#he thought about this girl who was his enemy
Text
Instinct
Synopsis: Astarion and Tiriel have a very busy night after a battle and have to deal with unexpected consequences.
Tags: smut, breeding, hurt/comfort, some emotional angst
It's not exactly a breeding fic since neither Astarion nor Tiriel planned to have a child, but the shameless smut ended with unplanned pregnancy. And now they have to deal with what comes next.
Bonus: you will learn why Astarion calls Alethaine 'princess'
Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!
Read on AO3
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Tiriel won’t let them take her home from her.
She has never had one. Always a stranger, always a wanderer, but Daggerlake became her home. A place that welcomed both her and Astarion, thanking them for saving the townsfolk from a nasty fey pact.
Ever since then, Tiriel belongs – she has had a roof above her head and friends among the townsfolk. And even Astarion can relax because the town has a vast underground part where he is safe in the shadows without having to hide.
And those bandits decided they could take it away from Tiriel?
They should have thought better!
Tiriel steps over a dead body. The fight is over and so is her rage. She single-handedly finished off a dozen of these men and women who didn’t know who their enemy was.
But her body wishes for more – more fight, more blood, more rage.
She looks around trying to see Astarion, but he is nowhere to be seen. It’s night and Astarion rushed to the surface part of the town letting the people of Daggerlake protect their homes and families while he, a full-fledged vampire, was going to show those bandits they had chosen the wrong town to attack.
Suddenly, someone grabs the fistful of her hair forcing her to gasp.
“Astarion?”
She looks at him and innate fear pierces her. They've been together for twenty years, but Tiriel hardly remembers him looking like this.
He looks like a vampire.
Like a vampire on a hunt.
His eyes glow red, and his clothes are soaked in blood. His skin feels feverish and his pupils are dilated.
Tiriel knows it’s him but she also can’t suppress her fear. He is a predator, a hunter, a vampire. Should he be her enemy, she won’t be able to protect herself.
He pulls her closer and kisses her. Tiriel feels the blood of a dozen dead enemies on his lips. His strong hands squeeze her and she knows he will fuck her right here among the dead bodies in the streets of their hometown if she allows it.
Tiriel answers him with the same passion – he wants to be a dangerous vampire? Good to know – because she can be a wild warrior girl who takes what she desires.
But Astarion isn't in the mood for being dominated, and he drags Tiriel back to their home – anyone who would see them right now would think this an assault, not a prelude to lovemaking.
Astarion pushes Tiriel behind the gate. As he closes it, Tiriel gets a sudden idea.
If he wants to be a predator tonight, she should let him play till the end.
She drops her ax on the ground and rushes inside the house – there aren't many places to hide but she is going to let him chase her. And maybe fight a bit.
“And where do you think you are going?” He growls. His voice sounds different and even scary. Nothing more intimidating than a blood-drunk vampire.
“Such a terrifying vampire needs to hunt his prey,” Tiriel laughs.
“Don’t tease me, wild girl!”
She rushes to their bedroom, but before she even manages to think about her next move Astarion jumps on her from the ceiling, pinning her to the floor.
And then he starts ripping her clothes off.
Tiriel roars and pushes Astarion with all her remaining strength. He pulls away but only for a moment before sinking his fangs in her neck. She gasps from the sudden pain but still tries to knock him down.
With every moment her movements become weaker and she finally stops resisting letting Astarion ravish her body.
He pulls away studying her face.
“On your knees.”
Tiriel abides. Her shirt is ripped and shows off her breasts.
“Good girl,” he mutters, getting rid of his own clothes. His cock is painfully hard and Tiriel cannot think about anything but having it inside her.
He approaches her, tugs her by her shirt’s collar, and pushes her to the bed. He tears the rest of her clothes off and bites her again.
Tiriel’s world shrinks to these two things – pleasure and pain.
Astarion doesn’t waste any time and penetrates Tiriel, causing her to yelp.
His thrusts are rough and so are his touches.
Tiriel, drunk with her own rage, keeps fighting back – she scratches his skin, tugs his hair, tries to push him as if he was assaulting her and every one of her movements makes Astarion wilder, rougher, scarier.
She manages to get away from under him, but he immediately presses her chest-down into the bed. Now, he fucks her from behind placing his blood-hot palm on her back.
Slap.
His palm leaves a red print on her butt and Tiriel gasps.
“Astarion-” Tiriel mewls as he leans to wrap his hands around her chest. He pierces her shoulder and keeps moving roughly.
He comes with a guttural groan and kisses Tiriel so intensely she is afraid to suffocate.
And instead of pulling away, he proceeds to fuck her again.
This time, he is very gentle and his eyes don’t glow anymore.
“Astarion!” she gasps when he bites her breasts.
“Delicious,” he mutters, licking the droplets of blood from her sensitive skin.
His second orgasm comes simultaneously with hers and she clenches around him forcing Astarion to stay inside her.
Astarion sees it as permission for the third round. He sits up and places her hips on his lap.
She squirms riding her orgasm and cries out something incoherent, but it seems like Astarion isn’t going to stop any time soon.
Tiriel has a weird feeling his heart is beating.
“Such a good girl,” he hisses. “And all mine.”
“All yours.”
Astarion moans in her ear and she feels his seed leaking down her sore thighs once again.
As it happens, Tiriel feels the world fading away, and the last thing she sees is Astarion’s red eyes.
**
When Tiriel wakes up, her body is sore and her skin feels disgusting. The mess between her legs has caked and the bite marks all over her body itch.
She gets up and gasps with a sudden pain – her body is covered in bruises, and she doesn't know which of them are from her enemies and which are from her lover.
Probably teasing Astarion was a bad idea.
She needs to bathe.
Tiriel puts her legs on the floor and notices her clothes folded up carefully.
And repaired.
She smiles at the thought that all these hours of her sleep Astarion was right there sewing and watching her. He loves watching her sleep. When she asked him about this habit before, he confessed that he didn’t see a point in looking at anything else but her.
Tiriel opens the door of the bathroom – Astarion sits in the hot water with a book he puts down the second she enters.
“Careful, darling, entering like that. I might want another round.”
“I can barely walk. Spare me, my lord.”
Astarion chuckles and tugs Tiriel into the bathtub.
“How much did I sleep?”
“Almost a day.”
Tiriel sits beside him and Astarion places his head on her chest.
“You know, everyone would think we should be less passionate two decades into our relationship.”
Astarion kisses her shoulder. “You are not getting any colder.”
“Oh no, you love me only for my body warmth! And what if some vampire turns me into an undead?”
Astarion doesn't answer immediately. A decade ago this joke would offend him so much he wouldn’t have talked to her for the whole day – but the nightmares and terrors of his past life have been left behind.
“Then we would lie in each other arms in front of a fireplace, forever young, forever beautiful”
She caresses his ears and he nuzzles her collarbone.
Then Tiriel looks into the water.
“How much did you drink yesterday?”
“A lot.”
Tiriel sighs and straddles his lap, feeling his hardness between her legs. Astarion doesn’t hesitate – a second later, she is already rolling her hips as his cold cock gets warmer inside of her.
“You know… You feel much better… when you are like that,” she admits. “Cold, no heartbeat. That’s more to my liking.”
**
Tiriel feels awful. It seems like her own body is revolting against her.
“Go to see the healer,” Astarion asks. “Tiriel, honestly, if you don't go yourself, I will drag you there.”
“Tyrant.”
“And you behave like a child! Gods, sometimes I forget I am 200 years older than you!”
Tiriel looks at him and frowns. “You are not.”
“Tiriel, you are my sunshine and my love, but your lack of cognitive abilities is beyond me. How old were you when we met?”
“Thirty-six.”
“Good. By that time, I had been enslaved for 200 years and I was turned at 39. I am more than two centuries older than you.”
Tiriel wants to say something, but she vomits again.
“I'm just sick! Aaah!”
Astarion pulls her up and slings her on his shoulder as if she were his war bounty.
Despite all her efforts, she can’t free herself and accepts her fate. Thankfully, it's rather late and most of the townsfolk are asleep, though she notices a jealous look from a baker.
“Put me on the ground.”
“Let them see what real relationships look like. You know that the blacksmith’s daughters asked me where they can find vampires like me?”
“Hope you didn't send them to the Underdark?”
“I told them I am one of a kind,” Astarion slaps her butt. “But we need to remind these people who we are.”
Astarion stays outside as Tiriel enters the healer’s hut – its owner, a halfling woman, looks at her with annoyance.
“What happened, Tiriel?”
“I am fine! My husband forced me to visit you.” Tiriel describes the symptoms. “I think I got food poisoning.”
“Food poisoning… Tell me, Tiriel, when was the last time you bled?”
Tiriel ponders. Her cycle has always been irregular –- a common thing among half-elfs. Humans are the most fertile race in Faerun, whilst elves are known to see their rare children as gifts from gods. So, Tiriel’s rare menstruations are unexpected obstacles, not something she should endure once a month.
And besides, she sleeps with an elf AND a vampire.
“I don’t remember. Maybe last winter.”
The healer hands her a tiny bundle of herbs. “Chew it. But don’t eat.”
The taste is so gross that Tiriel almost vomits again. She spews it on the floor - and the herb slowly changes its color to black.
“What’s the fuck is that?”
“Tastes like bile, doesn’t it? Oh, why do I have to go through all of this… I knew it couldn’t end well when we invited you two to stay here. You are pregnant.”
“I am… what?”
“You are pregnant, Tiriel.”
“With all due respect – my husband is a fucking vampire! I think his ability to fuck a child into anyone went to the grave along with his breathing, heart beating, and food preferences!”
“I am sure I’ve heard of half-vampires. Now go! I have more urgent patients to take care of. You know, it was a bad idea to use the innkeeper like a battering ram!”
Tiriel leaves the hut feeling as if she was just hit with something heavy.
“Tiriel?” Astarion looks worriedly. “What did she say?”
Tiriel is so scared she wants to cry. There is something inside her, something alive and growing – she can think of her husband as an elf all she wants, but right now she carries something half-dead inside her. Something unnatural. Something… that belongs to the shadows more than to the realm of mortals.
“My sweet, what is it?” Astarion demands. “What happened?”
And Tiriel confesses.
“Maybe… is it a mistake? She could have made a mistake! Gods! No, it can’t be…” He panics.
“Too much blood,” Tiriel says.
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve drunk too much, remember? I could hear your heartbeat. You were almost alive…. And I…” Tiriel hesitates. “I have my period once a year. It probably was the day when I could conceive.”
Astarion shakes his head. He gets anxious. Scared. She knows this face too well.
“Astarion!” She tries to grab his hand, but the vampire is too fast. In a moment, he disappears in the tunnels. “Astarion!”
Tiriel stays alone in the streets. She sniffs and returns back home, so quiet and silent.
She can’t imagine Astarion leaving her, but she also can’t imagine herself pregnant.
Maybe he is right, the healer could have been mistaken. She needs to wait. Yes, Tiriel needs to wait.
Astarion doesn’t return in the morning. He doesn’t return the next day. Tiriel feels terrible – she can barely eat or walk. The very thought of going after her husband feels exhausting – she just wants to lie in her bed without making any coherent movement.
She also constantly cries – Tiriel tries to justify it with the feeling of loneliness, but deep inside she knows the answer.
These are the mood swings a pregnant woman endures.
**
Astarion has never felt so shitty and pathetic in the last twenty years.
He despises himself for his fear and doubts.
His nature demands him to run. To leave and never return. Whatever Tiriel has inside, he can’t deal with it. He can’t be a parent. He doesn't want to become one.
Two centuries of enslavement – only twenty years of freedom. And now what? Will he be stuck raising a child? Which might be born so deranged and ugly it will be barely a sentient being.
He can run. He can disappear and leave Tiriel. She is a beautiful brave woman, the moment the townsfolk realize Astarion is gone there will be a line of men and women courting her.
Even with a monster child.
He walks through Secomber, a sleepy town on the border between the Sword Coast and the High Wood. It took him two days to get here and now he tries to make up his mind.
And what if it’s not his? Tiriel is so loyal and loving, but what if she wanted someone warm, someone who didn’t drink her blood? She could have gotten drunk and picked a man for a one-night stand.
No, it’s not like her.
Astarion is just a pathetic coward who can’t bear responsibility.
He has to come back. He can’t abandon the only person he ever truly loved and who never abandoned him even in his darkest hours.
But he is still afraid. He is paralyzed.
Suddenly he hears a loud cry.
He turns around and sees a human girl, maybe four or five (he still has issues with understanding human age, always assuming someone is younger than they are). She sits on the side of the road, her dress, a tiny copy of an adult one, is dirty, and her knee is bruised. The girl sobs as tears flow down her cheeks.
A weird feeling stirs in Astarion’s undead heart. A desire to console this child, to do something to stop her from crying. She is so vulnerable, so scared… and where the fuck are her parents, or whoever is responsible?!
The door to the tavern opens and a young man rushes to the girl.
“Daddy, I’ve fallen down… and…” She cries, wrapping her hands around his neck.
“That’s all, right, princess,” he answers, stroking her back. Suddenly the man turns around and notices Astarion. “Are you looking for something?”
“What? No, I just heard the cries.”
“Well, she cries so loud she can be heard in Daggerlake. If you need a room, there is another inn on the western side of the town. We are out of beds today.”
Astarion shakes his head. No. He is going back. The sunrise will meet him in the woods and he will hide in a cave. He will be back to Tiriel in two days, begging her to forgive him.
Because he can’t live without her. And he…he wants to experience what is coming next.
“Princess… An interesting pet name,” Astarion chuckles. The girl has already stopped crying and now she watches the vampire with curiosity.
“Yeah, we are far from nobles,” the innkeeper smiles. “But she is my only daughter and who are girls to their fathers if not princesses?” with these words he kisses the girl’s forehead and enters the inn, closing the door.
**
Astarion walks inside the house. Tiriel is fast asleep, he can hear her breathing. The kitchen is messy – it seems like his half-elf wife was hungry all these days but didn’t have any strength to clean the mess.
Astarion comes to the bedroom and lies beside her. Tiriel opens her eyes and touches his cheek with tender fingers.
