#velvet chair girl

[live-at-fortune-city]

obligatory massive ktp themed anthro sketch set repost (I wanted to draw them again) (all of these are requests)

[incorrect-no-more-heroes-quotes]

Submitted by @target4alterego

[toyastales]

An off the shoulder dress flatters a short haircut

[screampied]

‘ MAKE ME JUNO! 𝜗𝜚

𓉸ྀི sum. when he’s just so fine that you’d let him make you juno . . you know. toji, sukuna, choso, geto, gojo.

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, baby fever, breedīng kinks, wife! reader, talks of pregnancy, size kinks, manhandling, praise, overstim, toy usage, bōob fondling, impact play, spīt, true form! sukuna, tummy bulges, multiple rounds, squīrting, degredation, talking through it.

➤ kinktober mlist.

☠︎ SUGURU GETO.

“a baby, huh?” geto whispers as he allows his dark irises to maunder down your body. even as you’re dumbed down from his dick, you looked so effortlessly pretty – sprawled all out on the velvet–red sheets and folded out up like a chair. geto’s warm body was so close up against yours while his weight’s just hovering over your frame. as his cock’s stilled tucked inside, he pants heavily, pausing his rigid thrusts. you let off a soft whimper as your body acclimatizes against the lewd angle—he’s got you in a mating press and you’ve never felt more stuffed. with shallow airy breaths, geto licks a long stripe near your neck. “ ‘s that what you really want, sweetheart? a pretty round tummy jus’ for me to see?”

gazing into his dark half-open eyes, your weak arms sling over his tense shoulders. “y- yes, gimme a baby sugu,” and he leans into your soft touch once he sees you twirling a long strand of his black hair around your finger. with an impish yet needy expression, you lean into his ear, whispering, “make me a mommy, suguru. please.”

and that’s all he needed to hear — because within seconds, he’s got you flipped over, face smushed into the pillows and ass right perked up . . just for him.

“alright, princess. don’t say i didn’t warn ya, heh.”

whenever geto’s got you in doggystyle—you just knew you were gonna be stuffed full. to the brim, and saying that his hips were mean and ruthless was nothing more than an understatement. each smack and whack against both pounds of skin rings through your ears as your cheek shoves itself into the plush covered pillows. “fuh—fuck!” you’d squeal, gasping at the curve of his cock and how it punctuate every thrust. with ease, he’s just rummaging through your cunt while his hilt presses up against your ass.

wanton whimpers glissade past your glossed lips as he’s got a big hand clasping onto your right ass cheek, another on your rickety unsteady hip. back and forth, back and forth—he’s reeling you back into him while your moans ring across the paper thin walls. “that’s it pretty girl. hng, take it,” he huffs in a raspy tone, feeling the hard mighty clashes of both hips slam into each other at full speed. a collision, he’s plummeting his cock into you so deep that your knees were already starting to buckle. a hand wraps around your neck, giving you a soft teasing pull backwards. “fuck, drenchin’ me so good. my own personal waterpark.”

“sugu—suguruuu,” you whine in broken sobs, drooling from the thick stretch of his cock. geto’s flushed crown repeatedly jackhammers itself against your precious g-spot. every few seconds, you’re letting off cute cacophonies of ‘ahhh’s’ and ‘oooh’s’ whilst you’re trying to keep up with his ravaging pace. geto grunts, feeling you soak around him as a lightning shaped vein that runs down his weighty shaft tickles you from the inside. “fuuuck, fuck me,” and you sound like a broken record.

“less talkin’ more hah.. taking,” and you whimper the second his hand swats against your ass. geto’s dick massages your walls so throughly that it’s got your eyes flickering backward within an instant. as he’s seducing you with just his tip that’s curling figure eights inside and out of your pussy — you’re seeing nothing but white, nearly choking on your own drool. “much better,” he grunts, reeling you further back into his honed hips. “gonna make you the prettiest mommy for me, sweet girl. all mine, all. fuckin’.. mine.”

each thrust makes you yelp out a sweet moan. every hurried thrust from geto was so so sloppy that you could almost taste each mouth-watering hit that mercilessly smacks against your core..

geto’s still got two callused hands attached to both sides of your waist as he’s pumping you full of cock. the bending hook of his crownhead splits inside of you and you’re whimpering, swallowing your pity while clinging onto the balled up bedsheets. “cum, ngh, cum inside, sugu.”

“quiet, baby. you’ll get your turn to talk,” he purrs in a low voice, spanking your ass for the nth time. you get the memo, and a moan shortly follows once your cunt loudly squelches out a cute sloppy sentence of its own. geto groans, feeling himself leisurely going toward inevitable rapture. it’s a sensitive sting that pulses straight down his thighs but he can’t stop. not when you’re clinging around his cock this good. “hah, fuck. leave it to y’r pussy to talk back when i tell you to be quiet, sweetheart,” he snickers, and you moan once he drags a thumb down your sobbing glossed slit. so drenched—and not before long, geto’s cumming too .. hard.

thick goopy ropes spray inside of you, shooting deep into your womb and it’s hot. your legs can’t help but shudder as you’re lazily arched over, feeling the stings still linger against your ass even after he’s caressing a palm over your bare skin.

“f.. fuck,” you whine out, feeling your hips grind back into him while he’s slowing down. geto groans, and it’s so much—satiny remnants of sleek cum dribble out of your pudgy folds as he’s plugging you in and he can’t help but stare. such a pretty sight. but as you’re panting, trying to catch your breath, geto watches as you try to reach down between your legs.

as a hand creeps down between your thighs, you moan, trying to touch the drooling mess that’s oozing between your own sticky legs—all until your hand’s met with a rude ‘smack!’ that snatches out a sweet surprised mewl from you.

“ah, ah, girl,” geto tsks, shaking his head as a cunning grin spreads against his lips. as sweat pours down each side of his face, he pushes you further into the velveteen-covered pillows. “no touchin’ my pussy. you should know that by now,” and you could still feel him dumping such wads of cum inside of you. the thought of carrying geto’s baby made you throb—and you only wanted more by the second. he leans all the way in, making his pelvis glue against yours before he softly nips near your neck.

“ ‘m not done though, princess,” he huffs and you gasp once he flips you over, gazing at the masses of cum that drizzles down the crevices of your thighs. “still got so much more love to give,” and he leans in to playfully bite your lip. “sloppy girl.”

☠︎ TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“y’er baby fever’s actin’ up again, isn’t it, babygirl,” toji snickers, staring at your bare perked ass.

you’re still panting heavily—feeling the sticky mess dribble down between the corners of your thighs. he’d just came so much inside, and his favorite thing to do afterwards was to admire his handiwork. with a sly grin indenting across his scarred lips, he smears a thumb down your weeping cunt. “got some nerve askin’ for another baby,” and you moan once he gives your tender clit a light pinch. “heh, not that i’d mind..”

with dark bangs running down his eyes, he glances at your sopping cunt that’s continue to drip out remnants of his feverish hot cum. wads of it – velvety ribbons pour out of you and all you do is just sit there with that same dick-drunk expression, trying to chase after your own breaths. “f.. fuck,” you moan out, whimpering the second you feel his thick cock gradually pull its way out of you. once his reddened tip exits out of your pussy with a loud sloppy ‘pop’, you feel that familiar seizing in your stomach starting to commence.

“whaaat a fuckin’ mess,” he gruffs, and within a second, toji’s got you turned over. toji always treated you like a doll in bed – literally. to be more specific, a rag doll. he’d toss and turn you all around, fucking you in any and every position possible if it meant filling you up with ropes ‘n ropes of his hot sticky cum. as he starts to realign himself again, he wraps a hand around his hardened twitching shaft, pumping it a few times. a long vein prods against his sweaty palm and he groans, watching you lie there so pretty, oozing out his cum with your legs sprawled open. “fuck, touch y’rself for me, baby girl. stick those cute fingers inside.”

“but—”

“stick ‘em in,” he repeats, playfully smacking his tip against your soddened folds. you whimper, feeling his fat cock graze against your tender flesh. you wanted him to finish fucking you, and toji always did this—teasing you randomly, getting off to that little pout that forms across your lips and the whine that drags out your throat whenever you don’t get your way. he presses his perfectly chiseled chest against yours before whispering hoarsely. “tch. can’t hear all of a sudden, mama? i gotta do it for you?”

“want your cock, not my fingers,” you chastise in a cute whine, leaning in to press a wet kiss against his scarred lips. toji darkly chortles, grabbing your wrist and making you feel against your sopping cunt anyway. “ngh, fuck toji,” you moan, shuddering as he guides your own fingers against your clit that’s spitting out such satiny volumes of cum. you’re lying in a puddle of your own mess, feeling his thick fingers glide down against yours. “mmh, touch me more, toji.”

with an eye roll, he slowly pins your wrists over your head, inching his head closer toward your lips. verdant eyes meet yours and he scoffs.

“shouldn’t do shit,” and he cockily hums, seeing your lips twitch once he’s only millimeters apart from shoving his tongue down your throat. you could smell the malt of beer on his breath. you whine, thinking he was about to kiss you but instead, he laughs right against your lips. “baby, you told me ‘ta give you a baby. now y’r just bein’ greedy.”

and as he continues to rub his leaky tip against your slit that’s overflowed with piles of his hot cum, he presses a kiss toward the corner of your lips. “heh, oh my. so damn cute when my wife’s angry,” he pokes fun at the pout that’s marinating against your features.

despite how you were filled to the very brim with such filthy ropes of cum—you were still aching for him to finish but toji just had to continue to be a mere tease. with a wry expression, he finally prepares himself to go back in before speaking in a husky tone. “mhm, fine,” and he rubs a big hand over your tummy, hearing you softly moan once he uses a palm to press down just a bit.

“let’s get this pretty tummy nice ‘n round again, yeah?”

☠︎ SATORU GOJO.

“oh… oh,” satoru lets off a sheepish chortle, cupping a fat piece of your ass with the palm of his hand. “you’re serious, angel?”

“yeah,” you whine, snaking your legs around his slim waist. satoru’s staring at you with wide cerulean eyes, a curving slick grin forming against his lips. he’d just got back from jujutsu tech—and he said he needed a long hot shower after dealing with tiresome enemies all day but you couldn’t wait – you needed him. you practically pounced on him the second he walked through the door, not that he even minded. satoru groans as his hardened cock digs such fat inches inside of your clingy stretchy cunt as he stills his weight. “please, ‘toru,” a soft babbling whimper leaves from your lips, and you grab his hand, making him tender rubs circle against your bare tummy. “i want a baby, now.”

with a cheeky chortle, he plants a kiss against your pouty twitching lips. “like .. now now?” and he watches as your pout grows. an almost scowl and it’s just adorable—he was always one to joke with you, even while being in between your legs. “heh, alright sweet thing. i gotcha, let’s give you that baby, huh?”

with half-lidded eyes, you watch as satoru picks up the active vibrating wand from before that was rubbing up against your sopping cunt just a few seconds ago. with ease, he’s coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you, relishing in the sloshing sounds of your pussy from each individual thrust.

“ngh, c’mon baby, want ya ‘ta get nice ‘n soaked for me,” he purrs, and as he’s still inside, gradually moving the wand up and down your sopping entrance—a milky dried up ring coated around his hefty base. you’re sticking against him so good, lathering his base with your syrupy sap before he groans. “c’mon, let me here ya.”

“sato—”

“not you, silly,” he gently flicks your forehead, guiding the rubber tip further up against the top part of your cunt. its gyrating vibrations were enough to almost cause your legs to collapse. he’s thick, stuffing you again and again with constant sloppy inches until the skin slapping against both bodies gives you whiplash—again. “i was talkin’ to my other pretty girl,” and as his crystalline-colored eyes flicker further down towards your plugged dampened entrance, he swipes a thumb down your fluttering clit. a ‘pop’ leaves out of you once he slams his hips right into you, causing you to loudly squelch, soaking his entire dick in the princess. “fuck yeah, i know, i hear you,” he grunts, feeling his shaft twitching inside of you just from hearing how wet you were. satoru’s eyes still fixate at your pussy before he gives it a playful smack. “isn’t that right, princess?”

you moan—throbbing even quicker as his eyes were solely focused on your cunt, not you. like always, it caught his attention and he continues to rub the toy up and down your plushy folds, ogling as your legs shake and writhe underneath him. “toru, fuck,” you squeak, feeling the bed rigorously shake underneath you both. you wouldn’t be surprised if the hinges suddenly snapped, calling its quits. “ ‘m gonna cum,” and your voice was quiet. slowly but surely—he’s molding a little bulge from the size of his cock as he’s plummeting you deep, driving in and out and showing no signs of running out of fuel. “fuuuck!”

“i know, i know,” and his body’s so hot as it presses into you. his heat makes you hot, and you run a hand down his clenched abs, rocking into him at a much more quickened pace. raucous groans and moans fill the room as his sweat sticks against your bare skin. as satoru’s rutting into you, soft whines leaving from his lips whilst the toy hidden between your jerking legs buzzes even louder. “hng, me too. ‘m gonna give you such a good fill, baby,” but as he watches your jaw slowly sag open, he gives you a hot open-mouthed kiss. it’s sloppy, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth as his tongue tries to twist around yours. breathlessly, he’d pull away, licking near the bottom of your chin. “but you’d like that, huh? you’d like walkin’ around bein’ my pretty pregnant wife, yeah?”

“y- yesss,” you hiss, dragging out your words as his crazed tip whacks itself against your sensitive spot. again, again, and again—he’s hitting against that same spot as if it were a target. bullseye every time, and satoru gojo never ever misses. his frantic hits against your core causes your toes to curl and your back to arch even further as you’re slowly being brought closer to your orgasmic, teetering edge. “ ‘m cumming, cumming.”

once your release comes—it felt like heaven. you fall back as he’s still on top of you, trailing a slick tongue down your neck as you’re coming undone. you whine loudly and it’s an almost scream that strains your chords as his dick pulses inside of your gummy walls. “fuckin’ shit,” satoru sucks his teeth, and he finishes right with you. you’re staring at him with murky dilated pupils, clinging onto his pale shoulders right as he suddenly grows limp. “fuck,” and he grows quiet, hearing the filthy sounds of his own cum trickle its way inside of you. a lot dribbles in within a matter of seconds—reaching near the barrier of your womb with just a few sprays and you’ve never felt more full ‘n hot inside. “that’s it, wifey. take it, saved all of this j.. just for you, shit.”

loads of his cum swash around inside of your convulsing cunt as he then removed the toy from between your thighs, lying on top of you. white strands glisten against his forehead, his sweat being practically adhesive, satoru was panting just as much as you, and he leans against your chest, giving your breasts individual kisses. “s- satoru,” you whine, feeling his bucked hips give you those weak finalized thrusts. a lot spills out of you, racing down your thighs and you nibble underneath his lip. “fuck, ‘m so full.”

“bet you are,” he replies, running a clawing hand through his hair as he pivots his hips forward just a bit for the last time. you feel the extending stretch of his cock grow inside of you—and it’s enough to make your mouth water. satoru’s got heart eyes forming the more he stares at your fucked out state, and he cups your cheek. “h- heh, we should start thinkin’ of names,” and you moan once he pulls out, swiping his fat thumb against your sopping running cunt that’s oozing with his cum. “mommy..”

☠︎ CHOSO KAMO.

the minute you whine out those words to choso, ‘i want a baby,’ his brain would literally short circuit. choso’s always had a major breeding kink, and so did you.

emphasis on major – all he ever wanted to do was to see his pretty girl with a pretty round tummy. the image of it gnawed away at his thoughts and once you finally ask him to give you a baby, he nearly loses it.

“ ‘m gonna .. give you more than one,” he huffs in frantic breaths, both arms pinned at either sides of you. choso’s staring at you with wide carnal eyes, a flushed face, and twitching hot ears. “we’re gonna have so much,” he grunts, buried balls deep inside of you. your legs lock around his waist as he’s pounding you into the mattress—although, choso’s strokes was romantically slow.

he’s hitting you deep each time, and it makes you rub your ankle down his back. a slow moving pattern that makes him groan. “one isn’t enough, n- no,” he rambles, trailing his hands toward your bouncing tits. choso can’t help but imagine how full they’d get - nipples all swollen, the thought alone makes him grunt. “you—we need at least four, y- yeah. four sounds ‘bout right,” and as he’s making his cock french kiss against your throbbing nub, you let off a shrilling moan. choso captures your lips in a needy kiss as your body rocks against him. “you’re gonna make me a daddy, y’know that?”

“i.. i know, baby,” you moan, feeling his loose black strands stick against your forehead. he’s so close—choso’s hips become sloppy within seconds as he’s still got your breasts cupped in his hands. if it was anything choso would fail to do, it would be at keeping his hands to himself. he was madly in love with you, and not just you but your body also.

his favorite body part had to be your tits—he loved sucking on them, gently nibbling against your nipple, or even just resting his head against them. so soft, you were like his own personal pillow. as he’d still relentlessly giving you such thick inches of cock, choso sucks his teeth, feeling your cunt freely glue and constrict around his length. “mmf. that spot, ‘cho,” you whine, hauling your arms over his tense shoulders. “fuck, right there, baby. there.”

“y- yeah?” he moans, your own sweet noises making his dick continue to twitch further inside of you. choso’s kneading your walls as you clamp down on him—making his jaw clench tight. he looks so pretty, and he’s squeezing his eyes shut from how good you feel around him. your hips were just deadly—and the more you pictured about starting a family with choso, the more you throbbed against his fat length. choso huffs, pressing a sloppy kiss near the corner of your mouth—sadly missing your lips from just a few inches.

“hah, gonna be so pretty ‘n plump for me,” and once his tip thrashes against your g-spot, he whines against your neck. “ngh, i’d give you the world if i could. but before that— ‘m gonna give you what you want.. promise.”

choso whimpers, hiding his head between your chest — stuffing his face into your breasts. you giggle as his thrusts start to slow, that throbbing vein that steadily repeats to run down the far left side of his cock pulsating quicker. “ ‘s okay, choso, you can cum. give m- me a baby,” you whisper, feeling him latch his mouth over your perked nipples. every few seconds it pops out of his mouth due to the unsteady movements of both bodies and he pours. choso groans with a growing pout, cupping each tit in your mouth. by now, he’s humping into you as tepid lips of his hold each nipple of yours hostage. his teeth softly graze against your skin and you whimper, feeling your stomach seize. “f- fuck.”

and he’s just so into it that he ends up cumming right as he’s sucking on your breasts. a low gruttural groan comes from him as he starts to flood your womb as both hips continue to clash. choso shudders at the feeling of his orgasmic release—his tip’s a blushing red as his eyes become droopy, whining out a sweet, “f.. fuuuuck.”

the base of his cock’s swollen as it stays idle, spraying balmy ropes into your core. choso’s still sucking on each of your tits, moaning as your fingers tangle within his sable strands and he grunts. “ ‘m cummin’ so much baby, so much for you,” and as you watch his dark brows crease into a furrow, you feel the pit of your tummy coil.

it’s a feeling that tickles inside of you—and he’s buried so deep, overwhelming your cunt with such slimy ropes that end up tearing down your folds. “god,” he moans, and once he removes his wet lips from your nipple, it sounds off a loud ‘pop.’ strings of his saliva follow from your skin and he laps it up, leaning in to give you a quick kiss. “mine,” and choso can’t help but lean into your touch once you cup his face with two shaky hands.

“yours,” you repeat, returning the kiss as your legs trap around his waist. slowly, he’s still rocking into you as his bulbous tip remains to emit out velvety ribbons inside of your pussy. you smell just like choso—his sweet woody smell that clouds your brain, making you throb for even more of him. “all yours, choso.”

with a hand sliding down your chest, past the valley that reaches down to your tummy—he pauses, placing his palm on your stomach. choso whimpers against your lips, giving you one last chaste kiss - and this time, it’s much more passionate and romantic. “this is mine too,” he purrs lowly, gingerly pressing down on your stomach. “all mine.”

☠︎ SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

“tsk. you really shouldn’t say such things,” sukuna grunts, slouching back against his throne. all arms of his wrap around your waist — gazing openly as you’re taking in his thick cock, his second would just be barely brushing up against the valley that runs down your ass. you whimper at his grasp, trying to writhe your hips further into him and you’re met with cold, crimson eyes and a wolffish grin. “look at me in the eyes ‘n repeat to me what you said, woman,” and with a hand gripping your chin, he softly caresses your bottom lip with his sable-colored claw. “speak.”

“i— i need you to get me pregnant, ‘kuna,” you quietly murmur, leaning into his touch.

he’s so thick, you felt his heavy sack rest underneath you as you straddled his lap, the fabric of his cottony kimono brushing against your skin. “you ‘want’? rephrase that, little girl,” and you could already feel the inside of your mouth starting to salivate at just how good he’s stretching you open. you’re gaping—shamefully listening to the sounds of your own cunt’s sloshing squelches ring through the soundproof walls of his domain. sukuna’s giving you a look that makes you pulsate—and he snickers, watching you struggle to maintain direct eye contact. “go on, use those big girl words. jus’ like i taught ya.”

“p.. please,” you moan, feeling his tip curl its way through your gummy walls. sukuna was right at his peak, just a bit of pressure and he’d be filling you up . . but, he wanted to hear those polite words leave from your lips first. as he sits on his throne with that same smug grin, he brings a hand to cling onto your waist. “cum inside, ‘kuna. impregnate me—give me a baby, sukuna.”

grunting once he feels you sitting up, you’re gushing a bit down his length and he feels the slick wetness soak around his hefty length. your lap creates an invisible translucent ring that glistens around his entire base. sukuna rubs a few callused fingers against your wailing pussy before snickering. “keh. foolish woman,” and you whine once he lifts you up with his dick still buried inside. sukuna’s shoved deep inside, churning up your insides wholly and it makes your lips part into a ‘o’. the stretch was loud—so loud that each time he expands through your walls, the squelches that leave from your cunt becomes salaciously repetitive. as the demon’s wearing you out, stretching you thin—pink brows of his furrow in pleasure as his head tilts back. “fuck, better take it then. ‘m gonna give you an extra fill this time.”

your hips were barely moving but still, you couldn’t help but slowly rock against his body. all four arms of his precariously grab and paw at your body, sending you chills at something as simple as his touch. as sukuna’s dick resumes to rummage through your cunt as if it’s searching through every sopping orifice, you feel one of his hands grab at a nice piece of your ass.

