll probably leave bruises "didn't I tell you that I don't like repeating myself?". You could imagine the fire in his eyes, the dark look he's giving you right now. You gulped harshly, your throat dried up from the fear that coursed through you. "I asked you a question Y/n, don't piss me off" he talked as if he was counting to ten in his head, trying to calm himself down

You sucked in a shaky breath "y-yes you did" you could feel the hot tears burning your cheeks as they began to fall. It was embarrassing, you always let him win, you can never win and you were tired of it. You couldn't help but be frustrated at not only Stefan but yourself, you were drained and you shouldn't be. You should be trying to fight, trying to save yourself and get back home but you couldn't no matter how hard you tried because you love him

Stefan reached his free hand up, allowing his fingertips to lightly graze your cheek, reveling in the wetness of your tears and the way your lashes fanned across the apple of your cheeks when your eyes were closed

He bent his head down to whisper in your ear "baby" he chuckled lowly. He placed a few soft kisses along the shape of your jawline before sliding his hand up the back of your neck to grab a handful of your hair. He pulled your head back harshly "don't you ever do anything like that again" his lips ghosted across your earlobe "do you understand?"

You squirmed in Stefan's hold, your chest rising and falling heavily. You squeezed your eyes, keeping them shut, waiting for the harsh hold on your hair to let up but it seemed to only get tighter. "Yes I understand" you rushed out, your head was starting the throb and you just wanted it to stop

You opened your eyes to find Stefan looking down at you. You stared into his eyes, searching his face to try and read him, trying to.find just a little bit of emotion behind them. You know that Stefan would never hurt you so long as you show him that you understand, you can't fight back

"Stefan please" you squeaked out, defeated and not having the energy to fight back anymore

"Don't you have something to say to me?" Stefan let go of your hair but still towered over you. He gently dragged his knuckles along your jawline, his raspy voice vibrating through your body "I think I deserve an apology"

You nodded your head "I'm so s-sorry"

"For?"

This was a game to Stefan, he loved having you at his mercy, begging for forgiveness when you did the slightest thing to push him over the edge. He loved that you gave him that power, that control. When he first met you, you were broken, so broken that he knew he could mold you into the perfect compliant little doll just for him and you are, perfect for him and him only

"For saying and doing things I d-don't mean" you felt hot tears falling down your face again "I love you baby" you cupped Stefan's face with your hands "I don't want to run away from you, I didn't mean it"

Truth is, you wouldn't have anywhere to go even if you did manage to get away. You pushed all of your friends away and practically told your parents to fuck off and die. They wouldn't want you back and you could never bring yourself to face them again even if you had the chance. Maybe that's why you never tried too hard to get away, you knew deep down that you'd have no where else to call home. Stefan loves you, takes care of you, doesn't judge you and keeps you safe. Why should you give that up?

You blinked through the blurriness of your tears. Your eyes were starting to burn from crying so much and you just wanted to lay down and sleep in your lovers arms

But of course Stefan wouldn't have that

He lowered your hands then held your chin with his fingers, making you look up at him. His eyes flickered to your lips "you know I don't like yelling at you. You just have to know your place baby" he whispered while softly caressing your cheek and wiping the lone tear that slipped from your eye. You nodded in understanding and wrapped your arms around his waist to hug him

"I love you" he murmured before pulling you into a slow, passionate kiss

Emotional whiplash, is how you would describe your every encounter with Stefan. One minute the man is throwing a fit, punching doors and tables, making you fear for your life and the next minute he's holding you gently, kissing you slowly, telling you that he loves you and making you feel the safest you ever felt

It hurts, how you could feel so safe in the arms of someone so crazy

You whimpered as Stefan began to place feather light kisses down your neck. You wanted more, you wanted Stefan to fuck you hard and rough, you want to forget about everything that happened today

As if he could read your mind he grabbed your ass and squeezed tightly, coaxing a moan out of you. "You want me to fuck you out here baby?" he breathed against your neck, still sucking bruises into the once unblemished skin. You nodded, loving the feel of Stefan's lips on you since you were craving his touch all day. You moaned out at a particular nip under your ear and lifted your hands to run your fingers through Stefan's hair but the contact was taken away just as quickly as it was given

You almost cried at the loss of his touch but when you opened your eyes you immediately lit up at the sight of Stefan sitting at the table making three lines out of some white power that was in one of the bags he put out. "Just for you baby" he said, waving you over

You fixed your shirt and adjusted your shorts before walking over to the small glass table that sat in the middle of the terrace. You sat on Stefan's lap, back to chest and watched in fascination as the man used his blue credit card to make neat lines. "Can I do it?" You turned around to stare at Stefan with the puppy eyes

"Maybe next time" he pulled you back against him "let me take care of you" he murmured softly against your ear

You perked up at the promise of being cared for, you love when Stefan takes care of you. "Mm" you sat back and waited for him to tell you what to do

When Stefan was done he put the card to the side and massaged your hips "go ahead baby". You bit your lip and looked back at Stefan, the man was looking at you so intensely, so full of love and desire. In a situation like this you'd think feelings like that would cease to exist but you can see it, even if it doesn't show as much as you want

You bent down, your nose close to the table and your ass pressed down against Stefan's hardening dick. "Fuck you're so sexy" you heard Stefan groan as he rubbed all over your ass. That egged you on and soon enough you had your finger pressing down on one nostril while you inhaled deeply across one of the lines with the other

The burn always hits you right away, it felt good to have that tingly feeling back. You sat back up and shook your head, "Fuck" you breathed out a sigh of content

It was a sensational feeling, one that you can't get anytime else with anyone else except for Stefan. You were relaxed and soon enough by the time Stefan did both of the other lines, everything you felt emotionally and physically was heightened. You could feel Stefan's hands rubbing all over your body, rubbing up and down your back, his warm breath fanning across your neck, everything. You moaned, high pitched and whiny, not caring about how needy you sounded. You were just intensely horny now

You didn't even realize that you were grinding down against Stefan until he squeezed your hips to stop you. "Get on the table" he smacked one of your ass cheeks and pointed at the table. You didn't want to ask any questions, you just wanted to feel, the urge to feel overrided any other emotion

Without any questions you got on the table, spreading your legs wide. Stefan licked his lips and rubbed his hands up your legs, pulling them apart just a bit more. He pulled your shirt off, eyes darkening when he noticed you didn't have a bra on then he unbuttoned your shorts, pulling them down to your ankles when you lifted yourself up a bit

"So wet for me already"

You moaned softly when Stefan flicked your clit. He knew your body better than anybody else you've ever been with, he touched you exactly how you wanted to be touched. "Tell me what you want me to do" Stefan said while lazily trailing a finger through your folds

You licked your lips "I want you to eat me out and finger me"

With a hum Stefan stood up and grabbed your ankles, making you lay back on the table. He pulled your shorts off completely and threw them to the side. He sat back down, now his face was aligned with your pussy, the prettiest pussy he ever saw. He parted the glistening lips, hearing you whimper from the cool air hitting your exposed pussy. The hole fluttered like it just needed a cock in it but instead of a cock Stefan lowered his head and slowly licked a stripe from your core to your clit

"Fuck, don't tease" you breathed. You let your head lay back against the table as you stared at the sky. You couldn't see Stefan properly as much as you wanted to, the table was too small and your bottom half was literally hanging off of it. You spread your legs out more and held them up

Stefan chuckled, the vibrations going straight through you, making you moan. You let go of one leg to grip Stefan's hair as the older started fucking his tongue in and out of your hole. "Mm so good baby" you whined, grinding your pussy against his face

Suddenly Stefan pulled away and flipped you over so you were on your stomach, feet planted on the floor and ass hanging off the table. He moved the chair out of the way and got on his knees, burying his face back into your pussy. As he licked and nippled on your sensitive clit, he also circled your hole with two fingers and slid both of them in at once. Your knees buckled, eyes rolling back at the pleasurable intrusion

"Tell me how you feel baby. You know I love to hear you"

"Feels s-so good" you whined as Stefan began scissoring his fingers inside, searching for your g-spot. "Right there, right there" you chanted breathlessly when he pressed against your spot. He started ramming his fingers in at a brutal pace as he sucked on your clit harder. Your thighs were shaking and you gripped onto the table harshly, knuckles paling from the grip. It was when Stefan lightly dragged his teeth against your clit that you finally came with a shout of his name

He continued to finger you until you were whining for him to stop because you were getting sensitive. "Okay okay" you said breathlessly as you reached a hand back to pull him away. He kissed your sensitive clit one more time before moving to leave light kisses on your ass cheeks, making his way up your spine until he was standing up behind you, kissing your neck and pressing his clothed erection against your bare pussy

"Wish I had a mirror out here so I can make you look at yourself" Stefan whispered in your ear as he unbuckled his belt. He sloppily kissed and nipped your shoulder as he pulled his hardened cock out. "So needy and submissive, just for me" he moaned softly, now rubbing the tip of his cock between your wet folds

Your pussy pulsated, waiting for him to slide inside of you. "Tell me you need me" he said, leaning back and pulling one of your ass cheeks so he can see as he rubbed his cock against your pussy. "Tell me and I'll fuck you as rough as you want" Stefan wanted to fuck you right now just as much as you wanted him to fuck you but he wanted to hear you say it, he needs you to need him

You looked back at him just as he looked at you, locking eyes with him was scary since he always looked at you so intensely but every time you look at him no matter how scared you get, you also get butterflies in your stomach. You know for a fact that you need him, you really do. He's all you have and he took good care of you when no one else did, you love him

"I need you baby, I need you so much" you replied, not breaking eye contact with him until he began to slowly push into you. You pressed your cheek against the table, mouth open in a silent moan as his cock stretched you open. Once he was fully in with his hips pressed against your ass, he slid a hand up your spine, touch light, making you tingle with anticipation

"Yeah you do" he whispered, more to himself than to you. He grabbed your hair and wrapped his other arm around your waist as he pulled you up, your back just a few inches away from being right against his chest. He started off slow, thrusting in and out at a torturing pace as he left sloppy kisses on your neck. "You'll always need me y/n" he breathed against your neck, kissing under your ear

After that he let you go and set a brutal pace, ramming into you harshly as you balanced yourself against the table. "y-you're so deep" you moaned as he kept hitting a spot that made your legs feel like jelly. He squeezed your hips so tight that you're sure it'll leave bruises but you loved to look in the mirror and see how much he ruined you

"Mhm" he moaned as he pulled your ass cheeks apart and watched his cock move in and out of you "you're taking me like a good slut, making me feel so good" he allowed his eyes to flutter closed as he focused on the feeling of your pussy and how wet you are for him

You closed your eyes as well, your mouth open in a "O" shape. You love when he talks to you like that, praising you yet degrading you at the same time. "Fuck" you shuddered, feeling your orgasm about to hit you head on. Stefan stopped moving when he felt you squeezing impossibly tighter around him, he wanted to fuck you for just a little bit longer

"Don't cum yet baby" he demanded as both of you breathed harshly. He placed small kisses on your shoulder, thrusting slowly a few more times before pulling out completely. You tried to push your hips back to chase his cock but he stopped with a smack on your ass. "Turn around" he said and you didn't dare disobey his commend, quickly turning around. He smiled at you as he watched you sit back up on the table and it was the softest you've ever seen him, he doesn't smile much but when he does it's so beautiful. He looks like a completely different person when he smiles, it reminds you why you fell in love with him in the first place

Stefan rubbed your sides gently, a contrast from the rough way he was just fucking into you. "I love you" he whispered as he slid back into you and started circling his hips against yours. "Tell me you won't leave me" he hugged you to his chest and put his forehead on your shoulder as he continued to slowly thrust in you. You allowed him to hold you tightly as he fucked you slow, but desperately

The sudden switch up confused you, he never really talked like this during sex and he was never really too intimate. Slow sex was never your thing when it came to sex with him but you never knew how badly you needed it from him until now. For some reason it felt even better than the rough sex, you could feel him more, not just his movements but his feelings. He's always so closed off with you but you love him anyway, you want him to open up to you one day

"I won't leave you. I won't ever leave you" you reassured him as he breathed harshly into your neck. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him closer, well as close as you both could get. "Talk to me baby" you put a hand in his hair and kissed wherever you could reach. "Talk to me please, just once" you just wanted him to open up you, at least for tonight. You knew he wasn't going to talk but you were begging for him to open up just once so you could help him

Stefan grabbed under both of your knees and lifted your legs up, pulling them wider apart. He placed small kisses on your shoulder and collarbone "did you take the pill today?" he huffed out between groans. You tensed up against him, you didn't take the pill today. It was a busy day and it slipped your mind completely. Fuck, how could you forget the fucking birth control pill? You didn't want to tell him, he'd be mad at you and you didn't want him to be mad at you, not right now. But you didn't want to lie to him either, what if you ended up pregnant and he stopped loving you?

You slowly shook your head no and closed your eyes as tears built up "No, fuck I- I wasn't thinking I'm sorry" you said before he could say anything. But he didn't say anything and he didn't stop or pull out, he just moaned even louder and picked up his pace. He seemed even more determined to fuck you and the thought of him actually wanting to get you pregnant made your pussy clench around his cock

He looked at your face as he rolled his hips into you, he wanted to see your reaction to everything. "You're so beautiful" he said as he wiped away your tears, he groaned "I'm gonna cum and you're gonna take it like a good girl, okay?". You knew that he wasn't giving you an option, he was telling you but even if he did give you an option, you wanted to feel him cum in you, you want it so bad. You nodded then there was no talking after that, you both didn't break eye contact as he fucked you. It wasn't as slow as a few minutes ago but it was still intimate and he was still vulnerable, you could see it in his eyes

Both of you were now in a trance that wouldn't be broken until a mutual release. You clenched around him as you felt your orgasm building up again, every inch of him was rubbing against your g-spot and your legs were practically vibrating around his waist. "You really want me to fill you up, huh? Fucking slut" Stefan said with a smug smile on his face, he knew that you wanted it and the fact that he knew is what pushed you over the edge into a mind-numbing orgasm

"Don't stop I'm cum-" your sentence cut off into a choked scream as your body jerked and your vision turned white and fuzzy. Stefan kept a slow and steady rhythm throughout your whole orgasm, waiting until you fell limp onto the table, body relaxed and head feeling light

Stefan grabbed your hips, squeezing tightly and increased his speed. Your body bounced uncontrollably as he slammed into you hard and fast, chasing his orgasm and giving you another one. "Ah, slow down" you whined, feeling sensitive and over stimulated. He slowed down and gave you long deep strokes, his cock throbbed inside of you as he neared his climax

A couple more thrust and he groaned loudly, burying himself deep until his balls were flush against your pussy. With a loud and deep moan he released inside of you "fuuuck" he closed his eyes and his body jerked a couple of times as he continued to penetrate you slowly "mm you take my cum so well" he circled his hips as he leaned forward to catch your lips into a slow kiss

It was so exhilarating, you were high off of him and his touch. You wanted more, you always wanted more when it came to him. "I love you so much" you slurred your words a little as sleepiness started to take over. You winced from over sensitivity as he pulled out "and you won't leave me right? Even if I get pregnant?" You felt like words were just coming out of your mouth without your brain controlling it but you couldn't stop, you were feeling so many things at once and something needed out

You wrapped your arms around Stefan's neck as he picked you up bridal style and carried you into the penthouse. He didn't answer your questions and the pout on your face proved that it was bothering you. He sat you on the toilet for you to pee while he ran some water for a bath "are you okay?" He questioned, eyebrows furrowed in worry. You hummed to let him know you heard him and that you're fine

"Use your words baby" he demanded with a tired sigh. Both of you needed some sleep and you were too tired to speak, your high was wearing off and your head was starting to hurt. You got up to get in the bath, slowly sinking down into the warm water and releasing a relaxed breath. You closed your eyes

"I'm fine" you said softly "you- you didn't answer my question" you decided to get the conversation over with. You honestly weren't sure if you wanted to hear his answer because what if he said he can't love you anymore? What would you do? You have nobody else and nowhere to go, he's all you've ever known for the past few years, he's all you ever wanted to know

You relaxed back against Stefan's chest as he got into the tub behind you. "I won't leave you" he whispered in your ear softly, placing a small kiss under it. He grabbed the body wash and squeezed some into his hand to lather it on your skin. "I love you, you're mine forever" he knows how much you love to hear him say that, you are his and he promised to you and himself that he'll take good care of you. "And if we have a baby, then we have a baby. I'm still never going to leave you" he finished, gently massaging your scalp with the body wash

You breathed out a sigh of relief at the confession and the feeling. Of course he loves you, you'd be stupid to think he doesn't. "Promise?" You asked, turning to him with eyes full of joy and hope. He kissed you softly on the lips and smiled "yeah I promise"

Promises are meant to be broken

#chrissy 🐾 🐾#stefan salvatore #stefan x reader #turns out it's also my 2 year anniversary on this app #emotional whiplash #warning he is confusing as fvck #the ending...sorry

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whumpingisfun · 1 year ago

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Respect and Responsibility | 2 | S4MM0715640

TWs: dehumanization, pet whump (of the human variety), modern institutionalized slavery, fantasy whump, overuse of magical abilities, heavily conditioned whumpee, injured caretaker

Pet S4MM0715640 has been awake for 24 hours and 59 minutes and 30…31…32… seconds!