“I knew you would be back.”
“I am sorry. I was scared.”
“I was, too. But I can’t run away from what is inside me.”
“I know, love. I will never do this again”
Tiriel places her cheek on his chest. “If the child is half-undead, can I ever carry it?”
“I don’t know.”
They lie in silence holding each other in their hands.
“You know… I’ve been deprived of mortality,” Astarion says. “Everything normal was taken away from me. And yet I am here. Married. With my own house. Free to do anything I want. When I was in Secomber, I saw a man with his daughter. And you know, I just… wanted the same thing. To carry my own child in my arms. Because it’s a normal mortal thing and if so, I will be no different from that young innkeeper who calls his baby daughter ‘princess’.”
Tiriel caresses his cheek. “I need to go to that innkeeper and ask if he needs anything for returning my husband to me.”
“You need to see the girl. Such a lovely little creature,” he smiles.
“Ours will be lovely too.”
Astarion elbows up. “Tiriel… we are going to keep it, aren’t we?”
Tiriel sighs. She did think about terminating, Astarion realizes. In those dark hours when he was hiding like a coward.
“I want to keep it,” Tiriel says. “Besides… I am still a half-elf. It’s not like miscarriages are rare among my race. Let’s see how it works out.”
Astarion smiles and finally relaxes enough to meditate.
Druids hate the undead because, unlike nature, they can't change. He will prove them all wrong. His life is changing and he is too.
In the best and scariest way possible.
He puts his palm on Tiriel’s flat belly. Somehow, he is sure they are going to have a girl.
--
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hey! Can you write insecure reader who stops eating and her boyfriend JJ finds out?
I love all your works btw! 😽🫶
Insecure
jj maybank x reader
a/n: thank you and thank you so much for requesting!
It was hard not to compare yourself to other girls. When you were at the beach all you could think about is the bodies of the other girls. They had tiny waists and long legs. Their hair was perfect and you just wished you looked like them.
The fact that you had to wear a bikini to the beach made you not want to go. Showing off your body is quite possibly the last thing you would ever want to be doing. So you would ether not go or wear a sweatshirt and say you weren’t tanning or swimming.
It was also hard to see the same girls at the beach flirt with your boyfriend. JJ would blow them off and reassure you that that you were the only one for him. JJ didn’t even glance in their direction. He was completely devoted to you. Yet you still felt like he deserved better.
All you could think about is how horrible you looked. You were far from how the girls at the beach looked, and you couldn’t help but think you were ugly. You were deeply insecure and you didn’t know how to fix it.
You felt uncomfortable in your own skin and not good enough for anyone or anything. You were tired of feeling this way, it was draining. You were also feeling hopeless. Your mind was your worst enemy. Every time you looked in the mirror you cringed. So, you tried to avoid doing that at all times.
When food was placed in front of you you would almost gag. You didn’t want to eat. It was too much. You thought maybe if you stopped eating you would become thinner and look like all the other girls with tiny waists.
You didn’t mean to it just sort of happened. You thought you were just not hungry, but then you were skipping meals. a lot of meals. You have stopped eating all together and you were hoping that you would get good results out of it.
JJ wasn’t stupid, he knew something was wrong he just didn’t know what. He noticed that he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. He also noticed that you’ve lost some weight. Of course your weight didn’t matter to him but he was concerned for your health.
The chateau was busy with all the pogues in it. They were all getting ready to go in the hot tub. You were having a dilemma because you didn’t want to get into a swimsuit. So you decided you wouldn’t go in.
“What’s up buttercup?” JJ asked.
“Nothing just chillin,” you spoke.
“How are you, seriously?” JJ asked. He was concerned about you. He was watching you decline and he hated it.
“Um m’fine,” you replied.
“I think we need to talk,” JJ put forth.
“what about?”
“I haven’t seen you eat in a long time and I’m worried about you,” JJ confessed.
You let out a deep sigh. You did not want to have this conversation right now.
“Don’t worry about it JJ,” you instructed.
“No I will worry about it because i worry about you. You’re my girl and I care about you. I’m concerned. Please baby, talk to me.” JJ begged.
“I just want to feel pretty,” tears filled your eyes but you didn’t let them fall.
“I thought maybe if I stop eating, I would loose some weight.” You looked down on the floor avoiding JJ’s eyes.
“You know I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world right?!”
“Baby please look at me.”
You did as you were told, reluctantly.
“I want you to listen to me when I say this. You’re perfect just the way you are. I love you and I love your body. I think you’re gorgeous. It breaks my heart that you don’t see it. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”
You gave JJ a sad smile.
“Come here,” JJ opened his arms for you to get into.
Once you were in JJ’s arms he kissed your cheek. Then he kissed your forehead. He then kissed your temple. “My beautiful girl, love you so much!” Then he kissed your lips.
“How about I order a pizza?” JJ suggested.
“I don’t know jayj,” you shrugged.
“Come on please baby I need you to eat something for me. I don’t want you to wither away. I care about you and your health.”
“I’ll eat with you, I will even help you. If you want me too,” JJ shrugged.
“Jayj…”
“No come on, I’m ordering the pizza, end of story.”
You gave JJ a small smile silently thanking him but you were more so just done protesting. You knew JJ meant well you were just stubborn. It meant a lot to you that he cared so much about you. You thought it was sweet. You just really didn’t want to eat.
The pizza was delivered and you were dreading eating it. JJ took the pizza to his room so you could have some privacy.
“I know you don’t want to eat but i’m right here I’m not going anywhere and I want you to nourish your body.”
“okay jayj.”
JJ sat with you and helped you eat. He was understanding and considerate. He wanted to be there for you during this hard time. With JJ’s help you were able to eat something.
“There you go baby, good job! I’m proud of you,” JJ praised.
“Thank you J.”
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Blood Bound Part 9
Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett
MC escapes the shadows she must walk through in the arms of her Auror, whilst Sebastian takes matters into his own desperate hands.
14.3k words. Tags: NSFW / angst / crime ring / murder / death / blood / fighting / mentions of torture / anxiety / violence / sexual tension
Chapter Master List and Ao3
Reading tag list at the end, let me know if you want to be added ❤️✨️
Nine: Revelio
MC
The shadows were her friends. They were her cloaks through the crooked nooks and paths of Knockturn Alley, and she made use of them, slinking through the night like some kind of nocturnal wraith as she maintained a watchful eye on the Ashwinders. With each night that passed, she became more comfortable with being outside of four walls, although the cloying smog of London was still something to suffer after the fresh, sea air of the Cornwall coast.
Standing across the street from the Black Rose pub, MC pulled her robe a little closer about her slender frame to ward off the chill. The nights were now colder as October moved them towards winter. She eyed the crooked door of the notorious drinking hole, debating the wisdom of entering. She had seen Rosier around a few times, watching him from a safe distance after their run in a week ago. She had seen Carrow, too, his face like a mask fit for nightmares. These were hard witches and wizards who frequented this place, and she needed to be sure of herself before entering their midst.
As much she hated to admit it, she needed Sebastian, and it surprised her how much that thought grated along her nerves. An unsettling strain of resentment had buried itself in her chest, the few times she had glimpsed him made her stiffen as she thought of the endlessly long hours she had spent locked in darkness whilst he roamed free. Free to be whatever he wanted, and he had chosen the path of darkness. He had put himself in the bed of the enemy.
The thought of approaching him after all this time filled her with confusing emotions. On the one side she longed for it, her fingers caressing the scar on her palm with the same reverence she always had, but there was another side that filled her with trepidation. She wasn’t sure how it would feel to have his eyes on her again, the fear that she would resent it made her tremble more than the night air. Putting it off was only prolonging the inevitable, and yet she hung back, lingering alone in shadows still while he roamed as he pleased.
She needed to make the first move, get it done, rip off the bandage and maybe start the healing process. If there could be one. Her emotional scars were deep and twisted, and she suspected she would never be the girl she once was. That girl died in Azkaban, and now she needed to figure out what was left.
Drawing upon her well practised shields, MC stepped from her shadowed corner and walked slowly towards the door of the Black Rose, her heart thumping with erratic flutters as she reached out and pushed against the old wood. This was madness, and yet her legs carried her smoothly over the threshold, her face an indifferent mask and her eyes glittering with hardness as she entered the smoky bar room.
The dark haired man behind the bar waited with a curious gaze as she approached, her hood still up and casting a shadow across part of her face.
“A pale ale, if you would be so kind,” she said quietly.
With a nod he turned to meet her request, and she swallowed, risking a glance around the room from beneath her hood. Nobody was really paying her much attention, the bar often saw strangers come and go she supposed. As a tankard was placed on the bar before her, she drew out a coin and placed it down beside it, proud of how she refrained from trembling as she did so. “Thank you.”
Taking a sip of the cool ale, she perched herself on a bar stool, her ears and eyes alert to her surroundings. The comforting press of her wand at her hip reminded her that she had the power to protect herself now. She was stronger than she looked. With her ancient magic, she could devastate this entire room in one move. The thought almost made her lips twitch with a smile, but she kept her face carefully indifferent.
Just when she thought she could manage this little adventure without interference, a figure approached her with a confident sway of hips, blonde curls framing her beautiful face. Up close, MC could see the delicate dusting of freckles across Luella Rookwood’s nose, and the look in her eyes that suggested self assurance. She eyed MC curiously, her head tilting slightly as she tried to get a better look under the hood of her robe.
“I’ve not seen you here before,” she said, her voice laced with a French undertone. She leant casually against the bar. “What brings you here tonight?”
Dislike, thick and searing, coursed through MC as she stared at Luella’s pouty mouth and glowing skin. Healthy and strong, beautiful, and close to Sebastian. Any misgivings MC may have felt about her connection to the boy from her youth seemed to vanish under the cold twist of envy that claimed her stomach. It made her shields thicken, and her gaze turned icy as she fixed it upon Rookwood’s daughter.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she said coolly, placing her tankard down unfinished.
Luella’s gaze narrowed slightly. “Careful, now. You’d be surprised what my business is around here.”
MC smirked and slowly slid back her hood, revealing her full face and hair to the room. People were starting to take notice now, and she stood so that she was on a level with the far too confident witch. Luella’s eyes widened slightly, her pretty mouth parting as she stared.
“Oh, I know what your business is, Miss Rookwood,” MC said, allowing her inner darkness to form behind her eyes, the slightest flicker of blue and white glowing as she glared at Luella. “Perhaps it’s not me who should be careful.”
“So, the ancient magic witch finally shows her face,” Luella said, recovering quickly, but she was rattled. MC could see it in her eyes.
MC smiled, cold and hard on the outside, whilst inside she was screaming and wanting to run. “We finally meet, Miss Rookwood. I hear your father wishes to speak with me. Do tell him I dropped by,” she said, turning for the door.
Pausing, a wicked gleam lighting her eyes, she glanced back at Luella. “Oh, and while you’re at it, say hello to Sebastian for me. Now, there’s a handsome face I look forward to seeing again. Our reunion is long overdue.”
Luella stiffened, her face rigid as her eyes almost bulged. MC felt a sweet satisfaction as she stepped out into the street, her heart hammering at her own audacity. Before anyone could dare approach her, she pictured a destination firmly in mind, the practice of Apparation becoming more and more familiar to her now. In the blink of an eye, she became a swirl of darkness and then vanished, her boots hitting the floorboards of a small living space lit by a single lamp.
Pressing a hand to her tight chest, MC took a steadying breath, still surprised at herself for goading Luella like that. She wondered if the smug bitch would actually say anything to Sebastian. Had Rosier? These small steps into the vicinity of the Ashwinder group were leading her deeper into trouble. She just needed to keep her head and not blow the cover. Not just because bringing Rookwood down would be satisfying, but she didn’t want to let Leander down either.
Her eyes moved slowly about the small living room of the London flat, everything neat and in its proper place. The fire had burned down low in the grate, but the room still clung to some warmth. She stepped quietly across towards the bedroom. The door was ajar, and she slipped quietly inside. Leander had fallen asleep whilst reading, his book open and face down upon his chest. His face was soft and peaceful, and she was reluctant to disturb him, so she lingered beside the bed watching him for a moment. It scared her how attached she was becoming to him, the lines of his face so familiar to her, his scent and warmth meant safety and comfort in a way she had not expected.
A few days ago, he had brought her to London and invited her into his private home, allowing her to come here whenever she wished. He didn’t have to do this for her. He was just a probation Auror that she had to report daily to, and by rights she should have found herself somewhere to stay by now, and yet she kept coming back to his flat. This was more than a job. Whatever it was between them had deepened into something that was heavier than just friendship, but they were not a courting couple. They couldn’t be. Looking at him now as he slept, remembering all the ways he had helped her with kindness and respect, she knew she was far too dark and damaged for the likes of him.
Leaning forward, she carefully lifted the book from his chest, his long fingers languidly moving as he shifted in his sleep. Making sure to bookmark his spot, she placed the book on his table, glancing back towards him to find him blinking sleepily.
“You’re here,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”
“A little after ten,” she said quietly, slipping her robe from her shoulders and placing it on the chair. “It’s alright, you can go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
He watched her through sleepy eyes as she continued to remove her clothing, piling them on his chair until she was in just her chemise as though she had every right, an unspoken agreement that she would be sleeping here seeming to exist between them.
“Did you see anything interesting tonight?” He asked, his cheeks turning pink as she climbed up on the bed beside him.
“I had the misfortune of meeting Luella Rookwood,” she said, her mouth twisting into a sour smirk. “Don’t worry, I resisted the urge to cast an Unforgivable on her. I was actually rather polite.”
Leander’s expression was rather sceptical as she slid herself under the blankets, making herself comfortable in the welcoming warmth beneath. “What did you say, exactly?”
“To tell her daddy I said hello. Oh, and I reminded her that Sebastian and I were due a little reunion. I thought she was going to hex me for that little comment, and so I took my leave. Let her stew over that for a while.”
A slight frown appeared on Leander’s brow as he settled back down into the bed beside her. MC lay on her side facing him, seeing the way he was fidgeting with a button on his pyjama shirt, his teeth catching at his lower lip. He was thinking, perhaps about the unspoken situation that was building between them. She had mentioned Sebastian, something she usually avoided because it had the potential to lead them towards some rather loaded questions.