“f- fuck, ‘m gonna cum, ‘kuna,” you whine, the snugness of his dick between your walls creating a tender fluttering feeling deep in the pits of your tummy. he’s so deep, and the more you thought about baring his offspring makes you ache and yearn for more. “c.. cumming.”

your orgasm slams into like a truck—it’s unpredictable and at full speed. sukuna growls against your ear, and he ends up finishing at the same time as you. the fervor was almost too much to bare, and he groans at the way your ass sloppily jerks forward into him. steadily, his jutting dick stills inside of you as it’s spraying out thin ribbons of cum – and it’s a lot. as you’re straddling the curse, he digs his claws into your ass, feeling your slobbering-filled cunt clench around him.

“hng, curses,” he grunts lowly, his cock gradually turning flaccid inside of you. it starts to spill down your thighs as runny globs race down the crevices of your legs. you end up moaning, pressing a sloppy kiss against his lips. sukuna’s blood-red eyes roll back but he returns the gesture, allowing you to dip your tongue inside, whimpering inside of his mouth. “horny woman. you must be ovulating again,” he says between kisses, giving your ass one mean smack. the recoil makes him smirk — and you feel the sly crease of his lips against your own form into a wicked smile.

as you remain on his lap, your knees buckle and you’re still feeling sensitive. your thighs shook as you felt tender between your legs. “mmh,” you deepen the kiss, panting heavily against his own frigid breath that sets against your tongue. sukuna holds you close, still feeling spurts of his cum fill into you, all to the brim. “m.. more, ‘kuna,” you whine, breaking away briefly. strands of saliva depart as he stares at you, scoffing as you start to bounce against his lap again. “ ‘s not enough.”

“ ‘not enough,’ she says, tch. never fuckin’ satisfied,” he shakes his head with a coy grin. sukuna’s vermillion eyes flicker down toward your hand that’s reaching for his second cock that’s stacked behind the main one in front. he grunts lowly, and then before he knows it, he’s lightly pushed back against the center of his throne by you. “ughh,” sukuna leans back, looking up at you. “and what’s this?” he stares at you slowly getting up, aligning both of his dicks against your slick oozing entrances. “ah, one isn’t enough, is it greedy girl? you just wanted ‘ta be double stuffed today. ‘s that it?

tempestuously as his front cock continues to disappear inside of your folds—sukuna grunts once you push him back against the cushiony pillow. “eh. the nerve, little one,” and with a wily grin, he watches you align yourself with both leaky cocks. each soddened entrance soaks against your entrances with your slick and you moan, slinging an arm around his broad neck. “fuckin’ brat, mhm.”

as you’re barely even moving a few inches, sukuna snarls loudly the second his flushed tip thrashes by your hole. he’s sensitive, and despite his cocky words he ends up cumming not even a few moments later. sweaty viscous limbs glissade against one another as you gradually grind your hips into him. “f- fuck,” you whine, grabbing a piece of your own ass as you glance down to view the mess. he sprays in a big monstrous load, and it comes out in pretty thick ribbons. when it came to sukuna—he always came a lot, and as your cunt’s twitching around him, he feels your legs nearly giving out. “ ‘s much, ‘kuna.”

“you wanted a baby so ‘m givin’ it to you,” he groans, keen nails softly dragging down the curvature of your waist. sukuna’s throne substantially starts to growl itself due to the pressuring weight stacked upon each other, filling up the domain with its constant creaking. “ugh,” his head tilts back, and he wraps all arms around you. his second cock followed shortly after, spraying right down the valley of your ass. thin stripes of cum droop down the sides of your thighs as you sit up, watching it spill out. “don’t .. give me that look, little girl,” he swallows thickly, watching as you straighten your back — hovering over his drooling tip. “hah, what’s with the smug expression?”

“nothing,” you hum, and even as he’s still cumming, one of his cock’s buried inside just halfway - another grazing against your aching hole, he grunts from your touch. he’s weighty, and his sack hangs low due to how sensitive he was. sukuna was full and swollen—and you could tell that he had so much more to give you. “want more,” you whine, pressing a kiss underneath his crooked mouth. “heh, unless you’re too milked out, big guy.”

sukuna glares at you—but he allows you to have your way on his lap, feeling his other cock brush near the back of your sopping pussy that’s sobbing with such dewy remnants of cum. “horny girl,” he huffs, though if you squinted just enough you could see a little pout forming against his lips.

three out of four burly arms wrap around your torso, pulling you closer and you gasp—hearing your cunt squelch the second he’s aligning his second cock against your sweltering hole. “but fine then. let’s see you take both,” and as sukuna grabs your chin, pressing a wet kiss against your mouth, he whispers hoarsely against your lips. you whimper once he gently presses his claw near the center of your stomach, nibbling at your bottom lip with his fangs.

“won’t be talkin’ for long once i swell up that pretty tummy, little girl.”

[sttoru]

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dom!sylus x female reader. smut, pwp. gun play. degrading. cowgirl position. power trip. hunter - prey-ish? reader gets called ‘sweetie, kitten, sweet girl, slut.’ not proof read !

“careful, sweetie,” sylus’ husky voice rings in your ear. your hand trembles as you hold onto the large hand that’s pointing a gun right at your chest. you’re sweating—not knowing if it’s from fear or excitement.

the scene was a familiar one. you’ve been in this position before - on his lap - with a gun involved. yet this time you’re both so intimately connected; your clothes scattered around the velvet chair, your hips trembling as you ride him. the same man you swore you hated.

“it’s quite funny, no?” sylus inquires, unable to hold back a grunt when you stare at him with such a drunken look in your eyes. you’re drunk on the adrenaline, the barrel of the loaded gun pressed against your flesh. a hint of a smirk tugs at his lips, “how the tables have turned.”

your hips don’t stop moving. you pull them up and push them back down, the back and forth rhythm not to be missed as well. he fills you up too well—his pink tip prodding at your sweet spot with precision. it doesn’t help your case at all. especially when you’re whimpering and moaning about how good it feels.

it’s you who’s supposed to hold that gun up to his chest. that’s how it went last time, but alas. this is your second failed attempt to show your dominance over him, onychinus’ leader.

“it’s also quite pathetic to see you give in so easily to me, kitten,” sylus continues, teasing and belittling you. he presses the barrel right above your heart, his finger right on top of the trigger. your breath hitches and yet you can’t help yourself—your body seeks the pleasure by itself. he scoffs, “so desperate. is it that good? does it feel that good to have me all the way inside you?”

you shiver at his words. you can’t respond when you’re busy moaning the name of the silver haired man. he’s so big, you’re absolutely cock drunk on him. you don’t want to admit it. you refuse to, though the answer to his question is still as clear as day.

“sh-shut up,” you try to retort through a choked up moan. the lewd noises of your wetness swallowing him up to the base repeatedly, with each thrust, echoes through the room. it’s not like sylus can deny the fact that it turns him on to see you like this neither; he’s rock hard.

sylus shakes his head with a low chuckle. “you seem to have forgotten that you don’t have the upper hand right now,” he sighs, the metal of the gun gliding up your skin to your chin, tilting your head back. your eyes widen and your hand squeezes his larger one that held the gun.

he bites back a groan when your sloppy cunt tightens up around him instinctively, “do you need me to remind me of your place, sweetie?”

“or do you simply like putting yourself in harm’s way?” sylus adds, his free hand guiding your hips in a strangely gentle manner, just so his fat cock could hit all the right spots. “either is fine by me. i love to tame disobedient prey like you.”

he leans his head back and his red eyes roam over your body. your skin is glimmering with sweat, the dim light in the room giving it a soft glow. his gaze stops at your bouncing tits for a second before returning to your face.

“i—i just want..” you stammer through whimpers. you can barely think, your thoughts are an absolute mess. you don’t know if you should fear the fact that your life is being played with while you’re in such a compromising position, or if you should just enjoy the addicting sensations the situation brings along.

sylus encourages you to keep on talking by tapping the barrel of his gun beneath your chin again, his right eye faintly glowing a brighter red. you gulp as you bounce on his dick. you know your inner desires and needs have already been exposed to sylus—he probably knows what you need, yet he’ll still make you say it to him directly.

“i just.. need you,” you finally manage to form a proper sentence. you’re unable to take your words back. you don’t care at the moment; you’re focused on chasing that sweet high.

sylus’s long fingers tighten their grip around your hip. he closes his eyes for a second to recompose himself before opening them again. “who knew you’d be such a needy slut,” he mutters underneath his breath, trying to keep calm when you admitted to needing him in such a whiny tone.

“need me, hm?” sylus grins as he finally got you to be vocal about your true needs. “need me to fill you up that bad? to pound you brainless? to have you submit to me while i show this slutty cunt of yours what it’s like to have me fucking it?”

the words fall off his tongue with such ease. the sudden dirty talk and change in tone makes your stomach do flips. his free hand reaches up to tug your hair back harshly while he whispers that in your ear.

“yes, fuck—yes, need it so bad,” you nod mindlessly. you don’t care about anything as you’re riding him. you’re willingly handing your destiny over to sylus—which drives him insane. the thrill of having that power over you makes his finger tremble on the trigger. the power trip is messing with his brain.

his eyes darken for a few seconds while he regains his composure. he can’t wait to flip you over and have his way with you.

sylus grins before kissing your ear and neck, bucking his hips up to hear you mewl from pleasure. he pulls away from your skin to look at you with his signature smirk, teasing you once more, “then, who am i to deny my sweet girl?”

[st4rbwrry]

𝓢𝓐𝓣𝓞𝓡𝓤’𝓢 𝓖𝓘𝓡𝓛.    satoru gojo.

ᰔᩚ warnings. 5.2k, fem!reader, professor!satoru x college student!reader, classroom sex cs duh, reader’s 23! & satoru’s 30!, oral ꒰ f + m ꒱, titty sucking, biting, size kink, voice kink, sub / dom dynamic, fingering, choking, spanking, lotssss of dirty talk omgie, multiple orgasms, pet names ꒰ lil’ girl (literally just a taunt), pretty, baby ꒱, roughhhhh sex ona desk, minors aren’t welcomed! reblogs + comments are greatly appreciated. ♡

꒰ mocha’s note ! ꒱ : got inspired by miller’s girl and wrote this in literally five hours. so, happy bday daddy. <3

he always knew there was something wrong with you. how could there not be? one, you’re deadly in the eyes. that he solidified the first day. always looking at him like you wanted to eat him. two, you're a mythical deity. stunning. you could be born in a different world for all he knew. sometimes he hated those voices that told him to stare at you. watch you watch him. velvet red hair cut in layers that reach the middle of your back. dermal piercing a few inches below your right eye, multiple on your ears, septum ring in your nose. your eyes are slanted like a cat, fluffy lashes enhance your features. your lips always look soft, darkly lined, and topped with a sheen of gloss. 

most days you dressed according to weather, or really whatever you felt comfortable in. yesterday, when going over the topic for an essay he wanted everyone to have written and turned in before spring break hit, you were different. just tuesday you were wearing oversized men’s jorts with a basketball jersey tied up to your back. now, when you walked into his classroom with less clothing than he’s ever seen you in, he had to question it. you looked nice. it wasn’t any of his business, maybe you could be going out later with friends. it’s not his business. 

what was his business was how you strutted up to his desk after you waited for every student to exit class. satoru sat in his leather chair, legs sprawled and hands clasped together in front of him as he leaned back into his seat. his eyes absentmindedly trail up and down your body full of curves and soft, ample skin. the tattoos on various areas of your body are more evident. the black prescription glasses sitting on the bridge of your nose as you chew your gum and hand over your essay. those short ass white ruffled shorts and a yellow crop top, without a bra, with green accents and black font that read ‘soulaan’ in the middle a distraction.

“hi, ꒰♡꒱. you’re always one of the few people who turn in their work early.” 

“what can i say, i was very passionate about this essay,” you twirl your finger within your necklace, scanning his entire face with flirtation. satoru hums, pretending not to notice. “i really put my entire soul into it, so please take your time reading it. it’ll mean a lot.” 

“must’ve been a really interesting dream of yours.” 

“you have no idea.” 

and you were fucking right. that night satoru went home and started his usual routine of getting comfortable, making dinner, and brewing some coffee so he’s wide awake to read over thirty student essays. luckily, he didn’t ask for much. they were given two options. their goal was to describe the perception of dreams or in detail, write a tragic fantasy story. most of the essays he read felt like middle school writing, frustratingly rubbing his temples as he graded multiple papers, trying to figure out why basic comprehension skills were lacking, even doubting himself as a teacher. he tries not to stay up for hours, flipping through papers and scribbling—until he sees your name on the corner. 

satoru sniffles, taking a sip of his coffee before he’s getting comfortable in his chair, sinking into it and beginning to read what you wrote about. you’ve always had a way with words, great formatting, expansive dictionary. when reading your dream, it felt like a real novel, like he was a part of it. then, he felt really a part of it, to a point where it was uncomfortable. the story has to do with a woman who aches for an intimate union with her lover, yet he’s withholding her pleasure, leaving her trembling on the precipice of desire in their lover's den. the greek god you describe as your lover is dominating. stunning facial features, starlight hair, and crystal blue eyes. the woman is feeble, urging him to see her, to yearn for her, to become one with her. abandoning her needs for his personal endeavors. 

with gentle touches that linger on the softness of her plush thighs, smoothing along her brown skin shining under the moonlight, she results in the sensual act of pleasuring herself. the help of her lover is nowhere to be found in the darkness where her body laid on milk-toned, silk sheets. leaving her to pursue the cavern flowing with burning, hot arousal. she finds herself daydreaming of what could’ve been as her delicate fingers find themselves sinking between her precious legs. trailing another hand to her throat which she clutches tight as if it were his. rolling her hips into her hand to grind on as if he were entering himself into her. dulcet whimpers escaping her throat as her body arches off the bed in ecstasy, mind swirling with pleasurable emotions and unforeseen desires. rocking her body upon the bed as if his heavy, big body hovered over her and lost himself in her. spanking herself as if it were him. chewing on her lower lip as if he were gnawing at them. orgasming with tiny whimpers and sobs as if he were the cause. him, him, him. . . 

the heat encasing satoru’s face could only sum up one feeling; arousal. the essay goes on for so much longer, conjuring up unwanted fantasies of a woman he promised to push back into the furthest parts of his brain. you were altering his mind. it was clear as day exactly who you wrote this for and about. him. what you wanted from him, the longing ache to have him. it’s enough to give him a migraine, cutting off his desk lamp before forcing himself to take a very cold shower. those words replay in his mind, the image becoming erotically more vivid. picturing your body atop of silk sheets where you’d fuck yourself out of pity. is that how he’s making you feel? edged? unsatisfied? whimpering in your loneliness? he’d never do that to you. 

satoru hates himself for needing to handle the painful hard on he’d gotten, head buried under the stream of water as his fist twists roughly around his aching dick, grunting at any image of your face coming to mind. it was a highly inappropriate thing to do. a professor and his student sleeping together? it’s all too cliche. you were a grown ass woman, so if teasing him by switching up how you dressed to purposely gain his attention, and writing erotic pornography was your way of showing him you needed him for one act, one day, one night of nasty ass sex . . what were he to do? you are a beautiful woman, and he’s always felt a source of attraction to you, but you weren’t worth jeopardizing his career for. it’d have to wait. 

the last day before spring break came and he was ready to confront you about your so-called ‘essay’. when he notices you walking into class, he tries to avoid staring at your attire; a really short black pleated skirt with a matching ed hardy tank top and glossy mary jane’s on your feet. gulping and keeping his focus on your eyes as he whispers, “stay after class. i need to talk to you.” 

you try to hide the smirk wanting to display upon your face, winking at him before nodding and finding your seat. class seems exceptionally longer today, finding yourself dozing off for most parts, shutting off your brain by doodling into your journal or making a grocery list for this weekend. pulling a sweet treat from your purse, you find a pink lollipop to distract yourself with, oral fixation getting to you. satoru almost chokes on his words when he catches you swirling your tongue mindlessly around your candy, being a fucking brat in his eyes. gently kicking your feet and resting your chin in your hand to keep yourself from sleeping. 

when the lecture ended, that’s when your heart began to race in excitement, and maybe a sheer sense of nervousness. curious to hear what he was going to say to you. making your way down the steep stairs of the class, you sit in the front row, plopping into a chair and crossing your legs as you look up at him, watching him say his final goodbyes as the class completely clears out. half of the campus was empty considering most students began making their way home, so really only fifteen students showed their faces today. 

satoru’s shoulders roll as he sighs, folding his arms in front of him. “so, ꒰♡꒱. . . i read your essay.” 

“uh huh, what’d you think?” you smile. 

“it's definitely something. very good writing, never doubted you on that. but, i do have some questions.” 

you snap your fingers before pointing them his way like a gun. “shoot!”

“you remember the topic of discussion, correct?” 

“wrote it down in bold,” you nod. 

“right, but, i think we went far off topic. as in, inappropriately.” 

“what are we, in high school?” you scoff. “i’ve read worse. i used to grade papers for teachers.” 

“i understand that. but it’s evidently not what i meant as far as the topic goes. in this dream of yours, the two characters are . .” he pauses, trying to figure out what to say. 

“fucking,” you finish for him, still sucking on your lollipop. 

satoru’s gaze flew there momentarily before finding your eyes again. “having intercourse, yes. i’m just having a hard time comprehending what you wrote.”

“why is that?” 

“how is it considered a tragedy?” 

“well, the woman couldn’t have what she wanted in the end. she was edged, given false hope from promises that were made to her. pleading for any form of gratification. why, as a man, deny your lover of acts that forever bonds their love?” 

you bat your lashes, eyes going wide as you word it so . . dreadfully. satoru inhales, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he squints at you. 

“so, she killed herself in the end, because she wasn’t gratified?” 

“as implied, yes. the pain of a woman, you’d never understand. it’s unbearable. feels like death, satoru,” a pained sigh emits from you as you hold your heart and shake your head. “ugh.” 

“꒰♡꒱,” satoru blinks, your games becoming unfunny. “was this dream something you recalled, or are you trying to imply something?” 

“dreams can’t always exist, unless you persuade yourself to make it real,” you respond firmly, making yourself as clear as you possibly can. 

“do you want it to be real?” 

“do you?” you counter. 

satoru pokes his inner cheek with his tongue, turning his attention away. “i-i can’t answer that.” 

“why not?”

“it’s just . . not in my position to answer that. it’s inappropriate.” 

“but, you felt it, right?” your voice grows softer.

he looks at you. “felt what?” 

“our attraction to each other,” your head slowly tilts to the side, eyeing him up and down, watching him slightly shift. “through that essay. what i want from you, what you’ve been wanting from me, professor satoru.” 

his jaw stiffens. “you’re essentially crossing a line.” 

“the only thing i’m crossing are my legs,” a loud pop! rings as you remove the lollipop from your mouth, looking at it before deciding to crack it in your mouth and tossing the white stick somewhere in the room. satoru’s fists clench whilst he admires your glistening legs. “you want them . . un-crossed? open?” 

“꒰♡꒱.” 

“mhm,” you moan after hearing your name desperately fall from his lips. he didn’t mean for it to sound that way, sucking in his breath as your fingers trail within your plush inner thighs. “it’s wet, professor satoru. see.” 

next, you spread your legs apart, lifting your skirt up some more so satoru can easily see the imprint of your cunt against the red fabric of your cotton panties, wetness sealing and sticking to you. 

satoru clears his throat, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck with a rough grunt, trying to contain himself from acting on his obvious desires. his polished loafers click amongst the tile as he strides quickly towards the classroom door, locking it and pulling the shade down so there would be no interruptions. he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he shouldn’t even react this quickly in fact. but he’s been pent up ever since last night, having such a hard time sleeping. only the thought of you glimmering in his mind. 

satoru takes a deep breath with shut eyes, hands sliding back into his slacks pockets as he leans against the desk, one foot crossed over the other, those once daydream blue eyes now staring maliciously in your direction. you bite your lip, slowly rising from your seat to strut towards him, hips swaying salaciously. 

your body brushes amongst his seductively slow, tits grazing his chest and arms that are tightly fitted into his baby blue button down, lips coming up to graze over his clenched jawline. your hand trails up his left arm, feeling the hair on his skin rise as your nails brush along his neck where a vein throbs violently, blood rushing. 

“don’t be so scared, i don’t bite. and i don’t tell.” 

in a swift move, you're hiking your body on top of the mahogany wood desk, kicking off your shoes and planting your feet flat on the surface, legs spread wide to allow him to slot himself between you. satoru’s vision remains unchanged, still staring at the seat you once resided in as he breathed heavily. your manicured foot skims up and down his strong arm, your short, bubblegum acrylics sliding into your mouth as you lewdly suck on your own fingers while mewling. satoru can see you in his peripheral vision, your hips shifting dauntingly, just waiting for him to react. 

“you already locked the door, what are you waiting for?” 

“for you to say it.” 

you grin. “say what, baby?” 

satoru scoffs, shifting in his spot from the sudden pet name, dick uncomfortably hard. “that you want me to fuck you, ꒰♡꒱. i need to hear it.” 

okay, you get it. lowering your leg from touching him, you go to grab his hand instead, the expensive watch on his wrist cold to touch as you guide him to touch the top of your thigh. “want you to fuck me like you've been needing to, satoru. please.” 

an unexplainable breath of air releases from him as he finally faces you, and seeing you spread along his desk like this felt like a hallucination. most of this didn’t feel real. maybe he was still sleeping? and if that was the case, there were no rules. his towering body slots between your thighs, glaring down at you possessively as he smoothes both his veiny hands up and down your thighs, tightening at your hips before sliding back up. going back down to apply pressure to your ass, then lowering his head to your pretty face. 