It was dark. Noisy. But that’s okay! Because S4MM0715640 is a good Pet! He’s good and quiet and curled up nice and cozy and everything is okay, because soon S4MM0715640 will be seeing his Master!!

He’s very excited to meet his Master. His Master needs him!! He is a good boy, and good boys do whatever their Master needs them to do!

And right now, Master needed him to be patient and good and curled up in his safe little box.

He can feel movement and shuffling around, and he’s slid side to side as his box is moved. It’s like being on a ship!! Woah… So cool. Not that S4MM0715640 would know what a ship is like, that’s from Before Times. But S4MM0715640 had been told that ships rock back and forth and that’s what it had been like except the movement was jerky and suddenly stopped.

Now S4MM0715640 and his box are buzzing, a strange vibration and bump, the sound of something whirring past every so often.

And then someone honks!!!

It makes S4MM0715640 startle so hard he bonks his head against the wall of his box above the nice soft cushioning and tears spark in the Pet’s gold eyes. But… but S4MM0715640 is good! So… so the ache in the Pet’s head must be what Master wants, yes! So the little bit of pain is good and S4MM0715640 can bear it, because it will make Master happy!

He buries his head into the softness below him, and tries not to cry too loud, because S4MM0715640 is a good Pet, and he’s supposed to be pretty and loudly sobbing isn’t pretty.

But his head really hurts…

He cries himself to sleep, curled up safe and warm in his box to the rumbling and distant whooshes of bigger things than himself passing him and his box by.

S4MM0715640 wakes up slowly. He had been asleep for three hours. S4MM0715640 doesn’t know how he knows that, he just does! Time is a very familiar friend to the pet. It keeps moving and moving and yet he’s always aware of the trajectory.

And then… something strange happens.

Time doesn’t feel like time anymore.

It feels weird and stuttery and strange, and S4MM0715640 doesn’t know what to think about the way the feelings buzz and stutter inside him like he’s full of angry bees.

The feeling settles just slightly, just in time for his box to start moving again. It’s not as smooth as the way S4MM0715640’s box had been moving before. It’s full of starts and stops and it makes S4MM0715640 dizzy in a way that he’s not sure he’s supposed to feel! But S4MM0715640 is just a pet and maybe this is just how his Master is getting S4MM0715640’s box home after it’s been delivered. Maybe Master is just getting his box juuuust right before unboxing S4MM0715640 like the package he is!

Oh! Oh, the bee feeling is gone.

S4MM0715640 perks up as he hears the sound of fingers fumbling for the latch (his box was very sturdy, to keep him safe while heading to his Master!). He hears the Click!

He’s still left to blink-blink-blink his gold eyes (custom! Made just to order and to be extra pretty and shimmery) up as his Master stares down with pain hazed brown eyes -- and then collapses entirely.

“Oh! Oh no, Master--” he gasps, stiff muscles still letting him spring immediately into action (he was made for this he was made for this he was made to care--) and he catches the dark skinned man before he can fully hit the floor, cradling his Master’s head in his lap.

Pets are special.

Pets are special, and are not human, no matter how pretty and similar their Master wishes them to look. Pets are biomachines, made up of tiny nanites that shift into whatever a Pet needs to be in order to serve their master.

S4MM0715640’s hand transforms into a cloth, the familiar buzz-shift sending a subtle shiver down the Pet’s spine. But S4MM0715640 is a good pet, and S4MM0715640 was trained and made for this sort of purpose.

S4MM0715640’s Master was sick. This is why S4MM0715640 was purchased.

This is why S4MM0715640 exists.

T̶͕̙̈́͂h̸͓̳̾ì̷̤̂s̶͚̉ ̷̱͔̒i̶̥̊s̸̖̋ ̵̬͗ẁ̴͇̔h̴̟͊ͅỳ̴̺̗̃ ̴̜͕́͋h̷̪̝͛e̷͈̯͌ ̷͉͛̔ǵ̴̢̥̊a̸͇̠͊̍v̷͈̼͐ė̷͕ ̴̰̉ị̸̰̿n̷̗͗͝.̵̟̓

He wipes the blood off from his Master’s face, quietly making a soft concerned buzzy-chirrup noise as he notes where the blood was coming from.

Master was very sick. Had something bad happened to Master? Was the blood from when time had made S4MM0715640 feel like he was full of bees? S4MM0715640 hoped not, he didn’t want the bees to have hurt his Master. :(

Regardless of whoever had hurt his Master, S4MM0715640 was here now! He would help his Master recover! Because S4MM0715640 was a good Pet.

He finishes cleaning his Master’s face and gently scoops the unconscious man up in his arms and brings the man to the couch. That’s cozy! A good piece of cozy furniture wonderfully suited for his Master. He gently lays his Master on his back, propping up his feet with a few pillows. That’s what you do when someone is in shock.

He carefully puts his Master’s glasses on the table and gently tucks his Master in. He kneels on the floor at his Master’s side. Staaaaaring at his Master’s chest, just watching it rise and fall as a warm bubbly sort of relief floats in and around his chest.

Like bees! But better. Nice and fuzzy and warm.

S4MM0715640 is so happy when his master blinks open pretty brown eyes with a soft groan.

“Master!!! You’re awake!!! Did the bees make you sick?” he chirrups in rapid succession.

S4MM0715640’s Master looks confused for just a second as he takes in S4MM0715640’s customized appearance. S4MM0715640 can’t help but shyly wiggle in place where he’s still kneeling, blushing.

“...I think I’m gonna throw up.” S4MM0715640’s Master says faintly.

S4MM0715640 only has that as his warning before his Master does, in fact, loose the contents of his stomach. But it’s okay!!! ‘Cause S4MM0715640 can catch it!! His hands turn into a little bucket even as he tries so, so, so, sososososo hard not to squirm and make little retching noises himself, nanites whirrrring in his skin as they decontaminate S4MM0715640’s surface and incinerates the bile with nary a whiff of the scent. It smells like roses instead. Eeeuuuuuuugghhhhh yuck yuck -- his white porcelain skin is turning darker pink as the nanites heat up and do their job.

Master sinks back down on the couch with a shaky groan, covering his eyes.

S4MM0715640 morphs his hands - now clean!! - back into hands and plunges his right hand into his own side, pulling out a chunk of shifting jittery nanites (it hurts it hurts it hurts) and morphing them into a silky smooth sleep mask. “Here Master! For your headache!”

Master peeks out from his fingers, brown eyes fixating on the sleep mask. Something rolls through the man’s expression, something ugly and raw and it makes S4MM0715640 wonder if he had misstepped before the expression is gone and all that remains is a soft, tired smile.

“Thank you.” he murmurs and that’s all S4MM0715640 needs before he’s gently slipping it over his Master’s head and watching with relief as Master relaxes completely with a shaky sigh, like his bones had turned to jelly.

S4MM0715640 thought only Pets could get that limp, but it was amazing to see Master get so, so, so, close too!

“Tell me, what is your name?” S4MM0715640’s master asks.

S4MM0715640 squirms.

“Pets don’t have names, Master.” he says sweetly.

Master must be new to having a pet. Gaaaasp -- did that mean S4MM0715640 was Master’s… FIRST????

There may or may not be a little tiny nanite pitched squeal that S4MM0715640 will forever deny if asked.

“Your designation then. What is your serial number.” Master’s voice is very flat. That’s okay, S4MM0715640 knows Master is in pain.

S4MM0715640 straightens, moving to pull away from the sleep mask. “Oh!! I’m S4MM0715640, Master! I am so very happy to help and serve you!!!”

Master’s hand catches S4MM0715640’s wrist with unerring accuracy despite the sleep mask S4MM0715640 had crafted, stilling the Pet from pulling away completely.

Master stays silent.

“...Master?” S4MM0715640 squeaks.

“A string of letters and numbers will be difficult for me to remember every time I want your attention. I will refer to you as Sam, no… I… Sammy. That is who you are. You’re Sammy.” The hand trails up the stunned Pet’s arm to eventually cup his cheek. “Every incarnation of you is the same.”

S4MM0715640 - no, Master wants him to be Sammy - stareeees. Mouth open.

He doesn’t know what that means. Did Master order Sammy to echo someone Master had known?

Sammy is honored. (He feels sick.)

Master smiles, oblivious to the Pet’s inner turmoil. “You’re rather constant, you know. I wasn’t expecting…” he trails off, a frown on his lips, eyebrows twisting and knotting just above the sleep mask.

“Thank you, Master.” Sammy says sweetly.

It sounds like a compliment.

Master shakes his head. “No. No, no, don’t call me that, you don’t get to call me that, I’m Theo. I’m just Theo.”

Sammy blinks, taken aback even as his head begins to pound a little as his programming screams. “O-okay Mas-Theo. M-Mister Theo.”

The screaming, raging, rending horrible buzzing in his mind settles as Sammy appends a title.

He can see Master’s mouth twist, but he wasn’t programed that way, he wasn’t! He can’t! He wasn’t made to be a casual companion! He was made to be a Pet!

He’s close to tears as he shoves all his effort into a sweet smile sounding chirrup that buzzes just subtly at the edges.

He only relaxes as he sees Master relax. “Your voice is so kind.” Master murmurs.

That makes Sammy happy. “I’m glad! I was made to be the kindest of all the MM class Pets!”

Master gently tugs Sammy close, and like a good Pet, Sammy is very happy to oblige, snuggling up to Mister Theo’s side with a soft happy chirrup that is far more genuine than his first one.

Master’s lips press against Sammy’s forehead, unerringly accurate once again. “I will protect you,” he promises against Sammy’s skin.

It makes Sammy buzz with joy. His Master wants to protect him??? A simple medical-companion Pet???

“And I wanna make you happy, Mister Theo!”

“You are.” Mister Theo’s voice is quiet. Choked. It doesn’t sound happy at all. It makes Sammy confused. “You already are. I’m so glad I chose you.”

Ohhhhh, emotions. Emotions can make Masters cry. He wiggles, snuggling even closer even though he’s only a Pet and not allowed on the furniture unless Master says so. He gives kiss!!! To cheek!!

“I’m happy you did so, Master!! I was made for you!”

Master just holds Sammy tighter and cries harder, but that’s okay. Master is happy. They’re happy tears!

Sammy keeps gently pressing kisses to Master’s cheeks, chasing away the tears until he realizes that Master had fallen asleep again. That’s fine. Master needs his rest.

Sammy puts his cheek down on Master’s chest, eyes sliding closed as he relishes the fact that Master’s chest rises and falls without stuttering.

Everything was going to be okay. Taglist: @painsandconfusion @pigeonwhumps

#dehumanization #pet whump #modern institutionalized slavery #fantasy whump #overuse of magical abilities #heavily conditioned whumpee #injured caretaker

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thoughtfulfoxllama · 1 year ago

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So, appearantly I can't be screened for Autism because I'm an adult, and only kids can recieve a diagnosis. At least that's what my psychiatrist told me

Like, why? Autism isn't a Childhood Disability, it's lifelong. So, am I supposed to go without the accommodations I need because no one cared enough to get me tested as a kid

Actually, I'm curious about that. I had an IEP from Elementry onward, for "Emotional Disturbance," but not once did anyone ask me what was wrong. People who knew me when I was young are either ableist ("you don't look autistic," from my Bio mom), or say I should've been tested, because it's obvious (one sister in my ward asked my grandmother, and she said I was, but my Bio mom says I never was, and I think she would've known, because that's when she was still around). So, that begs the question, why did none of my teachers say anything. I've had bad teachers (my Sped Teacher in Middle School straight up told us that "students didn't deserve rights," and that she'd send us to the principal for not saying the Pledge of Allegiance), but I had legit awesome teachers who cared for me so much, and did everything to help me (even going beyond what the IEP said & just asking me what I needed). Were they just powerless, or did they assume I was diagnosed, or did they just never notice

Actually, that's one of the reason I loved the Church. I'm weird about it now (I can explain later, but let's simmer it down to Sensory & Social Issues). Sure, no one said "hey, maybe you should get tested" (except the RS President who's son would later adopt me, and my Best Friend's Mom), but I was noticed & accepted (which is all I really wanted). My friends were almost all Neurodivergent, and I just had a place where I belonged. Ironically, everyone says the Church pushes you into a box, but it helped me come to terms with myself. I am Autistic, I am Bisexual, I enjoy myths, have tarot cards & runestones, I am untraditional in basically every way, but the Church gave me the courage to say "I'm following my own path," taught me how to listen to the Spirit which says "I will guide you safely & comfort you when people don't understand," the ability to see myself as a God in Embryo & realize I am valid, as an Autistic Bisexual Mormon Witch who has questioned my Gender Identity on a number of occasions (it's weird, but I don't really feel any gender (what's gender even feel like anyway). I use he/him because it's easier, as I am a Bio male, but I don't care, and think I look slay in either genders clothes (although, I do prefer Androgynous Style, but T-Shirt & Jeans works as well))

I'm actually reminded of Elementry School. I did awesome in classes, straight As until 4rd grade. But my 4th Grade Teacher noticed something odd. When I was away from the board, I would play with my eyes. I was Nearsighted, and for 4 years, no one noticed (for a number of reasons, including because I did the eye thing, asked questions, read the book, and always sat at the front of class). Now, that teacher was Awesome (she even inspired me to get my first pet, a Guinea Pig named "Fluffy"), and she saw a problem no one else did. I am going into education, and I wanna be that teacher. I want to be the teacher who not only cares, but notices things other people don't. I want to do everything in my power to make sure no one goes without what they need: be it new glasses, a diagnosis, or just a few minutes alone with an apple (because school's hard, and sometimes you just need quiet time & a snack)

TL;DR- I can't get screened on my insurance, someone should've noticed when I was a kid, my 4th Grade Teacher & Mormonism both rock & helped me realize my validity (so has my awesome wife, but I didn't mention her in there, even though I met her at church, and she's most likely also ND), and I wanna be better when I'm a teacher so no one goes without

#autism #autism diagnosis #school #teacher #iep #undiagnosed autism #autistic student #lds #mormon #autistic mormon #ramblings #stream of consciousness #random

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thedragonscribe · 2 years ago

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A: Bonebreaker, that guitar has me weak

B: Not really anything I can think of except maybe more stuff to do in the safehouse

C: Honestly Locke, though Vlad is close second

D: I've mained nothing but Sydney for the past few years and even tried to make her gun good so hers, though if I owned anything new it'd probably be one of those heists

E: Any. Stealth in any mission feels so good when you get it right

F: That being said, Saint Martin bank is still on my shitlist for that time I lost because I failed to answer a pager. Of the guard on the roof that my friend intimidated. From the second floor. We didn't even know that guards could be up there

G: Sydney's pager lines used to give me a "pardon?" almost every time before I got used to them, though I don't remember anything specifically. Maybe that time she claimed her pet rat was mauling a coworker

H: Honestly trying to think of one since I've mostly been doing crime sprees. I think it's less about the heists for me and more what I can pull off in each map

I: Favors are a map-by-map case, though I normally always use a few unless I've had to restart a few times and just want to speed through set up

J: Jimmy (affectionately). There's nothing negatively dumb about it, though I still find it funny that the whole thing runs on the engine of a driving game

K: Idc how many times I get told to build turrets last, I like being able to walk into a room that's supposed to be swarmed but isn't

L: Wolf, anything Wolf does. Especially the secret ending. Him and Hox are just

M: I almost always use Le Castle Vania, one pattern for stealth, one for loud, but Leshy from the Winter Ghosts dlc is a close second. The whole reason I bought the pack, even

N: I don't feel like I'm in touch enough with the community to really answer this other than to say I have no idea why people find Sydney annoying

O: Tbh, not much of a risky player, though there was one time I basically walked through a guard and didn't even go into the red

P: I just hope it doesn't go the way other large games have been going lately.

Q: Repeating a mission for a few hours is fine if I have someone with me, but if I'm playing alone and keep having to restart, more so if it's a loud mission, I get overwhelmed and have to tap

R: I consume very little other media so it's hard to say

S: Leech even though I don't fully know how to use it and don't really play with anyone anymore

T: The whole story is a bunch of surprises, though I'll never forget the time I played Henry's Rock out of context and saw the room behind the glass for the first time

U: We need to lock him in a room with Locke more often, the only redeemable part of San Martin Bank

V: If I'm reading this right, Dentist. It's just something about his voice

W: Overkill for loud because I play alone, though I've been slowly trying to bump it up. Death Sentence for stealth because I don't see why not

X: I think it being incurable, while it sucks, would curb an issue that a lot of media has in that any big emotional or character loss is usually reverse by the end. I don't mean in a "oh we found someone else and bonded" way, I mean in a "oh turns out it wasn't that serious" way which just makes the stakes feel empty.

Y: I try to when I can. I need all the shinies

Z: I'm not sure. I can definitely feel something whenever I boot it up, but it's not completely the gameplay. I want to say it's the aesthetic or the premise. The game, masks aside, is darker, dirtier, and has a grit that other games I've played either don't have or don't keep. On top of that, just the idea of a group of social outcasts coming together in something just shy of a found family and just doing whatever the hell they want in every sense of the word tickles my brain in a way no other game has. In a weird way, if I'm not completely fed up with missions going wrong, it just makes me feel safe when I play, not because of the guns but because of the characters, as sad as that might sound.