“You are going to come face to face with Sallow at some point, probably sooner rather than later now that you are spending time near his haunts,” he said quietly.
“I think I am going to need him,” she sighed. “He will be able to help me infiltrate the gang, I’m just a bit uncertain about how that will play out depending on his allegiance.”
Leander turned to look at her, his eyes glittering in the almost dark of his room. “You sound unsure about it, MC. Are you worried about seeing Sebastian again?”
Her fingers absently sought out her scar, the niggling worry that her inability to turn against Sebastian might prove detrimental to their plan if he really had chosen the dark side. She swallowed past the tightness in her throat, reminding herself that she was in a safe place here.
“I don’t know,” she said, dropping her gaze to the mattress. “Seeing him the other night just seemed to remind me that he has spent the last four years living a life I know nothing about. There was a time when I thought it would be me and him against the world, and now I’m not sure I even know who he is anymore.”
“I don’t think he has changed all that much,” Leander said, turning fully towards her, their faces mere inches apart. “I have my own very selfish reasons for wishing that you never had to see him again, but I know that, despite everything, he is someone important to you. I’m sure you are still someone important to him, too.”
Meeting Leander’s gaze, her heart squeezed at his noble and generous spirit, her fingers reaching to touch gently at his temple. Stroking lightly towards his hair, her hand cupped against the strong lines of his cheek. Perhaps he underestimated just how important he had become to her, slowly weaving a web of complex feelings around her that left her confused and scared, as well as curious and alive. She didn’t want to hurt him, but couldn’t seem to stop running back to him despite knowing that things were not going to end with rainbows and roses. It never did with her.
“I can’t imagine you ever being selfish, Lee,” she whispered, her fingers sliding over freckled skin.
His hand settled over her hip, fingers grasping gently. “Yes, well, sometimes you come across something that you just don’t want to share with anyone else,” he said, his usual soft voice darkening into something unexpected, his grip on her hip subtly tightening as he closed the gap between them.
This spark of possessiveness sent her confusing feelings spinning madly, her pulse quickening as she realised they were crossing lines that were becoming more and more dangerous. Her gaze dipped to his soft, full mouth.
“I should stop coming here, you know…” Her lips captured his mouth, despite her weak protest. “It’s becoming a rather dangerous habit…” She kissed him again.
The hand on her hip grazed feather-light touches down towards her knee, his fingers splaying as he slid his palm up her thigh in a slow, deliberate caress that ignited the fire in her blood. “So, stop,” he murmured against her mouth, stealing a firmer kiss of his own in retaliation.
Opening her mouth to offer up a sassy comeback failed as he swirled his tongue past her lips, her words dying in her throat as her eyes closed and her hands urged him closer. Apparently, she couldn’t stop. She was sliding down a slope with no idea what awaited her at the bottom, but she was going down there with him anyway.
Leander
Friendly chattering, and the soft glow of the lamps inside the bar room of the Leaky Cauldron made for a cosy atmosphere, the tension of a day tracking a band of poachers through the New Forest beginning to ease from Leander’s shoulders as he wrapped his large hands around his tankard of ale. The poachers were a part of the Ashwinder network, and whilst his attention had been mostly focused on MC’s infiltration into their midst, there was plenty of field work to wade through on top of all that. A beer and a catch up with an old friend seemed the ideal way to spend his evening.
Across the table from Leander sat Garreth Weasley, his sandy red hair curling and flicking outwards from his freckled face, his brow creased in concentration as he wrote inside his small order notebook. Pausing, he twirled his quill, brushing the delicate feather against his lips as he raised emerald eyes to Leander with a mischievous twinkle.
“So, restoring potions, essence of Dittany, your regular healing tonics, and a restock of the old faithful contraceptive potion,” he listed, his eyebrows lifting in a teasing wiggle. “It’s been a while since you ordered the baby blocker brew, Lee. Something you want to tell me? Sounds like you’re getting lucky.”
Just like that, Leander’s shoulders hunched with anxious tension as his cheeks flooded with heat, his eyes glancing up around the bar as he twisted his tankard on the table top. “Shush, Garreth, for Merlin’s sake,” he grumbled, shifting in his seat. “I don’t want the whole pub to know.”
Garreth brightened with curiosity, leaning towards him over the table top. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, mate. So, who is the lucky witch? Anyone I know?”
“I…I…” Leander faltered, cringing slightly as he realised that telling anyone about sleeping with MC could prove dangerous, no matter how much he wanted to boast to Garreth about it. That information could end up being whispered into the wrong ears and jeopardise the mission. He frowned and shook his head. “I’m just being prepared, that’s all.”
Garreth gave him a long, considering look between narrowed lids, his lips widening into a grin. “Alright, then. Keep your secrets,” he winked. “Aside from your mysterious bedroom adventures, how’s the Auror life treating you? Working on anything exciting? Oh yes, I saw in the Prophet that our murderous school hero was released. I bet that caused a little stir in the office.”
“Don’t call her that, she has a name you know,” Leander muttered, his blush darkening. “And you know I can’t talk about work stuff outside the office.”
Garreth slowly put his quill and order book away, giving Leander a careful look. “After all this time, you still carry a soft spot for MC,” he said, tilting his head. “Doesn’t it bother you, what she did?”
“It’s all very well listening to idle gossip, or reading whatever the Prophet deems print worthy, but not everything is as it seems, Garreth,” Leander said, fiddling with his tie. “You shouldn’t judge without knowing the whole story.”
“And, you do know?” Garreth lifted his brows with interest.
“I couldn’t possibly reveal Ministry information,” Leander said tightly.
“You’re rather twitchy and full of secrets this evening, Lee,” Garreth said, a slight crease appearing on his brow. “Is everything alright?”
Leander sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry, Garreth. I’ve been working on a large case, and it’s a really important one. I guess I’m a little stressed, hence the beer.”
He lifted his tankard with a tight smile, taking a sip and licking his lips. It was so easy and almost cliche to blame his tension on work, a convenient get out clause to avoid talking about the real anxiety that had a choke hold on his emotions. As he gazed across at his old friend, he wished he could admit how deeply he had got himself into trouble over a girl, not just any girl either. The murderous school hero who was sharing his bed, an ex-convict with a notorious ex lover she was bound to by a dark magic pact.
Garreth was a light hearted, lovable chap. Life was simple in his corner of the world, and Leander wondered if he would have any wholesome and useful advice to give him. No doubt his response would be to keep a distance between himself and MC, and Leander didn’t want to hear that. It was likely to be the best advice, a warning his family would no doubt impress upon him, too.
But, it was her. MC had slowly embedded herself under his skin, staring into the endless possibilities her eyes held, he was drifting on a tide he felt powerless to swim against. Behind that tough exterior there had been flickers of fire, a warmth as she lay in his arms and brushed her fingers through his hair. Deep down, he knew it was doomed to end one day, she would get up from his bed one morning and it would be the last time. She would slip out of his reach, and he would have to let her go. But, for those precious hours when she did slide in beside him, pressing her body against his in a silent plea, he savoured every moment.
Garreth took a drink from his own tankard and considered Leander. “I hope you’re not pushing yourself too hard, mate. I know how much your job means to you, but don’t lose yourself along the way,” he said, placing down his tankard with a smile that was rather serious for him. “I understand that you can’t talk about specific details, but if there is anything you do want to talk about, then I’m here if you need to, alright?”
Leander bit his lip, the words balanced on the tip of his tongue, but he felt the presence of his Auror badge in his pocket. The weight of it carried the responsibility of the oath he took, an oath that he had already betrayed more than once since taking this Ashwinder case on. MC must remain his secret.
“Thanks mate, I appreciate it,” he said, nodding. Leaning his elbows on the table top, he fixed a smile on his face. “So, what do you think of the latest Chaser signing for the Chudley Canons?”
Garreth’s face lit up at the mention of Quidditch, and their conversation switched into much lighter tones, a distraction that Leander most definitely needed.
….*….
The briefing room was already rather full with Aurors when Leander arrived for a meeting the next morning, his cheeks flushed from his mad dash here after being held up, the intoxicating warmth beneath his bed covers making him reluctant to rise and ready himself for work. He had left MC in the comfort of his bedroom, her tousled hair spread across the pillows, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before Disapparating out.
A mug of tea was thrust into his hand by an assistant, Leander smiling his thanks as he took a seat next to Odessa, her delicate perfume teasing at his nose.
“Good morning, Prewett,” she smiled, crossing her trouser-clad legs elegantly. “I thought you weren’t going to make it.”
“Sorry, I slept in. Late night,” he blushed, dipping his gaze to sip at his tea.
“You weren’t having fun without me, were you, Prewett? I’m still waiting for that date.”
Saved from having to answer that question by Harrington calling for their attention, Leander gave Odessa a quick smile, before fixing his gaze on the elder Auror who was leading this case. Harrington was dressed in his suit, his greying hair neatly combed, and a serious expression darkening his blue eyes.
“Good morning, folks. Time for our weekly update on Rookwood and his Ashwinders,” Harrington said, getting straight to the point. He flicked his wand towards the hovering blackboards, arranging them behind him in a row, each board containing case notes and highlights. Using his wand as a pointer, he moved towards the first board. “Good progress on the poaching ring yesterday in the New Forest. It seems the Sweetings are tracking a potential Golden Snidget nest, although our Aurors on location have acquired the assistance of a Magizoologist in order to help protect these endangered creatures.”
Leander rolled his shoulders, still feeling the effects of tracking through the forest yesterday in search of the poachers camp. He sipped some more tea, avoiding Odessa’s gaze as Harrington continued.
“Unfortunately, there has been another theft of a valuable and rare item,” Harrington sighed, moving to the next board. He pointed towards Rookwood’s name written in chalk at the top. “We know this bastard enjoys collecting rare and beautiful things, and the scene of the crime suggests that Ashwinders were behind this particular theft. Annoyingly, the Muggle Royal Family is involved in this one.”
“What was stolen?” Odessa asked, leaning forward, her eyes lit with curiosity.
Harrington grimaced. “The bastards looted Hever Castle in Kent, entering the secret vault hidden beneath the castle from prying Muggle eyes. They took some gold and spell books, but the most valuable item they pilfered was the famous pearl necklace worn by Anne Boleyn.”
Soft murmurs of surprise were uttered around the room as Andrew Larson stepped forward with a parchment, holding it out towards Harrington. Leander recognised the image printed on the parchment as Harrington held it up. It was a portrait of the English queen who had lost her head in The Tower in the 1530s, heralded as a witch and a traitor to her King and country. She was innocent of being a traitor, but the Wizarding World knew her as one of their own.
“We all know this portrait of Anne Boleyn. The original hangs proudly in the halls of Hogwarts, and she is wearing the very necklace that was stolen this week. It’s a string of pearls with a gold charm in the shape of the letter B,” Harrington said, his gaze roaming around the room. He paused on Leander. “I want eyes peeled and everyone on alert for a sighting of this piece of jewellery so that we may return it. Needless to say, Buckingham Palace is keen to see it in their possession. It has been held in secret for hundreds of years, and they do not want to see it in the wrong hands.”
Leander nodded, making a mental note to mention this to MC. Harrington moved on to his next board, updating everyone on the recent sightings of various gang members. As Andrew Larson passed Leander’s chair, he paused, bending to speak near his ear.
“Come and see me afterwards, Prewett,” he whispered. “I have something for you.”
Leander met his gaze and nodded, a look of understanding passing between them. Anticipation flooded through Leander at the prospect of what Andrew had found in the archives regarding MC.
Pulling out his notebook, he tried to focus on Harrington’s voice, jotting some points down as he tried not to fidget in his chair.
“How are things with our little spy?” Odessa asked as they stood, the meeting over. “Is she behaving herself?”
Leander tucked his notebook away and fiddled with his tie. “MC is fine,” he said, holding back his smile. “How are things with you? Did you manage to track down that lead at the port of Dover?”
“Indeed, I did,” she nodded, smiling as he held the door open for her. “The shipments coming in from Norway seem to be of particular interest to the Ashwinders, I’m not sure why yet, but I intend to find out.”
Her eyes seemed to sparkle at the challenge and he smiled as they walked along the corridor towards their cubicles. “I’m sure you will. You strike me as the determined type.”
Her smile was incredibly feline and she touched her hand to his arm, her eyes lit with a teasing twinkle. “Maybe one day you will find out just how determined I can be,” she murmured, leaning slightly closer. “Especially when you take me for that drink. Friday, Prewett. You and me, The Leaky Cauldron.”
Leander’s mouth worked, words failing him as a blush stained his face. He couldn’t possibly agree. It wouldn’t be appropriate considering he was sharing a bed with someone else. “Odessa…”
She was already strolling towards her desk, throwing him a cheeky wink over her shoulder. “See you Friday.”
….*….
Leander took the file from Andrew, flipping it open to see the neatly inked words within. “You found this rather quickly,” he said, impressed at the amount of information enclosed.
Andrew shrugged, his smile a little bashful. “It’s surprising what you can find when you really get into the search. Once I found one record of ancient magic, I found a trail that led to others. This is what I have uncovered so far, but what’s most puzzling about the trail is how fragmented it is. If I’m not mistaken, I would say some information has been deliberately left out.”
“That’s what MC was expecting, I think,” Leander said, frowning as he noticed a parchment with more recent information written down. He studied the page more closely, his eyes widening when he saw MC’s name and a date that could be her birthday. “Are these MC’s birth records?”
He lifted his shocked gaze to Andrew. MC’s file had no details of her birth or blood relatives, only her records from the orphanage in London where she had been raised. Andrew nodded, his eyes hesitant. “I don’t know her that well, Leander, but some of the information I found about her might change a few things if people were to discover the truth. I promise I won’t speak a word of what I found, and if I were you, I would keep that file under lock and key.”
Leander swallowed, his eyes dropping back down to the page, scanning the details further. “No way,” he gasped, eyes darting back to Andrew.
Andrew nodded, his look pensive. “Yes. I was shocked, too. You might want to break the news to her gently.”