“gimme your mouth,” satoru rasps, clutching your neck to pull your face up before you oblige and lean in for a kiss first to feed his hunger. 

satoru grunts in your mouth, soft lips molding with your own in a passionate kiss. it’s slow, sucking on each other's lips before you’re sucking and moaning on his thick tongue, moaning into his mouth while he pants into yours. you suck on his lips, turning your head slightly to deepen the kiss, unbuttoning his shirt, desperate to feel the heat from his skin. then goes his belt, unraveling it along with pulling down his zipper, and that causes satoru to get aggressive with his mouth. kissing so rough it makes your pussy throb. 

“you taste so good, pretty,” he moans in between, turning your neck to the side to latch his lips and tongue on the flesh, your eyes rolling back as he found your sensitive spot. you gasp from the whimper he emits as he does it. 

“f-fuck,” you whimper, gripping his wrist as he suddenly sinks his teeth delicately into your skin, soothing it with a rough, slow swiped of his tongue before ending it with a kiss. 

he’s traveling to the other side to do the same, your hips rocking on the desk to try to get closer to him, his bulge only grazing your soaked pussy. you lift your hips and scoot closer, balancing yourself by gripping onto his shoulders to drag yourself against the outline of his dick. satoru moans from the motion, locking his right hand under your left thigh to raise higher so he could grind against you like you whimpered for, dry humping you as he continues to kiss you.  

soon, he’s lifting your top over your tits, eyeing them as they sit on your chest, barbells pierced into the dark skin of your nipples. it created a visceral response from him, shifting his hips to grind against you harder as if he’s fucking you slow, cocking his head to latch his full mouth around your tits. your head falls back as he pulls them into his mouth greedily, dropping your hips on him mindlessly. 

“satoru, you’re g’na make me cum too soon,” you whine into his ear, but he ignores you completely, almost growling like a dominant animal in heat as he locks you close. 

“g’na cum a few times fuckin’ me, so get over it,” he mumbles after releasing your tit with a lewd pop, switching his mouth to drop his tongue and enclose his lips over the other, tongue flicking with his hands slamming against the side of your ass falling bare of your skirt. 

satoru hisses a deep ‘fuck’ as you rotate your hips quicker, humping him like a bunny, an orgasm in fact happening. satoru picks up his pace, rolling his hips forward to match your rhythm, his eyes sparkling from your desperation. he’s leaking precum, and your slickness is drenching his briefs. 

“mgh, baby—fuck,” your tongue lolls out to lick and suck at the shell of his ear, biting gently on his earlobe as your knees buckle and you whimper while grabbing at his backside to pull him indefinitely closer. 

“lemme taste that shit,” satoru’s almost begging, your heavy breathing by his ear and inability to stop moving your hips fucking him up. he knows you taste as good as you look. 

you grip the edges of the desk as you nod, legs shakily raising as he roughly pulls your victoria’s secret thong with a blinged hemline off to finally see his other girl, lowering to his knees in worship. 

“she’s pretty as hell,” he whispers with an erotically drawn-out moan, licking his lips before he leaves open-mouthed kisses at your inner thighs, holding yourself open for him. he spanks your thigh hard, the hit making you squeak and stare at him with a stretched jaw and furrowed brows. “where’s that thank you, lil’ girl?”

“t-thank you, baby.” 

“mhm, that’s right,” now his lips are latching onto your sluice clit, hungry eyes piercing into your every emotion as you whimper pathetically and maintain eye contact you’re sure he wants. “fuck yes, baby. so fuckin’ good, girl. rock on my face.” 

sinking your teeth into your lips which you’re sure were bitten red and nearly chapped, you comply, gripping tight on the desk while your other hand tangles into tresses of white, swallowing and lifting your hips just like you were doing a few minutes ago. satoru’s thumbs are embedded into either side of your thighs, using only your pelvic muscle to shift into his mouth, his fat tongue hot on your pussy. 

“tongue so good, baby. nng,” your face scrunched up as he growls into your cunt, your inner thighs shaking when he slicks his face up and down your pussy, juices covering his chin. “right there, right there!” 

satoru keeps his mouth where you want it, focusing mostly on your engorged clit pulsating on his tongue, digging into and occasionally capturing it with his lips, his salvia drooling onto you as he moans, his eyes scrolling as you tug at his hair. 

“oooooo, fuck, yessss,” you didn’t mean to scream, but his attention on your clit gets distracted by his thick fingers sliding into your hole, twisting and thrusting two of them simultaneously. his jaw shifts quick, kissing and licking while he fucks you open. “ ‘t-toruuuhh.” 

“unh huh,” satoru continues to swallow you. “gimme that fuckin’ cream, baby. i want it all in my mouth. make me proud. atta girl.” 

you cry out, stomach heaving. “i love when you talk like that.” 

his fingers pull out to quickly spank your clit, your hips stuttering as he’s slipping them back in, pumping three to four times before taking them out again and spanking your clit again. “that’s what you like?” 

“y-yessss!” 

“fuckin’ sexy ass girl,” he spanks your outer thigh with vigor, coming to grab your throat once again, giving you a chaste kiss while he finger fucks you faster. “ain’t you? fuckin’ let me know. scream that shit out loud.” 

“i amm, ugh—god . . pleaseeee.” 

“go ‘head and cum, c’mon. gotta paint my dick pretty with it, yeah?”

“oh . . my . . g-goddd,” the way he talks to you makes you dizzy, and it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of. his mouth is filthy, and when you cum hard for the second time, he makes sure you suck on his fingers to taste yourself. wrapping your lips around them to suck them clean before satoru’s sticking out his tongue to rush over your mouth along with his fingers, pulling them into his mouth to suck after. 

your eyes are drooped, feeling so fucked out without actually having him fuck you yet. who would’ve expected your professor to be this . . nasty? it’s like he’s been waiting for you to speak up so he can fulfill his own disgusting fantasies. safe to say, you made a good choice. 

satoru’s standing back to his full height, which never fails to make you ditzy from the size difference. you feel so small on this desk under him. 

“c’mere, move up all the way,” he’s now guiding you to turn your back to him, which makes you pout since you wanted to face him. he chuckles deeply at the audible disapproval, swatting your ass. “you’ll still see my face, greedy. be patient.” 

he positioned you on your knees on top of the desk facing a dusty chalkboard, spread eagle and hands pinned behind your back, almost curled up into a fetal position with your tits to your knees. satoru swallows, your pretty red hair falling angelically around your soft features as you wait for him to fuck you. his dick is throbbing in his fist he’s pumping it into, the shlick shlick noise leaving you anticipated as he uses your arousal as lube. he’s aligning the tip with your opening, teasingly rubbing the head up and down, the vein on the underside of his heavy dick throbbing. 

his other hand is keeping you pinned down at your hip, also lifting the flesh of your ass so he can slide into you. he’s pushing forward, choking on a moan the deeper he gets. you’re real tight, it being slightly difficult to push fully into you. words like ‘relax’ and ‘breathe baby’ utters painfully from satoru as he tries not to lose his shit at the sight of your pussy literally gripping his dick to pull back in after he slightly shifts back. when he’s halfway in, leaving the hand on your hip, he uses the other you lock your wrists behind your back, gyrating his hips to cock back and grind into you. 

“ooo, f-fuck,” you whimper, hands wiggling in his grasp, nails managing to scratch his arm. satoru watches the flesh of your ass bounce with every deep, slow thrust, pussy squelching. 

“see? look at the shit,” satoru comments to himself, knitting his brows together in fascination. “told ya’ it’d make it pretty,” 

“can’t see it,” you whimper, upset. 

“you can feel it, right? it’s stretchin’ that pretty girl open,” satoru moans gruffly, moving himself closer so his sharp hips hit your ass with every movement. he’s getting rougher, your skin nearly bruising from his hot touches, the bangles on your wrist clinking with each thrust. 

“i feel it,” you hiss, stomach caving in. “bet s’so pretty.”

“yeah? promise to give it a taste after?” 

“yeah,” you nod slowly, eyes tightly shut. “y-yeah. will, ‘toru.” 

“good girl.” 

gasps fill the air when he fucks you harder, balls slapping against your sticky clit as your ass recoils and claps back onto his abdomen. he’s got a deadlock on your posture, satoru’s face completely serious as he fucks you so, so rough. his sounds are animalistic compared to your own; whiny and soft. coughing out moans as you heave against the desk creating a spot of condescension. he’s so big hovering over you, bending you underneath him, papers falling off the desk while he rutted into you. skin clapping, moans synchronized, and sweat dripping. it’s the hottest fucking scene. 

“takin’ me so deep, baby. this shit feels so fuckin’ . . good, god,” satoru’s voice breaks, hitting you ass with a dirty grunt. “ungh, fuckin this pussy g’na get me in trouble.” 

“i n-need you,” you fight to break free from his grip, flipping your hair over to one side of your face as you sit up after he releases his grasp. “closer.” 

taking the initiative, you go to stand on your feet, back pressing to his chest as he clasps your throat, standing on your tiptoes to rotate and grind your ass back on his dick, stuffing you so full you feel it in your tummy.  

“that’s my girl,” satoru’s kissing your earlobe, pressing his cheek onto the side of your face as the two of you controlled your breathing together. “it’s your dick, take it. fuck that pussy how you want. i’m your fuckin’ toy.” 

“ssshit,” sucking your lips inwardly, you keep your hand on satoru’s wrist while your arm slings behind his neck to balance yourself, the ridges of veins on his dick scratching all the good, achy parts. 

“c’mon, girl, got me waitin’ too long,” without incoming, satoru spanks your thigh, hips thrusting steadily. “if you g’na fuck me, do it right.” 

you try to keep your composure, but the sultry, deep baritone of his voice directly by your ear makes your waist stutter, that warm, bubbly feeling swarming in your tummy. his mouth is back on your neck, and that activates you quick, sobbing and clapping your ass back needily. the mutual desperation to cum is at an all-time high. 

“there we go, t-there we go, girl. that’s what i wanted. s’good,” satoru’s gorgeous eyes cast white, jaw dropping as he grunts, holding your waist just to hold you, allowing you to handle it. “ungh, fuck. keep fuckin’ back.” 

the burn in your legs prolongs as you sway your hips and fuck back on him, his grip on you keeping you balanced to give you enough space to move how you want. this dick is slick with your cum, a ring of cream covering it as you cry and push all your weight back so you're feeling every inch while he's experiencing every tight clench.

“ ‘toru, i—” your words are cut off by an interrupted orgasm, cumming yet again as you greedily roll your ass back with weak cries. your legs feel staticky, almost falling down before satoru makes sure to lock his forearm around your stomach. 

“ ‘toru needs t’ cum too.” 

interlocking his right hand with yours, the two of you hold hands as he lays it on your thigh, bringing your head back to rest on his shoulder with a hand grasping your throat tight, nearly cutting your airways. he’s getting . . mad? nothing satisfies him more than to know he’s made a woman cum multiple times in one session, but when he gets as horny and fucked out as he was now? it wasn’t a good idea to leave him without one orgasm. and he can definitely give you more than just one. he wanted to show you that, you deserved that. 

satoru begins to pull his hips back, giving you a sweet kiss on the lips to let you know he still cares and will comfort you after. just needs a few minutes of shutting off that part of his brain to fuck himself dumb. your pussy clenches and pulsates sloppily on his dick as he fucks you harder than he has before, the breath knocking out of your throat while he squeezes his eyes shut and pounds assertively. they’re neither fast nor slow, just steady and rough. like he’s been needing it so damn bad. the warmth of you getting him out of character, the scent of your perfume enveloping him. the conditioner in your soft, red velvet hair. the tattoos inked into your brown skin, the piercings on your ears and face. your fogged-up glasses, courtesy to him. the unexplainable pleasure he derives off of hearing you whimper ‘toru, toru, toru’. 

who knows what kind of fucking spell you put on him. he just knows he’ll never, ever erase today from his memory. it’ll play like a tantalizing loop. tears threaten to fall from your eyes, cunt going sore from his brutal pivots, falling back weakly into his strong body and gasping from every deliciously deep, thrust. satoru kisses at your face, lashes kissing your cheekbones, trying your best to look up at him. and when you do, you can see he’s utterly gone. the groans emanating, feral growls, and pinball white eyeballs that couldn’t stop scrolling into the back of his head. you watch him mumble your name while spewing expletives, pink lips wide as his whimpers and moans break apart.

“fuck!” he bellows, moving your bodies back towards the desk as he pins you down flat and fucks your ass back onto him, that pressure tugging at him. he's pressing the side of his cheek with yours, breathing heavily while gripping your jaw and dropping his weight on your backside. “fuck, fuck. fuck.” 

“ ‘toru, please cum for me, baby. w’na taste you so bad.”

and he does, as soon as you say his goddamn name like that again, that vanilla voice of yours, seductive yet sweet, coaxing him to cum. 

“knees, baby. suck me,” satoru heaves in a high pitch.

hurriedly, you twist your body to crouch below him, palm wrapping around his dick, satoru’s hand taking strands of your hair to make a ponytail on the back of your head to bob your head to suck him, hips stuttering and his lips damn near quivering. your cheeks hollow inwards as you swallow him in your throat, satoru guiding your head as he shoots his cum hot in your mouth. you moan around him, staring up at him through your dark falsies to be rewarded with the beautiful sight of his snow white hair shielding his face, blue eyes glowing as he looks at you with a genuine laugh. 

pulling your head back, you wipe your mouth slowly with the back of your hand, satoru’s dick twitching midair, semi-hard. he holds both palms out, waiting for you to grab him so he can pull you up. you take them, and he brings your chest to his. 

“fuck, you’ve got me spent,” his hands are now on either side of your face, locking his lips with yours once more. “so damn good.” 

“mhm,” you blink with a goofy smile, pulling your shirt down and smoothing your hair. kissing his face, you wipe your lipgloss off any part of his skin. “so, same time after break?” 

© 𝑠𝑡4𝑟𝑏𝑤𝑟𝑟𝑦 . all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life.♡

[perlelune]

NDA | Coriolanus Snow

When you get hired as a nanny for President Snow and his wife's firstborn, you’re beyond thrilled and grateful. But quickly, the perfect facade melts, revealing the ugly truth of what actually goes on in the Snows' house.

Warnings: NON-CON, Capitol! Reader, Innocent Reader, Cheating, Coercion, Blackmail, Power Imbalance

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Your worried eyes track the frenzied glide of the woman’s quill over the notepad. You squint, hoping to discern some of the words she’s scrawling that way, but they are indiscernible…just like the stone-cold expression of the bespectacled woman on the other side of the desk.

She catches you trying to peek. Your heart jumps.

As her sharp green gaze zeroes in on you, you clear your throat and shift in your seat.

She puts her quill down and twines her fingers.

“So what do you think sets you apart  from the other applicants?”

You chew on your lip. When you arrived to offer your candidature this morning, you naively believed you’d be early. Instead, you were forced to join the tail end of the massive waiting line stretching far outside the Snows’ estate. It didn’t hit you before that moment, how prized the position is. Each of the women and girls you saw radiated excellent breeding and impeccable manners. Many probably attended the University and could double as a tutor if the need presents itself.

This isn’t your case. Your parents left you and your brother Laertes with nothing when they suddenly passed away in a rebel bombing. You couldn’t blame them. This wasn't the plan. Who plans on dying and leaving their two children to fend for themselves?

Still, you now have a list of bills the length of your arm coupled with a massive mortgage to pay every month. And as Laertes’ sole caretaker, you must ensure you can afford to send him to University once he completes his education in the Academy.

Circumstances denied you that chance. Despite being of university’s age, you couldn’t afford the cost of tuition and had to drop out as soon as you got accepted. You want better for your little brother.

So as soon as you heard the news that President Snow and First Lady Livia Cardew were in search of a nanny for their son Martius, you jumped on the opportunity to apply. You rose before the sun, rummaged through your mother’s closet to find her best dress, and hailed a car to come here.

It’s a long shot, of course. You’re not as polished and impressive as some of the other women. You’re also noticeably younger. But the wages promised alone compelled you to take a chance despite the odds being unfavorable.

Fiddling with your hands, you meet the woman’s impassive stare head-on.

“What sets me apart?” You mull over your answer. You could paint a false, august portrait of yourself, your skills and your accomplishments. Or try to at least.

But what would be the point of pretending to be someone you’re not only to be found out later on? So you elect to tread the path of honesty.

“Nothing,” you say. “But I’m a hard worker. A very hard worker. In fact, I already have three jobs, one at a bakery, another as a clerk in an antique shop and I assist Fabricia Whatnot at her boutique sometimes.” Panic quivers inside you as the woman quickly jots something down on her notepad. You swiftly specify, “...But I’ll quit all of them if I get the position, of course.” You lick your lips as knots tie your stomach. “I can learn everything there is to learn on the spot. I love children, and…” You trail off, gaze traveling to your lap as you muse if you should reveal more. Your fists clench as you add, “I have a little brother who’s a few years older than Martius, and I’m really hoping I get this opportunity so I can give him the life he deserves.”

An unnerving quiet occupies the air. The wait is agony, your nails digging painfully into your palms. The jagged drumming of your heart bleeds inside your ears as she studies you.

Eventually, she leans back in the velvet chair, her face betraying no thought or emotion.

“You’re dismissed,” she says.

Your heart plummets to your feet. You shakily rise, dispirited as you drag your heels towards the door. You steal a glance above your shoulder. The woman’s attention has already drifted away from you as she shouts for the next applicant.

You sourly exit the office. You try to swallow your dejection as you note how many women are still waiting in line, each of them likely more qualified and experienced. It’s obvious you tanked the interview. Shoulders slumping, you take resigned steps through the elegant, palatial hallways of the Snow’s mansion. You get lost in admiring the crystal and gold chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. There isn’t an inch of the house that doesn’t scream excessive, unattainable wealth.

You take your time soaking it in. Chances are you’ll never step foot in such a place in your lifetime ever again.

Distracted, you don’t notice the person in front of you before it’s too late. You bump straight into a hard, inflexible body. 

The sudden collision threatens your balance.

Fingers coil around your wrists as you stagger back, preventing your impending collapse onto the marbled floor.

As your attention drifts skywards, your jaw drops at who fills your vision.

“P-President Snow, my deepest apologies, s-sir,” you stammer, flames licking your cheeks.

As if you didn’t make yourself look dimwitted enough before, you now carelessly crashed into the leader of all of Panem. Just when you thought the day couldn’t possibly get worse.

You take him in. It truly is him. Shock fills you. 

 Tall and dazzling in a crisp white shirt and crimson vest that hints at his lean physique beneath the clothes, his signature blond waves slicked away from his face, he looks every bit the important figure that he is.

The flickering TV screen you own at home doesn’t do him justice.

A gentle smirk unfurls on his lips.

“It’s quite alright. I’m not made of sugar,” he jests.

“No…you’re not, your highness…majesty...I mean sir.”

Your blunder expands his smile. His cerulean gaze drags over your frame.

“Are you here for the nursemaid position?”

“I am, sir.” You unleash a deep exhale, his inquiry tossing salt on the fresh wound. The interviewer clearly wasn’t impressed by your less than stellar performance. Maybe you should have tried to mimic the way the girls with whom you attended the Academy behave more. They carry themselves with such confidence, wading through the world with the certainty of their destinies being secure, bereft of hardships unlike district dwellers.

You envy how carefree they get to be. Everyday you wake up worried you’ll come up short on a bill and you and Laertes will be forced to leave your family home. No matter how diligent you are at work, there never seems to be enough money to sustain the two of you. Even with three jobs, you’re barely eking out a decent living for you and your little brother. Many times, you’ve gone to bed hungry just so Laertes would not.

You don’t even realize tears have filled your eyes to the brim until a handkerchief is daintily pressed into your cheeks.

Flabbergasted, you blink up at President Snow. 

“Thank you,” you exhale, stunned by his kind gesture.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

You search his eyes. Genuine interest lights up his pellucid blue orbs.

Without much thought, you confess, “I just don’t think I did very well with my interview.”

As he scrutinizes you in silence, cocking his head sideways, embarrassment rushes through you.

Words anxiously leave your lips in a tremulous string.

“God, I’m so sorry, spilling my problems to you as if you’re not an extremely busy man, sir.”

He shakes his head. “It’s quite alright. And do not count yourself defeated, sweetheart.” Your pulse stutters when he bends over you to whisper, “You may have left a stronger impression than you think.”

He nudges the pocket square between your hands. It’s still damp with your tears. You gape at it in awe. President Snow’s initials are elegantly etched in the left corner of the fabric.

“Here. Keep it. Though I’d much prefer it if you didn’t cry.” He pauses, studying you. “Girls as lovely as you never should.”

His words send your heart into a frenzy. For a while, you’re too stunned to move. You then shake yourself back to reality, noticing you’re now staring at the empty space where he used to stand. He’s gone. You look ahead. He’s already miles away from you, wrapped in conversation with who seems to be an assistant of his. 

Your thumbs press against the soft fabric of the pocket square. Cheeks ablaze, you hold it to your nose. It smells like roses, the same delicate scent that wafted from him a few minutes ago. Your back prickles. You pivot and are astonished to find the envious glares of some of the applicants still waiting in line zeroed in on you. Self-conscious, you rush to continue your exit, fleeing away from the hateful stares. 

As the outside gates come into sight, you can’t suppress an elated smile. It’s not everyday someone meets President Snow and receives such a gift from him. Shoving the handkerchief in your pocket, you vow to place it somewhere safe and always cherish it. 

When you return home, your brother’s already sitting in the living room, his tiny brows scrunched in concentration and his nose buried in his books. Your stomach sinks. Everything you did today was for him. You can’t help but feel you missed out on a huge opportunity, one that’d have changed the course of his life forever. You glance around at the apartment. The walls are crumbling. The wooden floors are creaking. The pipes in the kitchen have been leaking for weeks, a measly bucket you must empty every morning the only thing preventing a flood. And at night, the pitter-patter of rodents’ paws resonates from the ceiling.

Every inch of your family home is in dire need of repairs.

Unfortunately, every penny you earn goes into rent and food, meaning the house falls apart a bit more everyday. Perhaps one day, you and Laertes will awake beneath the rubble of what’s left of your childhood home. Nightmares of that sometimes keep you up at night.

“How was the Academy today?” you chime, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. Worry twists your chest. There isn’t much left. You’ll need to make do with cabbage and whatever other veggies are left. Perhaps you could toss in some leftover dried meat and make a stew.