The ABCs of Payday - Q&A edition

You can either answer all of these yourself & tag people to also complete it, or you can RB and your followers can pick a letter and you answer. Or you can just do nothing that's cool too ig.

A is for ALESSO: favourite track?

B is for BALDWIN'S LAMENT: any regrets or things you wish were different about the game/story?

C is for CONTRACTORS: favourite contractor and why?

D is for DLC: favourite DLC you own?

E is for ECMS: favourite stealth/stealth-only heist?

F is for FUUUUUUU: most-hated heist?

G is for GENSEC: favourite pager line?

H is for HEIST: all-time favourite heist?

I is for ILIJA: are you a favours lover or do you prefer the challenge of going in without favours?

J is for JOKERS: dumbest thing/moment about the series?

K is for KILLKILLKILL: favourite/best way to kill cops?

L is for LIVE-ACTION: favourite live-action/web series moment?

M is for MASKS: favourite mask/s?

N is for NO MERCY: hot take/unpopular opinion about the games?

O is for OVERKILL: best/coolest thing you've ever done in-game?

P is for PAYDAY 3: hopes for Payday 3?

Q is for QUIT: what makes you rage/quit?

R is for RESERVOIR DOGS: cross-overs you'd like to see in Payday 3?

S is for STOIC: favourite/most-used perk deck?

T is for TASER: most surprising moment/thing that happened in-game?

U is for UKRAINIAN: favourite Vlad moment?

V is for VILLAIN: favourite baddie and why?

W is for WE CALL THIS A DIFFICULTY TWEAK: preferred/most-played difficulty?

X is for XENODIAGNOSIS: would you want Bain's disease to be curable and why/not?

Y is for YULE: do you typically play seasonal updates and why/why not?

Z is for ZEAL: what makes you excited about Payday and keeps you coming back to play again and again?

#payday 2 #long post #ABCs of payday Q&A #sorry for the read

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maximotts · 2 years ago

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𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠 • 𝑤. 𝑚𝑎𝑥𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑓𝑓 & 𝑛. 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑓𝑓

a/n: I don't have anything to say about this except uh.. I love this massive beast of a fic and I hope y'all love it too. Thanks to all of you who were patient and understanding about me having to step away from posting this AU publicly, this is for y'all 💖

warnings: This is an 18+ AU, minors DNI; smut, oh so much smut; strap-on use (r receiving); oral; spanking; degradation; a bit of humiliation for the funsies; mommy/daddy kink; face sitting; overstim; pet names; top!Natasha; switch!Wanda; soft aftercare and feelings at the end

words: 6.6K

summary: Private Hire AU; it was finally time for you to get your reward... if the sight of your bosses fucking don't kill you first

private hire au. || main masterlist.

Natasha hadn’t really waited for a response, directing you both to their shared master bedroom with a firm but gentle tug on your arms. You’d followed silently, your head too full to focus on whatever conversation the two women a few feet ahead of you were having. Natasha had clicked the heavy bedroom door closed behind you, a singular crook of her finger taking you away from where you hovered by the wall. “There’s nothing to be scared of sweetheart, no one here is going to harm you.” The sincerity in the redhead’s eyes was so intense you nearly looked away, but still, you trusted her.

Turns out Natasha didn’t think Wanda needed much kindness.

You didn’t remember how exactly Natasha had stripped Wanda of her clothes, but it didn’t matter. All of that was easy to forget when the brunette was riding the silicone toy strapped to her wife’s bare hips so perfectly. She braced herself with her hands on Natasha’s shoulders and selfishly, you hated how it blocked the full view of Wanda’s breasts as she rocked back and forth. “Fuck, right there—”

The noises she made confirmed how close she was; something about Natasha exercising her cruelty in the bedroom never failed to drive Wanda to near insanity. Maybe because only Natasha would ever wield such power over her; she could safely let go and be at the redhead’s mercy without fear that she’d use that same power to undermine her either in their marriage or with others. Natasha was her safe space.

You wanted to be that for Wanda too; not control, but please her so well she had no choice but to lose her composure. Imagining yourself in Natasha’s place was too impactful of a thought, leaving you squirming where you sat kneeled away from them on the large bed.

Natasha caught it, eyebrow quirking as she saw your eyes glued to where the toy disappeared and reappeared between Wanda’s legs. She wondered if you knew how obvious you were being; if Wanda’s eyes weren’t screwed shut, she would’ve wanted to remember the longing look on your face forever. Still, Natasha would happily let you have what you earned after you’d been so agreeable with her the other day. Unlike her wife, she believed in instant gratification… for herself.

“You gonna cum, baby?” Her hand rested on Wanda’s hip, guiding her along while she nodded frantically. She was so pretty like this, it was a struggle not to give Wanda what she wanted, but Natasha was still getting started. It was too early to let her finish; there’d be plenty of time for that later. “Not until you make me first.”

Wanda’s whines were pitiful as Natasha pulled her away, clearly resisting, twisting and turning out of her wife’s strong grip. Just once she wished Natasha would just… give in, but when she set her mind to something, she was unshakeable. Still, all she wanted was one tiny orgasm, “No, Tasha, please-”

“Ah ah, that’s not my name, is it?” You watched as Natasha barely flinched, manhandling Wanda to kneel between her thighs, effortlessly maneuvering her harness out of the way to free space where she pushed Wanda’s head. As much as this was for Wanda, Natasha felt she’d earned the right to be self-serving for a moment. Wanda still needed to make up for missing her dinner. What better way than with her desperate wife going down on her?

Wanda bit her tongue and fought the urge to roll her eyes, holding back only to stay in Natasha’s good graces. She needed to cum tonight; she was painfully close already, her cunt clenching around nothing again as a bitter reminder. Natasha was always so full of herself; Wanda hated how attracted she was to it. “Sorry, daddy..”

She barely managed to get it out before Natasha was shoving her face to meet swollen, pink lips.

Natasha’s head fell back against the headboard with a dull thud, her hand tight in Wanda’s hair as she devoured her with a confident skill only longtime lovers had. Once again you wished you could switch places with Natasha, having cum so many times to the fantasy of Wanda rewarding you for your good work with her head buried between your legs. “Fuck, Wanda.. just like that…”

The praise had Wanda rubbing her thighs together for friction, an act that Natasha couldn’t let slide. Fun as it was to watch Wanda try to get herself off, it was about time she gave you a task. “Come closer, dove. I need you to hold mommy’s legs apart.”

Embarrassingly you scrambled at the chance to touch, holding one of Wanda’s calves firmly. Theoretically it gave you something to do with your hands, but quickly you realized just how torturous it was. The new angle let you see Wanda spread open, bent over in a way that meant her sex was on full view— you needed to taste her more than anything in the world. She was visibly wet, thighs slick with evidence of her own need; Wanda was so so close, but you didn’t have permission.

You let out a whine of your own, arousal clouding your brain. Wanda was too busy to acknowledge you, but Natasha never missed a thing. “What’s the matter, wish she was doing this to you?” Her tone was clearly mocking, even when distracted by Wanda pushing her tongue past her entrance slowly and steadily.

Given the situation you found yourself in, it was understandable you’d want to participate, but you still flushed at the thought of admitting it, “Y-Yes, I do…” Natasha chuckled, low and breathy, holding Wanda’s head still to fuck her face freely. She was enjoying herself way too much, the sheer authority Natasha wielded over the both of you threatening to make her fall apart even faster. Letting Wanda have a pet really was the best decision they’d ever made.

“She is extremely good with her mouth,” The redhead let Wanda pull away just enough to take in air, shuddering as her hot breath hit her wet skin. She was back in an instant though, sucking and licking at Natasha’s clit with slow, languid strokes, taking the bud past her lips because she knew that was her wife’s favorite. Blunt nails scratched at the base of Wanda’s skull, a sensitive spot that left Wanda moaning into Natasha softly. As dominating as Nat was, she was still powerless to her wife. She was gorgeous and brilliant and oh so pretty to look at, wide, pleading eyes and all.

Wanda worked at her until thick thighs clamped around her head, temporarily muffling any noises that weren’t her tongue messily sliding through Natasha’s wet sex. She forgot about her own need long enough to carry Natasha through her orgasm, nudging her nose against her sensitive bud until the grip loosened and she was free to sit back on her own arms. “See, you can behave when you want to.”

There was a mental note made that, despite her defiance, Wanda’s praise kink ran deep because every word Natasha uttered had Wanda visibly soaking even after going untouched; the urge to just lean in that one short distance and clean up where she was dripping. “Mommy…” You only realized you’d pleaded for her aloud when the older woman was laughing again and Wanda pushed her hips back towards you in invitation. She almost made you give in, but Natasha’s warning look kept you still with a pout.

“I prefer you so much more when you’re a good girl for me.” Natasha went back to what she was saying, running her fingers through Wanda’s long hair. She was so sweet when she was agreeable; they just had so much more fun, “Instead of mumbling and grumbling like a bitch because I played with your toy a little while you were gone.”

That must’ve been Wanda’s last straw because she bit her wife’s thigh, hard. There was no way it didn’t hurt, you winced just having witnessed it, but Natasha’d had way worse. They were known to get painfully rough with one another, but Natasha yanked Wanda up until their faces inches apart with such ferocity that you audibly gasped. “You think that’s funny?”

The brunette must not have been expecting such a strong reaction either, begging for something as soon as she opened her mouth. Through her rambling words, you were sure you heard an ‘I’m sorry,’ but Natasha’s face remained hard, no mercy to be found. Wanda was farther from you now, but on all fours she was still visible; in your single mindedness, you ignored Natasha’s berating to instead watch Wanda’s trembling thighs and what lay between.

“You say sorry, bat those pretty eyelashes, and I always go easy on you.” If Natasha was ‘easy’ so far, you were morbidly curious what true punishment entailed. Her hands roamed over Wanda’s naked form until they reached her backside, offering a deceptively gentle pat before grabbing her possessively, “but not today. I think you’ve forgotten what real consequences look like.”

Wanda protested incoherently, shaking her head as if that’d do anything to sway her wife’s new plan of action. “I mean it, I swear. I’m sorry!” She didn’t mean it; needy as she was, Wanda didn’t regret biting Natasha. Even she had limits when you were present, wanting you to still see her having some form of control, but Natasha could care less. And she could see right through Wanda’s empty apology.

“You will be when I’m through with you-” Natasha uttered something in her native Russian, a phrase that left Wanda mewling, but it was nothing compared to the pitiful noises made as her lover delivered a painful slap to her round ass. You wished you picked up on languages better only so you could fully appreciate Wanda’s Sokovian pleas; whatever it was, it didn’t change her treatment one bit.

Wanda only lasted through five swats before she tensed, fingers gripping Natasha’s sides as her thighs shook and you knew she was cumming. You could’ve watched the sight forever; Wanda’s hips stuttering and bucking around nothing so close to you. Frenzied eyes darted to the woman leaning against the headboard, half expecting her to be disappointed in Wanda’s sudden break, but Natasha was highly amused, looking perfectly pleased with herself.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Wanda cum that way and she knew how much Wanda hated it— to her, it was empty, unsatisfying, embarrassing. All it did was worsen the need already clawing at her skin. The punishment of a spanking had been a calculated means to an end; Wanda was still so on edge, she wouldn’t be surprised if tears were falling down her red cheeks. She was right where Natasha wanted her. Fake pity written clearly all across her face, she hooked a finger under Wanda’s chin to bring her into a bruising kiss, “What a desperate little slut.”

Wanda’s arms gave out then, falling into Natasha wordlessly while she tried to process the painful stings on her ass amidst her aftershocks. It was silent for a few moments, Natasha knowing enough to allow Wanda time to catch her breath. Games aside, she wouldn’t let her love get so overwhelmed that pleasure turned to true pain. Natasha looked at you then, taking in your fists balled into the sheets and tightly clenched thighs— you’d been so dutifully patient, it was admirable really. She didn’t think she could last as long as you did without simply taking what she wanted from Wanda. “So tense over there… what’s on your mind?”

Had you not been denied so long maybe you would’ve kept quiet, but you had laser focus on Wanda and your need was so obvious, the words could’ve spoken themselves. If speaking up could even slightly get you closer to what you want, you’d talk forever. “I wanna kiss her pussy, daddy.”

“I know you do, dove.” Natasha beckoned you closer and in your eagerness, you let her position you as she pleased, head laid on the pillow a small bit away from where she sat against the headboard. You relaxed as much as you could, the bed impossibly soft against your rigid body, waiting anxiously for your next instruction. “You’ve been so good, helping me with this one’s surprise, letting me invade your bed the past two nights… you’re long overdue for a reward.” As she spoke, Natasha moved Wanda like she was hoisting a box, quick and efficient in depositing her atop you, one leg on either side of your head.

She was close enough now you could feel the heat radiating off of her and you licked your lips, staring up at Wanda with wide eyes that were teary with desire. She was big on you using your words, but she gave you a pass this time, just once when your eyes were glued to her cunt and practically drooling with need. “Go on, baby. Make mommy cum..”

You were on her the second you could reach, devouring her with a vigor even you didn’t know you had. She was just as sweet as you’d imagined, hot and sinfully wet. Wanda was still sensitive from her unplanned orgasm and your eagerness was quickly bringing her to another, but she didn’t want to cum again so soon. Not when she’d already done so humiliatingly easily a few moments prior, but it was proving way too hard to continue to hold back. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good..”

You hummed as her hands found your hair, raking her fingers through it until she had a good hold on your head. She rocked herself methodically, zero trace of shyness as she moaned each time you dragged your tongue through her sex. Wanda knew what she wanted you, unlike Natasha, weren’t in any position to tell her no. When you flattened the smooth muscle, Wanda’s grip faltered, the rough surface of your tongue against her clit leaving her shuddering.

“O-Oh… stay right there, stay still for me, sweetheart-” Hard as she tried to hold back, Wanda’s hips betrayed her, she was cumming again with a sigh and you let her freely have her way with your mouth even as she tugged hard at your hair.

When you started to slow, wanting to draw out the experience you’d waited so long for, Natasha shook her head and placed a steadying hand on Wanda’s hip. “Ah ah, your job’s not done that quickly, not yet.” Assuming Natasha was simply conveying what Wanda couldn’t as she caught her breath, you were quick to bury your face back into her cunt, the deep groan from above relaxing the last of your nerves.

Wanda’s movements were getting out of sync, clearly ready to succumb and, helpful as you were, wrapped your arms around Wanda’s thighs to pull her down. “Wait-”

“Put your hands on the headboard.” It was probably the most demanding thing you’d ever said to her, but your brain was stuck on one goal and that was tasting Wanda as long as she’d let you. Shockingly, she complied with your demand, even settling her hips so you could lap at her to your heart’s content, but she was whining, wiggling to get a moment away from your tongue that refused to let up.

“What’s wrong, honey? I thought you wanted this.” Natasha was at the perfect angle to antagonize Wanda, forcing the brunette’s head towards her with a strong grip on her chin. Wanda hated that Natasha wouldn’t just keep her mouth shut. She wasn’t ashamed of her thoughts, not at all, but it was a whole other thing entirely to let you hear what she’d confessed privately to Natasha. “All those times you’ve mumbled about our precious little dove, watching her practically beg to fuck you just to say no and fantasize about it more?”

It was hard to make out what Wanda was saying, her sentences cut apart with small noises as soft as she was, but the ‘yes’ you heard confirmed that your boss thought about you as much as you did her. Unfortunately the conversation alone was enough to bring you close to soaking your underwear. Natasha tried to take pity on you, removing the last garment you wore, but she’d barely brushed you before Wanda slapped her wife’s hand away.

“Don’t.” You only had a chance to be upset for a minute before Wanda pushed down on your shoulders, putting your mouth back to work. Reminded of her earlier anger, you whined against her folds, eyes searching for hers to persuade Wanda’s unshakeable will. “None of that, you’d better not start, you little slut.”

You whimpered a sorry that she must’ve heard because Wanda was smoothing your hair back gently with a whispered ‘you’re okay, little one,’ reassuring you enough that you knew you weren’t in any trouble. She never wanted to scare you again how she had earlier; you were too delicate for that. You nuzzled the inside of her thigh with your cheek, letting her know you were okay before she held the hard wood in front of her again… just in time for you to slide your tongue inside her tight entrance.

But Natasha wasn’t deterred by the same warnings you were; if Wanda still felt bold enough to be a brat, they were all far from done. “You’re so selfish, you know, not even letting your wife touch your toys until you have. If she weren’t so obsessed with you, she might’ve gone off to date someone else by now.” Wanda visibly bristled— she knew you never would, but Natasha being right made her want to roll her eyes for a completely different reason.

If you hadn’t been fucking her just right with your tongue, maybe she could have. As it was, her eyes fell shut and Natasha’s supportive hands were the only reason her head didn’t completely fall back. “Oh.. d-don’t stop that..” You wouldn’t dream of it, not when Wanda was dripping onto your chin and she let you guide her into the perfect shared tempo.