Leander sank slowly into the nearest chair, reading over the information again, just to make sure his eyes had not deceived him. Shock numbed his limbs, the implications of this information sending his thoughts scattering in all directions. His hands actually trembled as he closed the file and gripped it tightly on his lap. Somehow, he was going to have to hand this information over to MC, and he wasn’t sure how she was going to react.
“Are you alright, mate?” Andrew asked, putting a cautious hand on Leander’s shoulder. “You’ve gone rather pale.”
Leander looked up at Andrew, nodding with uncertainty. He licked his lips and smoothed his hand over the top of the file. “I’m not entirely sure how she will take this news, but I’m glad I will be the one to tell her.”
Andrew bit his lip, his hands slipping into his pockets as he regarded Leander. “You er…you have grown rather close to MC since working on this case,” he said awkwardly, scuffing the floor slightly with the toe of his smart shoes. “I could sense the familiarity between you the last time you were here, and your request was not your regular Auror request. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fascinating. I just hope you know what you are getting yourself into.”
“I’m just trying to help her, Andrew. She doesn’t have anyone else, at least I didn’t think so,” he said, glancing down at the folder on his lap. “This file rather changes all of that, doesn’t it?”
“That really all depends on what she chooses to do about it,” Andrew said with a shrug. “Whatever she decides, just be careful, Leander. Don’t get yourself hurt.”
Oh, he was already in far too deep to climb back out now. Taking a deep breath he got to his feet, reaching out to shake Andrew’s hand. “I appreciate your help, Andrew. I owe you one.”
“You’re welcome,” Andrew said, shaking his hand firmly. “I will keep looking through the archives when I get a chance. There might be more to discover. These Keepers that MC mentioned have me curious. I’ll let you know what else I dig out.”
As he left the Auror Office, the file hidden with a vanishing charm in his possession, Leander pondered how he was going to hand it over to MC. He would have to do it tonight when she returned from her nightly spying on the Ashwinders. He didn’t want this lingering over his head, not something this big. Plus, MC had a right to know where she came from.
Sebastian
The cool air was thick with the scent of old paper and leather, rich tones of wood, and a lingering pinch of dust. The quietness settled over Sebastian like an old cloak, and he savoured the familiar and comforting feel of being inside a library. Walking slowly through the huge stacks, he gazed at the laden shelves, his eyes scanning the titles as he pondered how different his life could have been had things worked out differently. Perhaps he could have found contentment working within the safety of bound knowledge, pursuing his thirst to discover and learn. That life felt so far out of reach that he couldn’t even call it a dream. Those you could chase, and he didn’t think he would ever get the chance to make that idea a reality.
Pausing at the section he was searching for, he ran his fingers against the spines as he chased down the particular book he was after, a text recently published that he had heard about that might prove useful, no matter how far fetched. The author, Nora Treadwell, had undertaken research about the renowned wizard Merlin, and the curious puzzles he had scattered around the Highlands of Scotland. Sebastian had spent many hours helping MC solve some of those puzzles when they were kids, and they had speculated about their creation after MC noticed traces of her ancient magic around them. Not one to pass up the prospect of delving deeper into lore, Sebastian wanted to see what Nora Treadwell had to say on the matter.
Finding a copy of the book, he tucked it under his arm and found a quiet spot to sit and read The Trials of Merlin, his unruly hair falling across his forehead as he bent over the pages with a frown of intent.
….*….
Dusk was drifting over London, the sky deepening into the glow of the autumn sunset as Sebastian strolled through Knockturn Alley, one hand in his pocket, and the other settled close to where his wand sat ready in its holster. One could never be too careful at the best of times, let alone when the shadows were beginning to lengthen. As he walked, he let his gaze wander carefully over the cloaked figures he passed, appearing nonchalant in his manner, but ever mindful that MC could be hidden behind any corner. He didn’t want to miss her a second time.
As he approached the turn that would take him to the Black Rose, he met with Rosier who was leaning against a brick wall as though waiting for him, his handsome smile as charming as ever as he nodded towards Sebastian.
“Evening, Sallow. I wondered when you were going to show up. You’ve been gone most of the day.”
“Just gathering some information,” Sebastian smirked, pausing beside him. “Did I miss anything?”
Rosier gave him a knowing look as he took a drag on his cigarette. “I’ve not seen any sign of your pretty witch, if that’s what you mean,” he said, shaking his head. “Not much else has happened either. Unless you count Marvolo hexing that aggravating poacher that keeps playing the dodgy hand at cards.”
Amusement curved Sebastian’s mouth as they began to walk again, making their way towards the pub. “I’m surprised it took him this long, to be honest. She was blatantly cheating. Any news on Rookwood?”
“Funny you should ask,” Rosier said, his eyebrows lifting. “I hear he will be making an appearance this evening. It seems his little friend, Black Dahlia, has crawled out of the woodwork.”
Sebastian’s face darkened with a scowl at the mention of Rookwood’s informant, his dislike of the shifty witch blending with fury and mistrust ever since she had sent him into the horror of that prison and he had come out empty handed. There was something about her that made his skin itch. Devious and smug, her eyes still bothered him. Whatever enchantments she used to disguise her face didn’t work on her eyes, and he knew he had seen them before somewhere.
“I wonder what she could possibly be telling him,” he muttered, his stomach clenching with apprehension. If Black Dahlia was about to blow MC’s cover, then that could put the kneazle amongst the jobberknolls.
Rosier shrugged. “You know Rookwood. Everything is on a need to know basis, but I think he will be meeting with her tonight given his impending arrival.”
Deep in thought as they entered the pub, Sebastian considered the possibility that Rookwood might still allow MC to enter the gang despite knowing what she was really there for. She could be walking straight into a trap that would end with her ancient magic being extracted from her, and absorbed by Rookwood himself. The very idea made his spine feel like ice, his fear like claws around the back of his neck.
An idea was forming in his mind, and it turned his stomach if he had to be honest about it, but he just couldn’t risk MC walking into danger. No matter how powerful her magic could be.
“There’s something I need to do,” he said, patting Rosier on the back. “I won’t be long.”
“Anything you need some help with?” Rosier asked, a curious look in his eyes.
Sebastian shook his head, his face lighting up with one of his confident smiles despite the twisting feeling in his gut. “Nah, I’ve got this one.”
Stepping out of the pub, Sebastian didn’t think Rosier would even believe him if he told him where he was going. Moving into the deepening shadows, he pictured the fine house he had checked out a while ago down near the Thames, and Disapparated with a swirl of black.
The lights were lit inside the house giving a welcoming, warm glow from the windows, so somebody was at home. Sebastian climbed the neatly swept steps and eyed the fancy brass knocker, wondering if it would be the pretty wife who answered the fine front door as he knocked. Footsteps sounded from the other side, and when the door swung open, Sebastian grinned.
“Just the man I was wanting to see. Good evening, Andrew,” he greeted, with a nod of his head.
Andrew Larson frowned, a tinge of pink flushing across his cheeks as glanced nervously back over his shoulder. “How the bloody hells did you find me, Sallow?”
Sebastian tapped his finger against the side of his nose and winked, his cockiness shielding the true twist of his emotions as he faced the straight laced Ministry worker. “I can’t be revealing all of my secrets now, Larson. Don’t worry, though. I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“Then, why are you here?” Andrew demanded, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his very smart waistcoat.
Sighing, still not entirely believing that he was actually going to do this, Sebastian fixed Andrew with a serious look. “I need to get an urgent message to Prewett. You can either tell me where to find him, right now, or promise me that you will get word to him immediately.”
Andrew looked irritated, his blush deepening as he shook his head. “I’ve told you before…”
“This is urgent,” Sebastian insisted, cutting him off, “It’s about the case he is working on with MC. If I don’t tell him what I know, then MC could be walking into a trap.”
Andrew stilled, his mouth parted as he considered Sebastian’s words. Swallowing hard, he nodded, pushing his fingers through his blonde hair. “Alright,” he conceded. “I will send a message. What is it you need him to know?”
Sebastian looked up towards the sky above his head. For once, the stars were visible, the smog had cleared for a while. It wasn’t quite the glorious, open display he was used to seeing as a boy, but it was enough to give him some hope. Bringing his gaze back to Andrew, he took a breath and set his look to one of determination.
“Ask Prewett to meet me in one hour. I will be at the Floo point near Gringotts. He must come alone, and tell nobody. He can’t risk the snitch in his office finding out. I hope you understand how important that is.”
Andrew paled. “Merlin’s beard,” he muttered. “Of course. I’ll send the message right away.”
Leander
Arriving home, the file feeling heavy in his pocket, Leander unlocked the door and entered to be greeted with a strange burning smell. He closed the door and MC turned to him from the little stove, a sheepish look on her face.
“I tried to cook dinner,” she said, grimacing as she gestured towards the pot on the side. “It didn’t go well.”
Pressing his lips together, Leander moved further into the room, trying to hide his amusement at the forlorn look on her face. A glance into the pot revealed a charred looking mess, and he wrinkled his nose. “What was it?”
“Beef hot pot,” she said, folding her arms, her chin tilting upwards defensively. “You said it was one of your favourites.”
The simple gesture of trying to cook for him had his cheeks turning pink with pleasure, no matter that she had probably ruined his cooking pot in the process. Touched at the thought behind it, he slid his hand along her jaw, gently cupping her face as bent to press a slow kiss against her forehead. “You are adorable,” he murmured, a smile curving his lips.
She wrinkled her nose and playfully shoved him. “Hardly,” she scoffed, but a blush was staining her cheeks. She looked down at the ruined dinner and sighed. “I guess we shall have to find something else for dinner.”
She rarely smiled, but tonight her face seemed softer, her lips teasing at one as he looked down at her. The file sat in his pocket like an exploding snapper waiting to go off. He hesitated, his hand lingering near his robe, ready to take out the file and hand it over to her.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, her face dropping. “Are you upset I ruined your pot?”
“No, no, of course not,” he assured her, his hands slipping about her waist. He held her close, their gazes meeting, his pulse flickering. “Let me fix us something to eat before you go out this evening,” he suggested.
“Or, I could stay in tonight?” She suggested, her teeth catching at her lower lip.
His gaze dipped to her mouth, his pulse picking up even more speed. As he was about to lower his mouth to hers, a loud tapping noise came from the window, both of them turning to see a gorgeous snowy owl on the ledge with a letter.
“That’s Andrew’s owl,” Leander said, frowning. He released MC and moved to open the window, the owl relinquishing the letter and nudging his hand for attention. Leander fed her a treat, scratching affectionately under her chin before she took off over the London rooftops. Tearing open the envelope, he noticed MC had moved closer towards him to have a look.
Gryffindor,
SS found me, he has an urgent message regarding the young lady you are assisting. She may be in danger. He wants you to meet him by the Floo outside Gringotts at 6.30pm. He also requested that you go alone, and tell nobody who might alert loose lips. Be careful.
Ravenclaw.
Leander read the note twice before lifting his eyes to the clock on his mantelpiece. He had 45 minutes until the meeting time.
“I’m going to assume this is about me,” MC said. He turned to her, his stomach sinking at the next words out of her mouth. “Who is ‘SS’? It’s him, isn’t it? It’s Sebastian.”
He nodded. “I think we can safely agree that it's him, yes.”
Her face hardened, the earlier softness disappearing. “I’m coming with you.”
“No,” he said firmly, tearing the parchment in two and throwing it into the dying flames of the stove. “If he sees you with me, he will be suspicious. We can’t be certain where his loyalties lie. Besides, this could be a trap.”
MC huffed, moving to keep herself in his sight. “All the more reason that you need back up,” she insisted. “Let me help you. That’s what I was let out for, right?”
“I will have some back up,” he said, thinking quickly as he glanced at the clock again. “I’ve got time to speak with Harrington first. He can come along, hang back and keep watch while I see what Sebastian wants.”
MC folded her arms, planting herself firmly in front of him, her gaze determined. “If you think I’m going to sit here like a good little girl, you can think again. This is about me, and I’m coming. I’ll hide if I have to, I’ve been doing a lot of that this week whilst creeping around Knockturn Alley.”
The fiery determination that flared in her gaze was one of the traits about her that drew him in. Staring at her now, he found himself weakening under that look, ignoring all the sensible parts of his brain and his Auror training, because he found it so difficult to refuse her. Rubbing his hand against his forehead, he sighed.
“Fine, you can come along,” he relented, catching the flicker of a satisfied smirk on her lips. He wasn’t completely foolish, though. “You can wait with Harrington while I speak with Sallow. At least you won’t get into any trouble that way.”
Now, it was his turn to smirk as she grimaced, her arms falling to her sides as her little hands curled into tight fists. He took her robe from the coat stand and held it up for her, his expression clearly implying that it was this way, or not at all.
“Fine,” she huffed, thrusting her arms into the soft, black robe. He adjusted it on her shoulders, smoothing his hands over them and down her arms before spinning her to face him.
The time was drawing ever closer to her reunion with Sebastian. Watching him from a distance was one thing, but being in his company was quite another. The little glimpses of softness she was offering to him were lodged firmly behind his ribs, the endless depths of her gaze his inevitable downfall. He really wasn’t sure he was ready to lose all of it, but at this moment, it felt as though she was about to slip through his fingers.
He cupped her face, her eyes widening slightly as he dipped his head, claiming her mouth in a firm kiss. She stilled, but then responded, kissing him back, her fingers grasping his arms. When their mouths parted, she looked up at him. “What was that for?”
His smile was almost sad as he tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Because you’re beautiful,” he said softly. “Come on, let’s go.”
Sebastian
He barely felt the prick on his finger tip, the blood welling up swiftly into a ruby orb before he smoothed it over the surface of the old compass. Closing his eyes he muttered the charm, aiming his wand towards the location device and bonding himself to it. Relaxing his pose, Sebastian picked up the compass, the needle spinning erratically at his close proximity to it. Whoever held this in their possession would be able to track him for the next 12 hours or so.
He didn’t particularly relish the idea of giving someone that much power over him, but if it meant he could help MC, then it was worth it. Tucking the compass safely into his waistcoat pocket, he pulled on his black coat and envisioned the Floo point outside Gringotts bank before Disapparating away to meet with Prewett.