“My teacher signed me up for advanced trigonometry,” your brother announces.

You close the cabinet and beam at him.

“Oh, that sounds hard. I’m proud of you.” It doesn’t exactly surprise you. Laertes’ always been exceptionally smart. Even his teachers noticed how gifted he is from an early age. Unlike you, he breezed through middle school and now the Academy.

It’s why it’s crucial you make sure he can go to the University. A mind like his shouldn’t be wasted.

You brother shrugs, exuding nonchalance.

“It’s fine.”

You rush to him. You wrap your arm around him playfully and hug him in his chair, pulling his cheek like when he was little. You know he hates when you do that but you can’t help teasing him a bit. It’s your duty as a big sister after all.

“Don’t downplay it. My little brother’s a genius.”

He wriggles his way out of the hug, rolling his eyes. 

“Stop it.”

You head back to the kitchen and fire the stove.

“I’ll make you something,” you say, smiling at your brother.

His brows knit. “Make something for yourself first.”

You nibble your bottom lip. You truly hoped he wouldn’t notice, how much smaller than his your portions are. But he’s growing; he needs it. Much more than you. Besides, how can he focus at the Academy and be the brilliant boy he is supposed to be with a growling stomach? You won’t allow it.

“Laertes…”

He shakes his head, his expression firm.

“No. You always do this. This time, we split whatever is left.”

Heaving out a resigned exhale, you nod. You whirl to resume preparing dinner.

You gather a boiling pot from the overhead cabinet and place it on the stove. With the ease of practice, you begin chopping vegetables and tossing them into the pot. You add spices and water. The mouthwatering aroma quickly fills the kitchen. Pride swells in your chest. Your cooking skills have improved so much in the last year since your parents passed. You now manage to bring flavor to the blandest of meals. 

Once the stew’s ready, you pour a portion in each bowl, putting just a little more in your brother’s and praying he will not notice.

You place the steaming bowls on the table and take a seat opposite him.

“No books at the dining table,” you admonish, mimicking the exact tone your mother used with your brother. Admitting defeat, Laertes sighs and sets his homework aside. The tiny victory tugs your lips skyward.

He tells you about his day at the Academy while the two of you eat. You’re delighted to hear he’s making a lot of friends and he’s at the top of his class for most science subjects. He’s struggling a bit more with his poetry and ethics classes, but you encourage him by reminding him he can just ask the teacher for extra assignments to keep his grade up.

“I interviewed for a new job today,” you reveal, stirring the spoon in your bowl while waiting for your brother to eat more of his food.

“How did it go?”

“Well, it pays really well so I’m hopeful.”

The hope dancing in his eyes makes your chest ache. You don’t have the heart to tell him you made a fool of yourself today. You may not be gifted like your brother, but you want him to know he can rely on you at least.

Pursing his mouth, he looks down at his stew.

“That’s great. It’d be good if you didn’t have to work as much.”

Your smile falters. “Don’t worry. I have everything under control.”

“Okay.”

His dour tone stirs your concern. You wish you were better at hiding things from him, making his childhood as normal as possible. But your brother’s twelve now, and that’s old enough to sense when things are wrong.

He rises from his seat. You frown as you note there’s still food left in his bowl.

“Finish your plate before going to your room.”

Annoyance pinches his features but he still picks up his bowl and hastily guzzles down the remainder of his stew.

“Happy now?” he says, wiping his mouth.

“Yes. Very,” you cheerfully respond.

He gathers his books and strides towards his room. 

Your voice rises.

“Don’t stay up too late to study, okay? I love you.”

“I…love you too,” he mumbles.

You bask in the moment as you clean the table. Thankfully Laertes is still at an age where he says it back. One day he might not. So you must cherish every instant. Every conversation, every hug, every ‘I love you’. Because it could all vanish in a second. You learned that the hard way a year ago.

The day of the interview recedes to the back of your mind as you keep living your life. Work is harrowing, as usual, but you tend to your tasks as best as you can. Your arms ache as you knead the dough in the back of the bakery. You give yourself a second to wipe the sweat off your forehead. It’s been a hectic afternoon. There’s a massive pastry order for some Capitol heiress’ birthday due tomorrow. So you’ve been racing between the front desk and the kitchen in the back. A baker called in sick today, leaving you with twice the workload.

You know it won’t take much to crash into your bed and fall asleep tonight.

To make matters worse, the day hits its nadir when you get your pay that day. You peer inside the envelope for the umpteenth time. An anxious chuckle peals out of your lips. 

“I’m sorry I don’t want to complain, but…this doesn’t match the hours I put in.”

The owner scratches the back of his neck, a contrite expression etched on his face.

“I’m sorry too. With the new taxes imposed by the Capitol, I had to cut your salary.”

Slack-jawed by the news, no word leaves your mouth as you stare at him. He sighs.

“If it’s a problem, we can find someone else-”

“No, no,” you interrupt, blinking in panic. “Please, I need this job.”

He acquiesces and you’re forced to thank him despite feeling cheated. You actually scaled back your hours for your other part-times since this one paid more. What a waste. 

Dispirited, you return home. As you give the driver a bill for the fare, your insides wrench. Every bill counts. Perhaps you’ll need to walk back home from now on. The streets of the Capitol are notoriously dangerous but you can’t see any other way to save your dwindling wages. You already know you’ll need to request an extension for rent this month. How will you pay it, however?

You suppose you’ll have to figure it out. You always figure it out.

These are the somber thoughts swaying in your mind as you check the mailbox. 

Bills. Bills. And more bills. Your already sour mood plummets even more. But a slim, silver envelope sticking out from the pile corrals your focus. Curiosity surges inside you. It looks fancy and there’s a wax seal with the Capitol’s symbol keeping it shut. You rush to open it, heart fluttering in strange anticipation.

You unfold the neatly folded letter inside. As you read the words, you gasp, dropping the letter. Still trembling from shock and excitement, you bend to pick it up. 

You take a deep slow breath before reading it again. 

This time, a squeal escapes from your lips. 

You read it many more times to make sure your eyes aren’t just conjuring wild fantasies. 

After a while, you realize they aren’t. It’s true. 

Holding the letter to your chest, you toss yourself on your bed and kick your feet excitedly. 

You then place your palm on your forehead. In disbelief, you beam at the ceiling. 

Somehow…you’ve been hired to work for the Snows. You actually got the job. 

Perhaps there is light at the end of the tunnel.

You fidget before the iron gates, smoothing absent wrinkles on your skirt. It’s one of the best outfits you could find on short notice that wasn’t moth-eaten or visibly overworn. You pray it’s enough. You let your gaze wander. The Snows’ estate truly is majestic. The lush gardens. The beautiful architecture. You feel a little small as you admire the mansion.

Remembering yourself, you pivot to the man who drove you there. You fish inside your pocket for a bill and hand it to him. He stares at you blankly from the driver’s seat.

A weary sigh ripples behind you.

You turn, your eyes widening. It’s the woman who interviewed you that day. She wears the same stern expression.

“You don’t need to pay him,” she explains, dismissing the man with her hand. He nods and drives away. “He’s your assigned driver. He’ll pick you up each day and take you back home.”

“Oh.” You offer your hand. “Nice to meet you…again.”

She gives you a lengthy onceover, completely ignoring your gesture. Then she motions at you to follow her. You let your hand fall to your side. Heat blooms in your cheeks. Perhaps, you were too enthusiastic just then. Straightening your spine, you try your best to keep pace with her quick strides.

“I’m Pandora. I supervise most housekeeping duties for the president. I’ll show you around the estate. Then you’ll meet the young Master.”

She gives you a tour of the mansion. You’re even more amazed than last time though you try to suppress your awe and not stare excessively. She shows you the garden as well. The sea of snow-white roses makes your head spin. She specifies that the only part of the house that is off-limits is the west wing of the mansion, as these are the First Lady’s apartments and she must have rest and quiet.

She ends the visit by taking you to the nursery. A smile spontaneously finds its way onto your lips. A toddler plays with his toy train on the floor. With his blonde curls and bright blue eyes, he bears a striking resemblance to his father.

“That’s him? He’s so cute,” you whisper. Even the stern woman’s expression thaws a little as she looks at the child, softening ever-so-slightly. You send her a questioning glance. She gives you a nod of approval. 

You approach the boy and crouch in front of him.

“Hi. You’re Martius, right?”

He lifts his head and beams at you. You’re immediately endeared. Again, his smile reminds you of President Snow. You suppose one could probably take over the world with a smile like that. 

You turn to Pandora.

“Is his mother around? I should probably introduce myself.”

Her face pinches. “Mistress Livia has been unwell as of late. She is not to be disturbed today as she is quite tired.”

“Of course.” Your lips squeeze shut for a few seconds but curiosity gets the better of you. A question burns on your lips, one that nagged you ever since you got the job. It slips out before you can think it through. “Is this…Is this why the president and his wife require a nanny? The First Lady is sick?”

Pandora glowers at you. You flinch as she steps further inside the room, her searing tone like a whip.

“You are here to do your job, and nothing else. Mistress Livia’s health is no concern of yours. Do you hear me?”

You rise on shaky feet. You forgot yourself.

“I-I understand. I’m sorry I asked.”

“This reminds me. You have to sign this,” she says, handing you a pen and clipboard. A thin stack of papers are attached to the clipboard. The front page spells ‘Non-Disclosure Agreement’ in bold letters at the very top. You scowl as you flip through the pages.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a contract, one signed by every one of the President’s employees.”

“I don’t understand most of what’s written here…”

A frustrated exhale peals from her lips.

“I’ll make it simple for you then. For the duration of your employment here, nothing you see or hear must ever leave this house. You are here to care for the young master, that is all. Nothing else should concern you. Is that clear enough?”

You swallow thickly. It doesn’t sound hard at all. Discretion is essential in every job, isn’t it? But the way Pandora makes it sound, you’d assume there are bodies buried beneath the Snows’ estate. You’d laugh if her death stare weren’t so disquieting.

You peruse the contract, perplexed by most of the legal mumbo jumbo filling the pages. None of it rings any bell. You understand the gist of it however. You must preserve the president and his wife’s privacy. While you don’t know the specifics of the first lady’s condition, her public appearances have been few and far between in the last few years.

She used to be the envy of every woman in the Capitol. Beautiful, young and married to the dashing President Snow.

She was a fairytale princess come to life.

Then their son Martius was born. And when they held him up from the balcony of their mansion for all of Panem to gaze upon, they truly seemed like the perfect family.

Until one day, Livia Cardew simply…vanished.

She was noticeably absent from all the events of the season, some she even hosted herself. Tongues wagged of course, rumors and wild theories spreading like wildfire. 

But no one knew the truth of what had happened to her.

The matter seems delicate. You promise yourself not to bring it up again.

You click the pen and scribble your name at the bottom of the very last page.

“I’ve…never signed a contract like that before starting a job.”

Pandora lets out a wry chuckle.

“Well, you’ve never worked for President Snow.”

As promised, you quit your two other jobs to focus solely on Martius. You’re hesitant at first. Your departed parents taught you never to put all your eggs in one basket. And it’s exactly what you’d be doing by trusting the Snows. But when you receive your first paycheck, long before the end of the week, every qualm you had fades. It’s more money than you’ve ever had, more money than you expected. Rent isn’t an issue anymore. Neither is food.

Besides, gifts keep coming from the estate. Clothes mostly, for both you and Laertes, but also jewelry, perfume and other fancy things you don’t need. Overwhelmed by President Snow’s generosity, you try to send some of it back, but you don’t have the heart to return everything when you see your brother’s happy face when he opens his wardrobe one day.

You’ve caught the self-conscious glimpses he casts at his classmates sometimes, when not wearing the Academy uniform. Their clothes are always brand new and custom, perfectly tailored while his are stitched back together by your clumsy hands whenever they fray at the seams. You’re not a seamstress but you’ve always done your best. But you know your best doesn’t compare to the access and privilege those kids have.

Other than those blessings, your time with Martius has been a breeze. Only hazy memories of your brother as a toddler linger in your mind, but you don’t recall him ever being as sweet and calm as the little boy is.

It hardly feels like work, caring for the small child. You spend the day playing along with his games, reading stories to him and, as the day nears its end, the two of you feed the ducks in the massive pond behind the mansion. He even gives them names and gets upset when they fight with each other. 

“Lily doesn’t like James anymore,” he whispers to you one day, a sullen pout scrunching his tiny features. 

“And why is that?”

“I think she’s angry that he steals her food.”

You chuckle and ruffle his golden locks. The little boy always has a story for everything he sees. At all times, his world must make sense. So if he cannot find a reason to explain what fills his gaze, he’ll weave a tale that matches it. His stories are each more wild than the other and he sometimes utters words you’ve never heard a four year old use.

But you surmise it is expected from the son of the president. When he isn’t with you, the little boy is often with his private tutor. Even at his tender age, the importance of manners and eloquence is impressed upon him.

Martius tugs at your skirt when you make your way to the door. You look down. His blue eyes are pleading. 

“You’re leaving again?”

You heave out a long exhale. The little boy wasn’t so clingy before but with your bond growing, he’s been expressing more sadness from watching you go at the end of every day. 

You hunker down to his level.

“My little brother’s expecting me.”

His forehead puckers. “Stay…”

“I told you before, Martius. I have a brother. He’ll miss me if I’m not here.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, giving a begrudging nod. Tears already swim in his eyes though. Panic flows through you. You didn’t want to upset him. You pick him up and bounce with him in your arms to try to soothe him.

“Oh, no. Don’t cry, sweetie.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, nearly squeezing you to death when he wraps his arms around your neck. His loud, tearful sobs swell in the room. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow like always, okay? So I need you to be brave for me.” His grip on you loosens as he sniffles. You put him down and the two of you pinky promise that you’ll return. Your heart twists at the sight of his tear-stained little face. 

You give his hair one last affectionate pat before rushing outside. If you stay, he might throw another tantrum. No matter what, you can never get mad at Martius. He’s just a child. In the absence of his mother, he’s bound to grow attached to any woman filling a role adjacent to hers. You loathe that you’re taking those moments from the first lady. Though it pleases you to have a steady job and spend time with the sweet boy, it feels wrong that she isn’t there. She should get to see her baby grow up. She should hear his inane ramblings and eccentric stories.

As time wears on, you’re dying to meet her and tell her about Martius. Is she truly so sick that she can’t even see him for a mere few minutes? You’re itching to break the rules and visit the west wing of the mansion. Sometimes you hear blood-curdling  screams and wailing coming from the dark halls but you never dared venture through them. You know that if you did, Pandora would crucify you.

Laertes’ well-being matters more than your curiosity.

Humming absently, you halt in your tracks in the middle of a hallway. Confusion has you blinking. A peculiar noise bounces faintly against the walls. Your gaze drifts sideways, where the noise seems to come from. You’re clocking out. Whatever’s going on in the house isn’t any of your business at this hour.

But what if someone needs help? What if it’s something bad? You’d feel awful if you learnt something happened the next day and you pretended to ignore it. So you gingerly approach the wall. Your fingers graze the tapestry covering it. 

Your eyes widen when the wall moves, a tiny crack forming in it.

Your eyes bulge. It’s an ajar door, you realize. A secret door one wouldn’t notice if they weren’t aware it was there. Light spills from the slight opening.

Confining your breath, you bend over the crack in the wall to get a glimpse of what’s behind it. 

The vision crowding your sight makes the blood in your veins freeze. 

President Snow rutting into a maid with his pants down to his ankles. His usually neat blonde locks are tousled, a few damp curls kissing his forehead. His massive cock glistens with the girl’s essence, disappearing into the girl’s spread lips over and over again. Her body is bent over the railing of the bed and her maid outfit is bunched around her hips, exposing her ass, the flesh trembling with each of the president’s harsh, pointed thrust.

Each time he snaps his hips he draws a broken moan from her. One of his hands is around the back of her throat while the other’s on the small of her back. He grunts low in his throat as she clenches around him, thrusting into her even faster than before. 

The obscene sound of their coupling rises, coalescing with the feral grunts spilling from the president’s mouth. In that moment, he’s not the poised gentleman you’re used to seeing, he is an animal in rut chasing his high.

A shocked exhale escapes your lips. Your hand flies to cover your mouth. President Snow’s head snaps up, his gaze landing straight on you.

Your heart slams against your ribcage.

You jump back from the door and push the secret door closed. You dart across the hallway, determined to find the exit as quickly as you can. You don’t glance back, your steps hasty and panicked. 

Pandora was right. It’s best not not to hear or see anything, to become a tomb in which secrets are buried.

You can only hope he didn’t recognize you through the tiny crack in the door. 

Though you’re shaken to your core, you continue your work as a nanny. You still need money. You may have set aside everything you made thus far, but it will only sustain you and your brother for a month or two. Besides, you’ve already handed in your resignation for your other jobs.  The positions have likely been filled. You can’t exactly show up out of the blue and ask for your former job back. 

No. So you convince yourself that it’s alright. You have a good thing going anyway. You’re making more than you hoped. The child is happy. You’re happy. All is well. Or it would be at least.

…If you could conjure the memory of President Snow railing into the maid far away from your mind. 

You want to forget it, bury the moment so deep in the abyss of your thoughts, it can never be unearthed.

But it isn’t so easy. Because every time your mind wanders even a little, you see him again. Skin glistening with sweat and blue eyes alight with lust. The image is tattooed into your brain. 

You wonder if the first lady knows. Perhaps it’s why she’s hiding away. The weight of her husband’s indiscretions may have grown too heavy to carry. It sours your heart. President Snow seemed so kind, good and noble. He was nice to you. You still have the breast pocket he gave you tucked away in a drawer. You loathe to think he’d do that to his wife. No woman deserves this.

You lift your head when your name is uttered. You get to your feet. Adrift in your thoughts, you didn’t realize Pandora was in the nursery. 

“Yes?”

“The president wants to see you in his office.”

Dread wrenches your gut. It’s exactly what you feared. Does he know? Did he see you? Your pulse picks up. What other reason would there be? He never summoned you before.

“Really, why?”

“He didn’t say, but I’m assuming it’s to congratulate you.”

Befuddlement wrinkles your forehead. “Congratulate me?”

Pandora heaves out a weary sigh. “Well, you’ve done much better than we thought,” she begrudgingly admits. “The young master smiles all the time.” She rolls her eyes. “Even if we must deal with his tantrums when you leave.”

A sliver of pride flutters through you with her admission. Pandora made her doubts about your capabilities plain and obvious from the beginning. It gladdens you that you may have changed her mind a little. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” She turns to him, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “It’s a small price to pay for his happiness.”

Your smile vanishes as she adds, “Now let me escort you to the president’s office. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you trail behind her. The entire trek to the president’s office, your stomach’s in knots. You keep wondering if it’s the day you’ll lose your job for being too nosy. You should have walked past the noise. You shouldn’t have peeked. 

You inhale a lungful of nerve as Pandora opens the door to his office and frees room for you to enter. Your clammy hands wrench in your lap. He’s sitting behind his desk. You stagger further inside the room as he motions for you to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk. He looks the same as the first time you stumbled into him, disarmingly handsome in an impeccable shirt and pants that flatter his long legs.

A sharp contrast to the version of him that has plagued your thoughts lately. 

His sky gaze follows you as you take a trembling seat.

“Are you settling in well?” he asks.

“Hm, yes,” you stammer, anxiously twining your fingers. “It’s pretty much the perfect job. I get to be around a cute child all day.”

“I hear my son is very fond of you.”

You bashfully dip your head. “He’s very easy to like. He’s such a good boy, sweet, kind, and curious. You and your wife are raising him well, sir.”

He hums in thought. “I can’t take much credit for that. I’ve tried my best to carve out time for Martius…but work’s kept me busy. As for Livia...” He lets out a humorless chuckle. “Well she isn’t quite herself these days.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He places one hand under his chin, scrutinizing you. You try not to twitch beneath his stare, your insides tight with dread.

“Hm, it’s strange,” he states after a minute that goes by like an eternity.

Your head rises. “What’s strange?”

“A girl like you.” His lips drag upward. “Sweet, nurturing, beautiful. Shouldn’t you be married already?”

Your lips part in astonishment. This isn’t the line of questioning you expected. “I-I’m not.”

“No fiancé?”

“No, sir.”

“A lover then?”

Warmth rushes to your face.

“No…”

He laughs, mirth dancing in his cobalt orbs.

“You must pardon me for being so forward but I simply find it astonishing. No suitors? It’s hard to believe since you’re so lovely, sweetheart.” He tilts his head. You shift in discomfort, his attention making you feel see-through. “I mean, a husband would have made your life easier than it’s been thus far, wouldn’t he, dove?”

A long exhale flows from your lips. “I’ve had offers, after I graduated from the Academy. There was even this boy, he was so kind to me.” The memory draws a small smile from you. “He proposed. I’m sure he’d make a great husband, but…”

“But…”

Your mouth dries.

“I know it’s probably naive and unrealistic but I want to marry for love, that great, life-changing love, like in those romance novels my mom used to love, not money or status.”

His eyes twinkle. “Or financial stability?”

Shame gathers in your chest. You know it sounds silly when uttered aloud. 

“I know, I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. It’s sweet that you still believe in love.” He appears lost in a faraway memory, his gaze hazing over with remembrance. “I used to believe in it too. I used to think, ‘Who needs wealth and success and power when love conquers all?’”

He chuckles but it’s bereft of amusement. 

“Really? What happened then?”

His gaze locks with yours. 

“I grew up.”

Confused, you frown. 

“But aren’t you and the first lady in love?”

Another laugh bursts from his chest.

“God, you’re sweet.” His tone lowers to a dulcet whisper. “It’s like none of the world’s ugliness has gotten to you yet.” He reveals matter-of-factly, “My wife and I hate each other.” His smile widens at your flabbergasted expression. “Always did. It’s best that way, more…efficient. Of course, there was a time, when we had…passion.” He licks his lips, something you can’t pinpoint flickering in his gaze. “But not anymore. She’s far too gone for that.”

He rises from his chair. You stiffen as he circles the desk, making slow steps towards you. 

“Which is why I must…satiate my needs wherever I can,” he mumbles, fingers lurking under your chin, forcing your eyes to fall upon him. “Do you understand my meaning, dove?”