“There you go, keep fucking her like that and she’ll come apart for you in no time. She just loves being taken care of. Isn’t that right, dear?” Wanda nodded without realizing, knuckles white on the headboard as she focused on the tip of your nose brushing over her sensitive bud. She was close again and this time Wanda was going to warn you, but then you were curling your tongue and she was clenching around it, her third orgasm of the night leaving stars in her vision.

You hadn’t stopped yet though, cleaning her up even as your jaw tired. Greediness kept your arms around her thighs, waiting until the moment you’d gotten your fill of her to let her go. So far, you haven't even come close. “Sensitive…”

Natasha cut in quicker than you could loosen your grip. “Don’t stop, dove, you can keep going.” You obeyed the redhead’s command, licking at Wanda’s swollen center even as her legs clenched around your head.

Wanda was well on her way to shaking, jerking wildly as you held her tighter than you ever had to before. It wouldn’t be the first time she cracked a headboard, but she liked this one enough that she wanted to keep it intact. “Stop, stop! Malyshka, I can’t-”

“She can. Keep going on and see what happens.” You were inclined to believe Natasha; as much as she loved to push buttons, she would never put her wife in a truly unwanted position especially when she was too powerless to truly get herself out. For your part, the sight of Wanda convulsing above you was too good of a view to pass up, taking mischievous pleasure in the way she jumped each time you pinched her clit between your teeth just the slightest bit. “You wanted to cum? Well now you’re going to give me one more.”

Her cries weren’t new to you. You’d heard them many a night after you’d come home from the bar and if you ever spotted them, it was always attached to Natasha pushing Wanda’s limits until she broke. Frequently it was all you could think about when you had moments to yourself, brain filled with the fantasy and now that it was right in front of you, there was no way you couldn’t make it a reality, even if it was just this once. “No, it’s too much! I can’t.. I’m gonna-”

“You will.” Natasha was so sure of it, you knew you had to make Wanda fall over that edge she was fighting against just one more time. You hadn’t thought your face could be more soaked than it already was, but Wanda proved you wrong. This time she came with a sharp gasp, tensing around your head until all Wanda took over each of your senses. All you could smell, see, taste was the brunette and you never wanted to leave. She’d made a mess of your mouth and chin, surely dripping past your cheeks and onto the pillows by now, but none of it bothered you and absentmindedly you wondered if this feeling right now was better than any orgasm.

“I told you, she’s always got something up her sleeve.” Vaguely you were aware of Natasha pulling Wanda away from you, mostly by the lack of warmth around your head, but you laid still, perfectly content. Natasha hovered above you, a wide grin plastered across her face. “You did so well, dove...” She leant in close for a kiss, something you thought a sweet gesture until she was licking over your lips. At first you parted them and she indulged you, dominating the kiss as she nipped along the shape of your mouth.

After a while Natasha pulled away, her tongue drawing a line up your throat as a lonely whine erupted from it. You’d just been so consumed, it hurt to be left alone and you needed her back, even if she was only a few inches apart. “Tash…” The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, but Natasha didn’t correct you; maybe she was too aroused to care this time.

“Hush, baby, you’re alright.” She kissed you again, the two of you sharing the lingering taste of Wanda and moaning into each other. “I think it’s safe to say you made her happy enough to finally give you what you want.”

Natasha hoisted you up to your knees, taking in your current state of disarray in mock concern. “Oh you poor thing, so tense…” Her hand slipped between your thighs, dragging two skilled fingers through your folds where you were positively dripping. It took almost no time for you to whimper and beg for more attention, hips jerking wildly for anything you could find. The two other women found it painfully enticing, the deep hunger to finally fully claim you as theirs rising. “Wands, can you take care of her yet? Or can I keep her occupied for you first?”

The brunette shot up at her proposal, eyes still a tad hazy, but determined. “Get your own if you want someone first, sweetheart.” Wanda had to stretch to grab at her nightstand, standing on shaky legs only long enough to secure the harness you’d waited to see for so long. You were drooling, you were sure; the sight of the thick toy both intimidating and leaving you feeling more empty than you’d ever felt before.

“That’s what I have you for.” Natasha mocked, pecking her wife’s cheeks once she’d settled back onto the mattress. Meanwhile, you were practically leaping into Wanda’s arms, wrapping yourself around her just to cling to anything at all. Wanda let Natasha’s comment go in favor of shushing you, hands rubbing over your back while you frantically pushed your face into the crook of her neck. She knew what you needed, even without your muffled whining and as you pressed your pelvis against her strap at just the right angle to let your neglected clit have the most enticing friction, Wanda was more than excited to give you everything you wanted and more.

“Calm down, I’m right here. Mommy’s got you..” You let up just enough to plead with her, eyes wide with need; when she testingly pressed the tip against your entrance, it took everything in you to wait and not just sit on it instantly. “Now?”

You nodded wildly, completely sure of yourself at that moment. “Yes, god please.. I need you so bad!” Wanda hummed as she pushed you down onto her strap, fueled by you saying you needed her specifically. If only you knew she needed you just as much, thriving off just how dependent you were on her. Natasha came behind you to hold your hips, thankfully just in time because without her, you’d have gone fully limp. The simple feeling of being full of Wanda, finally sitting in her lap where you were stretched and ready for her… you were trying so hard not to cum on the spot. “Move.. please..”

In the future, Wanda would make sure to coerce you to ride her, but tonight, you were beyond gone; there was no way you’d have the focus to do so. She started slow, judging how well you’d adjusted to the toy, but the pace wore on you both and it only took a minute or two before she was fucking into you steadily. “Don’t worry, dove. I’ll take care of you, you don’t have to do anything.”

You nodded as best you could, trying so hard not to cry out too soon even as Natasha moved your hips in time with Wanda’s thrusts. There was no way you could’ve kept up without the other woman’s help, Wanda’s now fast motions forcing any thoughts that weren’t on the burning stretch between your legs far, far away. If you died right here, you wouldn’t notice, way too caught up in the women sandwiching you to be bothered with anything else. “M-Mommy.. feels good…”

It felt way more than just good, both Wanda and Natasha could tell you were almost completely blissed out in just a few minutes of their focus turned to you. Maybe if you could spare a moment to process your situation, it’d be embarrassing how close you were so quickly. Try as you might, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You’d waited too long to mind anymore.

“Is mommy fucking you real good, baby?” Natasha’s lips were right at your ear, her grip tight on your sides as she kept you in place, “Is it everything your needy little pussy dreamed of?” She could only assume you were agreeing with her, your noises as incoherent as they were loud. One look at Wanda and she could tell her wife was oh so pleased with herself, the payoff from denying all three of you clearly oh so worth it for her. Natasha was the one known for control, but Wanda was nowhere near lacking. Hers came in subtle ways such as this, waiting until you were obsessed, hopelessly dependent, and far too deep to realize she was always the one getting her way.

Wanda stroked your cheek slowly, gently, trying to coax you into taking a few deep breaths. She doubted you realized you were mumbling against her skin, begging almost silently; it was so cute, Wanda nearly wished she was filming you. No matter, there was always next time. “No one even had to prep you.. You were just so ready for us, weren’t you?” She watched your head fall back as she shifted her angle, hitting that perfect spot and making you give up any hope of keeping your orgasm at bay.

A strong hand pulled your chin down until Wanda was in view once more. She was saying something about wanting to watch you, but you couldn’t respond, your entire body fixated on finally reaching the high you’d dreamt of for so long. “...need to cum.. please-”

Both women chuckled at your babbling, faintly registering Natasha’s lips on your shoulder as Wanda cracked a smile, “This is your reward, baby doll. You can cum whenever you’d like, go on, you earned it.”

“Thank you mommy…!” It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds before you were cumming, cunt clenching hard on Wanda’s strap while she fucked you through such blinding ecstasy, you were sure your bones had gone soft. There wasn’t a moment you’d been left alone, either Wanda or Natasha’s hands somewhere on your body, keeping you grounded even as you felt completely untethered. You wished you could thank them for their attentiveness, but your jaw was helplessly slack.

What finally brought you back was Wanda carefully lifting you from her lap, your still tingling legs trying and failing to keep you locked down. She was unfazed by your protests, shushing you like she would a child, “Shh, don’t make a fuss, you’ve been so good. You’re going to let Natty have a turn with you.” As soon as Wanda finished speaking, you shut up, immediately ready to be filled again. You hadn’t stopped thinking about the bulge you’d felt under Natasha’s pants two nights prior, or how amazing it would feel taking you apart.

The second the tip of her strap nudged your entrance, you tried to sink down on it, but Natasha held you firm, preferring to lead you down on it herself. Even then it didn’t take long, your first orgasm from Wanda leaving you open and easy to use. “You took it all so quickly… gonna let me fuck you now, sweetheart?” You were nodding before she could finish, pushing your hips back into her in desperation, already craving another orgasm from the redhead behind you. Her hand snaked around your front, spread fingers pushing into your lower belly despite your whines, “Can you feel me filling you up, dove? Pressing into your sweet tummy?”

“Mhmm.. ‘love it..” And truly, you did. Something about the near painful fullness between your legs was addicting and you never wanted to let it go. But then Natasha drew back, leaving you shockingly empty just long enough for her to shove herself back in. Unlike Wanda, Natasha’s pace was instantly brutal, rendering you speechless each time she bottomed out in your stretched cunt, “Daddy… t-that’s hard-”

You couldn’t see Natasha, only hear her fake pity, mocking your pleas while her teeth scraped down the back of your neck. She wasn’t apologetic in the slightest; you wanted her to fuck you, this is what it was like. “Aww, did someone think I’d be gentle like my wife? Don’t be so fragile, you can take it.”

Strained arms tightened around Wanda’s neck, leaning on her completely as your panting turned heavy. “Natalia, be careful, don’t hurt her.” Natasha rolled her eyes, not once even thinking of letting up. Wanda always treated you like such a precious porcelain doll, but cherished as you may be, Natasha knew you weren’t unhappy.

Not when you were soaking her strap so much she could slide you up and down like it was nothing. “She can take it, Wanda. She loves it.. Isn’t that right, little one, daddy’s tough girl.” You moaned out against Wanda’s collarbone, bracing yourself for the next wave of pleasure you were just out of reach from. Wanda pulled your head back for a kiss just as you began to cry out, the brunette swallowing your sinful noises as your hips stuttered and shook atop Natasha’s thighs. There was no way the sheets beneath you weren’t ruined, evidence of your orgasm smeared over both you and Nat.

You took a breath, tried to at least, but Natasha’s thrusts never let up, keeping you on the edge of something equal parts intoxicating and overwhelming just like the woman herself. “Can’t.. no more..” But this time it was Wanda who spoke up, pressing quick kisses over your flushed nose and cheeks while her hand slid between the two of you.

“Just do one more. For the both of us, please, baby?” You wanted to cry, you were going to, tears filling your eyes as two fingers rubbed over your swollen bud. It was all too much and not enough; you needed both of them to let you fall just once more— if only you could stay coherent long enough to reach it. You felt like your whole body was spasming, every touch Wanda or Natasha gave almost stinging your skin, but you didn’t want it to end. Not ever.

Natasha came to a slow stop, working you down as steadily as she’d brought you up. You were thankful for it really, much too used to being left alone once you’d finished; this was infinitely nicer. When she backed up to ease you out, Wanda took over and encouraged you to rest your exhausted body atop hers which you did readily. “You did amazing, such a good job… How do you feel?”

Speaking would still be too much, your throat tight from your long night. Instead you snuggled into Wanda, hoping your happy hums against her chest would be enough to soothe any concerns she may have. If her gentle coddling was any indication, she understood. “Good girl. You just lay here and if you need anything, let me know however you can. Do you understand?”

You nodded your agreement, finding Wanda’s hand to give it a weak squeeze as she settled against the headboard to allow you both to stretch your legs. Natasha was the one to pull a blanket over the two of you before sliding in next to her wife. With a lazy peek upwards, you saw Natasha whisper something indiscernible into Wanda’s ear and after a minute to process, the brunette nodded. She let Natasha smooth her hair down; an action so intimate, there was no way Wanda would’ve allowed it in her earlier state.

The last thing you remember was Natasha’s hand behind your head, lips warm and sweet against your temple. It would be so easy to get used to this. “Get some rest, we’ll be right here.” Natasha wasn’t really a talker, not unless something needed to be said. Consequently, her reassuring words felt even more comforting and as soon as her hand joined Wanda’s on your back, drawing slow patterns while she watched over you, your heart melted right along with your muscles.

“Do you feel better or will we have to continue to suffer with snippy Wanda?” Natasha wound her free arm around Wanda, pulling her in until her head rested against her bare shoulder. Wanda only gave a grunt of disapproval, focusing on your sleeping form draped over her. She wasn’t in the mood for any more of Natasha’s antics tonight— truly she was fed up for a good while.

Natasha could sense it, both from Wanda’s silence and her stiffness. It was Wanda who introduced Natasha to the idea of a post-sex cuddle; not that she was particularly good at it, but it was what she wanted. The first time she’d fallen into Natasha was awkward, made more so by the lack of reciprocation, but she’d hung on anyways even as her partner stayed stiff as a board. Now the older woman knew Wanda like the back of her hand and if she was still the rigid one, Natasha wasn’t fully off the hook yet. “I’m sorry for provoking you.”

“And?” Wanda’s voice was firm, unwavering.

“I’m a stubborn idiot.” Finally she was granted eye contact, only to be given an expectant look of pursed lips and a quirked eyebrow. Still, Natasha could see tiredness in Wanda’s eyes, how she fought off sleep just to prove her point with her wife. The only thing Wanda hated more than Natasha’s annoying plots were letting her think she’d gotten away with them. And she was the one admitting stubbornness.

“And?” Natasha had half a mind to just give up and try again tomorrow. She wanted to sleep next to Wanda too much to fall back into that now.

She sighed, throwing her head back dramatically, “And I shouldn’t have played with your favorite little teddy bear just to piss you off.” When she righted herself, Wanda was smiling. She was poorly holding back a laugh, face half muffled in your hair as she tried and failed to hide. Natasha bit the inside of her cheek the moment she realized Wanda wanted to see how far she could push her apology. She’d fallen for it enough times over the years, anyone would think Natasha could see right through it— they underestimated how much she would do to see her happy again. “Are we done now, can we sleep?”

“Mmm.. I suppose so. I forgive you.” The last part was a yawn, Wanda sinking down into Natasha’s embrace and closing her eyes. She shifted just enough to lay both you and her on your sides, sandwiching you between her and Natasha. For a moment as you wiggled, she was scared she’d woken you, but you only burrowed deeper, easily enjoying her chest as a pillow. “Sweet little thing.”

“I’ll order us breakfast tomorrow. Something tells me it’s going to be a late morning.” Natasha made sure you and Wanda were nicely settled before relaxing into plush pillows, exhaling a deep, content breath as her body unwound. She let her own eyes close now, fully ready for a much needed sleep back in her own bed.

“You’re not going to run off to get back at me, are you?” The question was so small, so insecure compared to just a minute ago. Angry as they might be with one another, they’d never lied. If it was something Natasha was thinking of, she’d tell her. Wanda didn’t know if she should be scared of the answer. Natasha hadn’t left like that in years and when she did, it was a mistake; they’d been so young and spitefulness kept her away for a week. It hurt Wanda much more than she’d ever expected and now it was a fear she had to still every time her error reared its ugly head.

“That’s abandonment, silly girl.” Natasha stretched over you, just enough to reach Wanda for a long kiss. One that was way overdue. “I never want to leave you, Wanda. My home is here with you.” Her thumb swiped under Wanda’s eyes, wiping away the anxious tears that pooled before she could stop them. Wanda was prone to these bouts of sensitivity after she exploded, the quiet aftermath of her thunderous storm. “I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too,” Wanda’s smile was sleepy but genuine, just barely hanging on to consciousness. She snuggled against your back, your warm body lulling her further and further away. The weight of you combined with Natasha’s strong arm under her head was an intoxicating level of comfort and safety. She’d have to talk to you tomorrow about sleeping with them more often. “Now let me sleep.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, immediately regretting how she flopped back to the mattress as you groaned. She swore she used to hate cuddling, but now with you and Wanda both happily snuggling against each other and her, she knew she’d be getting it twice as much now; she didn’t mind it. “Fine, get some rest, sleepyheads.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wandanat x reader #wandanat x female reader #wandanat x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #wandanat fic #wanda maximoff fic #natasha romanoff fic #wanda maximoff smut #natasha romanoff smut #maximotts #private hire au #motts writes.

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dmwrites · 2 years ago

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As fun as it was having pet wordles, Joe’s house was getting rather full of the things. Sure they were translucent creatures, but they were big and trying to get through all of them just floating around was a nightmare; they weren’t ghosts, despite how they looked.

“I can’t sustain this cohabitation for much longer- but I don’t know what to do with them!” Joe sighed, skipping a rock across the pond he was sitting at.

“You could do a bit of murder.” Cleo suggested. She’d never got the hang of skipping stones, so she was trying to stab fish in the water with her knife.