Diagon Alley was dark and quiet, the lamp lights reflecting off the slick cobbled street after a recent shower of rain. Sebastian avoided the patches of light, lingering in the shadows as he waited. There was a bite to the air this evening, his shoulders hunching as he rubbed his hands together to keep them warm. Nerves tingled down his spine and he frowned, adjusting his collar as he reminded himself that he could take Prewett if he had a need to. He still couldn’t believe he was here, willingly about to assist an Auror.
The sound of approaching footsteps had him on alert, his hand smoothing over the familiar feel of his wand as he withdrew it. The tall frame of Prewett appeared out of the darkness, his robe swaying softly in the light of the street lamp as he walked towards the Floo point. He had his wand in his hand, his profile cutting an impressive line against the backdrop of the street. Sebastian stepped from his dark spot, moving in a casual but ready stroll.
“You made it, then,” he drawled, spinning his wand. Leander turned to face him, nodding once in greeting. “I did wonder if you would come.”
“You said it was urgent,” Prewett said, not moving too close as they sussed each other out. “What did you need to tell me?”
Sebastian glanced up and down the street, no sign of anyone else nearby. “Where is she, then?” His eyes narrowed as he studied Prewett, checking for any tells as he huffed and shook his head.
“How would I know? You said to come alone, and I’ve not told anyone. So, come on, out with it. Some of us have got work to do.”
Twirling his wand slowly, Sebastian suspected that Prewett knew more than he would admit about MC. Ominis had found them together at the Ministry, even hinting that there was something almost friendly between them both. It made Sebastian’s skin crawl with envy to think of her smiling at Prewett, the very idea that this insufferable goody-two-shoes could make her happy made him want to smash something.
He had no choice but to rely on Prewett, though. If they had anything in common, it was their affection for MC. Prewett wouldn’t be here if he didn’t care about her.
There didn’t appear to be anyone else nearby, but that didn’t mean anything. Anyone could be hidden, watching this scene play out. Another Auror, perhaps, to back him up. What was to stop them getting their information and then arresting him on the spot? He had to be quick and careful, suggest his idea before anyone could get too excited with a wand. Sebastian stepped closer, holding up his hand as Prewett raised his wand.
“I know you have a snitch in your office,” he said, lowering his voice. “It’s a woman, but she disguises her face with a charm. I don’t trust her. She told us details about MC at Rookwood’s request. He is up to something, and I don’t like it.”
He had to be so careful what he said, not revealing too much, but letting slip just enough to gain some trust. He could see Prewett thinking over his words, his teeth worrying at his lip.
“We know there has been a leak,” Prewett said, keeping his wand at the ready. “What is Rookwood up to? You said MC could be in danger.”
Sebastian couldn’t resist a sly smirk, baiting Prewett about MC was just too easy. He could see the worry in his eyes, in the tone of his voice. “Rookwood wants her power, Prewett, and he is using the snitch to find out what he can about MC,” he said. “He is meeting with her later this evening. She goes by the name Black Dahlia. If you’re willing, I can lead you to them.”
“Why would you do that?” Prewett narrowed his eyes.
“Because you are not the only one who cares what happens to MC,” Sebastian said simply, taking the compass from his pocket. “Here, take this.”
Tossing the compass forward, Prewett caught it easily, turning it over in his fingers as he studied it. “A compass?”
“It’s been charmed with my blood. It will follow me,” Sebastian explained. He slipped his wand back into its holster as Prewett held up the compass, his eyebrows lifting as it clearly pointed towards Sebastian. “Track me to the meeting point, and you will have your snitch.”
Prewett turned the compass over in his hand thoughtfully. “What’s in it for you?”
Sebastian shrugged, not really willing to unload the thoughts in his head to a man that could easily be classed as an enemy. He dared not say too much, slowly backing up away from the tall Auror. “You can owe me one,” he smirked. “Follow the compass, and catch your snitch. If you see MC, tell her I miss her, and that I am looking forward to seeing her again.”
He caught the subtle tightening of Prewett’s mouth, the downward turn of his brows. The tug of war between them over MC was nothing new, something that had begun in their school days, and now continued as adults. The stakes were higher now. Life outside of Hogwarts was darker and more dangerous, no professors to watch over them. Sebastian cared not for the authority of the Aurors, and he knew how to play dirty if he had to.
MC was obviously watching him, turning up outside the Black Rose that night, appearing in the bar itself a few days later. If she truly was planning to infiltrate the gang and spy for the law, then it was only a matter of time before she was within his reach again. He just needed to be patient.
Despite this, he couldn’t resist having a dig at Prewett, his smirk devilish as he disappeared into the shadows before Disapparating swiftly to The Black Rose.
MC
The breeze cut sharply across the back of her neck, making her huddle under the soft material of her robe as she peered down into the street below. Perched on the rooftop of a Diagon Alley shop, MC could see Leander as he stood near the Floo point, talking to a stocky figure that was partially hidden by shadow. Both men were holding their wands, and she could only imagine the kind of taunts that Sebastian was throwing Leander’s way. The slow creeping worry that this was a trap hadn’t left her, and she held her own wand out ready. It would burn her blood to cast against Sebastian, but she wasn’t about to see Leander get hurt on her account either.
“What are you thinking, little bird?” Harrington asked quietly. He was crouched down nearby, keeping watch on the men below alongside her. “I hear you’ve been stretching your wings and keeping an eye on these bastards. Do you think lover boy is setting a trap?”
MC shifted slightly, pulling her robe closer around her with her free hand, but she kept her gaze fixed below. The term ‘lover boy’ could now be applied to both men down there, but Harrington couldn’t know about her and Leander. It was their secret. “Why do you think I insisted on coming along? You may be skilled Aurors, but I can bring down an entire room in the blink of an eye, and Sebastian knows that.”
“He doesn’t know you’re on our side, though, does he?”
MC shrugged, her eyes glittering as she threw a glance his way. She didn’t like him, not one bit, and it was clear the feeling was mutual. “That all depends on how loose the lips are on your snitch, doesn’t it?”
Smirking at Harrington’s frown, she returned her attention back to the street, and realised Sebastian was backing up. “It looks like they are done. That was quick.”
Leander waited for a few moments before Apparating, appearing on the rooftop beside them with a pop. He shifted into a crouch, holding out a worn compass and filled them in on what Sebastian had told him.
“The snitch is a woman?” Harrington said, scratching his chin. “Smart to use a disguising charm, I must say, but bloody annoying when it comes to identifying her.”
“Do you think it’s a trap?” Leander asked, studying the compass. The arrow spun a few times and then settled, pointing in one direction. Leander followed it with his eyes. “If this really is tracking Sallow, then he is in Knockturn Alley.”
“Let’s follow him and find out,” MC said, a restless feeling settling over her.
“You’re not going anywhere, little bird,” Harrington said, firmly. “I indulged your request for this meeting, but you need to leave the Auror business to the Aurors.”
“Are you kidding me?” MC scoffed, an irritated frown darkening her face. “If you were doing such a good job on your own, you wouldn’t have needed to release me from Azkaban to do your dirty spying for you. Plus, I’m more powerful than the two of you put together.”
Harrington’s face darkened with a flush as he raised an authoritative finger up at her. “Now listen here…”
“Enough!” Leander hissed, holding his hands up at both of them. “There’s no point bickering amongst ourselves. MC, if you’re seen with us, then the game is up. They will know not to trust you.”
She wasn’t going to back down, folding her arms and tilting her chin upwards, her eyes flashed with determination. “I know how to stay hidden,” she said stubbornly. “If this is about me, then I want to be there. I particularly want to lay eyes on Rookwood if I can. I still find it hard to believe that the bastard is alive.”
She may have seen it in Leander’s pensieve memories, but she needed to see it with her own eyes. She turned her attention to Leander, knowing that he would be easier to persuade. Guilty of using his affections for her, she softened her gaze slightly, and she saw his resolve waver.
“You really think you can stay back and not get involved if things become difficult?” Leander asked, earning a huff from Harrington. “You cannot blow your cover, not even for Sebastian.”
Harrington’s gaze narrowed on her and she shifted slightly, but her resolve to accompany them remained. “I won’t blow my cover,” she agreed. “However, you had best make sure you aren’t on the receiving end of any curses so I don’t have to.”
“Is that so?” Harrington asked, his gaze narrowing even more as he glanced between the two of them. “How touching.”
MC felt her cheeks burn and she bit her lip, resorting to sarcasm. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not living up to my super villain persona?”
Leander rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I could go alone.”
“No!”
Both MC and Harrington had spoken at the same time, the pair of them glancing at the other in surprise. MC immediately stiffened her spine as she got to her feet, the two Aurors following suit. Leander held out the compass, the needle still pointing towards Knockturn Alley. “Sallow doesn’t seem to have moved yet,” he said.
MC moved closer towards him, linking her arm firmly around his. “And when he does, I’m coming with you.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Harrington said, sighing as he looked at them both.
“What other choice do we have?” Leander asked. “This could be our only chance to catch whoever is leaking out information. The danger of MC’s cover being blown is higher because of the snitch more than anything else.”
“Alright, fine. We will do it your way,” Harrington said, waving a hand in resignation as he settled back down against the rooftop ledge. “I guess all we have to do for now is wait.”
Leander met her gaze and she gave him a small smile, her eyes softening as she gave his arm a subtle squeeze. She wasn’t about to let him go, not even when he moved to sit down as Harrington had done. Huddled together on the rooftop, she leant against Leander’s solid frame, telling herself it was to keep warm as they waited.
It wasn’t too long before Leander gave her a nudge, her head lifting from where she had almost dozed off against him. He held up the compass. “Sallow has moved,” he said, looking over at Harrington. “It’s time.”
Sebastian
The distant rumble of a muggle train echoed down the tunnel, the atmosphere tight with tension as torch light flickered against old stone. Rookwood stood calmly checking his fingernails, wearing his usual long coat and top hat. He seemed unconcerned, and yet Sebastian was bristling with apprehension. Black Dahlia could reveal MC’s plans to spy on the Ashwinders, blow her cover and place her in even more danger than Sebastian already suspected she was in. The nagging worry about the magic extraction still played on his mind, and now he had handed over a tracking device to an Auror that placed himself in a rather dodgy situation, too. What was to stop Prewett barging in here with a horde of Aurors and hauling them off to Azkaban? If the Dementors didn’t get him, then Rookwood would in revenge.
“Why are we meeting her in the tunnels?” Sebastian grumbled, shifting his weight to his other leg as he glanced down towards the entrance again.
“Why indeed?” Rookwood smirked, dipping his hand inside his coat pocket and pulling out a very old looking wooden box. He smoothed his fingers over it with reverence. “Demanding a higher price means higher stakes, Sallow. I chose the meeting point this time.”
Something that felt suspiciously like anxiety began to creep over Sebastian as he eyed Rookwood and the old box. “What’s that you’ve got there?”
There was a gleam in Rookwood’s eyes as he held it up. “This old thing?” With a slow smirk, he creaked open the lid. “Just some old necklace a Queen used to wear. I doubt she will miss it seeing as she no longer has a head.”
Sebastian recognised the string of pearls and its pendant immediately, his eyes widening in shock. “You’re not going to give Anne Boleyn’s necklace to Black Dahlia are you?”
Rookwood gave him a sly look. “Why am I not surprised that you recognise it? The goons I sent to steal it had no idea what it was, the fools,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You don’t think our little friend has earned a treat, then?”
“No,” Sebastian huffed. “I don’t trust her one bit.”
Rookwood only smiled, the box disappearing back into his pocket with a subtle turn of his hand. “That makes two of us, my dear boy. Why do you think I insisted you accompany me this evening?”
The tension in Sebastian’s shoulders tightened, but he kept his face as neutral as possible as he shrugged indifferently.
“If Black Dahlia doesn’t tell me what I want to hear, then you get to make use of those delectable Crucio skills of yours, Sallow. I don’t like to be disappointed, and should she let me down, I want to hear that bitch scream before I decide how to punish her. Down here, there is less chance of her being heard.”
“What is it you want her to say?” Sebastian fought back the bile trying to rise in his throat, the memory of almost losing himself the last time he cast the torture spell crowding into his thoughts.
Rookwood smiled that irritating, smug smile of his as he adjusted his coat, standing all expectant as though waiting for something pleasurable to arrive. “Let’s just say I’ve asked our little friend to do some deeper digging about our elusive prisoner. I’m hoping she is as good at finding buried treasure as she is at clever disguises.”
The effort to maintain the tight control over his emotions was almost strangling as Sebastian stood there beside Rookwood, his eyes tight and adrenaline kicking in something fierce, as they waited for Black Dahlia to arrive. If she had pleasing news for Rookwood, then he was going to need to think fast, because under no circumstances could he allow her to say it.
All of that with the potential for an Auror ambush weighing him down, and all Sebastian could do was wait. Whatever happened, Black Dahlia would not be walking out of here with that necklace, not if he had anything to do with it.
MC
It struck her as a little ironic that she was stalking Sebastian Sallow with two Aurors cloaked in the very spell he had taught her to hide herself. She clung to the shadows still, her presence barely a shimmer as she remained a few feet back from Leander and Harrington while they followed the path of the tracking compass. Sticking to more traditional methods and walking, MC felt the tiredness creeping into her legs, not used to so much exercise. It didn’t help that they appeared to be wandering in a circle, and she sighed as Leander paused, frowning as he glanced around the street and back down at the compass.
Harrington leaned forward to get a look. “It’s just spinning erratically. Where the bloody hell is he? I knew this was a bad idea. Sallow is a trickster, make no mistake.”
Disappointment flooded through MC as she bit her lip, fearing that Harrington was right. It worried her that Sebastian had gone too far and she wouldn’t be able to pull him back. It made her fear that she would fall into darkness, too.
She dared to creep closer, pausing beside Leander as she watched the arrow spin. “He should be right here,” she whispered. She glanced up at the buildings around them. “Do you think he could be above us?”
“Bloody hell, you’re a genius,” Leander said, his face brightening. “Maybe not above us, but what about below. In the tunnels.”