“I…yes.”

Discomfort flares within you. Tension hangs in the air, so heavy it clogs your airways. 

He cocks his head, lips slanting crookedly.

“Do you really? With that innocent look in your eyes, it’s hard to tell.” His thumb sweeps over your shuddering bottom lip. “Men have needs. And am I not a man, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes you are, sir.”

He bends over you to whisper in your ear. “You saw everything that day, didn’t you?” Your heart stops.

Flames lick your face as you bow your head. “I-I didn’t see anything.”

His warm breath ghosts over your earshell.

“Liar,” he mumbles.

Your pulse quickens.

He leans back and nudges your chin upward.

“Since my wife fell sick, I’ve been very lonely. And sometimes…” He looms over you, crowding your space as you peer up at him, fingers squeezing the arms of the chair. “I need something soft and warm to forget that feeling.”

President Snow slowly falls to his knees in front of you. His fingers find your thigh, starting to creep under your skirt. A devilish glint sparkles in his cobalt gaze. He finds your center, pressing the sheer fabric into your folds. You gasp. He chuckles at your reaction. He starts teasing you through your panties, tracing your slit and dragging over your tender bud. Your breath hitches as the air around you grows hotter. You grow slick beneath his finger, your thighs shaking as tingles bloom on your flesh.

“Sir…” you whimper, tears welling up in your eyes.

He pushes further inside you, adding another finger, and you unleash an audible breath. You try to close your thighs. He places his other hand on your knee to keep you open for him.

The air in your lungs grows thinner as he rubs your core through your soaked panties. The friction is a delicious torture. Pleasure pools in your belly causing your face to burn with shame. You’re getting embarrassingly wet with President Snow’s attention.

“I just want a little taste,” he murmurs, his deep timbre bleeding lust. “Just one time and it’ll never happen again,” he promises fervently as his lips graze your ankle. You find some relief when his fingers disappear from your drenched center. But your respite is ephemeral. He slips his hands under your ass and tugs at your panties.

Panic widens your eyes. Cheeks ablaze, you pull at the material between your legs with both hands. But he’s stronger than you and effortlessly drags the fabric along your legs. A wicked smile plays on his lips as tears glisten in your eyes. It’s soon down to your ankles. You squeal when the president yanks the panties off your foot, tossing them aside. Cool air sneaks beneath your skirt, swirling over your bare folds.

Hands over your knees to keep you spread, his wolfish gaze sweeps over your glossy folds. 

Your skin heats, embarrassment gathering in your chest. You’ve never been this vulnerable and exposed in front of anybody before.

“Please, President Snow, s-stop…” 

“But you’re dripping, sweetheart,” he states smugly, sinking a finger inside your weeping core, as if to make a point. Your breath hitches. He takes his finger out sluggishly. You clench when he grazes one of your sensitive spots. “Just as sweet as I expected,” he hums, obscenely licking your essence off his long digit.

Without a warning, he buries his head between your thighs. A sharp exhale leaps from your mouth. His cool tongue traces a wet trail over your folds. President Snow traces maddening patterns over your swollen bud causing your eyes to roll back.

You card your fingers through his silken platinum locks, hoping to push his head away. But the delightful sensations grow too overwhelming. You unravel beneath his sinful ministrations, your limbs twitching as the thread of your thoughts comes loose.

Your grip on his hair weakens. Your belly tightens, your chest rising and falling rapidly. 

You jolt as his tongue flickers over your tender heap of nerves. 

“P-President…” 

He purrs against your folds and the vibrations rock through your core. You squirm in the chair. Your thighs quake. Your vision dims, your mind blank as waves of pleasure swaddle you in their tide. Protests scatter on your tongue, replaced by wanton whimpers and moans.

Electricity ripples through your spine as you cry out.

Bliss engulfs you and your legs turn liquid. Shame swirls in your gut as your juices coat his tongue. He drinks your nectar, elation rumbling in his chest. 

When he lifts his head, you hardly recognize him. The feral glow in his gaze chills your blood.

There is no time to collect yourself, realize what just occurred, as the blonde gathers your limp frame from the chair and places you on his desk. Documents and papers are flung to the ground as he grabs your thighs and presses his throbbing hard-on against your cunt. 

He hastily unbuttons his pants, freeing his hard length. He fists his cock and guides it through your wet entrance. Your back arches, the sudden intrusion robbing you of air. He reaches the hilt of you in a few seconds, giving you no time to accommodate his thick girth. You collapse over the desk, weak whimpers leaving you as your walls are stretched to their limit. He drags out of you, his pupils flaring as they trace the motion of his length in and out of you. Coriolanus leans over you. He snaps his pelvis into your hips, each of his thrusts tearing tearful moans from your throat.

When you turn your head, hot tears flowing down your cheeks, he grabs your chin so you’re forced to meet his lustful stare. Bracing himself on the desk, he reaches between your bodies to pinch your swollen clit. He plucks at your soft bud until you shatter around him with a sob. His throat bobs, a look of sheer bliss flitting across his face when you clench around him.

“I’ve been dying to fuck you the minute I saw you,” he confesses, trailing soft pecks over your collarbone. A sinister chuckle peals from his lips. “The way you looked at me with those sweet, innocent eyes…it made me rock-hard.” He tilts your chin towards him, his thumb skimming over your parted lips.

Satisfaction glimmers in his eyes as they flick over your prone form.

“You should thank me. Those boys at the Academy wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like you…” His cock twitches inside you. Sticky warmth spills from him, painting your walls and dripping past your hole. Drops of his seed leak onto the desk. A throaty sigh pours from President Snow’s throat as your cunt flutters around him.

His teeth nip the skin of your neck.

“...But I do.”

After what occurs in his office, you hope to avoid President Snow. Those hopes are swiftly dashed however. President Snow lied to you. It doesn’t happen once. In fact, you begin to lose count of the actual number.

Every time the president finds a little spare time, he summons you.

Sometimes you end up bent over the desk in his office as he pours the frustrations of the day into your warm hole. Sometimes he prefers you sprawled on your back in one of the multitude of luxurious beds in the mansion while he devours you as if you were his very last meal. And at times, he grows even more impatient and simply shoves you against a wall before ravaging you.

More than once, a maid or footman has walked in on the two of you, and you’ve had to swallow your shame and embarrassment.

As you’ve come to learn, the entire staff is aware of Coriolanus Snow’s insatiable appetite and none of them seems to care.

You feel sick, desperate, trapped in something twisted and awful you never signed up for.

But how does one say no to President Coriolanus Snow? The entire Capitol yields to his every whim. And you are the same. Here to bow and smile and lie back whenever he demands it.

You long to focus on your job, to care for Martius and nothing else. Whenever the boy looks up at you with those innocent blue eyes, eerily similar to his father’s, your stomach wrenches. You pray he never comes to learn what kind of man his father is. You wish he’d stay just as kind and sweet as he is now.

Those are the thoughts drifting through your mind as you watch Martius play with his toy trains. Your eyes wander towards the window. Outside, orange and purple hues are bleeding into the sky, the afternoon nearing its end. Your stomach coils. It’s during times like these that President Snow often seeks you out. You’ve tried to run away from him but it’s all a game to Coriolanus, and he always delights in chasing you through the hallways.

Your brows crumple as you note that Martius has stopped playing. He drops his toy and rushes to your side. Confounded by his behavior, you’re on the cusp of asking him what’s wrong…but your gaze follows what caught his attention on the other side of the room.

You fall silent, your eyes rounding in shock.

“Martius. Come here, my love,” says the blonde woman in a white robe and nightgown, her arms wide open.

Time stands still for a few seconds. It takes you a while to realize who stands before the door. She looks so different, more ghost than woman, her glassy blue eyes hollow and sunken. But her likeness is unmistakable. Even with her graying, limp tresses and ashen complexion, you recognize Livia Cardew. The president’s wife.

You bolt to your feet. Arms still open, Livia takes slow steps towards Martius.

“I’m your mom, sweetie. Don’t you remember me?”

The little boy’s fists clutch your skirt as he hides his face against your leg.

“You’re not my mom.”

A stricken look twists Livia’s features as she shrinks. As if her own son just drove a knife through her heart. Your chest twinges. While her abrupt appearance is a shock, you can’t imagine how she must feel. You place a hand on Martius’ back and try to nudge him forward.

“Martius. It’s the First Lady, your mother. Go on, hug her,” you urge softly.

He shakes his head, tears filling his eyes as he hides behind you even more.

You’re stunned. Has it truly been that long?

“Martius-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, Livia lunging at you, her eyes wild with fury.

“You! This is all your fault,” she hisses. She points at you and scoffs, “You’re his new whore, aren’t you?” Her mouth wobbles as she grips her head. “First you take my husband, now my son.”

Martius begins to sob. His loud cries overlap with his mother’s frantic yelling. You cover his eyes, tossing Livia an apologetic look.

“First Lady, I never meant-”

Before you can explain yourself, she grabs a nearby vase and smashes it. White roses scatter on the floor. Stomping all over the petals and broken glass, she collects one of the shards and races towards you. Terror numbs you. You freeze as Livia aims the shard at you, scarlet droplets dripping on her nightgown as she squeezes her fist around the glass.

Your eyes shut as you wait for the inevitable strike.

You shiver, waiting still.

But it doesn’t come.

“Livia, darling, that’s enough. It’s time for you to sleep and take your medicine.”

The familiar sound of Coriolanus’ voice causes your eyes to snap open. 

You watch him restrain a struggling Livia. She curses at him, fighting him with all her might. It’s a painful spectacle. 

“No, don’t touch me!” Other staff members rush into the room. It takes several people to hold Livia down, colorful expletives pouring from her mouth as she punches and kicks whoever comes close. “You’re killing me! You bastard! Give me my son back! Martius! Martius!”

The child trembles against your skirt, his tear-filled gaze stuck to the floor.

Eventually someone manages to stick a needle into Livia’s neck. She instantly goes limp, arm still reaching for her son in her last conscious second.

“Take her away,” Coriolanus instructs.

The first lady’s flaccid form is dragged out of the room. Still shaken by what you just witnessed, you don’t move a muscle. President Snow approaches you, worry swimming in his blue orbs. 

“Are you alright, dove?” He cups your cheeks, his brows crumpling as his gaze settles on your neck. “I’ll have Doctor Gaul look at you. She has an ointment for that.” He caresses your cheeks, smiling. You gape at him. How can he smile at a time like that? “It won’t even scar. I promise.”

You graze your neck. Your fingers come away bloody. Oh. Livia nicked you with the shard but you didn’t even feel it. Perhaps adrenaline numbed you to the pain.

“Dada,” Martius chimes, lifting his chubby arms.

Coriolanus’ face warms as he picks up his son. He tosses him in the air and catches him. Martius giggles through his tears.

“My sweet boy. That was very scary, wasn’t it?” he says, balancing his son on his hip. Martius nods and wipes his nose. Coriolanus flicks his cheek, beaming at him. “Don’t worry, son. The scary lady won’t bother you anymore in a few months.”

A wave of ice blows through your veins. You wonder why the president uttered those words with such certainty. Like a promise. Or a prophecy. Almost as if he knows exactly when the grim reaper will come knock on his wife’s door.

The next day, you hand over your resignation to Pandora. Her expression is skeptical as she gauges the manila folder you give her.

“This is for the president,” you announce.

She unleashes a deep exhale. “You should reconsider, sleep on it.”

You almost laugh. Sleep on it? You can hardly find rest, the picture of a disheveled Livia Cardew crying out for her son haunting your nights. Whatever befell upon the poor woman, you wouldn’t be surprised if her husband somehow had a hand in it. It broke your heart, seeing her like that, her own son unable to recognize her. You also despise the role Coriolanus forced you to play in erasing her memory.

All of it feels wrong. 

And most of all, you don’t want President Snow to use you to satisfy his lewd desires anymore. He took all your firsts, all the moments that should have been beautiful, and made them a nightmare you have to relive every time he touches you.

You respected him; you admired him. Now you can’t be in his presence without dread whispering through you. What will he make you do this time? How will he make you small and powerless again?

“I can’t…I can’t do this anymore. He can hire someone else to care for him.”

Pandora purses her lips and shakes her head.

“It’s really not that simple. The president has developed…a fondness for you.”

You bristle. “I have to go back home. Laertes is expecting me.”

“You won’t like what comes next, trust me.” Her gaze narrows. “No one leaves the president.”

Ignoring the shudder elicited by her daunting words, you pivot and make a beeline towards the exit. Pandora’s voice echoes down the hallways.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Depleted, you glumly make your way to the gates. You enter the car that takes you back home everyday. Your thoughts wander as the Snow’s house grows smaller through the car window. You were thrilled when you got this job. It felt like kismet after the year you and your brother had. A rainbow after the rain. A slice of hope.

How it all went to hell so quickly. You’re still reeling from it. You’ve no idea what you’ll do next. The only thing you know for certain is that you will not step foot into the Snows’ estate ever again.

The car suddenly halts. You bump your head into the passenger’s seat. Wincing, you grip the sides of your head. As you retrieve your senses, you look around. You stopped.

You toss a questioning look at the driver.

But before he can respond, the car door opens and you’re yanked outside. Two pairs of strong arms drag you away from the car.

You take in the blue uniforms of the men. Terror pulses through your blood.

Peacekeepers.

Noting the guns at their sides, you stop trying to resist. There’s no fighting against them, ever. They are the Capitol’s fist and carry the President’s will. You don’t stand a chance. In fact, you likely never did. You slump in their grip, despair thrumming inside you.

They escort you to a black car with tinted windows. Your pulse soars. You’ve only ever seen one individual step out of this car.

The peacekeepers toss you inside and slam the door shut.

Your fearful gaze rises to him.

He casually sits in front of you, his eyes narrowed.

“You disappoint me, dove.” He lets out a weary sigh. “After everything I’ve done for you…you try to leave me. I thought you were smarter than that.”

You twine your hands, sputtering, “I-I’m not the right person for this job, sir.”

He slides his fingers under your chin, tilting it upward.

“Oh but you’re perfect. My son loves you. You’re sweet, dutiful and most importantly…” He smirks. “You are mine. Mine to hold, spoil and fuck whenever I please for however long I please.”

The prospect fills you with dread. He wants you to be his toy again, submissive, available whenever he pleases.

“Sir…”

His jaw ticks, his hold on your jaw tightening.

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if your brother could attend the University, free of charge? A bright young mind such as his, I believe he deserves it.” His blue eyes twinkle. “Instead of, let’s say…end up in a District, his name chosen as a tribute in the next Hunger Games.” Your heart sinks to your feet. “That’d be awful, wouldn’t it? So cruel…” he mumbles, stroking your trembling bottom lip.

“No, please,” you beseech, tears swelling in your eyes. Your brother’s all you have left in the world. Nothing can happen to him. 

Coriolanus fondles your cheek, the tender gesture a sharp contrast to the wicked words rolling off his tongue.

“It’s all up to you, then, dove. As long as you behave, I’ll give you the world. But if you act like a little brat again…” A threat lurks in his soft tone, a glint of madness swaying in his cobalt orbs. “I really don’t know what I might do.”

Chills dance over your spine.

“I promise to never do it again,” you blurt out.

He pulls out a square from his breast pocket. It’s identical to the one he used the first time.

But a lifetime seems to have passed since that moment, the world now so different from what you imagined, and the man before you…even more so.

“Good girl,” he lauds while swiping away your tears. 

He shoves the pocket square back in its place. Coriolanus then beams at you as he starts unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his pants.

“Now, I’ve had a long, exhausting day. So how about you get on your knees for me and make it better with that sweet mouth of yours, dove?”

[rafesproperty]

A whole day of Rafe spoiling his precious gf... 💕

» masterlist

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You woke up not feeling like your usual self, it's been a long time since you've done something with your hair or went to get your eyebrows done, sticking to basic skin-care for a while now.

Best bet Rafe is not gonna let your quiet "I feel like shit," slide, he asks why, baffled because to him, you're the hottest girl in the world, but gets out of bed anyway, telling you to get dressed and tell him where you want him to take you first as he's cancelling his business meeting for today.

You're chuckling as he's driving you to your favorite place to get your eyebrows waxed and get an eyelash lift (he doesn't really know what that is... but anything to make his girl happy), he sits down in the waiting room and deals with some e-mails while you follow the nice lady inside. She waxes your eyebrows and chats with you while she works on your eyelashes, complimenthing their length.

Rafe gives you a smile when you walk out and wink at him multiple times, showing off your lashes, your mood being a lot better already. He wraps his arm around your waist, squeezing you gently as he pays the lady with his black card, leaving a tip for being so nice to his precious baby.

He drops you off at your favorite hair salon, knowing damn well hair will take a lot of time and no chance in hell he's gonna sit around. "Get anything you want baby, alright?" He hands you his card and kisses you on the lips, loving to see you so giddy and excited.

You end up getting a hair cut, new layers and a new fresh color, not too drastic of a change but noticable enough to make you feel so much better. Your hair looks amazing, it always does leaving the hairdresser, so smooth and healthy, bouncy and they always give you the perfect blow-out. You already feel confident walking over to Rafes car.

"Hey there," he mumbles and hands you a cup of coffee that he got you on his way here and wraps a strand of your hair on his finger, smirking. He's so wrapping your new hair around his hand tonight... "lookin' gorgeous," he mumbles and you lean in to give him a kiss.

"Thank you, Rafey." "Mhm," he mumbles and pulls you closer, making out with you for a worth while.

He finally pulls away after a moment, his lips all puffy from how much you kissed him, and he runs his hand through your hair, not able to stop touching it. "Wanna get your nails done?" He asks, ready to provide anything you want today.

"Yeah," you blush, still a bit shy to ask for something from him. "Wanna pick the color for me?" "Mhm, sure." He taps your thigh when he starts driving, thinking about it for a moment.

"Blue?" "I knew it," you chuckle. "How?" "Guys always pick blue," you giggle again and he frowns, not happy with that. He won't be like guys, so he grunts and suggests red and white, proud of himself that he picked two colors. He loves you in red anyway. Fuck blue.

Rafe tells you to go ahead and that he'll be there before you're done.

You are treated so nicely at the salon, the guy doing your nails offers you wine, the place smells so nice, clearly luxurious, their chairs are covered in red velvet, comfy. You are almost done with your set when Rafe walks in, a little bag in his hand, walking over to you and looking at your nails over your shoulder, kissing the top of your head and wrapping his arm around your shoulders, holding you and allowing you to rest your chin on his arm as you to lean into him, clearly getting the need to show off that you're his girlfriend the second he saw the guy.

"You like them?" You look up at him and show him your free hand, Rafe kisses your knuckles gently, avoiding the fresh nail polish. "Mhm, love them baby." He whispers and you notice the man doing your nails straightening. Rafe stays there like a guard dog, his arm wrapped around your neck and shoulders the entire time.

He pays for you, holding your hand and brushing his thumb over your knuckles as you both leave.

"What'cha got there?" You giggle, leaning over him to steal a look at the bag but he shushes you and pulls you away by your waist, his grip so firm it sends shivers down your spine. "Don't be noisy," he smirks and you scoff, which earns you a squeeze on your hip.

The sun is setting when he leads you to his car again, you smile and just pull on his hand. "Rafe," you stop him for a second and he turns around, worry evident in his eyes. "Yeah? What's wrong?" His hand cups your face immediately and you just admire how pretty he looks in the golden hour.

"Nothin’, just... thank you." You smile up at him and he grins, pulling you closer. "Anytime, princess." He purrs softly and leans down to kiss you. You once again make out for a while, his hands roaming your hips and yours wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

He wanted to wait a little, but you also look stunning to him right now, looking up at him with your big eyes like he’s your entire world, so he rolls his eyes playfully and offers you the bag, kissing your forehead. “Open it.”

“For me?” You place your hand on your chest dramatically and he bites your cheek in return, eager for you to open his gift.

You pull out the small box, opening it and you stare at the silver bracelet covered in gems and heart detailing. “It’s… wow,” you breathe out, taking it into your hand and taking a proper look, some of the diamonds reflecting the sun.

Rafe smiles and gently takes it from your hand to put it around your wrist, taking a look at it in the sun himself once he does so. “Thank you, baby.” You finally say, looking up at him with watery eyes. What did you ever do to deserve him?

“I love you,” he huffs and leans in for another kiss, this one gentle, soft, slow. You kiss him back, holding his face between your hands.

“I love you too. So, so much.” And Rafe’s just happy to hear that, happy to be the provider and to be appreciated for it. It’s all he needs back from you.

You don't ask him for anything else, but you notice that he's driving in a different direction than Tannyhill. “Where are we going?" You ask as you lean into the seat.

"Gettin' you new clothes, baby," he mumbles as if that's the most obvious thing in the world and you want to refuse but he gives you this look that clearly indicates his mind is already made up and you're not doing anything about it.

You walked around the mall, trying all sorts of skirts and dresses, and Rafe followed behind you, usually dragging you into the more expensive stores 'cause you wouldn't go there yourself.

He got you some tops and skirts but you were still looking for a dress you’d like enough.

He liked you in anything, so he said you should get whatever you were currently trying on, but you just chuckled and said no. He honestly loved it, what a great idea to have a treating my favorite person in the world day, he could just sit down and stare at your body over and over again as you tried on different stuff.

"I love this," he mumbled as he got up, not resisting the urge to wrap his hands around you when you tried on a tight velvet dress with a slit at your thigh, "you look so fucking hot," he exhaled and kissed your neck gently, nibbling and brushing his teeth against your skin.

"Mhm," you arched your back, leaning into him and he let out a quiet groan. "We're gettin’ this one." He decided and you giggled, nodding, taking it off, but Rafe stepped in front of you. "Wait, lemme help," he mumbled, eager to get it off you later again. He helped you strip, grabbed the dress and another sun dress you tried on earlier that he loved as well.

You wrapped your hand around his bicep, yawning when you finally left the mall and made your way over to his car for the last time today. Rafe chuckled and placed your bags in his car before opening the door for you. "Tired from doin' nothin', baby?" He teased you and leaned over the car door to kiss you before you got in.

"Tryin’ on clothes is exhausting, you know?" You joked back and he grinned.