Joe made a sad little offended noise. “I would never! They’re so sweet, Cleo you just have to get used to them-”

“They’re like less-annoying ghasts.” Cleo missed a fish by three blocks. “But, okay, fine, if you don’t want to kill them, how about relocating them somewhere else? Someplace with more room, less in the way.”

“Then my house would only be haunted by me again!” Joe put down his rocks in excitement and pulled out a notebook and pen. “But where could they go?”

——

The Wordle relocation effort was no simple task. Finding a place for the Wordles to live in peace and comfort was vital, and he had a couple of pitfalls. His first choice was the attic of Keralis’ house, which, looking back, may have just been more of a drunken prank. But the attic was too cramped, and the Wordles looked sad, some of their green coloring starting to fade.

He’d also tried the world boarder, which was a great open place, except the Wordles ended up eating the world boarder and just wandering around into the wilderness. It had taken Joe three days to hunt them all back down.

“I just don’t know what to do, Wordles.” Joe sighed. He was standing in front of his haunted mansion again, all of the Wordles on leashes floating above him like giant balloons. “I want y’all to be happy. But you need to stay safe too!” Joe looked over his house in unhappiness. “Maybe I just need to go to my thinking cave under my house. There’s lots of room for thinking down there.” He stood in silence for an entire minute before he fully processed what he’d accidentally figured out. “Wait! The thinking cave! That’s the perfect place! You’ll be close to me but be in your own space downstairs- like a child who can’t afford to move out but still lives their own independent life and wants a bit more separation from their childhood home!”

Getting the Wordles into the cave was hard- Joe had to bring them down one by one- but he eventually got every single one down and released. He set up the cave for them, with chains on the ceiling for them to play with, plenty of water, and chunks of world boarder for them to eat (don’t ask how he got that). He added some cozy moss and glowberry vines for light. And, stepping back, it was perfect. The Wordles were all happy looking and floating around, exploring the space.

“What do you think, little Wordles?” Joe asked in delight. The Wordles didn’t answer, as they don’t make noise, but Joe could tell they were finally happy. And that made Joe happy too.

#August 21 2022 #fic #hc9 #joe hills #long post

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭-𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 || helmut zemo, bucky barnes and sam wilson x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : your sugar daddy boyfriend is finally out of prison and he brought a few friends to show you off to.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : just over 4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : smut (foursome/group sex, oral m receiving, spitroast; sliiiight dubcon???), established zemo x reader, sugar daddy relationship, ‘sir’ kink, ‘daddy’ kink, pussy spanking, one regular spank, orgasm control, overstimulation, creampie, a bit of cockwarming, exhibitionism, possessiveness (kinda? but also not at all lmao it’s hard to explain), a bit of degradation but plenty of praise as well, subtle cuckolding but without the usual power dynamics there, shitty reconstructed “sokovian” (I wrote it in the latin alphabet but the cyrillic and translations are at the end), unexpected and unnecessary fluff, very subtle angst (basically all in a flashback anyways)

You were needlessly anxious as you waited for him to arrive. It had been your own idea to wait in the jet, and yet you spent every other second glancing out the tiny window, desperate for a glance of the man you missed so dearly.

If someone had told you all those years ago, when this arrangement first began, how easily he would have you wrapped around his finger… you couldn’t have believed them. It’s just about the money, you would’ve told them, but you would’ve been impossibly wrong.

For a lot of women in this sort of situation, it really was just about the money; likewise, for a lot of men in his situation, it was just about the sex. But the two of you had something entirely unique, nearly indescribable in fact, that very few could ever understand. In the beginning it became clear to you that he was more in need of a companion than a lover or girlfriend, specifically. He was still grieving his wife, still devoted to her completely, but lonely right to his core… angry, even, at the prospect of a life without his family. You were a shoulder to cry on, first and foremost.

You thought maybe he enjoyed spending money on you because it was his way to protect you, in a way he felt he had failed to protect his family before.

And it was you that fell for him first, for his passion and his kindness before his riches or looks. Just when you feared that he’d only ever see you as a status symbol or dress-up doll, he returned your affections in spite of his guilt at first and the two of you were inseparable ever since.

Except, of course, when you were separated, and he was imprisoned, and you were left on your own again. Not that spending his money wasn’t fun or anything, but his loneliness was more sympathetic with each night you spent in that massive bed by yourself, wanting just to feel the warmth of him beside you again.

So, it should be understandable why you were so on edge in anticipation of his arrival. Your painted fingernails toyed with the hem of the dress you remembered he liked on you most— the silk one that barely covered your legs and was only held up by absurdly thin straps crossing at your back.

The night he bought it for you was clear in your mind like it was only yesterday; his voice in your ear telling you how he couldn’t resist taking such a thoughtful, intelligent woman like yourself and dressing you up like a mindless drolja… or ‘slut’ as it might be said in English. Just remembering the way he said things like that sent a shiver down your spine as strong as really hearing it, your thighs clenching together on top of the plush leather seat.

Just as you thought you might go crazy waiting for him, you saw the car pull up— your Helmut at the wheel and his two associates in tow— and your heart soared.

Longer than all the years apart combined was the minute you spent waiting to descend the jet’s staircase, hoping to meet him on the taxiway at the exact right moment. You made sure the jewelry around your wrists and neck was laying just right before finally making your appearance.

The way he looked up at you as you started to walk down towards him… it wasn’t so different from the way he’d looked at you through the glass for the past few years, really, but it felt different. He certainly looked different to you, without the prisoner’s uniform and looking rather imposing with that massive coat instead.

You were careful to still walk slowly, since you were wearing stilettos and all, even when you wanted more than anything to run to him and jump into his arms. Instead, you came face to face with him, loving that confident smirk which never seemed to leave his expression, and slipped your arms around his fur-adorned neck.

“Dobrodošla nazad, ljubavi,” you hummed, pressing your lips to his and almost letting out a squeal of surprise when he immediately slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you aggressively as his gloved hands gripped you at the waist.

He was rarely so bold, but then again he had been alone in prison for so long with only your words to try to satisfy him. As much as you cherished being in his arms again, you also got the impression that this wasn’t just about making up for lost time— if that were true, he would’ve skipped the kiss entirely and taken you in the back of his car the moment he saw you. No, this was a show of dominance, and not only for your benefit; that was clear when one of the men with him cleared his throat loudly and Helmut still didn’t stop.

But that was very much like him: he was never finished with you until he was satisfied, and not a moment sooner. His power over you was so effortless because you didn’t mind at all being his plaything… so much so that it was you leaning in for more when he pulled back, making him laugh softly.

“Did you miss me, lutka?” he purred, and you nodded as you bit your lip slightly.

“Always, Helmut,” you nodded, finally taking a moment to look away from him and at the visibly uncomfortable men at his side. “I heard you freed him,” you said to the man you knew to be James Barnes, “thank you.”

“I’m still not over that,” the other— Sam, as you’d heard— added with a scoff.

“Come on, darling, let’s board the jet and we can talk there,” Helmut suggested, and you nodded as you turned to let them follow.

Of course, you couldn’t be totally sure, but you were pretty confident you could feel three pairs of eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs. Honestly, with how short the dress was, there was a risk of your thong being exposed as well, exactly the sort of almost-subtle teasing your Baron loved the most.

Once inside, Helmut showed James and Sam to their seats, and took his own as he instantly pulled you into his lap. You caught the other two men glancing to the empty fourth seat, knowing there was plenty of room for you two to stay apart, but could they really blame you after how long you’d been alone?

Throughout the takeoff, one of his strong hands rested comfortably on your crossed legs as the other held his glass of champagne, and Sam’s gaze was attached to the way his thumb gently stroked your thigh while James seemed to be doing his best to look literally anywhere else.

“I noticed you haven’t introduced us to your… friend…” Sam trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, yes,” Helmut chuckled as if he actually forgot, “this is the woman who has been managing my estate in my unfortunate absence.”

“You’re trying to tell us this is your accountant?” James grumbled.

“She’s also my lover,” Helmut relented.

“Obviously,” Sam replied, unamused.

“She’s beautiful, no?” Helmut prompted as he ran his fingertips higher up your thigh, only glancing at the other men as he focused mainly on nuzzling against your neck.

“Yeah, the finest money can buy,” Sam quipped, earning a cold glare from you and your man.

“Are you with me for my money, draga?” Helmut asked you quietly as he planted a gentle kiss to the spot right where your neck met your shoulder. You smiled and shook your head, staring right at Sam’s nervous expression.

“No, sir,” you answered aloud, and the title clearly made both of the other men uncomfortable… if, perhaps, in different ways.

“Uncross your legs,” he demanded, though his tone was still soft, and you obeyed right away as he started to lightly move his touch between your thighs.

James began adjusting in his seat and never really stopped, tugging at his jeans in an obvious attempt to conceal the growing bulge between his legs, but you only laughed at his clear embarrassment.

“See how respectful she is?” he cooed his praise, addressing the other men but keeping his eyes on you. “I know exactly the words to make her obey to my every whim… James, you and her share that quality.”

The man sneered as you suppressed a giggle, squirming in Helmut’s lap impatiently.

“She’s loyal, too, unendingly dedicated,” he continued. “You know she visited me weekly in Munich, at the very least? Always by my side… like any good pet.”

A whimper escaped your throat at that term, your gut burning with need as he balanced praise and degradation effortlessly. You didn’t find it truly demeaning only because you loved being his plaything so much, and because you knew mutual respect was at the core of your relationship with him. But, still, it was nice to feel small when he was there to keep you safe.

James watched with a small snarl and Helmut slipped his hand into your panties, and Sam licked his lips but shifted his stare to your face instead, just as your eyes started to roll back and your head fell weakly on Helmut’s shoulder.

“And such a precious little pussy as well,” he added darkly, giving you a spank between your legs to make you choke on a squeal. “Sweet, delicate… much like a Turkish delight, but even more addictive.”

“Please, sir,” you whispered under your breath.

“You want more, don’t you? Tako očajno…” he chuckled. You nodded, already starting to soak through the lace and rock your hips. “You want to be fucked, yes?”

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Be polite and take care of our guests first, draga,” he encouraged, kissing your neck one more time before releasing you from his embrace.

Although you were most interested in being with the man you loved, you were happy to obey whatever he wished— and, frankly, sinking to your knees on the jet’s carpeted floor to crawl towards James wasn’t exactly lacking in its own appeal.

James’ eyes narrowed as Sam’s widened, and you sat up between the spread, denim-clad thighs as you blinked up at him and licked your lips.

He tensed up slightly as your hands delicately slid up his legs, his Adam's apple bobbing with a dry swallow when you grabbed his belt buckle and began to open it.

“You… you don’t have to…” he mumbled, apparently too distracted to finish his sentence.

“Yes I do,” you denied. “Because he told me to.”

Sam winced and looked away as you unzipped James’ fly and pulled his jeans and boxers down to expose his cock, already hard and leaking a bit from the tip. You smiled proudly, but chose not to tease him for his eagerness and instead just get right to work; you gripped him at the base and gave a few kitten licks over his shaft, savoring the taste of his precum and looking up at his expression that was equal parts shocked and sultry.

You only spent a moment suckling on the head before skipping right ahead and deepthroating him all the way to base.

“Oh, fuck,” James choked, reaching up grab the seat behind his head as his back arched, making you want to smile though you thankfully kept it down.

“Well-trained, isn’t she?” Helmut interjected proudly.

“Y-yeah,” he answered, his other hand grabbing your shoulder tightly as you began to bob your head.

Occasionally, in your peripheral, you caught Sam looking, and it made you wiggle your hips with the desire to rub your throbbing clit against the floor.

You got a chance to breathe whenever you pulled back to suck the head and stroke the rest with your hand, and in a few minutes you had already found all the little spots that made him moan the loudest, or made his legs quiver a bit by your sides.

“Stop,” Helmut instructed, and you were already starting to pull off when James hissed and grabbed your head to hold you down.

“N-no, please,” he blurted out.

“She’ll come back to you but Sam is looking rather lonely in the corner over there,” Helmut explained, and James hesitated but let you go. You wiped your lips and started to move towards Sam, but he shook his head.

“I don’t roll like that, man,” Sam explained, “I don’t want her doing it just because you said so.”

“Darling, won’t you tell us how badly you want to service your new friends?” Helmut challenged, and you swallowed nervously because you were a bit embarrassed to say too much and potentially anger him. But the sparkle in his eyes didn’t seem like he was leading you into a trap… even if the other two men were confident that was what it meant. “You find them attractive, don’t you?”

“Um, yes, sir,” you answered hesitantly, “I… saw them, and I wanted to know what their cocks looked like. And tasted like.”

Helmut smiled and leaned forward, giving you a spank of approval through your dress (which was riding up to show most of your butt anyways).

You looked at Sam expectantly. “May I please suck your cock, Mr. Wilson?”

His eyes darkened and you knew you were on the right track. “What happened to ‘sir’?” he asked coyly.

“I only call Helmut ‘sir,’” you explained, “but I could call you something else.”

His finger curled to encourage you to come closer and you crawled up to sit between his legs.

“Call me ‘daddy,’” he finally instructed, opening his belt and pants for you.

“Yes, daddy,” you nodded, keeping your mouth slack for him to push his cock into. You hummed as the head slid over your tongue, looking up at him as he bit his lip and thrust back into your throat.

“Shit, that’s good,” he whispered, guiding your head at the speed he wanted. “Who taught you how to suck cock so good, baby?”

Helmut raised his hand and James snorted.

Sam was a bit longer but he was still no challenge to swallow all the way down, and you heard him breathing through his teeth but let your eyes fall shut to focus on your work.

“Is this… how you treat all your guests?” Sam asked tensely between heavy breaths.

“Only those who are at the right place at the right time,” Helmut answered cryptically, but you happened to know this sort of occasion was incredibly rare. Although it might seem counterintuitive to some, this was his way to re-stake his claim over you, and after so much time apart apparently he felt he had a lot to prove. “Keep going, but don’t let him come,” another instruction echoed from behind you.

You pulled back to stroke Sam’s length while you croaked: “yes, sir.”

Helmut had you go back and forth for a while, keeping both men on edge and occasionally allowing you to stroke one while you sucked the other, your own need growing so quickly as you dreamed to have something inside you, anything really.

Obviously, he knew exactly how much having a cock down your throat made you wet and desperate. And he knew that such a taboo act of, in a certain sense, breaking fidelity with a man as he not only watched but commanded you to do it would get you right on the edge in no time.

He had gotten in your head so quickly after meeting you, memorized everything that made you tick, and not once had he forgotten.

“I-I’m close,” James warned as you sucked his head, making you slide the tip of your tongue over his slit before you took a break to suck his swollen balls into your mouth. “Fuck, can I come?”

“Not yet,” Helmut instructed sternly.

You felt him tug you back and into his lap suddenly, and he quickly yanked your dress down to expose your breasts to the men in front of you.

“Her tits are hard, no?” Helmut prompted them, and you watched them both nod as a warm hand reached around from behind you to tweak your hardened nipples. “Yes, she really loves to get on her knees and choke on cock. I’d let her do the same to me but I have greater plans for her…”

As if it weren’t obvious what those plans were, he pulled your skirt up to your waist as well, spreading your legs and pulling your flimsy panties aside.

“Is she wet?” he asked the men and they nodded again.

“Drenched,” Sam chimed in.

Helmut gave another spank to your clit as you shuddered, then rubbing slowly as if to soothe the sting. “I’ll teach you what happens when you get wet for another man, little girl,” Helmut growled against your ear, “not to mention two. And they’re Americans, do you have no shame?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whispered.

“No, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he corrected. “I love seeing you act like a whore all for me.”

You hadn’t even realized he’d taken his cock out of his trousers until you felt the thick tip of him prodding at your entrance. It was already a lot just by itself, but then you had these strangers staring at you and for some reason it only turned you on more.

That ‘some’ reason of course being that you loved your Baron taking ownership over you for anyone to see. Clearly, prison had given him much more creative ideas than just fucking on a balcony or against the glass of a window.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked in a hushed voice against your skin which seemed to be burning hot all of a sudden.

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

It took a lot not to cry out as he pulled you down and filled you in one deep stroke, your nails digging into the leather of the chair’s armrests at either side. But more than the sting of pain it felt so perfect, so fundamentally right, and just after your gasp of shock was a sigh of relief.

He sighed along with you and let his forehead fall between your shoulder blades, clearly a bit overwhelmed at being inside you again for the first time in so long. “Draga...” he breathed, “not that I ever doubted… but you must have been faithful to me; you’re so tight, I know no one has touched you since I left.”

“Only you, sir, nobody but you,” you agreed breathlessly, eyes falling shut.

He kissed your back as he started to move your body on top of his, the hands at your waist tightening and tugging on the remaining fabric of your dress. “Tako dobro,” he hissed, “you feel so good, darling, you can’t imagine how long I spent dreaming of being inside you again.”

A tear rolled down your cheek, and it would be impossible to say for sure what caused it— a little bit of everything, really.

Opening your eyes and noticing the way they were staring at you, you leaned forward and took each of the other men’s hard cocks in your hands, stroking in time with the way you bounced your hips on top of Helmut’s.

The both of them had been on the edge for a bit too long, Sam already biting his lip as James thrust himself up into your palm.

“Fuck, please,” James moaned, “I need to come in your mouth.”