Harrington clapped him on the shoulder, nodding firmly. “You’re right, lad,” he said. “Time to go back underground again. Stay close, little bird, and stay out of sight.”
Both her arms and legs were aching now as she climbed down a ladder, shivering as her hands grabbed at the cold iron. Leander had gone first, checking the lower tunnel out as she descended, Harrington waiting above. Descending into a dark tunnel didn’t exactly inspire much excitement, if anything she was pressing down on tendrils of dread, flashbacks of dark stone and the distant crashing of waves making her chest tighten. She was near the bottom when she felt warm hands grazing against her thighs, gently sliding upwards to cup her hips and help her down. This time her shiver wasn’t because of the cold.
“Careful, there is water down here,” Leander murmured close to her head.
“I’m surprised you could see me,” she whispered, turning to face him, only the barest glimmer suggesting she was even there.
“Lucky guess,” he smiled, his hand caressing up over her waist. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” she nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. Staring up at his face, she allowed some of her guard to slip knowing he couldn’t see her expression, her face soft and her eyes burning at the feel of his hand at her waist.
Anxious about what might happen down here, to him, to Sebastian, worried about herself being discovered too soon by Rookwood, she took this stolen moment before Harrington arrived to savour being this close to Leander before she had to step away. She reached up, her fingers ghosting across his jaw, her thumb grazing his lower lip.
“Don’t get hurt, alright?”
“Don’t tell me you’re worried about me,” he whispered, his eyes searching the space where her head should be as he placed his hand over hers. “Leave the worrying to me, MC. I’ll be fine.”
The ladder shuddered behind them, and they moved away, parting from each other as Harrington huffed his way to the tunnel floor. MC moved back from them both, her fingers grazing against Leander’s once more. She did worry for him, it tightened her chest, the fear of losing him so very real as she stared down the length of the tunnel. She hated to admit it, but she agreed with Harrington. She had a bad feeling about this.
Sebastian
Black Dahlia and her brown eyes remained the same irritation as ever, her face a vague and plain visage that made him blink with uncertainty if he tried to focus on it for too long, but he could make out the smug smirk that twisted her lips as she stood before them. Rookwood had offered a glimpse of her prize, those brown eyes igniting with greedy excitement before he had snapped the lid shut again, the box vanishing into his coat before she could make any move.
“So, what do you have for me?” Rookwood asked, holding out his hand with a flourish.
Black Dahlia shifted, bowing her head slightly as she cleared her throat, almost rivalling Rookwood in the dramatics department. Sebastian watched her carefully, his stomach tied up in knots and his hand at the ready to aim his wand. There was a tension in the chilly air, he could feel it, tight and hot at the back of his neck.
“As far as any official records go regarding MC, there are very few,” she began. “She lived as a muggle until her arrival at Hogwarts when she was 15.”
Rookwood rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes, yes, we know all that. Get on with it.”
“Well, that’s just it, Mr Rookwood. There are no other files, unless they are buried deep within the archives, or they are inside the Department of Mysteries. I do, however, have some interesting information from the case that will benefit you. Perhaps that will be enough?”
Her eyes dipped greedily to his jacket where the box had disappeared, and Sebastian wrapped his fingers around the handle of his wand. This bitch was about to blow MC’s cover, and all for the hunger over a piece of jewellery she had no damn right to.
“What kind of information?” Rookwood asked impatiently.
She stiffened, her brown eyes darkening as she fixed them on Sebastian. “You dare to draw your wand on me, Sallow? Interesting…”
Sebastian could feel a bead of sweat trickle down behind his ear, his heart thudding double time as he stared at her. The flicker of a memory flashed behind his eyes, an office with paperwork scattering through the air…adrenaline pumping thick and fast, a pair of brown eyes, determined and feline.
“You’re an Auror,” he said calmly, recognition sweeping through him.
She chuckled, waving off his words with a delicate shrug. “Oh, Sebastian. Always trying to outsmart everyone, aren’t you?”
Risking a glance at Rookwood, Sebastian could see the hesitation, the first glimmer of suspicion as he watched them both carefully. Realising exactly who this bitch was, a plan began to form in his mind, especially if Prewett was on his way here. He withdrew his wand fully and aimed at Black Dahlia.
“You’re an Auror,” he said, firmly this time. “You chased me through the warehouse in Glasgow and attacked Miss Rookwood. How do we know there aren’t more Aurors lurking back there in the tunnel waiting for us?”
“Preposterous!” She scoffed, but a flare of panic lit her eyes. She even took a subtle step backwards.
Sebastian stepped forward, his confidence showing on his face. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he taunted. “It was you, wasn’t it. You found me in that office and chased me down the stairs.”
Black Dahlia shook her head but took another step backwards, her eyes turning to Rookwood. “I think your guard dog is losing his Gobstones,” she said, attempting another laugh. Her hand dipped slowly into her robe, clearly going for her wand. “Call him off, or I won’t tell you a thing.”
Before she had a chance to make a single attempt with her wand, Sebastian hit her with a basic cast, hitting her on the hand. She yelped, her wand clattering to the stone floor. As if they had timed it perfectly, Prewett and Harrington appeared in the tunnel behind her.
“Aurors,” Rookwood hissed, his icy eyes narrowing in hatred as he glared at Black Dahlia. “Do what you do best, Sallow.”
In a swirl of black, Rookwood was gone, and Black Dahlia paled as her gaze flicked from Sebastian to her wand on the ground. A slow, and dangerous smirk curved Sebastian’s mouth as he fell easily into a duelling stance. It was time to play.
Leander
Everything seemed to happen so fast, and yet any movement appeared sluggish as though slowed down. Harrington was running, his wand out, Sallow’s name on his lips as the first spells lit up the bricked curve of the tunnel. A woman in a heavy robe had rolled across the ground, snatching up a wand to fire defensive spells towards Sebastian. Leander hesitated for a few seconds, watching in fascination as Sallow attacked her with ferocity, his face livid with hatred. The speed of his movements, and the skill of his accuracy was something to behold.
Harrington cast against Sebastian, but he blocked it easily, firing off a lightning quick Stupify that sent Harrington crashing rigidly into the wall. That unstuck Leander’s feet from where they had been rooted to the spot, and he took off at a run, wand out.
The blast of Sebastian’s next spell lit the tunnel in bright red, the shooting blast cutting through the space with deadly accuracy as it hit the robed woman in her chest. Her cry echoed off the walls as she was thrown backwards, arms and legs flailing outwards, her robe flaring wide before she slammed into solid brick with a sickening crack.
Leander skidded to a stop, his pulse roaring in his ears as he stared, her body dropping to the ground like a ragdoll. She rolled, one arm slipping down into the gurgling rush of water that ran along the side of the tunnel, blood pooling thick and fast under her head and running down to swirl in the dirty stream. Gasping in a breath, he turned to Sebastian.
“What the fuck did you do?” He asked. The question was useless, but it was taking a moment for his brain to catch up with what he was seeing. “Is she…she’s dead.”
“It was going to be her, or me, and I don’t like losing,” Sebastian said, pushing a hand through his hair. He shook his head and shrugged. He gestured towards the dead woman, her glassy eyes staring up at nothing. “There’s your snitch, Prewett. I guess there won’t be any leaks from your office where she is concerned. You might want to check if your colleague is alright. I tried not to hurt him too much.”
Leander glanced at Harrington who was frozen rigid on the ground, but his eyes were pulled back towards the dead woman, a crease appearing on his brow as her face began to change. He moved closer, his palm sweaty around the handle of his wand where he was gripping it too hard. Her brown eyes, frozen in death, looked familiar, her nose moulding into a pretty little curve, her cheekbones becoming graceful and her jawline delicate. Everything being revealed was painfully familiar.
For years, she had worked alongside him, right through their training together, and then taking the desk next to his back at the office. He knew the scent of her perfume, could pick out her laugh in a busy room, and had looked into her eyes on so many occasions when she had indulged in her playful flirting with him. That girl had been vibrant and alive, crackling with energy and so skilled with a wand. This girl, laying on the cold, hard ground, was empty and lost as she stared upwards into the dark.
“No,” he said softly, beginning to shake his head. “No, it can’t be…it just can’t.”
Shock made his breathing turn ragged, his eyes blinking as he tried to deny the familiar face that was emerging from the disguise now fading after her death. He couldn’t deny the truth that was sprawled on the ground at his feet, her blood flowing into the dirty water, her face already pale and lifeless. It was Odessa. She was the snitch. This whole time, she had been playing her game, and he had been the fool to fall for it.
Sebastian
Guilt was a strange creature. He had felt it many times over the last few years, the bone gnawing horror of it, the sickening pull that made you nauseous, the tormenting dreams that came to taunt you in the small hours. Everyone always said that the first one was the worst, and his first killing had been a horrific, heart wrenching incident that had torn his family apart. It had almost destroyed him, taken his girls from him, and he still woke up sweating from nightmares. There had been others since then, his arm a decorated memorial to lives taken by his hand, and it really didn’t get any easier. Those who said that it did were liars.
The tunnel was eerily quiet, the trickling rush of water a constant sound that was occasionally accompanied by the distant rumble of a train. He could hear the thud of his own heart pulsing in his ears, that cold sweat on the back of his neck making him shiver as he watched Prewett see the unveiling of their office snitch. He wouldn’t say he had ever cared much for the tall Gryffindor, but the expression on his face brought a lump to Sebastian’s throat regardless. Clearly, he had known her. Maybe he was even close to her. The betrayal on Prewett’s face was heavy and painful to witness.
Looking down at Black Dahlia, her face now revealed exactly who he had suspected her to be. It was the Auror that had chased him in Glasgow. He wished he could regret killing her, but despite the guilt and the new mark he would need to brand into his arm, it was for the best. He had stopped her from spilling any information about MC, and Rookwood was none the wiser for a while longer.
Leander turned, his freckled face flushed red as he made a furious grab for the front of Sebastian’s coat. “What is it with you, Sallow? You always have to go too far, don’t you? You didn’t have to kill her! Look at her!”
Sebastian wouldn’t look, he didn’t need to. He would never forget her face, he never did with the ones he killed. He grabbed at Prewett’s wrists, surprised again at how strong he was as they struggled against each other.
“If you’re looking for an apology, you’re going to be very disappointed,” he said, grunting as he found himself being forced backwards, his boots scraping on stone. “I did you a favour, Prewett. She was a dirty snitch.”
“Bastard,” Prewett hissed, shoving him hard and making him stumble.
Immediately, Sebastian aimed his wand, but gasped in shock as two hands clamped around his arm, fingers digging in like claws. A shimmering shape began to solidify, his eyes widening and his lips parting in disbelief as a familiar face came into view.
Healthier than the pensieve memory he had seen, but still pale, MC glared up at him with eyes blazing. He knew those eyes, he dreamed about them all the time, and now she was finally here before him. He stared at her, the fight draining out of him immediately.
“MC,” he croaked, a dizzying and overwhelming rush of joy sweeping over him.
“Don’t hurt him,” she warned, her mouth set in a familiar, determined line.
Time seemed to dip out of existence as they stared at each other. It was hard to believe that she was actually standing there, that those fingers gripping his forearm were hers. Sebastian couldn’t tear his gaze from her. He was too scared to in case she disappeared.
He slowly lowered his wand, his eyes devouring the lines of MC’s face, sweeping down over her slight frame that was hidden by a long, dark robe. He opened his mouth to say something, but his mind had gone blank, he couldn’t find the words, and a simple ‘hello’ just didn’t seem right given the circumstances. His hand lifted, reaching out as if to touch her, but she let him go and stepped back.
Was that a flicker of fear in her eyes? She recovered herself quickly, her face becoming almost indifferent as she made to walk away, but he had seen something that almost crippled him.
This wasn’t how their reunion was supposed to play out. He had imagined this moment for years, ached for so long to be this close to her, and yet she felt further away than ever.
“Wait,” he begged, his hand grasping at her sleeve. She paused, that flash of vulnerability there, and then gone again as she stared at him.
“You should have stayed hidden, little bird,” Harrington said, shaking off the effects of being stupefied as he came to stand beside Prewett. “Step away from Sallow, now. He’s going down for murder. Quite the pair you two make, taking out Aurors like it means nothing.”
Both Aurors had their wands at the ready, and Sebastian was a wanted criminal. He had taken down one of their own right in front of them, no matter that she was a dirty snitch. He had still killed her. He tightened his grip on MC’s sleeve. Nobody was going to take her away from him. Not again.
“I know I should have stayed hidden,” she said, her chin lifting in that stubborn way of hers. It felt so good to see it, he almost smiled.
Prewett held out his hand towards her, and to Sebastian’s horror, she moved forwards. Refusing to let her go, Sebastian tugged her back, her gaze swinging back to him in alarm. Panic seized him. Why would she go to Prewett so willingly?
“Let her go, Sallow,” Prewett warned, a desperate edge to his voice.
MC turned to look at Prewett, her face softening in a way that Sebastian yearned for. “It’s alright, Lee. He won’t hurt me,” she said.
Sebastian felt that curling, hideous twist of envy solidify in his stomach as he watched them both. The look that passed between them was far too intimate for his liking, and he most certainly didn’t like the way she had shortened Prewett’s name. That screamed familiarity, and it sent a shard of ice through his chest.
“I would never hurt you,” Sebastian murmured, his voice hoarse. The haunted look she gave him tore him to shreds.
“Let her go, boy,” Harrington pressed, his eyes determined as he aimed his wand.
Four years ago he had been a broken teenage boy, and Harrington had come for MC, tearing her from his arms and dragging her away in nought but her nightgown. He hadn’t been able to stop it, and while he might still be that broken boy deep inside sometimes, his outer layers had become thicker and stronger over the years, and he had promised to himself that he would never let anyone take those that he loved away from him ever again.
This time, it was him Harrington wanted, but the stakes were the same.
Pulling MC towards him, he wrapped his arm firmly about her waist as her back hit his chest, her breath leaving her in a gasp. He saw the panic flare in Prewett’s eyes, the desperate way he reached out for her, but MC was his, she always had been. He held her tight and fixed a destination in mind. In a blink, they were gone from the tunnel, Prewett’s protest ringing in his ears.