"Wanted to take you to dinner, but—“ "Rafe I'm really tired," you said softly, still grateful for the thought.

"I know, me too," he grabbed your hand into his. "We'll grab food on our way, yeah? What are you feelin'?”

"Dunno," you mumbled and closed your eyes, your hand playing with his fingers. "Chinese?" "Alright," he agreed and grabbed the food in a drive through and finally drove you both back to Tannyhill.

You both sat down on a couch to eat and let some random sitcom play in the background. The second you both finished your food you were on his lap, straddling him, kissing him passionately and running your new nails over his skin, feeling how he shivered under your touch.

"Thanks, Rafey," you said again, grateful that he made you feel so loved. "Anything for you, m'lady, okay?"

You chuckled at the nickname, kissing him again, running your nails over his chest and tugging at his shirt, earning a groan from him.

[silkjade]

CLASSICAL CONDITIONING !

⤀ synopsis: careful how you tease the duke ⤀ cw: fem!reader, 'good girl', established relationship, unprotected + rough sex, overstimulation, use of handcuffs, lil bit of dom!wrio — ꒰ MDNI ꒱ ⤀ notes: i blacked out and when i came to, this was written && sitting pretty in my drafts

For the duration of your relationship, you’ve made it a habit to bring wriothesley tea every afternoon. It’s something that’s become so ingrained in his routine, that when the noon bell chimes two, he’s compelled to sit a little straighter, exchanging unrequited glances with the large double doors of his office.

As the minutes tick by, he finds himself a little more irritable, finds it admittedly more difficult to focus on the paperwork at hand. You're late and it's not until a quarter past, that he finally hears the familiar tap tap on the door, that indicates your much anticipated arrival.

By the time you make it to the top of the stairwell, the fragrance of freshly brewed tea has long filled the room, yet your boyfriend's eyes remain trained on the documents before him. Unbeknownst to you however, he's been reading through the same line for the umpteenth time, clearly distracted without your little midday pick-me-up.

“For your hard work,” you hum, setting the teacup to his side before stepping away and just missing—though in his opinion, dodging—his expectant lips.

Wriothesley blinks. It’s neither the tea nor the pastries that he looks forward to everyday, but the kisses that always follow — until today, apparently, where you’ve left him with the terrible notion that his lips are to remain grievously untouched.

He clears his throat. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Hmm,” pouting, you tilt your head, brows loosely knitted with cluelessness. “I don’t think so.”

Your duke leans back in his chair, arms crossed, before he huffs in amusement. “Single handedly halting the productivity of the warden,” he lets out a low whistle, “Could be a pretty hefty crime you know.”

“S’that so…” you seat yourself on the edge of his desk; it’s the playful little grin twitching at the corners of your lips that give you away. “Well what’re you gonna do about it, Your Grace?”

It's quite cute how you giggle at the way he’s wrapped around your finger, and given the lovestruck look in his eyes, he truly does not mind at all. However, that's not to say he finds it fair.

Because although they say it’s unwise to bite the hand that feeds you, this is not the nation of wisdom; here in Fontaine, justice demands an equitable arrangement, and as the formidable Duke of Meropide, it's in his right to enact his own... So it really should be of no surprise when Wriothesley shows no remorse as he drills into your gushing cunt, hellbent on conditioning you to cum on his cock and his cock only.

He makes sure to imprint the very shape of him into your walls: from the fat mushroom tip that first slips through your sticky folds, to the large bump of each vein dragging across your velvet insides — your little hole greedily swallows every thick inch of him. Over and over, every thrust sheathes him to the hilt, and the heavy sounds of skin against skin echo through the room.

The sudden cold of his fingers on your clit sends a shudder through your core, jolting as he begins to press and toy with the nub, legs twitching while his heavy balls continue to slap against your puffy pussy lips. You squirm in his hold — far too sensitive to cum again, but you're so close.

Your hips bounce back and forth, alternating between the hard edge of the desk that presses sharply into your skin, and the merciless ruts that penetrate so deep inside. But like the doting lover he is, Wriothesley takes note of your woes and makes a decision for you. He presses his weight into you, grazing his teeth lightly down the nape of your neck.

"Ah ah," he coos, "C'mon you can take it. Be a good girl for me, yeah?"

It’s a shaky, dreamy imitation of your voice, that nods along to the thin facade of agency; with your wrists cuffed behind your back, and body bent over, imprisoned between the warden and his desk, the only thing you can do is to take it.

Still, your walls tighten around him nonetheless, prompting him to angle his hips, hitting that spot with a precision that only comes with experience. You keen beneath him, spiraling into yet another dose of exhilarating bliss as you cum again, creaming all over the girthy shaft still buried in your wet mess of a cunt.

And as you're still shuddering from the intensity, consumed completely in the pleasure, Wriothesley continues to grind your insides. He's far from finished and intends to carry on until you’re blissed beyond any semblance of sane, drunk on the memory of being molded to his fat cock.

notes2: reblogs and feedback appreciated, as always ^^ ty for reading !

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[yuujispinkhair]

Because I need the comfort:

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). fluff + mentions of smut. Sukuna manhandles Reader but in a loving way. 18+. Minors don't interact. Divider @/chaefilm

You are a writer/artist or working on an assignment and have a breakdown because you are stuck. Boyfie Sukuna watches that for about half an hour before he gets up, wraps his strong, tattooed arms around you, and, without warning, lifts you up from your chair, away from your work, and into his arms.

You squeal in surprise, followed by a loud complaint as you squirm in Sukuna's tight grip. But Sukuna just laughs at your admittedly weak attempt to free yourself, throws you over his broad shoulder, and carries you away from your computer/laptop.

"Stop struggling, princess. It's no use anyway. If you think I will just sit here and watch my girl cry over work, you are very wrong."

"Baby, let go! I have to go back to my computer!"

But your boyfriend just laughs and shakes his head, putting you down on your feet again, but only to pull you against his side, restraining you easily, even with just one arm, as he closes the door to the living area. You watch with wide eyes as Sukuna locks the door and smirks that infuriatingly sexy smirk at you, holding the key above his head so you can't reach it, letting it dangle mockingly from one of his long, tattooed fingers.

"Sukuna, please! I really have to finish this!"

"No, wrong. I'll tell you what you have to do. You have to put on some outdoor clothes and go for a long walk with me."

Sukuna comes even closer, leaning down to kiss your neck and whisper in an equally amused and seductive voice,

"We'll get some of your favorite treats from the bakery and then drive out of the city. Fresh air will do wonders for your attitude, darling. And tonight, when we are back, I'm taking you out to dinner. And after that, I'll fuck all the rest of your attitude out of you."

His words make your stomach involuntarily flutter, and you stop struggling and instead look up at Sukuna with a small grin,

"I want the red velvet cupcakes and...," you put a hand on Sukuna's firm biceps, giving them a squeeze, and brushing your thumb over the tattooed lines, "maybe I already need a taste of that last part you mentioned right now."

The smirk on Sukuna's beautiful face grows broader, and his large hands slip down to your ass, grabbing it firmly and lifting you up again, making you wrap your legs tightly around his hips as he carries you to the bed.

"Sure, that can be arranged. My princess gets everything she wants."

"Just not my computer."

"Yeah, just not the computer. But my dick brings a lot more joy anyway, so that shouldn't be a problem."

[covenofagatha]

Okay but hear me out…

Agatha and Reader meet at a BDSM club? Kink level as far as you’re comfortable writing (though it would me amazing if there was a strap-on and maybe a fucking machine but only if you’re comfortable with it)

Hope I did it justice!

There's something in here for everyone

What's your fantasy?

Word count: 4600

Warnings: smut, exhibitionism, fingering, strap on, sex toys, degradation, praise, gagging, spanking, blindfolds, restraints, fucking machine, mommy kink (hope this is all)

This is a bad idea. 

That is the only thing going through your mind as you walk up to the doors of “The Velvet Hex.” 

Westview’s only BDSM club can be found in an unassuming part of town, in a relatively plain building. 

Definitely not what you were expecting. 

You aren’t even sure what you’re doing here, but your best friend Wanda had told you that you desperately needed to get laid and to go out and have some fun. 

But her idea of “fun” had come when she had plopped down in the chair of the library next to you and told you to take the BDSM test, gleefully holding up her phone with her results.   

So you had taken the test right there, turning more and more red as the questions went on, and when you finally finished, Wanda had looked over and let out a low whistle. 

“Damn, girl, you are kinky,” she had said as you compared yours to hers and you felt your cheeks burn even more. 

And then she had whispered, in the Westview University campus library, that her girlfriend’s roommate knew a woman who owned her own club like that, and they were having an exclusive invite-only night where anything was on the table. 

You had looked at her with questioning eyes, wondering where she was going with that, and Wanda had smacked your knee for being oblivious. 

“Nat’s roommate told us she could get us in if we wanted. We said no, but I’m sure Rio could get you an invite. You should go and explore,” she explained, a smirk plastered to her face while she wiggled her eyebrows at you. You weren’t surprised that Natasha and Wanda hadn’t wanted to get involved in that world, but you couldn’t ignore how the offer piqued your interest. 

You hummed casually. “Oh yeah?” 

And Wanda had grinned, seeing the wheels turning in your head. You were curious, that’s all. Obviously you weren’t looking for anything.

The next day, she gave you a letter on purple cardstock with a date, time, location, and password. 

At the moment, it seemed like a good idea. 

But standing here now, outside alone the club with the paper clutched in your hand, your heart is racing. 

You should turn back now and go back to your dorm. You could lie to Wanda, tell her that it was just okay, and no one would ever have to know. 

But a small part of your brain nags at you and tells you to go inside. You’re not sure why, but it feels like something from the club is calling to you, drawing you in. 

So you take a deep breath and knock on the door. 

A slot slides open and you can see a man’s brown eyes. 

“Password?” He asks. 

You clear your throat and hold up the cardstock. “Katoptronophilia.” You’re not even sure if you’ve sounded it out correctly, but the slot closes and the door swings open. 

You step inside hesitantly and take in your surroundings. 

The room is dimly lit with different colored LED lights glowing in different corners over doors that lead to different rooms. There’s a good amount of people in here, just mingling at the moment. There’s people dressed in leather outfits, or tight, short dresses, or nothing at all. 

Anything is on the table, you remember Wanda saying. You had done some research, just to see what you were getting yourself into, and the website had said that it was a tame environment, normally no sex allowed. But the exclusive, invite-only event tonight must be cause for an exception. 

You move a bit further into the main room, eyes darting all over the place. A woman yanks on a leash that’s connected to a younger man’s neck, forcing him down on all fours and making him crawl after her. A waitress bends over in a man’s lap to pick up a napkin she dropped, exposing her naked ass to him and his friends. Two women 69 on a couch while a third woman watches, slowly fingering herself to the sight. 

Feeling a little overwhelmed, you head to the bar. You’re really not sure what you’re doing here. 

And of course, the bartender ignores you. You try several times to get their attention, but people come up next to you, order something, and they get their drink immediately. 

You’re about to give up, maybe even just call it a night, when an older woman saunters in next to you. You don’t even look at her, rolling your eyes at how she will inevitably get a drink before you do. 

“Your usual?” The bartender asks her, and that makes you glance over. She’s a bit taller than you, long dark hair, bright blue eyes. She’s wearing a black blazer and pants, but under the blazer is a see-through bra. 

Your mouth runs dry. This is the first person you’ve seen here tonight that you actually find attractive. 

“Yes, please,” the woman next to you says, and then she turns her head to look at you and it almost stops your heart. “And what do you want?” 

You’ve been ignored so many times you’ve almost forgotten. “Oh, um, a Dirty Shirley, please.” The woman nods at the bartender, who starts working. “Thanks,” you say. “Do you come here often?”

The moment you say it, you cringe. Is it weird to ask someone if they’re a regular at a BDSM club? But the woman just laughs and shakes her head. 

“I’m the owner, darling,” she says and your mouth drops open. “Agatha Harkness.” 

“Oh,” you reply, completely dumbfounded. You introduce yourself and she reaches out her hand. You take it, feeling a spark at the contact. 

“So,” she drawls, eyes raking over your body, taking in your short dress and the amount of skin on display appreciatively. Your body burns under the intensity. “What brings you here for the first time?”

You frown. “How did you know it was my first time?” You don’t know why you’re even asking, it’s got to be obvious based on your tense composure and general awkwardness at being in this environment.

But she just smirks. “I would’ve remembered seeing you around here.” Surely the owner of this club is not flirting with you. “So?” 

Your brows furrow. “So?” 

“What brings you here?” She reminds you of her earlier question and you inwardly smack yourself. 

What exactly should you say? Your best friend thinks you should get laid and that you’re kinky? “Just wanted to try something new,” is what you settle on. “Get out of my comfort zone.”

Her grin widens and you see a slight resemblance to a shark about to get its prey. “And now that you’re here, how do you feel? Are you good with sitting here, or–” She leans in closer until you can feel her warm breath on your lips. You shudder at the proximity. “–do you want more?” 

“What are you suggesting?” You whisper back, a playful lilt in your voice, and you see her eyes light up before dropping to your lips. You close the gap before you can think too hard about it, brushing your mouth against hers. Your boldness surprises both of you and she chuckles darkly. 

“Whatever you want. Surely you have some things you want to explore, or else you wouldn’t be here,” she says, thumb coming up to tug at your bottom lip. You flick your tongue out against it and her eyebrow raises, urging you on. 

You shrug noncommittally, suddenly feeling much more confident. “Just wanted to spice things up a bit. See if there was any trouble I could get in tonight.” 

Agatha rests her head on her hand, dark eyes drinking you in. “Do you really want trouble though? Or do you want to be a good girl?” A tiny gasp slips out at the praise. 

“I can be whatever you want me to be,” you answer honestly and she draws you back in for a real kiss this time, all tongue and teeth and lips, and you can taste a hint of cinnamon in her mouth. She devours you like she can’t get enough until you have to stop to breathe. 

Agatha steps back and tugs you away by the hand, leaving the drinks the bartender had just put down in front of you. 

Figures that when you finally get your drink, you don’t even get to have it. 

But you can’t complain, because Agatha is weaving you through the crowd of people on the main floor, giving you the grand tour of the place. You see groups experimenting with ropes and someone teaching how to tie safe knots, you see spanking and flogging, the list goes on. 

Your head is spinning. 

Agatha stops outside a door in the back and looks back at you. “You don’t have to do anything that you won’t want to do, okay? You can say no at any point.” 

You gulp at the serious tone in her voice and nod. She pushes the door open and turns on the lights so you can see. 

Stepping into the room, your breath catches. Three out of four walls, including the one that the door is on, is covered from ceiling to floor in mirrors. The fourth wall, the one to the right of the door, is glass, looking into an adjoining room with couches facing you. 

In the middle of the room, there’s something akin to a hospital cot, although more comfortable-looking, a machine of sorts with a dildo attached to it, and then a table in the corner with more sex toys than you've ever seen in your entire life combined. There’s a chest under it and you can only imagine what’s in there.

“Jesus,” you rasp, taking it all in. You know you should be terrified, but with Agatha standing next to you just carefully watching, you feel eerily calm. “Do you – uh, what do you want me to do?” 

She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and cups your chin. “What do you want, sweetheart? I can give you anything.” 

Your mind goes a hundred miles a minute to try and figure out what you want, eyes darting back and forth between all the things in the room. “What are my options?” 

“Well,” she says slowly. “The second I hit this button –” She motions to a circle on the wall. “The light above the door to the other room will turn green and unlock and people can come in. I can hit it or not, completely up to you. Or it could just be the two of us in here, and I could make you feel so good, baby. Fingers, mouth, strap-ons, the machine, any toy you’d like. Whatever you want to explore or try, we could do it.” 

Her clinical words have you dripping. Hearing her say all the things she could do to you only makes you want all of it more. 

One thing gives you pause though. “People…would watch?” You say, trying out the words. You’ve never thought about having an audience for sex before. 

Agatha’s eyes darken. “A pretty young thing like you? Honey, people would do more than just watch.” 

You let out a small gasp. You know you should feel dirty, but the way she says it, like people would be so turned on watching you and Agatha that they’d have to do something about it, makes you feel like you’re floating. 

“But the door can stay locked,” she reassures, taking your silence as a bad thing. Little does she know, heat is coursing through you at the thought. 

“No,” you peep. “It’s okay.” 

Before doing anything, she grasps onto your cheeks and pulls you in for a long kiss. You swoon, knees almost buckling when her tongue slides into your mouth, and she moans at your taste. 

You didn’t know having this affect on an older woman would be this addicting. 

“Fuck, baby,” she groans, tugging on your bottom lip with her teeth and making you whimper. “I think you’re the most delicious thing we’ve ever had in here.” 

“Agatha,” you pant and you don’t miss her sharp inhale at the way you say her name. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” 

“I want you,” you tell her, kissing her earnestly again, and you did not imagine this was how your night was going to go in your wildest dreams. 

She finally breaks the kiss for air, resting her forehead against yours. “Get on the bed,” she orders, and you see a hardened glint in her eye, like something has shifted inside her. 

There’s no way to ignore how much that turns you on. A small noise escapes from your lips and you scramble to obey, sitting upright on the cot. 

She starts to make her way over to you slowly, but you stop her. “Can you hit the button?” You ask, voice small and timid, but sure of yourself. 

You see desire flit over her face as she smirks knowingly. The moment her hand presses it, you let out a quiet groan and clench around nothing. 

There’s a clicking sound and the door to the other room opens. Five people file in and take a seat on the couches and your breathing becomes heavy. There’s a slight murmur from the other side of the glass, but it’s all incoherent. 

But by the way they’re all looking at you, you don’t have to try that hard to figure out what they’re talking about.

“First things first,” Agatha says, now walking over to you. She’s whispering so your audience can’t hear. “Do you know what a safeword is?” 

You nod. 

“What do you want yours to be?” 

Your heartbeat picks up. “Will I need one?” 

Agatha shrugs. “Better to be safe than sorry. I promise I’m not going to go hard on you. At least not for your first time.” She winks and you feel a visceral ache inside of you. 

“Purple,” you say after thinking about it for a minute. She smirks at your choice and runs a hand through her hair. 

She looks you up and down again, just to make sure there’s no sign of hesitation. “Do you want to take your dress off?” She asks and you feel a pang of longing inside you for her. 

You stand up, nodding, and turn around so she can help you with the zipper. You can hear her chuckle from behind you and you watch in the mirror on the wall as her eyes drop lower as she unzips you. 

She peels the dress down your body and you step out of it, the entire thing feeling a bit surreal. Watching the scene through your reflection makes you feel like an outsider, like it’s not actually you in the mirror. 

Same hair, same face, same body, same lacy lingerie you put on earlier, but not the same person.

But when you watch Agatha plant kisses on the person’s neck and you feel them, you’re reminded that it is you. 

Your head drops back as her teeth scrape against your taunt veins and she sucks harder, pulling more sounds from your mouth. 

It’s a sight to see, the marks on your neck, the darkness of Agatha’s eyes, the way it looks like when her teeth sink into your skin.

Your breathing is ragged now and you can feel your slick on your inner thighs. 

“Please,” you beg, although you’re not quite sure what you’re asking for. Just more. 

Her grin in the mirror shows you that she understands completely. “Get on the bed.” This time, her voice is sharp, all traces of the softness from earlier gone. 

The scene has started. 

You clamber onto the cot, hoping it looks more sexy than you feel, and lay down on your back. Agatha comes to the side of you and pries open your legs, baring your covered, dripping pussy to the audience. You notice that more people have come in, and they’re hanging onto every movement. 

“God, you’re soaked,” she remarks, hand roughly cupping you and your hips buck. “Really getting off on this, huh? What a slut.” Her tone is scathing, but her eyes are watching your face carefully, just to make sure she’s not crossing a line. 

She’s not. 

It only makes you wetter and she can feel it. She chuckles condescendingly and you squirm. 

“You want me to touch you?” She asks and you nod your head so hard that it hurts. “Want me to show all these people what a good whore you are for me?” 

“Yes, please,” you gasp out, trying to ride her hand to feel just a little more. The hard pressure against your clit already has you feeling the tension building up in your stomach. 

She smirks and slides your underwear down your legs and holds them to her nose, breathing in your scent. 

“How would you feel about using these as a gag?” She questions conversationally, like she just asked you about the weather instead of something that sears your stomach and turns your world upside down. 

“Yes,” you breathe, desire raw in your voice. You feel like you’re drunk off her and she’s barely done anything to you. 

She grins and nods approvingly. “If you need to stop at any time and you can’t speak, tap me twice. Got it?” 

“Yes,” you say again and open your mouth wide so she can ball up your underwear and shove them inside. You moan at the musky flavor and you had no idea it would be so hot to taste yourself like this. 

Her fingers clasp your throat and you look at her with wide eyes, chest heaving with anticipation of what she’s going to do next. She trails her hand down and pinches your nipples through your bra. You stutter out a curse as she bends down and nips at your skin, tearing the fabric off without removing her mouth. 

And then her tongue swirls at your nipple and you keen, back arching off the bed. You can see the dazed looks on all the voyeurs’ faces, how they shift their weight watching, and it makes you want to show off more so they know just how good Agatha is making you feel. 

You garble around your panties incoherently, fingers twitching against the bed to stop yourself from showing her exactly what you need. 

She chuckles against your skin. “What do you want, baby? What do you need from Mommy?” 

At the pet name for herself, you let out an embarrassing whimper and a flush spreads throughout your body. 

“I thought you’d like that one,” she says smugly and before you can react, she sucks hard on your nipple and shoves two fingers into your waiting and wet cunt. A noise rips its way out of your throat and you throw your head back, hips frantically meeting every thrust. 

She lazily fucks you like she’s barely even trying to make you feel good, but it’s enough for you to get closer to the edge. 

You can’t do anything except take it, matching her thrusts, and your sounds get louder and louder, her fingers twisting and hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly, and you’re about to cum –

– and she yanks her fingers out of you, leaving your hips faltering against nothing. 

She sucks them into her mouth, eyes closing at the taste. “Sorry, baby. But you’re not allowed to cum yet.” She slaps your cunt with her open hand and laughs at the reverberating sound of your wetness.

You whine pathetically around the as she walks around to the table and picks up a dildo and harness. 