“Come closer then,” you breathed, watching him stand up and bring his cock right to your lips which you eagerly gagged on, any pretense long gone as you sloppily sucked and stroked while Helmut thrust up to slam into you.

“Ohh, fuck, that’s it— gonna come,” he grunted as he reached up to press his hand against the ceiling of the jet, and it all must have hit him rather unexpectedly since the moment his musky taste began to coat your tongue, you heard a clanging sound and realized he had pushed up so hard that he bent the steel interior, his other hand tightening into a fist in your hair.

You moaned happily as you swallowed every drop, still sucking even as James’ moans became loud and higher in pitch.

“Fuck, don’t stop, oh god,” he whined, cock throbbing even after he stopped filling your throat with come. You reached between his legs and squeezed his balls a bit and you could tell his knees nearly buckled, causing him to finally pull back and tilt your chin up to stare down at you. “You’re somethin’ else,” he panted, taking a moment to catch his breath before falling back and slumping into his chair.

You looked over at Sam and saw his hand was still lazily guiding yours to stroke over his cock although come already painted his abs and dripped down from his swollen head over your fingers. “Can I clean up your mess, please, daddy?” you asked, voice a bit hoarse though you couldn’t be sure if that was from the deepthroating or just how hard Helmut was fucking you now.

Pulling your hand back, Sam’s eyes followed as you lapped the thick, hot come from your hand, moaning openly at the taste. You sucked your fingers down into your throat, not leaving a drop behind.

He leaned back in his chair and began to catch his breath, both of them now staring at you with that exhausted, glazed-over expression. They looked satisfied, and you considered it your reward for a job well done.

"A belly full of come and a pussy full of my cock, you must be feeling ecstatic," Helmut presumed.

"Yes, sir," you agreed quickly.

All at once he began to fuck you faster, harder, deeper which you hadn't even realized was an option. He growled a string of the filthiest curses in your ear, in Sokovian so the other men wouldn’t understand, with one hand wrapped around your neck as the other pinched your clit almost too roughly. Even in your native language you could barely understand it: how could you when he was so deep inside you?

“Will you come, draga?” he finally asked, voice rough with his own desperation.

“Not until you let me, sir,” you moaned, and he chuckled a bit.

“Good girl.”

But wow, the way he rubbed your clit was impossible to ignore, like he was trying to make your promise impossible to keep. You tightened your jaw, moaning through your teeth now as you fought to keep your orgasm at bay.

“Please sir, I need to come, please— so close, I’m so close,” you mewled.

“I won’t be much longer, either,” he warned. "Too long without you has taken its toll, I need to finish."

“Inside me, sir, please,” you begged, “come inside me.”

You felt him nod against the back of your neck. “Come for me,” he instructed simply, and as obedient as ever, you felt your walls pulsing as pleasure overtook you. Not even meaning to, you threw your head back, and he had to hold you tightly to keep you from shaking too violently as the waves of sensation washed over you.

The heat of him spilling inside you warmed you from the inside out, making you smile happily through the fog of your high and intentionally tighten your walls around him. He hissed and throbbed within you, his fingers digging into your hips now as he held you down against him.

He gave a few more lazy thrusts until finally slowing to a stop, both of you catching your breath eventually.

"My... accountant will be keeping my cock warm for the remainder of the flight," Helmut informed the other men, "I hope you don't mind?

"No, no, go ahead," James approved as his head fell back against his chair.

It was still quite a ways to your final destination so it wasn't much of a surprise that you ended up falling asleep in the Baron's arms, something you used to do every night that had been only a dream for years. Perhaps this afternoon wasn't the reunion you expected, but it was somehow even more perfect than you could've ever wished for.

///

dobrodošla nazad, ljubavi = добродошла назад, љубави = “welcome home, love”

lutka = лутка = “doll”

draga = драга = “dear/beloved”

tako očajno = тако очајно = "so desperate"

tako dobro = тако добро = "so good"

#baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky barnes smut #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson smut #sambucky x reader #tfatws fanfiction

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inkykeiji · 4 years ago

Text

break my heart in two, but when it heals it beats for you

character: zenin naoya

genre: smut + angst

notes: aaaaah this is my lil submission for the sewer’s soulmate syndrome collab (and my first collab ever waaah!!!) it’s a curseless soulmate AU with the tiniest hint of the zenin’s being a prominent crime family. please please heed the warnings!! | title credit: back to you by selena gomez

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, incest (reader and naoya are half siblings), mentioned death of a family member (mother), naoya being his misogynistic self, excessive use of the word ‘Daddy’ to refer to their biological father, one (1) instance of physical abuse, size kink/size difference, mentioned relationship between a university student (reader) and their TA, infidelity, one (1) mention of Daddy being yakuza, age difference, spanking done by reader’s biological father, toxic relationships, minimal prep, rough sex, a hint of degradation

words: 9.5k

synopsis:

Except the torture doesn’t stop, even when you’re gone, because he’s assaulted with thoughts of you the very moment you leave—what you’re doing, who you’re with, if he plagues your mind as much as you plague his—you’re like a fucking sickness, a parasite that burrows deep between the folds and tissues of his brain, infecting it, and he’s hopeless to find a cure.

It’s a few days after his twenty-ninth birthday, the night you appear—unannounced, uninvited, and an absolute fucking mess—falling into his father’s arms the moment he opens the door, fingers curling in the material of his cashmere button up and tugging as powerful sobs rip through your entire body, violent tremors following.

It’s fucking disgusting, the way his father reacts. Naoya watches the entire thing unfold from the shadows of the living room, nose wrinkled in distaste, features twisted in aversion and saturated in abhorrence.

Because his father lets you cling to him like a child—a grown woman, gripping a seventy-one year old man like a sniveling little girl—as he manages to scoop you up into his arms, collapsing onto his favourite armchair with you in his lap, hushing you gently as he rocks you back and forth, large hands stroking your shuddering back as you nuzzle your puffy, snot-stained face into his chest, wailing out Daddy!

It’s the first time Naoya’s ever seen his father behave in such a way, revolt churning his stomach as he observes the quite frankly unfamiliar man in front of him. It makes him fucking sick to watch, acidic bile rising in his throat until it stings the back of his tongue, face souring as he swallows it back down.

And you can’t even manage to force words through your stuttering breathing and hiccupped little sobs, unable to explain the situation at all without being overwhelmed by another fresh wave of tears, crashing over your body as you fall back into the sanctuary of his father’s arms, face buried in his neck, now soiled with spit and salt water.

“Naoya,” his father calls, voice curt and stern and demanding, snapping Naoya’s gaze to his own in an instant. “A glass of water, please?”

Naoya scoffs, narrowing his eyes. “What the fuck do I look like to you? The help?”

And Naoya’s no stranger to the level gaze his father fixes him with, has seen that same look etched into his father’s face more times than he can count, eyebrows pinched and mouth pressed in a firm, fine line, chest rising as he inhales slowly, calmly, deeply, then exhales through flared nostrils.

“You look like a good big brother who’s on his way to get his baby sister some water,”

Ah, right, that’s who you are—the bastard, Daddy’s little mistake, an ugly, irreversible stain on their family’s prestigious name.

“That bitch is not my sister,” he grumbles as he stomps from the room and towards the kitchen to fetch you a drink, huffing under his breath about being treated like a fucking woman, yet obeying his father’s orders nonetheless.

It turns out, Naoya learns, that your mother has passed away, leaving his poor bastard of a baby sister all alone in the world, with nowhere to go—and you’ve come here to ask for shelter and food, just until you get on your feet.

It’s fucking pathetic, as far as Naoya’s concerned, shaking his head in condescending disbelief with a cruel snort. It’s almost difficult to believe that you, undoubtedly the family disgrace; you, with your dirty blood and the dishonour you haul around everywhere with you, have the balls to come crawling to his father begging for support. You’re an adult, for Christ’s sake, and you should act like one, should be out scouring the earth for some equally pathetic man to serve like you ought to, like you would have, if you knew your place. Maybe then, Naoya would have a shred of respect for you.

Maybe.

“How selfish. Daddy already pays for your tuition, why should he provide you with housing, too? Are you really that incompetent? Can’t do a thing for yourself, huh?”

Your head whips around to face him, almost as if you’re startled by his presence, by his voice addressing you directly, a sharp gasp falling from your lips the moment your eyes meet.

It’s the first time you’ve actually looked at him since you’ve arrived, the first time your gaze has connected with his, eyes bloodshot and gleaming as crystal tears stream down your cheeks, excess water clinging to spidery lashes, clumped together in spikes.

God, you’re beautiful.

It kicks him right in the motherfucking chest, hard enough that he stumbles back a few feet into the stone fireplace, a hand gripping the mantle for stability while his body caves in on itself. A spear of agony sears through his body, slicing clean through all of his vital organs as you choke out an apology punctuated with an honorific, head shaking in jerky little motions as your tongue struggles to form words to explain yourself.

And he’s never felt anything like it in his entire life, skin feeling as though it’s been set ablaze from the inside, thick black smoke filling is lungs as he wheezes on an inhale, strangled by it.

“Naoya,” his father snaps, eyes wide and scorching. “Leave.”

Each step away from the living room feels heavier than the last, as if his blood’s been replaced by lead, by rapidly drying concrete, rendering him incapable of lifting his feet from the floor, dragging them against the tile until it’s fucking painful, calves and thighs tingling as if the blood flow’s been entirely obstructed, muscles quivering and exhausted.

“It’s okay,” he can hear his father’s faint voice soothing you, each of your sniffles feeling like a sharp little thorn straight to his heart, each of your tiny I’m sorry’s carving out a vacant, phantom wound in his chest. “Shh, it’s alright, Daddy’s here, Daddy’s got you,”

“Pathetic,” Naoya spits to the empty hallway, though the word wavers, catching a little in his throat, letters scraping the gummy walls as he forces them from his mouth, leaving scalding little blisters in its wake.

It’s then that Naoya decides he hates you; standing motionless in the dark hallway, feet inexplicably bolted to the floor and chest burning with some unknown emotion, a fire that blazes and rages, flares and thrashes, with each of your hitched little apologies, his teeth clenched together so tightly he’s surprised they don’t crack.

But it’s only after your sobs have calmed, father having reduced them to soft sniffles and half-hiccups through tender words and sweet affirmations, only after Naoya knows that you’ll be staying here for the night—that you’ll be safe—that he regains control over his limbs, that he rips his cement-filled feet from the floor and trudges towards his bedroom, scalding inferno dulled to simmering coals and faint flickering cinders.

He doesn’t think about it—isn’t going to think about it, refuses to waste his time or energy on such absurdity, refuses to allow his father’s preposterous decisions and ridiculous sentiments soak up space in his consciousness.

And he absolutely refuses to think about is the way your sudden presence punched a sharp gasp from his chest, the way he suddenly feels incomplete, like something’s missing, now that you aren’t within arms-reach, the way that he lost control over his entire body for the first time in his fucking life, in that hallway, just a few moments ago.

✰ ✰ ✰

His father—your father—falls in love with you almost immediately; having only met you briefly a few times before this, despite sending your mother multiple cheques every month for over twenty years.

It’s truly deplorable, positively sickening to watch the way his eyes light up when you come skipping into the living room after your afternoon university classes, dropping a fat, almost obscene kiss to Daddy’s cheek before plopping down on his lap as you chatter on about your day—about what you learned in lecture today, about the essay you got back (top of your class, of course), about your cute TA with the white hair and crystal eyes who always seems to conjure a bashful expression the moment you mention his name.

Naoya watches the entire thing unfold day after day, a deep sneer etched into his face, jaw clenched so hard it begins to ache, light eyes glaring daggers in your direction.

Something akin to jealousy, a creature with glowing emerald eyes and gnashing teeth and razor claws that slash and tear at the pit of his belly, roars and rattles the ribs that keep it caged within his chest, gnawing on the bones every time his—your—father makes you giggle, your eyes sparkling with adoration as you gaze at him; every time lithe fingers brush hair back from your face or a large palm settles on the crown of you head, petting you gently; every time you nuzzle into his neck, curling up comfortably—perfectly—in Daddy’s big, strong arms that keep you protected from all of the bad, from all of the evils of this world, from him, the big brother that loathes you.

It’s unsettling, almost sad in a sense, seeing his father fall from grace, observing the way you decay his persona so quickly, eating away at it like corrosive acid, rotting him from the inside out; the way he morphs from one of the most powerful and feared Yakuza bosses into soft, sticky, sweet putty in your hands the moment you appear; the way your presence shatters his tough, hard exterior and renders him gentle and tender—gentler and tenderer than he’s ever behaved with Naoya or any of his older brothers.

He can’t fucking stand to watch it, despises every single thing about it, positively detests the inexplicable, uncontrollable sensations that thrash and thunder inside of him, an unusual mixture of envy and melancholy, of wrath and desire, combined to create something toxic, something hazardous, something uncontainable that erodes his senses and mind, leaking into his bloodstream and poisoning his thoughts.

Because his gaze stays glued to you the moment you enter a room, like he’s bewitched by you, cursed by you the way his father has become, unable to rip his eyes from your form until you exit.

Except the torture doesn’t stop, even when you’re gone, because he’s assaulted with thoughts of you the moment you leave—what you’re doing, who you’re with, if he plagues your mind as much as you plague his—you’re like a fucking sickness, a parasite that burrows deep between the folds and tissues of his brain, infecting it, and he’s hopeless to find a cure.

And the worst part, the worst part is that he hasn’t a clue why. He doesn’t know why he feels the way he does, why you evoke such strong emotions—emotions he’s never felt before, emotions he doesn’t have a name for—or why, suddenly, everything feels wrong, off, whenever you’re not around.

It’s fucking annoying. Those tiny, raised bumps on the inside of his wrist—shaped in the form of a zodiac constellation, a mark everyone is born with, a mark that supposedly hints at your soulmate—burn and tingle as he meditates on these notions, blunt nails scratching viciously at his skin.

✰ ✰ ✰

Daddy grants you permission to stay at the estate for as long as you’d like, because of course he does, a victim to the spell you’ve cast. He even gives you your own room, helps you pick out furniture and takes you shopping for new clothes. You promise to do your share around the house—pinky swear—and, to Naoya’s immense dissatisfaction, you don’t disappoint.

No. Instead, you excel.

Those pretty little words weren’t empty promises—you begin cooking all of the meals, taking on the task to do the dishes entirely by yourself, tending to the house and the garden outside, even going as far to aid the help in their daily cleaning routines, until Daddy tells you it isn’t necessary.

And you manage to capture almost everyone’s hearts through your deeds and duties, through your kind and compassionate nature, through your being attentive and, for the most part, obedient—but most important of all, being family oriented.

You do the laundry when it needs to be done. You keep the house spotless and the kitchen sparkling. You learn everyone’s favourite dishes and then dedicate hours upon hours to perfecting them.

Naoya observes you throughout it all, sharp eyes following your movements, watching as you expertly tend to everyone’s needs, almost as if you know what they’ll require before they do.

You’d be perfect wife material, if you weren’t his sister—he catches the thought as it drifts through his mind—a sentiment that’s almost involuntary, unthinking in nature— and strangles it with his bare hands, stomps on it until it’s nothing but dust.

Because what’s more infuriating than anything else is that you are a good woman, a perfect woman, a woman who—for the most part—understands her place and duty in the household; or, at least, you did, before Daddy began spoiling you rotten.

It earns you the nickname princess from your favourite nii-san, hissed through gritted teeth with narrowed eyes and scrunched up noses, drenched in condescension and sprinkled with artificial icing sugar—a nickname Daddy irritatingly and affectionately adopts, extracting all of the patronization Naoya had imbued it with and stuffing it full of love.

You aren’t invincible, though, no matter how precious you are, how sweet your voice becomes when you bat your eyelashes and fix a pout on your lips, how much Daddy is barely able to deny you.

Because Daddy’s incessant spoiling does eventually bite him in the ass, just like Naoya knew it would.

✰ ✰ ✰

“But Daddy,” you whine, wearing your prettiest pout and cutest puppy-dog eyes, lethal weapons that are nearly foolproof, your most cherished expressions that grant you almost everything you want. “It’ll just be for a little, I promise! Just a drink or two!”

“I said no—”

“But everyone’s going! Even my professors will be there; I’m expected to show up!” Voice rising in pitch, your arms cross over your chest as eyebrows knit deeply and a lip juts out further, looking about two seconds away from stomping your foot.

Naoya would be amused, really, to see a grown woman acting like a petulant fucking child over some inconsequential party being thrown by the department, if he didn’t feel like his heart was ripping itself to pieces with your teary expression and soft half-sniffles, with the knowledge that, if you attend, you’ll be with him.

“You have an exam tomorrow,” Daddy reminds you in a sigh, dipping his head to scrutinize you over the rim of his reading glasses. “Are they not all required to write the same exam as well?”

“Well, they are, but—”

“But they didn’t spend their study break out gallivanting with their TA, did they?”

Your eyes widen for a second, shocked by the words leaving your father’s mouth, but the expression is gone in an instant, morphed into incredulousness, eyes rolling as your tongue tuts in disbelief.