They hit the dirt and rolled, cold night air stinging his face as he winced at the impact, but he didn’t let MC go. He felt as well as heard her gasping breaths, her body tiny and frail under the press of his arms, but she caught him by surprise. Her hands flailed and she bucked against him, slapping out at him wherever she could land a blow.
“What…did you…do?” She wheezed, thrashing like a wildcat. “Bastard!”
Her hands continued to hit out, but they were like tiny birds against the firm bulk of his chest. He scrambled to catch her arms, grunting in surprise as her fist landed with a smack against his jaw. As she hit him, she screamed through gritted teeth, her eyes wild and rolling as though she was in pain. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he feared that if he let her go, she would Apparate immediately, and he did not want that to happen. Grabbing her wrists, he rolled them both, pinning her arms above her head into the carpet of dirt and leaves.
“Will you stop? I’m not going to bloody hurt you,” he snapped.
Looking down at her, a jumble of emotions burst through him, pride at the fire she still possessed, joy at the sight of her beautiful face, and burning desire to feel those lips crushed against his. He had fucking missed her!
“Let me go,” she hissed, lifting her head and kicking her legs against the ground.
“No,” he said simply, his mouth curving into a smile. “I’ve waited a long time to see you, darling. If you think I’m going to let you go so easily, then you’re mistaken.”
He should have been ready when he saw the way her jaw tightened, the barest glimmer of her ancient magic searing the edges of those gorgeous eyes. Her knee slammed upwards and he groaned, relinquishing his hold on her and slumping sideways. She shoved him to his back and was instantly on him, her knees straddling his waist, her hands wrapped around his thick neck.
The little minx had winded him, his ribs expanding as he tried to catch his breath, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from her. Even though he felt the tight grip of her hands around his throat as he tried to swallow.
“That’s better,” she said, puffing from the exertion of their tumble. Her eyes roamed over his face and that flicker of vulnerability appeared in her eyes again, just before it was shielded with fierce determination. “You and I need to have a little chat, Sallow.”
He stared up at her, trying to remember the last time he had felt this happy. He didn’t even try to remove her hands from his throat. He lifted his arms above his head, hands open in a move that was uncharacteristically submissive. His mouth curved into another smile that reached his eyes.
“I’m all ears, sweetheart.”
To be continued…
Taglist: @eternalremorse and @slytherin-paramour for being angels. My lovely readers @evaslytherpuff @writing-intheundercroft @marketfreshfics @ravenbronze @loving-him-was-red13 @sevprince-91
#hogwarts legacy fanfic#sebastian sallow#mc x sebastian sallow#leander prewett x mc#leander prewett#blueraineshadows#blood bound
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i lost a friend, i lost a friend, i lost my mind
#zutaraedit#zutara#i think a lot about how zuko pretty much from the second after the fight in ba sing se seems very torn about his choice#and he's quite obviously terrified seeing his father again even before The Big Lie reveal#and i wonder if in those moments of confusion#he thought about this girl who was his enemy#and who had every reason to hate him#still being kinder to him than his father or sister#atla#gifs#my gifs#not super happy with the second one but oh well#song is i lost a friend by finneas#zuko#katara
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infinite wealth if sawashiro said "who gives a shit about ebina im going to hawaii with ichi" and then the rest of the game is a family vacation
#Ok so here's my dream scenario. It starts w kicking kiryu out of the narrative bc girl. I love the guy but he does not need to be here!!#kicking him out of the narrative also banishes the ebina stuff. I'm still keeping him around but#he'll be basically built up to be the main antagonist of 9. We're ONLY focusing on the cult stuff for 8#the way 8 closes him off is already sequel bait so give him a proper focus game w 9#Anyways now that that's out of the way. My worstie sawashiro does indeed become a party member.#His moveset is mostly blade damage w some blunt damage mixed in. YES I'VE THOUGHT ABOUT GAME MECHANICS#His singular elemental move is him flicking a cigarette at the enemy. Yes this is based off of that one scene w ichi in 7#ANYWAYS I HAVE MANY IDEAS I CANT TYPE THEM ALL OUT RN BUT. FAMILY VACATION ARC. PLEASE#ITS INSANE TO ME HOW KASUGA 'I LOVE MY FAMILY' ICHIBAN WAS NOT ALLOWED TO PROPERLY INTERACT W HIS FAMILY???#AND THE MAJORITY OF SAWASHIROS CONFLICT INCLUDED CAST MEMBERS WHO DIDNT GIVE A SINGLE SHIT ABOUT HIM????#I keep thinking back on that scene where ebina shows him passed out on that chair and THE INTENDED AUDIENCE FOR#THAT SCENE WAS AN OCEAN AWAY LIKE GIRL. WHAT WAS THE POINT???#well another perspective of that scene would be that sawashiro would be glad that ichi wasn't the one that came to rescue. which is. Misery#me when characters are defined by their guilt 💥💥💥💥😵💥💥💥😵💫💥💥💥😱💥💥💥💥😫💥💥💥#Well. If y'all read all these tags. thanks. If anyone is curious about this self indulgent au that I've created feel free to hit me up#(Please hit me up I'm desperate to talk abt the arakawa family misery and I deeply wish this game was even more miserable)#rgg#nile talks
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ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ satoru gojo + breeding !
୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. satoru gojo + breeding. thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown… (5.2K)
୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, royalty!au, enemies to lovers (?), forbidden romance, infidelity and cheating, spit kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, pregnancy kink, breast play, agoraphilia, baby trapping, oral sex (f!recieving), unprotected sex, princess + fem!reader, lord!satoru gojo.
୨୧ — director’s note. woo happy spooky season my loves. welcome back to another tteokdoroki kinktober! im excited for you to see whats in store this year, hope you enjoy this fic to start off mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧
you have thirty days to get married.
being from a small town, somewhere that’s not even on the map — you never expected your family name to carry much meaning aside from the one you carved out for yourself. let alone expect your name to come from royalty.
if you thought discovering how to be a teenager at sixteen was hard, then try discovering how to be a princess at sixteen on for size. everything you’ve ever done since finding out you were royalty has been for your family. you’ve kept your head down, out of the spotlight aside for the occasional appearance and charitable events. you’ve studied hard, double-majoring in international relations alongside political science and diplomacy.
you’ve prepared yourself thoroughly enough to feel ready to take the mantle of queen — especially with your grandmother planning to step down. all of your accomplishments have been leading up to this very moment — it’s so close that you can practically feel the weight of the crown on your head.
except there’s one itty, bitty, little problem.
you still have to get married in thirty days. otherwise, your family title will be poached from right beneath your nose.
satoru gojo (aka public enemy number one) is the nephew of a member of parliament who just so conveniently knows genovian law better than your grandmother does. since satoru came of age before you did, and he’s lived in genovia for longer than you have, and has some random distant relative in connection to the first king — the men of parliament have decided that he too is in line for the throne.
especially if you, the princess, do not marry before your coronation.
how ridiculous is that?
and not only is this satoru gojo an evil, conniving, crown-stealing bastard. but he’s charming, a silver tongue wrapped around each and every one of his words. charming, like a prince (blegh) he’s also stupidly attractive. with deep sapphire blue eyes that are gorgeous enough to make the crown jewellers weak in the knees and a smile so sweet it feels like a sugar rush whenever he looks at you. there’s something so unique about the frostiness to his soft white hair, matching his unfairly long lashes — the ones you know girls back home would kill for.
it angers you to know that you’d been dancing with your rival at your welcome ball, pains you to know that you’ll never forget his slender fingers splayed out against the small of your back to guide your every movement. if you had been back in college (and had a few litres of hard liquor in your system), perhaps gojo would have been the type of guy you’d have snuck into the dorms for a night of fun and an NDA in the morning — your secret signed away from the paparazzi’s keen eyes.
alas, these are very different circumstances and there’s a lot riding on you being sensible about the situation. yet, satoru proves himself to be a problem every chance that he gets — cornering you in closets with his breath hot against your ear, trapping you against the walls while the ghost of his touch feels like heaven against your skin… on the staircase too, insistent on reminding you of the passionate dance you once shared.
all while you’re set to marry the duke of another country so you can keep your fucking crown (pardon the language, your highness).
suguru geto would be the perfect king consort if you managed not to mess this up. he is warm, where satoru is a flip between disastrously hot and frustratingly cold. he balances you out, a mellowness to your clumsiness whilst understanding your need for a rushed proposal and wedding. raised a gentleman, suguru is mindful of you in every action he takes. he doesn’t stare too long but smiles when you think he’s not looking and he’s a wonder with your grandmother — the parents, too. his family gem (a serpentine, making you feel much like a snake) sits heavy on your ring finger, dazzling under camera flashes at your engagement dinner…. and he recognises duty and honour above anything else too.
if satoru is your enemy, then guilt is your friend. no matter what either of the men in your life do, you find yourself comparing their every move. when you’re with suguru your mind is away chasing the fairies, imagining the touch of another man who sets your heart alight in a cool blaze — like gasoline trickling through your veins waiting for its candle match. when you’re with satoru, all you can think about is how wrong this is. how geto doesn’t deserve this. but you’re an addict without a cure, and your drug is satoru gojo and you don’t see yourself ever quitting him.
you're in desperate need of a wake up call and a nicotine patch, the cocky yet lecherous air about him almost acting like a smog in your healthy and capable lungs. sometimes through the fog, you wonder if satoru knows how much he weighs heavy on your mind— though if he did, you’d never hear the end of it.
the current queen tells you not to worry about the white haired man that’s slowly freezing over the four chambers of your heart. you tell yourself that suguru geto is the only man that you need, one that could help you rule and create a beautiful and better kingdom for many years to come. geto tells you that he loves you, that he can’t wait to marry you in two or three weeks time and you respond with equal (yet, faux) excitement.
perhaps that’s why you find yourself sneaking away from this respectful, loving man to be with the one trying to ruin your life?
why are you following satoru gojo deep into the royal gardens, where the rose bushes are the only witness to your sick and twisted sins?
your back hits the jagged pattern of tree bark before your brain can catch up — causing a little wet whimper to bubble up on your pinky-peach tainted lips. the flutter of pain just beneath your skin only lasts for a second before it’s replaced by the sensation of satoru’s fingers traversing up the dips and curves of your body. he soothes you where it hurts the most, rough fingertips leaving bruising marks made with affection along your thighs and small of your back while he swallows your sweet gasps — licking into the wet cavern of your mouth to taste you.
“you’re not even…” his words spill into you, adding fuel to the spark of lust beginning to form a pit in your stomach. “you’re not even attracted to him,” he spews, surging forward like a storm knocking on your door to press his greedy spit slicked lips to yours. his tongue, syrupy and wet, intertwined with your own, filling you up and giving you something to suck on.
before you can even think of kissing your rival back, he retreats and takes his swollen lips with him — latching onto your neck and weaponizing his teeth against it. you gasp, your angel’s song tipping out into the rose garden while your fingers tangle in silver-moon locks and let him work against you, claiming you just below the neckline of your dress where no one will be able to see.
except for maybe your fiancé and only god knows how you’ll be able to explain the marks to him tonight. ‘oh you know me, suguru. i’m way too clumsy for my own good.’ you’ll say, all while thinking about how the man after your crown blew your back out at your engagement party.
you know why satoru’s acting such a fool — taking risks that he wouldn’t normally. the dress you’re wearing, the colour of his eyes, drives him fucking insane. you can’t say that you didn’t ask for this, like it wasn’t on purpose.
“can’t fucking stand you,” gojo groans against your skin, nose pressed to your collarbone as he inhales the candied notes of your perfume. “been giving me those angel eyes all day. knowing that i can’t take my fucking eyes off of you when you wear that colour, princess.”
he’s insufferable, but here you find yourself at the mercy of his touch — offering up your body to satoru gojo like a sacrificial lamb as your back arches away from the tree and presses your chest into his eager strawberry tongue. it leaves a slimy track over your neck and dips between the cleavage of your dress while gojo makes his descent down to hell — tasting the shimmering crystals of salt on your skin.
satoru gojo belongs on his knees.
kneeling before you with the royal blue tule of your dress between his shaking hands. you can tell he’s trying not to rip it off of you. born to worship you. mirth weighs down his lashes and desire dances between the navy blue flecks in his sapphire eyes — he needs you so bad it might kill him. from this position he can practically smell how turned on you are, he’d recognise the mouth-watering aroma of your drooling cunt anywhere, slick gathering in the crotch of your barely there panties.
there’s a depraved, royal treasure hidden between the string of fabric that runs between your juicy pussy lips — swollen and waiting to be devoured by your enemy. not that you’d ever admit that to him. “i think you should be referring to me as your queen.” you manage between ragged breaths, satoru eyeing the way your chest heaves from beneath the bust of your dress.
instead of responding, his head unceremoniously dips beneath your skirts and he drags a thigh over the width of his broad shoulders. “watch your mouth,” the lord purrs salaciously as he licks up your inner thigh, the vibrations shooting straight to your swollen clit. “let’s remind you of who’s really in charge.” the both of you feel it, the aching throb of your pussy against gojo’s lips as he wedges his face right between your thighs. you can’t help but grind against him in wanton, desperate to be filled up with fingers, tongue whatever your sworn enemy has to offer up to the crown.
but your warmth and wetness does nothing to coax satoru into tongue fucking his way past your clenching, creaming entrance. rather, he draws his head back just a touch and rubs at your cunt like he loves you, dips his fingers just into your quivering hole and then — smack !
juices run down satoru’s arms as if he’s taken a bite into the fruit that tempted eve while he laughs in awe of just how fucking sloppy you are between your thighs. the spank to your puffy folds makes you jolt in surprise, causing you to scratch your back against the jagged tree bark.
“gojo!” you squeak in warning as your thighs close around his veiny hand.
he sticks his tongue into his cheek, smirking in amusement before prying your shaky legs apart. “that’s not quite right, try again for me, princess...” gojo repeats the process, running between your slick folds and spanking you against them when you fail to respond. “you know my name, baby. c’mon it’s easy, i’ll even say it with you. d…d…”
you refuse to stoop so low, to let demeaning words escape from underneath your tongue but not having satoru’s mouth on you is like torture — just his breath against your cunt is akin to dangling a carrot in front of a starving horse. you know what that pleasure is like, you crave it and you’re not above begging no matter how royal you may be.