“Do you want me to fuck you with this?” She asks, showing it to you and then to the audience. You glance at them to find several bobbing their heads with even more enthusiasm than you have. “Sweetheart?” She says to get your attention. 

You jolt out of the stupor you were in watching them watch you with bated breath and nod breathlessly, babbling senselessly again around the gag.

She smirks and puts the harness on over her clothes. You’re not sure why, but being completely naked while she is still fully clothed only makes it feel dirtier, hotter.  

Agatha attaches the dildo, pours some lube onto her hand and strokes it, and then grabs two silk cloths back over to you. She fishes the underwear out of your mouth and trails of saliva connect it back to your mouth. 

“Get up,” she says roughly and you scramble out of the bed immediately. She turns the cot like it’s nothing, angling it so it’s parallel to the glass instead of perpendicular. 

So the audience will be able to see everything with Agatha fucking you with her strap. The realization makes you squeeze your thighs together, feeling the waterfall between them. 

She beckons you back over and each step you take puts pressure on your aching clit. It’s agonizing and yet, the most alive you’ve ever felt. 

You get back on the bed and she maneuvers you into a position where you’re on your knees near the edge, resting your ass on your heels. You watch yourself in the mirror as she takes both your arms and ties them behind your back with one of the silk cloths. And then she puts the other one around your eyes, so you can’t see anything. 

The change in your body is almost instantaneous. Goosebumps spread all down your skin, you can hear the rustling of Agatha’s clothes behind you, you can feel just how wet you are, you can even smell yourself; every sense has become so much more heightened. 

Her hand gently presses on your back and guides you down, positioning your face against the bed so your ass is up in the air with your hands behind your back. She rubs your cunt, smearing your wetness everywhere. 

“You like being watched don’t you?” She taunts, and while yes, you apparently do, you think it’s more because of her. “Dripping all over my club like a slut, just needing to be fucked.” 

You whimper and sway your hips because it’s all that you can do. And then there’s nothing. She removes her hand and you strain your ears to see if you can hear anything. 

And then without warning, there’s a loud smack on your ass and your body jolts forward, a surprised grunt coming out of your mouth. She soothes the pain with her hand and then the tip of her strap is sliding against your folds and you whine. She presses it against your clit which makes you shudder.

“Beg for it,” Agatha demands and you don’t hesitate. 

“Mommy, please, please I need it so bad, please fuck me,” you chant and are rewarded when she slowly enters you. 

Your mouth falls open but no sounds come out as she begins to thrust, gripping your hips so tightly you know you’ll have bruises. 

You want them.

“God, look at my baby girl taking my cock so well for me,” she coos but you can hear the exertion in her voice as she starts to pound harder. “Such a good slut, such a good pet.” You whine involuntarily and you can practically hear her smirking. You wish to god more than anything that she would take the blindfold off you so you could look in the mirror and see what you looked like. 

It doesn’t take long for you to reach your peak, after already being denied earlier, and you’re about to cum when she pulls out. 

“No,” you sob, convulsing uncontrollably, the feelings of your orgasm tamping down. 

She spanks you again. “What did I say earlier? You’re not allowed to cum yet. And stop pouting before I make you.” With another swat to your ass, she pushes back inside of you and sets the same bruising pace as before. 

It takes you even less time for your lower stomach to tighten, and she pulls out again right as you’re on the precipice. 

“Please, please, Mommy, let me cum,” you cry, your entire body shaking. 

She laughs cynically and starts fucking you again. You’re fully unable to move, just being rocked back and forth with her thrusts, nothing more than a glorified toy for her to use. 

And she does use you. She brings you to the edge and then stops at least five more times, and you’ve completely lost the ability to think. Words spill out of your mouth like you’re drunk on Agatha, which you think you might be. 

You’ve never felt this thoroughly ruined before. 

But this time, when she pulls out, she doesn’t push back in. You feel her hands untying the restraint on your wrist and then on your hips, flipping your pliable body over so you’re on your back. She bends your legs up on the edge and rips the blindfold off and the light, even though dim, hurts your eyes. 

“How are you doing?” She murmurs, scanning your blissed out face for any sense of discomfort. 

You babble something along the lines of “I’m good” or at least you try to. You’re not actually sure what she hears. 

But she smiles genuinely nonetheless and leans down to peck your forehead. “You’ve done so well for me, pet. I think it’s time for a reward.” 

“I get to cum?” You ask weakly and she chuckles. 

“Oh yes, baby. You’ll get to cum as many times as you want.” Your heart leaps at the promise and she drags over the machine with the dildo. Your breathing quickens and she angles it up so it’s positioned right at your stretched-out cunt. 

Before you can even breathe, she smiles wickedly and turns it on. Your head falls back and your back arches up violently when it begins fucking into you. The pace never falters and you cum almost instantly. 

Agatha leaves your side but comes back seconds later, holding a vibrator. You moan pornographically loud when she turns it on and positions it against your clit. 

You cum again shortly after. 

The machine keeps thrusting inside you, faster than you’ve ever been fucked, and the direct stimulation against the most sensitive part of your body has you practically sobbing at the pleasure. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re cumming again, and then another one weakly rolls over your body. 

But it’s too much now, all the edging and now the overstimulation is hurting so you start to squirm away from it. 

She instantly catches on and drops the vibrator before rushing to turn off the machine. 

You pant heavily on the bed, completely spent, and she lets you calm down, gently stroking your hair. 

Even though you know you have an entire audience, all you can see is her. 

“How was that?” She asks. “Too much?” 

You shake your head, feeling the slight sheen of sweat everywhere and all you can think about is needing to shake a shower. 

And when you can see Agatha again. 

“No, it was perfect,” you say truthfully, your voice hoarse. She smiles and kisses your lips. 

“We’re open Thursdays through Sundays,” she says and you laugh. “Come back anytime, baby. Although, keep coming back and putting on a performance like that, I might have to keep you all for myself.” 

Nothing has ever sounded so good. 

[live-at-fortune-city]

clean pics from the nmh3 site because idk if anyone else has posted em all together lol

[mattnott]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐔𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄

lorenzo berkshire x fem reader

SUMMARY. enzo knows how to push buttons, and what better way to get under his girlfriend’s skin than by flirting with someone else? WORDS.+5.8K. english it’s not my first language.

WARNINGS. smut, +18 mdni, porn w//plot, reader and enzo are 18, sub!enzo, oral! f receiving, pnv, dick riding, lick kink (?), unprotected sex, making out, established relationship, whipped enzo (kinda), flirting, jealous reader, pussy drunk enzo, finger sucking.

A chilling fog hovered over the vast castle of Hogwarts. The dense, almost spectral mist curled around the school’s tall towers and spiraled down to cover the surface of the Black Lake, spreading like a curtain across the landscape and blurring the boundaries between sky and earth, creating an endless sea of gray that made it nearly impossible to discern the horizon.

Outside was eerily silent, and the usual sounds of bustling students seemed muffled. The hurried footsteps, the distant laughter—everything seemed softened, silenced by the thick, damp air. Even the castle’s imposing stone walls, usually so solid yet welcoming, felt colder, more rigid than usual, enveloped by the heavy, damp fog that crept into every corner and corridor.

Within the castle, the torches flickered faintly, casting long shadows across the stone corridors. The few students who remained moved swiftly, their voices hushed, as if they didn’t want to disturb the heavy silence that had settled with the fog and cold, which seemed to cling to the walls, making them wrap themselves in cloaks and scarves in a nearly futile attempt to escape the biting chill.

In contrast to the school’s corridors, the Slytherin common room filled the air with an almost eerie yet comforting calm. The soft glow of green-tinged torches reflected gently off the leather and velvet armchairs, and the fire crackled in the large fireplace, though its warmth was still a bit weak, barely enough to drive the lingering chill from the stone walls. Not that it mattered much; most of the students had already gone to bed, leaving only a few by the fire, chatting quietly among themselves.

Lorenzo Berkshire was one of them.

Enzo was lounging by the fireplace in an old velvet armchair, the soft firelight casting shadows over his handsome features, highlighting the lines of his face and the playful glint in his gaze. He held his usual casual, almost lazy posture, yet there was a subtle mischief in his expression that contrasted with his apparent relaxation. A faint smirk played at the corner of his mouth as he watched his friends, Mattheo and Theodore, who were seated a little further in front of him.

Beside them, a small group of girls giggled at their conversation, though they seemed more interested in everything except the words being said, eyeing the slytherin trio with an almost obscene manner.

On the other side of the common room, you stood, almost concealed in the shadows, the soft glow of the fire casting a faint light on the pages of the small book resting in your lap. Yet, the book had long been forgotten, with only your fingers tightly gripping the pages as a reminder of its presence. Your attention, however, was completely focused on your boyfriend, Enzo, who was now dangerously close to a girl, her smile too provocative and wide, her laughter too loud for your taste.

It was torture.

You kept a distance, your heart skipped a beat as you watched them, and you could feel your body growing sick. The girl leaned in slightly, her hand brushing against the armrest of Enzo’s chair, and her laughter sounded too sweet in a way that made you want to tear your ears off and her tongue out. She was enjoying flirting with him far too much, way too much. Her eyes sparkled with the attention she thought Enzo was giving her, and it made your blood boil, almost as if your veins were about to melt. 

Still, you tried to keep your composure.

You could see the way his lips curled into another smirk, this time a more confident one—the kind that always made you want to reach out and wipe that annoyingly perfect face off. He was clearly toying with her, and while you knew you were the one who truly held his heart, that didn’t change the fact that you could feel your veins burning with anger. And what made it worse was that it was happening right in front of you, with him fully aware you were watching.

Every fake laugh he let slip with her made your ears ache, and every fake flirtatious glance he shot her way made your almost eyes bleed. But what twisted the knife was how everything he did felt intentionally exaggerated, as though he was either sending a message—or even worse, provoking you until you cracked.

And the worst part? It was almost working.

Enzo always loved doing that. He always loved drawing attention, but it wasn’t just for fun—it was almost like a weapon. Every gesture, every smile, every word, every step, it was all calculated, all part of his game. Nothing was spontaneous. He knew exactly what he was doing, how to manipulate the atmosphere, twisting every ounce of his charm to ensure all eyes were on him.

And it wasn’t just about being seen, it was about controlling how others saw him. Enzo was always one step ahead, and he knew exactly how to make everything he wanted fall right into his hands. Sometimes he just seemed to forget how that game didn't work with you most of the time.

You sighed sharply, flipping open the book again and trying to read, but the words blurred under your gaze. Your fingers dug into the pages, pressing harder before you could realize it, too furious at the scene playing out in front of you. Every muscle in your body tensed as you held yourself back from doing something reckless, forcing yourself to keep control so he wouldn’t feel like he’d won.

You wanted to scream in frustration.

You sighed sharply, flipping open the book again and trying to read, but the words blurred under your gaze. Your fingers dug into the pages, pressing harder before you could realize it, too furious at the scene playing out in front of you. Every muscle in your body tensed as you held yourself back from doing something reckless, forcing yourself to keep control so he wouldn’t feel like he’d won.

The girl seemed to be enjoying herself even more, too oblivious to sense the insincerity in his actions, too thrilled with the attention she was getting. She leaned in closer, her hand settling on his arm with an irritating confidence, her fingers now tracing along his sleeve. At her touch, Enzo shifted slightly, moving a few millimeters away, offering her a lazy grin, though you could detect a flicker of irritation behind it as he murmured something low, meant only for her ears.

“No touching, yet.” You read his lips, aware that Enzo was always the one to initiate contact but never the one to welcome it; you were the only one who held that privilege. ‘Yet’ felt like a hollow promise, one she’d never be able to do.

Unfortunately for you, she was too clueless to notice, and her irritating giggles grew louder as she pushed her hand on herself, convinced that he would give her what she wanted at any moment.

He wouldn’t, yet you still wanted to rip your eyes from your face, or perhaps tear out theirs.

Your grip tightened around the pages as her loud giggles echoed in your ears, the edges of the pages biting into your skin, leaving red marks behind. The temptation to march over there, to yank Enzo away by his hair and remind him that you were the only one allowed to touch him, was overwhelming.

You wanted to remind him that you, his girlfriend, were right there. But when his eyes finally met yours, that flicker of amusement in his gaze froze you in place. He knew. You knew he knew. And worse, you knew he was doing it on purpose.

Your relationship was always this way—small, calculated moves to unsettle each other, to test who loved the other more, who could push the other further, who felt more. Little games meant to sting, to spark jealousy, all leading to the same end: you finally giving in, begging him to be inside of you. But this time, you told yourself, would be different. This time, you wouldn’t beg.

No matter how much you loved him or how deeply you craved him, this time you wouldn’t give in. Still, the urge simmered within you, a desire to remind Enzo that he was yours just as much as you were his. The thought alone made you bite your lip in frustration, struggling to keep yourself from getting up and putting an end to this nonsense.

Enzo’s smile widened slightly when he noticed the frustrated look you cast in his direction, watching him intently. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes told you everything, he loved the power he had over you. The way your frustration was slowly eating away at you was exactly what he wanted.

As you refused to give in, he almost let out a tired sigh, bored by your resistance, until a wicked little idea flickered in his mind, making him drape his arm over the top of the sofa, and the girl's giggles grew louder as she stepped closer, gazing up at him like he was her next prize. She was practically begging for his attention, and though Enzo only offered her a fake smirk, you felt your blood boil once more.

You took a sharp breath, pulling your gaze away from the scene in front of you. You did your best to control the jealousy and possessiveness rising inside you, struggling to keep your anger from spilling over. But there was something about his nonchalance that made your resolve begin to crumble, the way he seemed perfectly at ease with what he was doing to you and your jealousy, making you feel like you were overreacting.

That was maddening.

But still, you stayed where you were, with an almost unreadable expression. You were no stranger to the games Enzo liked to play and the way he loved getting a reaction out of you, as if he was proving to himself that you cared.

The girl, too distracted to notice the tension between the two of you, leaned in even closer to Enzo. Her fingers lightly brushed against his arm again, a gesture that would have meant nothing to anyone else. But to you, it felt like a physical blow, and you couldn't help but clench your jaw, your fingers digging into the pages of the book again as you fought to maintain your self-control.

This time, he couldn’t win. You wouldn’t let him win again.

Enzo noticed your reaction—he always did. His smirk deepened, filled with satisfaction at seeing your discomfort mirrored by the irritation simmering within him.

He let the moment drag on just a bit longer, holding your gaze just long enough to make it clear he was fully aware of how you were reacting, before finally turning to the girl. An irritated smirk played on his lips as he leaned toward her. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” he murmured, his tone teasing but laced with acidity.

You recognized his behavior instantly. He’d never liked it when anyone besides you tried to touch him; he didn’t care for anyone’s attention as much as he cared for yours. You knew he was drawing a line, not because of her, but for of you, because no matter how far he went, his love, however twisted it was, was yours.

Only yours.

The girl, however, didn’t seem to take the hint, and you couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could be so stupid. Even Mattheo and Theodore exchanged looks, cringing at her annoying persistence.

But she only smiled wider, clearly convinced his words were part of some flirtatious game, part of the charm he was known for. She leaned in closer, determined to close the distance between them, as if she could break through the invisible wall Enzo had put up around himself, a wall that only you were allowed to pass.

Still, you were on the edge, feeling the rational part of you slip through your fingers, but you forced yourself to stay seated. Your nails dug into the fabric of your pants, the book now discarded on the floor as you kept watching them, the jealousy eating you alive.

You tore your gaze away from him for a moment, focusing on the cover of the book, desperately trying to calm the storm raging inside you. But then you felt it—his deep chocolate eyes on you again, the weight of his gaze pulling you back to him.

He was staring at your face, a frown tugging at his brows, but it was the fucking smirk that made your blood boil. It was as if he could sense every reaction you had and could read every thought that flickered through your mind. And the worst part? Enzo could.

And now, every time the girl giggled even louder in an exaggerated manner and grabbed your boyfriend’s arm with even more confidence, it wasn’t just jealousy anymore, it was something more insistent, something sharper. Your blood wasn’t just boiling anymore; it was exploding, almost tearing through your veins.

Enzo was pushing you, testing your limits to see how much you could handle before all hell broke loose. He knew exactly how to make you squirm, how to make you feel small or powerful, even without trying. And yet, somehow, you were still clinging to your composure, even though the final straw was closer than you realized. You were going to lose it, you were definitely going to lose it.

Then, just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, Enzo’s gaze sliced through the air like a blade. His lips moved lazily. “She’s just playing,” you read his lips, the words meant only for you, his posture softer than you had ever seen, his eyes never leaving yours. “Nothing serious, princess.” You read his lips again, your hands gripping your pants harder. But deep down, you knew if he had said it aloud, his voice would be dripping with mockery.

You inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to stay still and cling to the little dignity you had left, refusing to let him get under your skin any further. You had been holding your ground, resisting his game—until now.

But then, as if sensing your resolve cracking, Enzo shifted slightly, discomfort flickering across his face at her touch, but the smug relaxation in his posture betrayed the satisfaction beneath. He knew exactly what he was doing, pulling you back in.

His arm still draped over the back of the green sofa, casually claiming the space, as if he had all the time in the world. The girl, still completely unaware of her role in his twisted game to have you, leaned in even closer, her lips inches from his ear.

That's when it happened. The final push.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Without a word, you stood up abruptly, your steps heavy on the floor, the sharp echo reverberating through the communal room, drawing the attention of the few students still lingering. Their eyes followed you, tracking every swift, angry movement.

You ignored the shifting shadows behind you, finally accepting that you’d lost and making your way toward your boyfriend. 

Enzo’s eyes followed your every step, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as you reached his chair. Without giving him a chance to say a word, you grabbed his tie, not gently, but with a force that made him falter for a second. You drove him to his feet, dragging him away from the girl in one fast gesture.

His friends exchanged knowing glances, amusement dancing in their eyes, but none of them dared to interfere, too entertained by whatever was happening. The girl blinked, her flirtatious smile quickly fading as she watched you drag Enzo toward the dorm stairs. The way he didn’t resist.

He never did when it came to you.

Your hand stayed clenched around Enzo’s tie, gripping it with a possessiveness that radiated a silent claim as you reached the stairs, your eyes scanning the path ahead, oblivious to the satisfied gaze he kept locked on you. His smile widened when you gave his tie another firm tug, his eyes gleaming with a dark, consuming hunger, pleased that you’d put an end to the scene, pleased that you’d proven exactly what he wished.

As you reached your dorm door, you spun to face him, frustration and anger simmering in your gaze, your breaths shallow and unsteady. Your hold on his tie tightened, possessive and unyielding, as you pushed him inside, disregarding the smug smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. The dark glint in his eyes only made your blood burn hotter; he’d been waiting for this, savoring every second, but you would not give him what he wanted, not yet.

Once you were both inside the room, you released your grip on Enzo’s tie, shoving him into the chair with an intensity that matched your boiling anger. You could still feel the heat of jealousy coursing through you as you moved, your steps quick and agitated. Enzo, though taken aback for a brief moment, quickly regained his composure, his smirk transforming into a playful, charming smile.

He watched you pace the room, his eyes gleaming with amusement, as you pressed your hand to your forehead, trying to control the anger you felt.

“You seemed a bit... tense back there, princess.” Enzo’s voice was smooth, teasing, as he settled into the chair, his gaze dark and unwavering on you. “Need any help?” he continued, his tone still playful, but the edge in his smile faltered when you shot him a sharp, cutting glare. He knew you were angry. He could feel it.

“Don’t even try, Enzo!” you snapped, your voice laced with frustration. Normally, you would have played along with his games, but tonight, you were beyond furious. Maybe it was the stress of the day or just the suffocating weight of everything, but this time, he’d gone too far.

Enzo’s smirk faltered for a brief second, but it was enough for you to catch it—the flicker of regret that crossed his face before he masked it. He was trying to read you, testing the waters, but something seemed to shifted.

“That girl… What the fuck were you trying to prove?” you demanded, stepping closer, your hands balling into fists at your sides as your frustration flared.

He didn’t want to upset you like this; you knew that. He loved you too much for that. He always showed it with sweet words, declarations, and little gestures that made you feel like you were everything to him.

But underneath it all, there was that part of him, the part that couldn’t stop playing his games. He had always been the center of attention, drawing people in with ease, but when it came to you, it was different. You were the only one who held his heart, and yet, in his own way, he still craved the control.

Pushing boundaries, testing limits, he couldn’t help it. Not because he didn’t care for you, but because, in some twisted way, he needed to know just how far you would go for him.

Yet, Enzo sometimes seemed clueless to the fact that he already held your attention completely and that was his mistake. He always thought that his way of loving was the only right way, always wanting you to meet his standards.

“I wasn’t trying to prove anything!” he defended himself, though his voice faltered slightly, a crack betraying him as he watched you intently, that was not the reaction he wanted. 

“Oh, right, of course you weren’t!” You rolled your eyes, noticing how Enzo flinched just slightly at your reaction, his gaze fixed on the way your fists clenched as you tried to hold yourself back. “Is that why you let that fucking girl throw herself at you?” You shot back, not really waiting for a response, as you took a step closer.

Enzo held your gaze, and for a moment, his usual charming smile faltered, replaced by something more vulnerable. But he quickly masked it with his familiar defiance, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes met yours with that challenge you knew all too well. 

“Oh, come on!” He said, standing up from the chair with a bit of awkwardness, his eyes following you as you got closer, his throat tightening as he swallowed. For a moment, it was hard to tell if it was vulnerability or eagerness in his gaze, or maybe both. “She didn’t mean anything, and you know that,” he muttered, his voice dropping as he watched as you moved closer, his usual confidence flattering. 

“That’s not the damn point, Lorenzo!” you snapped again, your frustration building as you stepped even closer, refusing to acknowledge the way his gaze lingered on you.

“It’s the fact that you let it happen, knowing damn well I was right there. You wanted me to get angry, just to see if I’d snap.” You stood before him now, your eyes burning into his, not ready to lose once again.

Enzo was beginning to get frustrated, hating how his mistakes and sick games were coming back to bite him, but that wasn’t what upset him the most. Under the surface, there was a part of him that wanted you to react like you always did—letting him take control of the situation, giving him the pleasure he craved. But another part of him couldn’t help but enjoy this side of you—the bitter, sour side.