“Please, we were studying,”

The chuckle that escapes your father’s lips is anything but warm; it’s cruel and condescending, a sharp slap to the face, your bottom lip beginning to tremble as he snaps his book shut, the sound echoing throughout the living room.

“You must think me a real fool,” he’s almost snickering as he throws his glasses on the coffee table, grunting a little as he stands from his armchair and raises himself to his full height, towering over you. “Do you think Daddy’s stupid?”

“What? No, of course not—”

“Then why are you lying to him?”

“I-I’m not—”

“And you’re doing it again?”

Head shaking in jerky, quivering movements, your lips open and close, emitting nothing more but little squeaks of breath as you try to backtrack, managing to stammer out an apology.

“It’s a little late for that,” your father’s saying sternly, a large hand curling around your bicep as he yanks you towards him, beginning to haul you down the hall. “Good girls do not lie to their fathers,”

Naoya sits tense and coiled in his father’s armchair, a symphony of your cries mingled with harsh slaps of Daddy’s calloused palm against your smooth skin carrying throughout the house, and he swallows thickly, past the lump that’s lodged itself in the column of his throat, past the bitter acid rising in his chest, past the irregular thumping of his heart against his ribs.

Because he doesn’t know why your wails and squeals of Daddy! M’sorry! Daddy! make his cock throb and his chest ache—ache with longing, with want and desire, with jealousy—doesn’t know why he finds himself fucking his fist to those memories that same night, mind fixated on the quick glance he had caught through the sliver of the open door when he couldn’t stand it anymore, when he had to sneak down the hallway just to make sure everything was alright, images of you thrown over father’s knees, bare ass spanked raw materializing in his head.

Or maybe he does know. Maybe he refuses to admit it. Maybe he just pretends he doesn’t, because he wishes he didn’t.

Still, you always get off fucking easy, as far as Naoya’s concerned. He’s never witnessed his father allow any woman to talk back to him with such horrid disrespect, to whine and plead and roll their eyes without a backhand so heavy, so hard it knocks them to the floor.

And yet, you receive a few measly spanks to your ass—a punishment that’s more embarrassing than anything else, terribly unfit for a grown woman—and get sent to your room for the rest of the night.

“She truly is Daddy’s Little Girl,” his mother had snarled after one particular punishment, features curled up in an unattractive sneer.

Naoya can’t help but begrudgingly agree.

✰ ✰ ✰

“Oh, lighten up,” one of his brothers nudges his foot with the toe of his slipper before collapsing next to him one abnormally cold evening in early October, interrupting Naoya’s nightly routine of glaring at you, cuddled up into Daddy’s side as you watch a show. “Just because you aren’t Daddy’s favourite anymore doesn’t mean you have to skulk around looking like you just ate a whole lemon,”

“What’re you on about,” Naoya seethes through clenched teeth, glancing at his older brother through the corner of his eye.

“You know,” he responds airily with a knowing smirk, nodding his head in your direction. “She’s taken your place, huh? Or is that not what’s upsetting you?”

And that hurts—it hurts, because he used to be Daddy’s favourite, Daddy’s youngest—the baby—Daddy’s spoiled brat. He’s used to being the center of Daddy’s attention, used to being the object of his praise, used to being the golden child, the prized child, the destined son nurtured and conditioned to take over the Family Business once his father retires.

Light eyes roll back in his skull as he tsks in disapproval, shaking his head and clearing his throat to rid the tremble from his voice. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,”

“Mm, I think I know more than you believe,”

The words are spoken in a murmur, only loud enough for the two of them to hear, but Naoya’s gaze snaps back to his face immediately as he calls your name, gently pulling you from the hushed conversation you were having with Daddy, full of giggles and murmurs, nonchalantly asking, “When’s your birthday?”

No.

No, Naoya wants to hiss at his pathetic excuse of a brother, large hands curling into quivering fists, nails biting into the fleshy heels of his palms as teeth grit, forcefully swallowing back down the two letter refutation.

No-no-no-no-no, he doesn’t want to hear this. He doesn’t want to know, doesn’t need to know, throat constricting as you inhale to speak, chirpily responding.

Blood turns to thick ice in his veins when he hears your birth date, when he realizes those raised little bumps he was born with on the inside of his wrist match your zodiac sign. Heavy dread, black and poisonous and akin to thick disappointment, sinks in his chest, latching onto the floor of his stomach and spreading quickly, sticky as it engulfs all of his surrounding organs, coating them in acidic pollution.

He’s up and out of his seat before his brother has even finished asking you his next question, stumbling out of the room on unsteady legs, nearly tripping over his own ankles in his haste to get away from you, to escape.

He doesn’t want to know what the bumps on your inner wrist are, tells himself that it doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t care, that this is all bullshit anyway, century-old myths created by the dreamers and the sentimentalists. It isn’t like the prospect hadn’t already crossed his mind—drifting through a sick orgasmic haze after fucking his fist to the memory of you—the potential that you may be his ‘soulmate’, a cruel trick played on him by the gods. Except…

Except it isn’t real. It isn’t real. There’s no science backing it up, nothing to concretely prove that the zodiac constellation embedded in his skin has anything to do with his ‘soulmate’—or anyone else’s. It’s just a legend, an old wives tale made up for the romantics and nothing else.

In his alacrity to resist it, he turns fucking ruthless in his verbal assault, but nothing seems to deter you; it barely seems to phase you at all, carrying on your tasks or your cute little babbling as if he hadn’t just insulted you.

Because you’re incessant, almost desperate to gain his approval, continuing to treat him like a god—doing more for him than you do for anyone else, including Daddy—regardless of how many how many expletives and offensive sentiments he hurls at you.

And eventually, he goes a little too far.

✰ ✰ ✰

The night before Halloween is dark and dreary, thick grey clouds stuffed with rain that continuously drizzles over the estate, brutal winds whipping the tiny droplets against the windowpanes, tiny specks and splatters of water decorating the glass, rearranging themselves every time the wind throws another smattering of rain towards them.

You skip into the living room, full of bashful giggles and muted squeals as Daddy fawns over you, awestricken as he murmurs about how beautiful his princess looks.

His princess.

Naoya’s not quite sure what you’re supposed to be, nor does he care, tearing his gaze from your scantily clad form before his brain can even register what the costume is, before blood can rush to his cock, before he can witness the shy little smile on your lips and the pretty way your eyes glitter as you twirl for Daddy.

No, the only thing Naoya cares about is the fact that the dress of your costume is way too short to be considered decent, fluffy petticoat barely covering your ass, fanning out to reveal the edges of dainty pink lace clinging to the supple flesh of your ass as you twist and turn.

And he hasn’t a clue what you’re chattering on about, isn’t listening, can’t hear anything over the roar of blood rushing in his ears as he stands from his seat and stomps towards you, strong, callous voice cutting off your excited babbling as he glowers expectantly at his father.

“Jesus Christ, Daddy, you aren’t actually going to let her go out in that, are you?”

“Why?” you ask before your father can respond, genuinely confused, head tilting cutely. “What’s wrong with it?”

“What’s wrong with it?” he repeats incredulously, thick eyelashes fluttering as he blinks several times, eyebrows raising and huffing out a sarcastic laugh in disbelief. “Are you joking?”

Your head shakes slowly, a frown beginning to materialize on your lips as your eyebrows knit.

“It’s entirely inappropriate,” he scoffs, enunciating his words slowly, like you’re stupid.

You stare up at him cautiously, bottom lip jutting out in a pout so deep your chin puckers. “But nii-san, it’s Halloween—”

“Oh? And what are you going as, a slut?”

A little strangled gasp of Naoya-nii! hitches in your throat, your entire expression crumpling at his disapproval, hands running over the costume in an almost protective manner, smoothing it down.

“N-No, I’m—”

“I don’t care,” he hisses. “There’s no way you’re leaving the house in that—go change. Now.”

The direct order surprises you, shock saturating your features before resentment begins to bleed through. Blinking hard, you force the tears from your eyes, expression hardening and shoulders rolling back, spine straightening.

“No.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“Is there something wrong with your hearing? I said no,”

That sharp, self-assured smile drops from his face in an instant, face screwing up from such defiance, such disrespect. “Excuse me?”

Shivers skitter up your spine, tiny spikes of ice chasing them, but you refuse to back down, even though your voice is beginning to quiver.

“Y-You’re not Daddy! You don’t get to tell me what to do, I don’t care if you’re older!”

And just like that, the sharp smile is back, stretched abnormally wide across his lips—like it had been cut, carved, into his handsome face—uncanny and inhuman as his eyes glint with malevolence, words flowing from his mouth slowly, calmly, almost serenely, as he prowls towards you.

“You’re right—I’m not Daddy, because I would never let a woman speak to me the way he allows you to speak to him, you ungrateful little brat,”

A large hand, decorated with chunky, glittering gold rings, cuts through the air, striking you across the cheek with such force you stumble backwards from the impact, nearly tripping over your own feet only to have Daddy wrap a strong arm around your waist, catching you with ease and pulling you to his chest.

And it’s intense, so intense it kicks the breath right from your chest, barreling up your throat where you choke on it as it tangles with a sharp yelp. Hands fly to clutch your cheek immediately, throbbing thorns of pain shooting through the side of your face.

Daddy’s yelling, but it all sounds muddled, muffled, like your deep underwater and he’s shouting from above the surface, despite the fact that you’re clinging to him, pressed up so tightly against his side you can feel the vibrations of his voice in his body.

Naoya-nii isn’t saying anything, hand dropped limply to his side, pretty gold adorning his fingers coated in gleaming crimson. He isn’t even looking at Daddy—no, his gorgeous light eyes are focused on you, on the sticky scarlet leaking from the wounds his rings left when they collided with your cheek and the glistening tears shielding your eyes.

And for once, he has nothing to say, no sarcastic remarks or cynical little comments, voice evaporating in his throat as his chest burns, scathed with regret, remorse, repentance—all unwarranted, undeserved, unnecessary. Because—because you earned that slap for being so fucking disrespectful; you needed it, were practically begging him to put you back in your place, back where you belong: below him, behind him, and never beside him.

Because no matter how cute you are, how sweet and precious and good, none of it permits you to speak to him in such a manner, to act as though you’re equal.

So why has this inexplicable agony taken root at his core? Why does he feel like his heart is mutilating itself, tearing itself to shreds, with each of your pitiful little whimpers? Why does he feel the overwhelming urge to make it better, to make your pretty tears and precious sobs stop?

Inevitable anger surges through his veins—furious at you, for eliciting such bothersome emotions; furious at himself, for being so weak, so vulnerable, and allowing such pathetic sentiments to take over, to rob him of his control, of his autonomy.

And despite everything, all of his rage and loathing and confusion, his hand buzzes from it, from the sensation of touching your soft skin for the very first time, even in such a brutal and malicious manner, and instantly, he craves more.

✰ ✰ ✰

You don’t speak to him after that. You stop making his favourite meals, stop asking him about his day and then uninvitedly reciting your own in that cute, excited chatter that is so distinctly you, stop doing all of those extra little chores—washing his clothes and changing his sheets and scrubbing his bathroom until it sparkles. You put an end to everything.

And he fucking misses it.

He shouldn’t, but he does.

It’s painful to admit, but he can’t ignore it, notices your lack of presence almost immediately, that gaping void spreading, growing, as it roars in protest, claiming more and more of his body every day, like some sort of inky disease that only your presence seems to calm, to cure.

It fucking sucks. It fucking sucks, because he can’t stop it, regardless of how hard he tries, an impossible ailment he can’t void himself of. It fucking sucks, because you’re eating him up, consuming his very soul, devouring him from the inside out without even sparing him a goddamn glance—and you don’t even know it.

And it’s getting exhausting, putting up this front all the time, fighting against the intense feelings you swirl around in his chest, in his cock, without a hope, without a chance in hell. Fighting for nothing, because he knows he’ll never win. Fighting for nothing, because he isn’t sure he wants to anymore.

They’re unruly, voracious and rabid, tearing up his chest, his lungs and his heart and his throat, with sharp piercing claws and becoming increasingly difficult to overlook, to disregard.

Still, he’s too stubborn, too proud, to give in, to give up, even though the thing living inside him grows stronger every day, even though he knows that one day, it will overpower him.

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s windy—the estate quiet as the wind howls softly through the dense pines outside and ruffles them—the night it finally does, the night it takes over entirely, bursting through the barriers he keeps rebuilding and repairing around his soul and his sanity, writhing inside him when he hears soft sobs, muffled by the wood of your bedroom door, just past three in the morning.

It possesses him, like some sort of eternal spirit sinking deep into his bones and sewing itself into his soul, revoking his control over his body as a sudden, intense need to comfort you, to find out what’s wrong and make it all better, courses through his veins, entirely unaware of his actions as he pushes past the door and into your room.

“Naoya-nii?”

It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him, the first time you’ve even looked at him, since he struck you.

And he aches to apologize, I’m sorry’s and I shouldn’t have done that’s blistering his throat as they linger, just behind the back of his tongue.

But his pride outweighs them by a hair, despite how much his chest stings with the need to make things better, to make things right, for a reason unbeknownst to him. It’s just a sense—vague in meaning but strong in feeling—that longs for reconciliation, that’s desperate to rid your pretty face from the permanent scowl his presence etches into it.

That’s the first time he creeps into your room, the first time he loses his autonomy to the thing inside of him as he takes you into his arms and comforts you, the first time he allows you to cum from grinding on his cock.

Except it becomes a habit, an addiction, a nightly routine, cravings becoming stronger and stronger with each passing night. And for a brief span of time, it’s enough to appease the creature, the short nights spent with you in his arms, body trembling against his as you whimper out his name and his honorific, tangling on your tongue.

Because it feels right. It feels righter than anything in his life ever has, uncharacteristically gentle hands guiding your hips as they rock against his, soaked cunt gliding over the flannel of his pajama pants with ease as you huff out the prettiest little mewls into his neck.

It feels right only when he’s here with you, alone with you. Suddenly, it’s like everything makes sense again, like the world is in colour again, like the planet balanced again. He can no longer deny this feeling, this ache deep at the very pit of his soul that throbs and stings and burns mercilessly without your presence. You’re the only thing that can heal it, that can quell it, that can complete it.

So he gives in. It’s just for the nights, he promises himself, vows never to allow such sentiments to trickle into the daytime, to save it for when the sun sinks beneath the horizon, pledges never to permit these nightly escapades to advance from anything more than dry humping, nothing further than your cum on his fingers and your thighs stained with sticky cream.

But eventually, that isn’t enough, either.

And he was stupid to think it would be.

✰ ✰ ✰

The harsh slap of Testoni loafers against stone echoes out among the immaculately landscaped front yard, bouncing off thin tree trunks and being absorbed by tall, thick shrubs. Silver light, cast by the haloed moon hanging high in the clear navy sky, illuminates the garden, the foliage faded and washed out, painted by the moonbeams. Somewhere in the distance, the gentle trickle of water mingles with Naoya’s harsh breaths, cellphone gripped tightly in one fist as he paces back and forth like a rabid dog, small rocks popping under his feet.

It’s late. It’s too late—you were supposed to be home hours ago. Naoya’s tried calling—seven times, now, his phone buzzing in his palm to warn him of a low battery—but you haven’t picked up once. But that isn’t new, nor is it unusual; you rarely answer his calls while you’re out with Satoru.

So, really, this shouldn’t be cause for alarm. It shouldn’t.

Except he knows the man you’re out with, knows what you’re doing with him, and he can’t get it out of his fucking head, assaulted with fabricated images of you trapped under a large man with ivory hair and crystal eyes, back arching in ecstasy, his name leaving your lips in the prettiest gasps, in the way Naoya’s name leaves your lips during his habitual sneaking into your room in the middle of the night.

He’s terrified it’s going to drive him insane, eyes pricking and throat burning as his nose twitches with the threat of tears, eyelids shut so tightly his whole face scrunches up, tense and crumpled every time a new wave of contrived memories of you cumming all over that asshole’s cock crash over his mind.

Copper stings his tongue as sharp front teeth nibble at the raw cuticles surrounding his nailbed, face puckering at the taste and ripping his thumb, glistening with saliva, from his mouth.

This is pathetic, goddamn it! It shouldn’t even matter who you’re with and what you’re doing with them, shouldn’t be any of Naoya’s concern at all whether you’re safe or not, shouldn’t fucking hurt nearly as much as it does, a heavy ache that weighs on his chest more and more and more as each second ticks by, ribs caving in and splintering under the force, snapping into sharp spikes that puncture his lungs and make it painful to breathe.

“This is such a waste of fucking time, I don’t even—” he’s muttering to himself when you step out of Satoru’s car, his internal monologue beginning to leak from his head out his lips, your presence immediately cutting it off as his head snaps up, light eyes paler than normal, practically glowing in the moonlight.

A startled little whimper pries its way past your lips when you see him, stomping towards you with a heaving chest and a growl ripping from his throat.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he’s seething as a large hand seizes your arm, wrapping around your bicep and yanking, bring your face closer to his. “Huh? Do you know what fucking time it is?”

Frenzied eyes search your face, wild and erratic in their movements, sharply zeroing in on the tiny galaxies of swirling lilac and cobalt peppered with little pinpricks of scarlet that’ve been sucked into the flesh of your neck.

He chokes on something—a gasp or a snarl or a sob, maybe a mixture of all three, you aren’t entirely sure—pearly teeth gnashing together. “You’re a little slut,” he spits the word out like venom, harsh and biting as it whizzes past your cheek, slicing into your skin.

“That’s it, that’s all—that’s all you’re fucking good for,” his grip tightens with each word that flows from his mouth. “At least you’ve picked a rich man to sell your pussy to, at least you aren’t a total idiot, just like your mother, huh?”

“What is your problem?” little hands claw at the fingers latched around you, finally breaking free from him, ripping your limb from his grasp with such vigor you nearly fall on your ass, teetering backwards on unsteady feet. “You know, just because you can’t own up and face your feelings, doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. This,” you gesture between the two of you. “Isn’t my fault.”

“This?” he spits, face screwing up in scorn. “There is no this,”

“Oh my God,” eyes rolling, you shake your head, exhaling a dubious laugh. “Shut up. There’s no one here—you can be real with me, I’m not gonna tell anyone,” you snark, arms crossing over your chest as you level your gaze with him.

He glares back at you, sharp jaw rhythmically clenching and unclenching with the grinding of his molars, large hands balled into tight, trembling fists on either side of his body.

“You know there’s something here, between us, within us, even if you refuse to admit it,” you continue after a beat of silence, voice softening.

His whole form is beginning to quiver and he jerkily shakes his head, exhaling harshly. You think he may be crying, but in the faint moonlight it’s hard to be sure.

Holding your wrist up, you swallow thickly, glancing at those little bumps embedded in your skin, watching the tiny shadows that form when your arm twists. “I have your sign,” your voice is quiet as you look back at him, flashing the inside of your wrist to him. “And I know you have mine,”

A cynical smirk spreads across his lips, but it looks more like a grimace, like a flimsy mask desperately attempting to cover something else, tongue tutting in disbelief. “Yeah, and there’s millions of people in this world with any given sign. It’s all bullshit—it could be anyone,”

“It could be anyone,” you agree, nodding. “But it isn’t.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do! I know you feel it too! Christ, why are you so—so adamant on denying this, even when it’s just the two of us? What’s the point?”

“You’re my fucking sister, that’s the point. This is inappropriate, it’s wrong,”

“If it’s so wrong, then why do you sneak into my bedroom every night? Why do you let me cum on your fingers? Why do you fuck my thighs?” your footsteps speed up, jogging a little to catch up to him. “Huh? Huh? No answer? Or do you know the answer, and you’re too afraid to say it?”

“I don’t know!” he explodes, whirling around on you and trapping you against the brick, palms laid flat against the wall. “Alright? I don’t fucking know why I do those things. They make me feel sick afterwards, but I…”

But I can’t stop.

But I need you.

But I love you.

Chests heave with harsh exhales that mingle and echo in the garden, your eyes studying his face intently, in a way that makes him feel naked, exposed, makes him want to turn and hide from you.

“I’m not asking—” you start, words catching in your throat and blinking hard to clear rapidly welling tears from your eyes. Your voice is softer, more fragile and weak, when you speak again. “You don’t have to marry me, for Christ’s sake. I just—I just want you to—I need to know you feel it too,”

“Why?” he hisses, acidic envy bubbling in his chest, beginning to erode his resolve, walls crumbling to rubble. “What is there to know? You already have him,”

“But I’d rather have you,” the words materialize on your tongue before you even know what you’re saying, earnest eyes boring into his.

“God, don’t—” eyelids shut tightly, lithe fingers tangling in blonde hair and tugging. “Don’t say shit like that,”

He can feel them, those three little words thrashing in his chest, desperate to claw up his throat and spill from his lips, but he grits his teeth and swallows them back down, letters lodging and forming a painful lump.

And you notice. You notice, because you’ve studied him extensively, have learned to read him—his mannerisms, expressions, behaviours—well.

And you’ve just found his weakness.

“Do you want to know what I think of when he fucks me?” you ask, eyes searching his face in an almost frenzied manner, breath accelerating as you quickly push the words from your lips, worried if you don’t speak fast enough, if you don’t vocalize these sentiments now, you’ll lose him again. “It’s you. It’s always you. I’ve tried—I’ve tried to think of someone else, of anyone else, but you just…you just won’t leave my brain! It’s like a—a sickness, or something. Like a chronic illness, and it’s only getting worse,”

A strangled growl rattles in his chest as he tears himself away from you, fists violently rubbing at his eyes.

He knows. He knows, because he’s tried the same thing, attempted to desperately forget you, to disintegrate the weird feelings you endlessly evoke in his chest by losing himself in women night after night, often multiple women at once, drowning himself in their moans and gasps and soft bodies to no avail.

“There’s no cure,”

He doesn’t even mean to say it, words slipping from his lips unconsciously as he gets tangled in his thoughts, flipping through the countless memories of faceless women of all shapes and sizes, faceless woman that somehow always mange to morph into you.

“No,” you respond, shaking your head. “There isn’t. But at least I’m trying!”

He spins around, gleaming eyes flashing, brimming with bewilderment, features falling in surprise for just a moment before they harden again, varnished in offense.

“What’re you talking about,” he seethes, eyebrows furrowing deeply as his eyes narrow into sharp slits, scrutinizing, analyzing, dissecting.

“I-I’d rather have you, yes, and he’ll—no one will ever compare, will ever even come close to how much I—” you cut yourself off, swallowing the thought, then clearing your throat and beginning again. “At least I’m trying to find someone, though. At least I’m trying to find just a shred of what I feel for you, instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, alone and miserable,”

“Oh,” he laughs humorlessly, a callous little sound that viciously tears from his chest, that scrapes his throat and comes out strangled, full of incredulity. “You don’t think I’ve tried? You don’t think I’ve tried endlessly to forget you? To cleanse you from my mind? To move the fuck on from something that had never begun in the first place? You’ve imprinted yourself in the tissues of my fucking brain in a matter of months. It’s tiring. It’s hopeless,”

His voice breaks on the last word, some of the merciless heat fading from his features as he glares at you, eyes almost pleading for you to understand.

Because you’re the only one that can.

You’ve been in this together the entire time, right from the start, from the moment you walked through that front door.

And he’s been resisting it, fighting against it, against himself, all while the current only becomes stronger, only continues to grow in strength and size, and he’s motherfucking exhausted at this point, sick of battling some invisible force he was convinced didn’t even exist, sick of waging a war he will forever be destined to lose.

You’ve broken that wall, shattered it to dust, destroyed all of his weapons of defense and robbed him of his sovereignty, and now it’s all pouring form his mouth, an endless, uncontrollable stream of confessions, of thoughts and desires, of agony and misery.

“But it doesn’t even fucking matter, because I love you. I love you and I fucking hate you for it. And I’ve been trying, alright? I’ve tried not to, I’ve tried every single trick in the fucking book to stop it, to get over you, to forget you—and none of it has ever fucking worked, not even for a second. I don’t want you; I—I don’t want to be, but I’m in love with you,”

It looks as though your breathing has ceased, chest halting in its rapid movements, body gone still, static, stagnant. Your silence is deafening, has his ears ringing and his heart pounding, thrashing against his ribs as it aimlessly attempts to crawl through the cage, to present itself to you, bloody and beating and all yours. It’s all yours—take it, kill it, end its suffering.

“And there’s nothing—”

Surging forward, your lips crash into his, body following as it smacks against his own, effectively cutting him off. Naoya freezes, eyes wide and breathing stopped, entire body turned to ice, rigid and tense, but you are not deterred, arms winding around his neck as fingers thread through the gold and ink at the base of his skull.

“I love you, too,” you mumble into the kiss, refusing to break contact for even a second, lips brushing his as you speak. “I love you so much,”

The confession—an admission he already knew, deep down in his very bones, an admission he can no longer ignore, now that you’ve said it—snaps him out of his trance, and something switches, something breaks. Because then he’s kissing you back, tongue forcing its way through your lips to assault your own as calloused hands find purchase on your hips, squeezing your flesh hard enough that you yelp.

He chuckles against your lips, and then he’s pushing forward, forcing you to walk backwards, too fast for you to keep up, his legs longer than yours, body bigger than yours, stronger than yours.

Even with all of his shoving, you still aren’t moving quick enough for him, clumsy and stumbling over your own feet, whimpering hushed apologies into his mouth, a response to the growls that rumble in his chest each time you trip, your pitiful little sorry!’s consistently being cut off by his tongue.

Large hands hoist you up without breaking the kiss, mouth still attempting to devour you whole, to suck up your very soul, and your legs automatically wrap around his waist, latching onto him.

Either of your bedrooms are too far, and he can’t take it, he can’t wait—not with the way your fingers are tangling in his shirt and tugging, the way needy little whines are hitching in your throat, the way you’re squirming in his grasp, trying to grind against his half-hard cock.

You’re fucking desperate, but so is he, thigh whacking off the edge of the wooden coffee table as he blindly staggers towards the kitchen, tongue hungrily dragging against yours while he does so.

The cold marble stings your skin as he deposits you onto the nearest countertop, hips wedged between your thighs keeping them spread.

Little fingers immediately go for his belt, nonsensical whimpers sounding in the back of your throat as you fumble and struggle, hooking your fingers through his beltloops and pulling.

“Eager girl,” he chastises, a little breathless as nimble fingers find the soaked lace at the apex of your thighs, pushing it to the side. “Nii-san has to prep you first,”

“No,” you whine, pitched high and much too loud. “M’wet enough. Want you, want you now, nii-san, please, just give it to me, been waiting so long, please,”

The words are slurred together as they tumble from your lips, infused with a potent lust that casts a dense haze over your mind, rendering you capable of only focusing on what you need.

Light eyes dart up, holding yours through fanned lashes for a moment, as if they’re searching for any hesitancy, before his lips form the most genuine smile he’s ever given you.

“Yeah?” he huffs out, finally breaking your stare to watch his hands undo his belt, continuing to speak as he shoves his jeans down his thighs and frees his cock. “You think you can take it?”

“Yes, nii-san,” you nearly mewl, gazing at him with blown, glazed eyes and a cute pout. “Please, give it to me, I-I want it, please,”

His gaze finally flicks up, that sincere smile stretched wider across his face, a playful glint in his eye, voice void of any of its usual derision. “You want what? Hmm, baby? Come on, nii-san wants to hear you say it,”

A low whimper leaves your throat and you shift on the countertop, as if trying to wiggle closer to him. “Your cock, nii-san, want your cock, please-please-please, gimme-gimme-gimme,”

It sounds as though you’re close to tears, voice cracking and thick with desire, Naoya’s cock twitching in his palm in response to the sound, and, God, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that, absolutely adores it when you beg, thinks you sound so pretty when you’re pleading for him.

“You’re a greedy little girl, you know that?” he pants while he pushes in, a muffled yelp prying past your lips. “Shh, hush now, nii-san will give you what you need,”

The stretch is incredible, cute little cunt throbbing around his thick cock as it struggles to adjust to the sudden intrusion, feeling as though he’s going to tear you into two, leaving stinging micro-fissures in the delicate flesh.

Yet despite the burn, the ache that settles deep in your core, that feels like he’s splitting you in half, a satisfied moan leaves your lips, head falling forward and resting against his broad shoulder, fingers curling in the cotton that adorns his torso and pulling him closer, closer, closer.

Because, finally, you feel whole, more whole than you’ve ever felt in your entire life, satisfying an inexplicable desire buried at the crux of your very soul, something you didn’t even realize you were missing until you finally had it.

“S’not enough,” you mumble into him, nuzzling your face against him like a cat. “Need more, nii-san, need more,”

“You really are a selfish little fucking brat,” he grunts as fingers flex on your hips, tips digging into the pliant flesh and gripping, singeing his name into your skin in rapidly blossoming indigo and ultramarine.

“Nii-san was going to try and be nice,” the words, strained and husky, spill from plush lips as his hips begin to thrust, slow and hard, winding back as they draw the force to ram forward, slamming a cry from your chest as his cockhead pounds against your cervix. “But you’re too impatient for that, aren’t you?”

It’s a fucking lie; his self-control had been hanging by a thread, barely restraining the primal need to wildly buck into you, but you just snapped it, just tore the last of his treasured discipline to fucking shreds with nothing more than a few words.

The pace is ruthless, your head bouncing off the cabinets with each powerful snap of his hips, an endless stream of cries pouring from your lips, one hand curling around the edge of the counter as the other grips his shoulder, nails burying themselves in the hard muscle through the thin cotton of his shirt. Sharp bones carve a spot just for him, made for him, between your legs, into the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” he pants out, eyes so bright they’re practically glowing. “Mine.”

“Yours!” you gasp out, head nodding in sloppy little movements against his shoulder as you fall forward, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing. “Yours, yours, yours,”

Everything feels hazy, almost dreamlike in a sense, vision blurring over with a thick shield of tears that you can’t quite explain, his name and the honorific becoming muddled on your tongue, fusing into one as you wail it out, clinging to him in a way that’s almost possessive.

“Nii-san’s here,” he promises you, voice hoarse. “Nii-san’s yours, too,”

“Mine,” the arms thrown around his neck tighten, fingers tangling in soft gold and wrinkled cotton. “Mine, mine, mine—”

“Mine,” he echoes, hips never faltering even as you wind your body around his, large hands keeping your hips still as he fucks into you. “And only mine—”

“Forever and ever and ever—”

“You belong to me, were made for me, put on this earth for me,”

Words of confirmation are escaping from your lips, you’re absolutely sure of it, can feel them vibrating up your throat as you speak them—but it’s so much, too much, all of the feelings swirling around in your chest, sending spikes of pleasure and thorns of pain shooting through your veins as they clash together. A sudden wooziness settles over you, brain fogging over as he becomes the only thing you can think of, the only thing you want to think of, nonsensical babbling still slipping from between parted lips in hitched puffs of breath.

“So full,” you nearly sob, one of Naoya’s hands tangling in the hair at the back of your skull and yanking, pulling your face from the sanctuary of his neck and exposing your expressions to his scrutinizing eyes, devouring the beautiful tears streaking your cheeks, the contorting of your features as pleasure washes over them. “M’so full, nii-san, it’s so much,”

“Yeah? Better than he could ever stuff you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you’re wailing out, affirmations falling from your lips with each brutal piston of his hips. “More, need more,”

Because it’s like an addiction, an innate need for more of him, for all of him, ravenous and unquenchable, that’s always existed within you, that his cock stretching you out, filling you up, has only just awakened.

His aura is positively intoxicating, overwhelming your senses and becoming all you can see, all you can hear, all you can smell, taste, touch. His taste lingers on your tongue, faint notes of minty pine and sharp nicotine dancing with your tastebuds; his touch brands itself into you, bruises and bitemarks carving his name into soft skin; his scent assaults you, envelops you, overpowers everything else as it wraps you in a shackled embrace of expensive aftershave and cedar wood.

A growl tears from his chest, so rough that it vibrates throughout his entire body, and his pace quickens, cock plunging into you and an incredible speed, dragging against that one spot that has you nearly screaming, that has your eyes rolling back and your little hole fluttering around him as a blistering fire sparks to life in the pit of your belly.

You can feel it, furling in on itself with each vicious rut of his hips, each relentless bang of his cockhead against your cervix, a concentrated ball of scathing heat pulsing, quaking in your stomach as it curls tighter and tighter and tighter with each plunge forward—until it bursts, a fiery explosion that buzzes through your veins as your cunt clenches, gushing on his cock as he praises you—yeah, that’s it, make a mess on nii-san—entire body coiling from the sheer strength.

“Tell me,” he keens almost desperately, voice pulling you from the clutches of post-orgasm unconsciousness, hips stuttering for a moment before he regains his finesse. “Tell me how badly you need it,”

And you don’t need to be told what, pleads pouring from your mouth in an instant, before your brain can even comprehend what you’re saying, an instinctual reaction to his command. “Need your cum, nii-san, need you to full me up, fill my tummy with it, stuff me full of it, need it so bad, nii-san, please gimme your cum, please, please,”

The words are all jumbled together, thick with tears and wet with saliva and imbued with delirium, quivering and breaking as your body trembles from overstimulation.

“Fuck,” he chokes on the curse, hips stilling, pressed flush against your ass as his cock throbs, filling you with spurt after spurt of thick cum, a broken whine catching in his throat as endless words spill from yours, peppered with the sweetest moans—yes, nii-san, thank you, nii-san, fill me up, fill my body with it, my brain with it, I need it, I need it.

And he does, pumps you full of so much that it begins leaking out from your abused little hole—still stuffed with him—and down his cock.

And it’s then—after he has filled you up, with your precious little cunt still pulsing around his length, whimpering out his honorific as you hold onto him, voice raw and wrecked and cracking with residual tears—then that Naoya’s sure you were meant for him, made for him, perfectly tailored to him; he knows you were, his very own gift from the gods.

#zenin naoya x reader #zenin naoya smut #jjk smut #zenin naoya #zen'in naoya #tw:incest #tw death #tw toxic relationship #tw abuse #tw physical abuse #WAAAAAAH FINALLY HE IS DONE HEHEHE YAAAAY #whew okay

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