It made him wonder how far you would go before it broke you or what you would do before that happened.

He continued to watch you carefully, his eyes flicking over your face as if searching for the reaction he so desperately craved. A hint of hesitation lingered in his posture. “Maybe I want that,” he admitted, barely above a whisper, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Maybe I wanted to see if you’d fight for me. If you'd... show me that I mean enough to you to get that reaction, like you always do.” Enzo continued, and you furrowed your brows.

You took another step closer, closing the distance between you, feeling your anger morph into something darker—something raw and almost intense, your heart racing. “You think I wouldn’t care?” you said, your voice low, but with a sharpness that even surprised you. “I’m your fucking girlfriend! You really think I’d just stand back and let you play your games without reminding you who you belong to?” You snapped, your words barely a whisper, fighting to keep control, but the edge in your voice betraying you.

A flash of surprise and excitement crossed Enzo’s face, and for a moment, it seemed like he was about to say something, to defend himself. But instead, he bit his lip, clearly satisfied with your response. His eyes darkened as he looked down at you, his hands gripping each other, as if holding himself back.

He wanted you so much in that moment that it made him feel sick with need.

You took another step, your chest now pressed against his, feeling his warm breath against your skin. “I don’t want to play games every day, Enzo,” you admitted softly, but your eyes mirrored the hunger and craving in his. As much as you loved the games, they were starting to tire you out. “I want you. All of you. Without having to fight for it every time.” You watched as he swallowed at your words.

He was starting to get heavier, his rational instincts slipping away, as if his brain was losing control. His hands were sweating, gripping each other tightly, his neck and body trembling, and his throat went dry as he fought to keep himself together.

Enzo didn’t know how much power words could have over him, how they could excite him to the core and strip away his rational thoughts. A part of him hated himself for how he used to take action instead of simply listening to what you had to say. He was sure his heart and veins might explode at any moment.

“Fuck, princess,” he muttered, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek, his touch almost tender. “You already have all of me.” He admitted, his breath ragged.

“I do?” you asked, your eyes lingering on his lips, the moment feeling almost obscene. But Enzo seemed too distracted.

“Heart, body, and soul,” he whispered, his voice steady but low, his breathing growing heavier with each word. “You can have me anytime. I’m yours to ruin.”

With that, you couldn’t take it anymore. Before he could say another word, you gripped his neck, pulling him toward you and kissing him with such intensity and dominance that he was sure he was losing himself in it.

The kiss was rough and erotic, like an inferno consuming you both from the inside out. Your boyfriend couldn’t help but gasp as he felt your nails scratching down the back of his neck, pulling him even closer against your body. You could feel his hard length pressing against you, but you didn’t care.

You continued to kiss Lorenzo, tongues tangling and teeth grazing each other as any hint of restraint vanished moments ago. Your bodies pressed together, harder with every second, until he could feel his pants growing painfully tight around him. You both savored the familiar flavor of each other, but there was a nostalgic hunger in this kiss, one that left you both drunk with need, as if it were the first time all over again.

You dragged your nails down his neck, marking his skin with fierce intent, and he felt himself surrendering further to your control, a thrill he hadn’t expected but now craved. It was as if he were letting your pent-up anger devour him, wild and unrestrained, leaving him utterly at your mercy.

And God knows he was loving every second of it.

The way you were consuming him felt maddening, and he clung to you desperately, as if you were the only thing keeping him alive. He’d forgotten how your tongue was the one that stole the air from his lungs, how your hands gripped and scratched at his neck. He was so lost in the sensation of your body against his that he didn’t even realize when you were both completely bare.

It wasn’t until your hard nipples brushed against his skin that he froze, a deep groan escaping him as he pulled away from the kiss, his tongue slipping from his mouth as he gasped for air.

Enzo looked at you, ignoring the pain in his neck as his eyes devoured your body with a familiar hunger. His tongue still hung from his mouth, and another moan slipped from his lips. Without warning, you moved closer, your tongue flicking out to tease his, dragging a slow, deliberate lick across it, making him groan again, unable to hold back.

He couldn’t help but feel his cock throbbing harder, knowing that if he looked down, he’d see it straining, bigger than it had ever been before.

But Enzo couldn’t help it. You’d never done that before. He’d never felt your tongue lick his, at least not when you weren’t kissing or tangled in one of your make-out sessions. This was different. You’d only given him a taste, and Lord knows how much he craved another. It was like you’d woken something deep hidden inside him.

“Again,” he almost begged, his voice thick with need. You looked at him, watching as he pushed his tongue out again, desperate. “Again, please,” he begged, his voice barely a whisper. You couldn’t help but smirk, grabbing his neck and pulling him closer, your tongue meeting his in a slow, teasing lick. You devoured his tongue, feeling the slickness of his muscle against yours, swallowing his moans as your tongue dominated his. 

His hand gripped your ass, holding you against him as if he were trying to keep himself from collapsing. He let out a breath against your tongue when he felt your nails dragging over his skin, a sharp reminder that no matter how much he touched you, tonight he had no control over you.

And you couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction.

You kept licking his tongue with yours, savoring every bit of his taste, staying just far enough to keep from kissing him but close enough to feel the heat of his tongue. But now, it wasn’t just your tongues that were rubbing together. A moan escaped you, just like Enzo’s, as you felt his cock sliding against your bare pussy, his hips grinding, desperate to press himself deeper into you.

“Enzo,” you moaned, pulling your tongue from his and ignoring his desperate protest, too consumed by the way his cock pressed against you, even though he wasn’t inside yet. “Shit, Enzo, I need to ride you, fuck.” You moaned again, grinding your hips against his, your rhythm rougher, more demanding than his, taking control.

He moaned at your words, “Do it, oh please, do it.” Enzo gasped, letting himself be guided toward your bed, sitting at the edge as he gazed at your body, his legs growing weak from the soft blankets beneath him. But the softness of the sheets did nothing to ease his anxiety when his eyes locked on your glistening, bare pussy, soaked with desire. “Sit on me, please... Just let me be inside you,” he begged, his voice trembling, almost pathetic in its desperation.

You sat on his lap, both of you moaning as you felt his cock teasing your entrance, yet you didn’t let him inside—at least not yet. You let yourself play with him, grinding your hips against him, listening to his moans as his cock slid through your wet folds.

When he was on the edge of begging again, you finally gave him what he wanted, moaning as you sank down, feeling him stretch your walls, filling you completely.

“Fuck!” He screamed in a moan, his hands gripping your thighs as he felt you riding him, your hips moving back and forth, squeezing his cock in a way that made him gasp. “Your pussy feels so fucking good, princess,” he groaned, his voice broken. “So fucking tight… so good.”

You could see the tears in Enzo’s eyes, and it only made you ride him harder, faster, your hips grinding down on him with more force. You arched your back, feeling him get impossibly tighter inside you, your walls clenching around him as you moved.

You could feel him trembling beneath you, his body shaking as you rode him.

He was moaning loudly, unable to remember the last time you two had such passionate sex, but he was loving every fucking second of it. He didn’t care that he’d begged for you to ride his dick like this—what mattered was the way your cunt squeezed him, how your thighs wrapped tightly around his torso, the way your back arched as you moaned, and how close he was to fucking cumming.

It was too much; he needed to let go, to cum inside you.

“Princess, fuck… I need to cum, please, let me. He begged, tears slipping from his eyes as he spoke. But you pulled him closer, your arms tight around his neck, bringing his face to your hard nipples, letting him kiss and suck on them.

“Me too, me too,” you moaned, breath hot against his ear as you felt his mouth teasing your nipples, the sweet contrast to the filthy act you were both caught in. With each moan, his cock slid deeper, pressing harder into you. “Let’s cum together, okay?” you asked, and Enzo nodded eagerly, pulling you tighter against him as his hips ground against yours.

The pace quickened, rougher now, and soon you both came together, your bodies shaking as you reached your release. Breathing heavily.

Enzo looked up at you, breathing heavily, his eyes filled with tears. You had to fight the urge to come again from the sight of him, so you stayed silent, watching his desperate gaze. You could feel the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through both your bodies as his hands roamed your back, his eyes still full of hunger, the desire never fading. But you didn’t speak, letting him take the first step.

“I...” he began, his breath ragged as he struggled to speak. “Princess, let me clean you up, please,” he asked, almost whining. You blink softly, trying to process his request. “Let me eat your pussy; I’ll be quick, I promise,” he pleaded, his desperate chocolate eyes locking with yours. Seeing the need in his gaze, you couldn’t help but nod, giving in to his request.

Enzo let out a relieved sigh when you nodded, lifting you carefully off the bed and sitting you back where he had been. You felt his cum from the sheets smear against your thighs, a shiver running through your body as the sticky liquid made contact with your skin, making you gasp with the sensation.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you look so fucking good from here,” Enzo whispered, his eyes locked on you as he knelt between your legs. “Your pussy’s so damn pretty,” he murmured to himself, his hands slowly spreading your legs apart, making a shiver run through your body.

“Enzo,” you murmured in anticipation, feeling your throat salivate with need.

“Just a moment, I just need to look a little more,” he said, his eyes fixed on your pussy with pure craving, his chest rising and falling with each breath. “So fucking pretty,” he muttered, leaning in closer to your folds, his pupils dilating as he took in how wet you were. He couldn’t help but let out a groan, his fingers moving to touch you.

With his touch, you moaned, his fingers moving slowly from top to bottom as he felt your arousal from your first orgasm coating his fingers. You could feel his other hand on your thighs, his fingers teasing, almost reaching your ass.

Enzo brought one of his fingers to his mouth, sucking your release off with obscene eagerness, and you couldn’t help but grip the sheets tightly as you watched his tongue circle around his finger, savoring every drop. The other hand grabbing your tight again.

“Oh, princess, you’re so sweet,” he groaned, his face inching closer to your cunt. But before he could take his first lick, he paused, extending his arm and placing his fingers, still coated in your wetness, in front of your mouth. “Can you suck them for me, sweetheart? Please?” You nodded eagerly, sucking his fingers clean, and once they were coated with your saliva, he buried his face between your legs, the first lick merging with the next as he devoured you hungry.

That was heaven.

“Enzo!” you almost screamed as he licked and sucked your folds with feverish intensity, his nose pressing against your folds as his tongue plunged into your wet core. It was messy—so fucking messy—that he seemed lost between your legs, as if he wasn’t trying to escape, he wanted to stay there, devouring you, tasting you, being dragged into madness.

And you didn’t mind; your fingers tangling in his sweaty hair, pushing his face harder against your pussy as you screamed his name. You didn’t want him to stop, and even if you did, he wouldn’t. Not with the way his tongue was relentlessly devouring and penetrating your cunt with perfect precision. It was messy—wild—but he didn’t care, and you even less. He was lost in the sensation, giving everything he had to please you, and he loved every second of it.

Your taste was making Enzo moan, making him drunk with the flavor. He couldn’t help but moan against your pussy, the vibrations sending shivers through your body, causing you to moan uncontrollably. “Oh, princess, you have such a pretty moans,” he murmured against your pussy, savoring every drop of your previous release.

Without warning, you came hard against his mouth, screaming his name with fervor, and he swallowed everything he could, savoring all the screams, while the rest of your cum mixed with his own release, soaking the sheets beneath you both.

You could had cum again with the sight.

Enzo pulled away from you, your arousal still on his chin, breathing heavily as he stared up at you with his usual mischievous grin, all his begging going away. “You know, I think I should flirt with other girls more often,” he teased, his voice warm as he sat on the floor, his eyes locked on you still perched on the bed.

“Shut up!” You playfully kicked him, causing him to laugh. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but there was no real bite behind your words.

He laughed again, his gaze softening as he looked at you with love. And for the first time, you seemed to be looking forward for his next mistake.

Loving Lorenzo was intoxicating, but nothing made you feel more alive than he did.

© 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚝₂₀₂₄ — 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎.

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

this is my first lorenzo berkshire one-shot, so please be kind and respectful! also it’s 4 am so might have grammar mistakes.

thanks for being my fav beta readers: @bucksplum & @earth4angels love you both (a little) 🐣 < 3

[ahqkas]

BRUCE WAYNE never thought something as simple as a walk through the park could undo him so completely. he had been passing through on his way to a wayne foundation meeting, a brief moment of peace in his usually packed schedule, when his eyes caught the scene.

a toddler—no more than two, maybe three years old—stumbled through the snow, mittened hands clutching tightly to her father’s pant leg. she was bundled in a too-big scarf and a pink hat, hear head tilted to gaze at the snowflakes around her, her cheeks red from the cold.

he froze, mid-step, completely caught off guard by the wave of baby fever that crashed over him. it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about children before. he already had a house full of them—though they came to him much older, with the weight of trauma already etched into their young faces. but this was different. she was different. he imagined a tiny girl like that in his life, her small hand slipping into his with absolute trust, her laughter filling the empty corners of wayne manor.

by the time he returned home, the manor blanketed in snow, his gloves still clutched in his hands, his thoughts had become a single drumbeat: i want that.

he found you in the library, a fleece blanket draped over your legs, a book in hand as you sat in your favorite chair by the window. the firelight flickered over your face, softening your features, making you look like you belonged in one of the stories you loved so much.

“you’re back early,” you said, voice breaking the stillness. you glanced up from the book and your lips quirked into a smile that stopped him in his tracks. “everything okay?”

he didn’t answer right away, his gaze tracing your features like he was committing them to memory. finally, he crossed the room, shedding his coat as he went, draping it across the back of the chair opposite yours.

“i saw something today,” he said, his voice low, almost thoughtful. bruce knelt before you, one hand resting on the arm of the chair as the other gently took the book from your hands. you let him, brow furrowing slightly as you tilted your head at his actions.

“what did you see?”

“a little girl,” his eyes locking onto yours. “she couldn’t have been more than two. she was holding onto her father’s leg, bundled up in a scarf that practically swallowed her whole. she was laughing.”

his words lingered in the space between the two of you, thick with unspoken meaning. your expression softened as you realized where this was heading, fingers brushing against his hand where it rested on your chair.

“she reminded me of something,” he continued, his voice dipping lower, rougher. “or maybe she made me realize something. i want that, with you. i want us to have a child—a little girl, a boy, i don’t care. i just . . . want it to be ours.”

your breath hitched in the back of your throat as your cheeks flushed—not just from the fire, but from the intensity of his words, of the way his eyes burned into yours like he could see every part of you—the future and the past. “bruce . . .” you began, voice barely above a whisper, but he leaned closer, cutting off whatever protest or question lingered on your lips.

“it’s all i could think about on the way home,” he murmured, his forehead brushing against yours, his voice dropping to a husky, intimate tone. “how much i want to see you holding our baby, to watch them grow up with you. to give them everything we didn’t have.”

you swallowed hard at his words, your soft hand sliding up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over the faint stubble there.

“well, it’s a good thing we’re snowed in tonight.”

bruce froze for a moment, then a slow, knowing smile curved his lips. he rose to his full height, pulling you gently to your feet, the book forgotten as it tumbled to the floor.

“is that so?” he asked, his voice like velvet, rough and warm all at once.

you didn’t answer with words, just slipped your hand into his, your gaze steady despite the flush painting your cheeks. your husband pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your lips, before guiding you from the library, the firelight casting long, flickering shadows in your wake.

and as snow continued to fall outside, the world quiet and still, the manor felt a little less cold that night.

[aprilcarstairs]

Austin Children Kids Room

[cloudzoro]

Girl, since you mention the OP dilfs, I would LOVE to see some headcanons or something about either how they flirt with you or when they realize they like you 👀👀👀

you can add who you like but I’m begging for Shanks and Mihawk ✨🧍🏽‍♀️

hi!!!!! I went with 'realising they like you, and I actually added most of the dilfs. hope you enjoy 🤤🙏

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Realising He's In Love | ♡

characters: beckman, buggy, crocodile, dragon, mihawk, shanks, smoker

cw: fem!reader, crocodile's is suggestive,

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Beckman

Beckman realises his love for you on a random cold morning.

It's a very rare calm day aboard the force. Beckman, sitting in a chair on the deck, listens to those of his crewmates who are awake this early, navigating around the ship. He hears your voice humming a pretty tune. He hears the clanking of pans in the background, giving away your location.

When he enters the kitchen, he sees you dancing around and helping yourselves to Lucky Roux's ingredients.

“Whatcha doing?” he asks. He laughs as you jump, startled by his interruption.

“It's kind of chilly out, and you were running a little cold this morning, so I'm making us some nice warm breakfast,” you say, adding ingredients to a pan. Your desire to take care of him warms him up enough already. He walks up to you and wraps his arms around your waist. He buries his face into your neck as he hums in response. The domesticity of it slaps him in the face. A warmth spreads through his body. He understands, in this moment, what it is to truly love someone, but he'll keep it as his little secret for a while longer

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Buggy

Everyone is so mean to him. All his life, he's been treated poorly. Then he meets you; you're a subordinate of Mihawk's that he's brought along to the cross guild. Mihawk is a solitary creature, so the fact he keeps you around must mean you hold some value to him. This fact scares Buggy; it makes him distrust you, even if you're so kind to him.

You talk to him gently, offer to pour him drinks when he stops by Mihawk's tent and patch him up when his two business partners beat him down. At first, he thinks you have alternative motives, that this is a ploy, and you're going to hurt him in some way. Then, he thinks you're patronising him and taking pity on his poor soul.

It takes Mihawk stomping his boot down a little too hard, which causes you to step in and beg your boss to back off, to make him realise you genuinely care about him. You standing up to Mihawk despite what repercussions it may have is the day he realises that he doesn't ever want you to leave.

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Crocodile

He's pretty into you from the beginning, but he doesn't fall quickly. You're a colleague, a hard worker, and he likes you. He takes you to many galas and events and proposes that the two of you should work together more often. That leads to the two of you being tangled in the sheets, and Crocodile makes it clear to you that this ‘relationship’ is sexual in nature and nothing more. You're fond of the man, but you keep your feelings to yourself. Until one night when he needs to take his stress out and finds himself unable to be rough with you.

He doesn't lay your back against his sheets, doesn't flip you onto your front and squish your head into the pillows. Instead, in a move that baffles you, he asks you for a kiss. You oblige, seated on his lap on a soft velvet sofa. His hook caresses your leg, keeping you pressed to him while his hands explore you. You gently ask if he's ok, careful not to anger the beast beneath you. He nods, moving his kisses down to your neck. He feels it in his heart, his chest crumbling from the inside as he bares it to you with every kiss placed on your skin.

He laughs at himself as he remembers telling you this was nothing more than sex. What a fool he was.

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Dragon

Dragon and you are dating, and you have been for a while. He's quite frankly terrified of love. He's been there once, and it didn't work out for him. He takes things slowly with you. Every late-night talk and comforting hug in the privacy of your room pulls his heart deeper and deeper.

He realises just how deeply in love he is when he sees you standing with Koala, giving her some advice. Your heart is what attracted him to you in the first place. Seeing you so readily help other people makes him realise just how strongly he feels about you. He more than loves you; he admires you. He approaches you as Koala leaves, looking much calmer than she did before.

“Is she ok?”

“She's fine, honey. Are you ok?” It's a simple question of concern, but it still has his heart squeezing in a way he's never felt before. He kisses you softly, hoping the action will convey his feelings properly.

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Mihawk

He's very straightforward and to the point. He knows what he wants. He realises he likes you pretty much immediately after meeting you.

The first time he meets your eyes from across the bar, he plans to take you back to your home, entertain you and leave you before you wake the next morning. Then he strikes up a conversation with you, and everything changes.

“Can I buy you another drink?” he asks, sliding into the seat next to you.

“Please don't, this cheap wine tastes like shit. I could probably use this as a truth serum against my enemies” You bite, smacking your lips together at the bitter taste. Something about your attitude lights a flame in Mihawk. He's found a kindred spirit in you. A fine woman with a fine taste. Now he's intrigued by you, suddenly struck with a desire to know more.

So he starts talking to you about wine. There's no flirtation in his words, no exaggerated flattery or innuendo. He asks about you, divulges very little about himself and then tells you he found you interesting. He asks if you'd like to go home with him and see his much more impressive collection of wine. Of course, you accept. He lets you break open a well-aged bottle, drinking happily with you.

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Shanks

Oh, he's pathetic, actually. Everyone else realises before he does. He denies it with every fibre of his being. You've known each other for a long time. Every time you touch him, talk back to him, even look at him, his heart stirs. He has to tell himself the tightening of his chest is just the drink catching up to him.

After a night of drinking and joking, you go off to bed. When you part with your captain, you're so drunk that you don't even realise what you're doing and press a goodnight kiss to his cheek. You cart yourself off to bed, tiredly waving at your crew. You go to sleep, completely oblivious to the fact that Shanks is currently turning the colour of his hair while Yasopp and Roux tease him for it. Beckman gives him a look that says, ‘I told you so’.

“I'm not in love with her”, he groans as he's hit with flashes of all the times you've made his heart skip a beat. “ I just think she's beautiful, smart, talented, fun and” he pauses his sentence when he realises he's rambling, rambling about you. “I'm in love with her,” he sighs, putting his head in hand. What kind of captain falls for his crewmate?

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Smoker

Smoker doesn't realise until it's almost too late. The two of you are co-workers and have known each other for years. While working together, an enemy you hadn't noticed takes a shot at you, and Smoker puts himself in the line of fire. The bullet hits his ribcage, and enough of the soldiers under his command help him away to be seen by a doctor.

Seeing that bullet fly towards you had every missed opportunity to kiss you, cycling through his brain. He moved to save you, knowing it would harm him because he realised at that moment he would rather die than spend a single minute without you. He needs you to eat, breathe and sleep. He convinced himself at one point that you two were just inseparable friends, but the singular bullet in his torso had the truth bleeding out of him.

When he wakes up from surgery, you're sat in his hospital room, asleep in a chair next to his bed. His busy heart relaxes, seeing you safe and sound. He considers the bullet a silent vow of protection. A vow he will never break.

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thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading. comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

tag list: @bloodfixnd @sexysapphicshopowner @beachaddict48 @lem-hhn @quanxifangirl @mythicallystupid

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