“f-fuck, daddy!” you whinge defiantly, screwing your eyes shut and letting your head fall back against the tree. satoru wastes no more time then, slotting his hot mouth against the entire length of your silken slit. the first thing he does is moan, the vibrations shooting twinges of ecstasy from your clit through the rest of your body and even reaching your head — making the world around you spin.
the tip of his tongue teases its way past your entrance, squirming around to brush up against pleasure spots your little fingers can’t even reach. “that’s right princess, knew you could do it. you’re not just some stuck up little girl.” the white haired lord praises, drawing back from your quivering hole — connected to you by a string of your glistening slick.
“shut up, just… put your mouth to good use.” you grunt, your hips canterint down onto gojo’s face to keep him quiet. your fingers take root in his silvery moon locks, dragging the man and his pink tongue onto your sex once more. gojo takes the hint, making your cute little clit his next victim as he rolls it between perfect rows of pearly whites and sends your eyes into the dark depths of your skull.
the sinful and salacious sensation provides a welcomed distraction from your responsibilities as the crown princess. if your grandmother could see you now, you know that all she’d feel is disappointment— especially if she knew her granddaughter was fucking the biggest threat to the crown. and suguru, your poor fiancé — he was probably stuck mingling with guests he didn’t even know, looking for your eyes in the crowd like he always did.
shame should be burning through your veins, not the white hot trickle of desire that you’re filled with as satoru slurps your juices from between your fat pussy lips. the needy groans he lets out against you inch down your spine, drown you in stormy waves of lust and you find yourself addicted to the bob of gojo’s head from underneath your tule skirts. you’re just so wet, pouring the royal family’s riches, liquid gold straight into the man’s greedy mouth as he drinks you in.
your nectar glazes his cheeks and chin in a devilish shine, brighter than the crown set to sit atop your head — his mouth barely parts from your ravaged and swollen romping as if he’s married to eating you out, tongue licking you up and down before your juices even have a chance to drip to the ground. you can only imagine what would happen if the press found out, your life would be over and so would satoru’s. but you don’t care, because every second that gojo spends between your thighs dragging you to orgasm is worth it. every single time.
he grips at your ass, pulling you back onto his tongue as it flickers in and out of you. the whole ordeal is disgusting and delightful and you never want it to end. pleasure mounts high within you, evident in the shakiness of your gripes and grouses, lust laden in its tune.
“s-satoru…satoru. i’m gonna… g’na fuckin’ cum!” a high pitch squeal tears in your throat like music to gojo’s ears — now working relentlessly to get you off just like you need. he doesn’t care if he’s suffocating, at least he’ll die a happy man between the thighs of a princess.
he chuckles against your sex. “such a dirty mouth for such a proper lady.” the lord says as if he’s a scolding you.
but you can barely hear him, for static rings in your ears as your body loses the war to your orgasm. your release bubbles up on his tongue like the fresh pop of champagne, while your brain fizzles and clears itself of all logical thought. guilt is replaced by bouts of lust, making you realise that this cycle of avoiding and fucking gojo will never end. you’re too addicted to him and he’s too obsessed with you, as long as things remain that way — sex with him will always be on the agenda.
you can’t promise yourself, your grandmother or suguru that this will be the last time.
dopamine dances across gojo’s brain as he drinks in the tangy-honey flavour of your release, letting it splatter against his puffy lips as they encircle your clit to prolong your orgasm. you gush as if you’re a rushing erotic river, spilling into satoru’s earnest mouth while he licks you clean with wanton.
“look at that… oh look at you. cumming for me already.”
“f-fuck you.”
“fuck me?” he smirks, making your gut lurch with wanton. “fuck you. i’m the one that’s working on it, princess.” satoru slowly rises to his feet, licking a nasty spit-slicked trail from your hole to the cleavage peeking out from underneath your dress. he doesn’t even stand to his full height, his large frame towering over you as he yanks down the front of your dress to lick and suck and play with your breasts until you can’t tell what’s up or down anymore.
his perfect teeth graze a pert nipple which makes you gasp and cry, loosely looping your arms around satoru’s neck while his ravaging mouth works your sensitive breasts, even going as far to swipe his tongue over the spot where each one meets your ribcage. he doesn’t leave any marks, you’re not his to keep. large and rough hands replace the warmth of his mouth on you to toy with your mounds of flesh — pinching and pulling as satoru kisses you senseless. you groan at the taste of your slick on his tongue and salt of your skin as well, tugging him closer so that there’s no space between your heated bodies.
“don’t cry,” satoru comments softly against your swollen, cherry-bitten lips — cupping your face between his fingers. blinking slowly, you allow your frenzied brain the chance to catch up to reality and you don’t realise the tears that wet your cheeks until he points them out. why are you even crying? “you’re too pretty for that.” his compliments do nothing to clear the lustful, confused fog settling over your mind like a dark cloud so you follow your body’s instincts and reach for the metal clasp on his belt.
nimble fingers make their way down the front of gojo’s dress pants and he hisses at the quick pumps of his perfectly hard cock before you’re dragging up your skirts and guiding him towards your entrance. “baby, wait—“
you push his pants down enough to let his erection spring free, pulsing with need and standing at full mast against the cotton blouse covering his tummy. “i need you.” you sniff, dropping your panties to your ankles. “please.”
the thing about sex with satoru is that it never feels like just sex. he tenderly hikes the meat of your thigh over his slender hips, lets his dribbly, sticky cockhead twitch forward and ease past the salaciously slick barriers of your empty hole, and presses your bodies so close together that you think you might forget how to breathe. satoru makes love to you each and every time — and it’s terrible.
like eating too much sugar or indulging in a bad smoking habit. you’re not supposed to be in love with him and the way he fucks up into you, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis even with all of the fabric in the way. “don’t cry for him, f-fuck,” the both of you look down, your pupils dilating at the sight of your pussy swallowing his lengthy shaft whole — catching on the ridges of each blue vein spiralling around him. “cry for me, princess. i’m the one that’s ruining you.”
with his forehead pressed to yours, silver hair matted down by the line of perspiration against it — satoru braces a hand against the tree above your head and sets stream to his passionate thrusts, fluid like water under a bridge. it’s not fair, how wrong this is and how good it feels to have gojo lick over the parts of you he would bite down on if you were his. your pulse point, your neck, the spot just under your ear that’s way too sensitive for your own good. it should be suguru fucking you like this, your fiancé.
yet, there’s no room for self-loathing and despair between the rough tree and satoru gojo above you. nothing aside for the thick curtain of lust that protects you from prying eyes in the rose garden, floral scents twisting with the raw, aphrodisiac-like smell of sex and sweat while he pounds away at your swollen pussy, grinding his cock wetly against the sweet spots dotted along your ribbed walls.
“i should put a baby in you,” he says suddenly, just barely audible over the wet pap, pap, pap of your sexes working together. embarrassment burns bright under the surface of your cheeks because you’re that wet and it’s that loud, the remainders of your previous orgasm making it easier for satoru’s cock to glide in and out of you. “leave you with a little gift. a present — reminder of our time together, yeah?” he knows that he’s not making any sense, leaving his confession behind sex and sultry words. he would never admit to how much he loves you, he’s already ruined you enough. he’s already taken more than enough from you too. “i’ll get to the crown either fuckin’ way.”
satoru talks with his dick and you fucking like it, squeezing the damn daylights out of him. he can barely pull back with you locked down on like that, his seedy tip snug between your ruined folds — clinging into him by viscous ropes of your last orgasm and freshly formed globs of his white hot precum. “you like that, don’t you princess?” he coos down to you condescendingly, picking up the pace of his hips as he rams into you mercilessly. the tree shakes from the force, sprinkling pretty and innocent petals over you both. “you wanna make me a daddy? my queen? give me a little prince or princess.”
“fuck yes, satoru!” nodding your head with wanton, you press yourself into his neck and squeeze him close by the ass cheeks so the only place your lover can go is deeper. you want to be able to feel him in your guts, hot in your womb like an iron rod — anything to forget the trickle of betrayal filling you up like a glass of wine. “i want it, i want it…i want—“
you cut yourself of with an abrasive sob, as you moan your agreements. i want you. you feel the words on the tip of your tongue, drowned out by the slippery sounds of sex and creaking tree trunk. you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you’ve wanted satoru gojo.
but he’s the wrong person, in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
“i know you do, i know,” you can feel gojo move to slobber over your chest, pacifying his whistle tone whimpers with your nipples bouncing in his mouth. he looks up at you with vacant cerulean eyes that shimmer like the skies above, the crude mix of your arousals slinging at the point at which your bodies join. “tell me how much you love daddy’s cock, princess.”
he goads because he craves your attention. satoru can feel you slipping from between his fingers, the guilt that rolls off of you in waves as he languidly rams into your cunt. he’s asking a lot of someone who’s too stimulated, too fucked out to speak — your tongue barely staying in your mouth.
“sato—!”
“c’mon… answer me, fuck, there we go.”
that’s when he hikes you up in his arms, lifting you a little to feverishly thrust up into you — dragging you closer to another high. your nails dig deep into his taut ass, nudging his dick against your g-spot. suguru would never be this rough with you, would never want to fuck you so good that the pleasure hurts.
shaking your head, your eyes glisten but the denial doesn’t stop small streams of arousal from squirting out and webbing against gojo’s soft pubes. “i-i can’t! i don’t—“ satoru bites down on your nipple, hard, cutting through your train of blurry thought. “i love…h-him!”
you love your fiancé, but you both know that’s a lie.
“yeah, sure you do. that’s why your pussy’s huggin’ my cock so tight. you don’t wanna let me go, baby.” even while he’s a mess for you, your rival still finds it in him to be such an egotistical prick. you can’t even tell him that he’s wrong, because you never ever want to be without satoru, without this immensely overwhelming feeling of ecstasy fluttering through your entire body. it’s all too much, he’s too much, stretching you wide and filling you with the love (and cum) you should be getting from suguru.
thunder cracks above your head, lightning flashes through the trees as if the higher power up above is bearing witness — growing distraught at your sins. it’s not long before the heavens open up on you both and your sweaty, sex slicked bodies are doused in rain. but it doesn’t stop you, doesn’t stop satoru from dragging down your bottom lip to lovingly spit into your mouth.
he kisses you as if it’s not enough, rocking his hips into you so he can bully your insides and mark them with his pre. “bet he’s lookin’ for you right now, hm? his precious wife to be…drenched in my cum ‘n drenched in the rain.” satoru heaves, letting the patter of the rain drown out the sound of his tightening balls slapping against your ass. “bet he wishes he could fuck you like i do.”
you can’t tell if it’s the tears of guilt and longing or the rain that blurs your vision. “h-he doesn’t get to!” you cry like a dirty porn-star, hardly becoming of a soon to be queen. “o-only you!”
“only me, hm? i’m flattered.” he seems elated, hiding his flushed face and happy smile in the junction between your neck and shoulder. his wet hair tickles your skin. “too bad he doesn’t know his princess comes used and abused between her pretty legs, huh?”
the rain is cold against your skin, seeping through your clothes, ruining your makeup — but the way satoru licks up your hot streaky tears and the droplets of water against your skin as if to sooth you… the way he does it fills you with warmth.
your limbs become heavy from your water-logged clothes and exhaustion, your whole body slumped against satoru’s strength but you still manage to rake your nails down his back as if you can’t be any closer. gojo doesn’t let your hips run from his either. his mind races, stuck on the idea of asking you to run away with him because he can’t just let you go back to geto. not again.
he can’t let you marry someone you’re not in love with.
it would be selfish of him to ask you to stay, even when you wrap your legs around him and have him plug up your tiny little hole with sticky white. he sees it in your eyes how much you care for him, even through the rain. he’s ruining you, from the inside out, knocking the crown from your head and he hates it.
“daddy loves this pussy,” he wishes for the moment to last forever, but you’re already so close — crying from every hole, suffocating his throbbing cock. neither of you can hold back. “he loves you. i love you.”
the confession nearly tears your world in two — but it’s all you need to hear before everything comes crashing down on you. “i-i love you!” you tell him, wailing the words loud and proud as you release on him for a second time, gushing obscene amounts against gojo’s tummy smooshed up on your clit. “sato—! satoru! cum with me, cum inside me!” scratching down his back and screwing your eyes shut, you tilt your head up to capture his lips in a passionate kiss.
the taste of salt on your cupid’s bow throws gojo over the edge too — his cockhead pours viscous white directly into your womb. “fuuuck, you’re so good princess…” and even though you know you should tell him to pull out, you don’t want him too. you want his baby, want his cum, want him always. even if that’s greedy of you.“fuckin’ take it…take all of me. all of that cum’s for you.” he slurs, beyond brainless.
lewd clapping noises echo between your bodies like the thunder up above as satoru fucks you through the rest of your highs, nose nudging your cheeks tenderly to soothe your tears. moaning, and crying against one another’s swollen lip. when his slow grinds come to a stop and your breathing recovers, the white haired lord gently sets you back in the ground — tenderly helping you to fix your drenched clothes back into place.
your thighs are completely bruised and his back is completely torn up. the last marks you’ll ever leave with each other.
“so about—“
“we… we can’t do this anymore, satoru.” you say almost immediately, shaky as if you’re in the verge of panic.
for the first time since you started doing this, sneaking off with one another, gojo notices the glint on your ring finger. and you feel the very same weight of that ring.
he shrugs you off, pulling up his pants and smirking. “that’s what you said last time—
“no satoru, i mean it now. we can’t.” it’s like you’ve come to your senses, realised the gravity of it all and what’s at stake. thirty days to get married, thirty days to become queen. “i’m going to become queen, your queen, in a matter of weeks and to do that i need to be married to him. i can’t mess this up. we have to stop.”
“but you don’t even want him,” he growls like a petulant child, roaring above the rain that cascades down on you both. “you want me. i want you. who gives a fuck about anything else?”
“duty gives a fuck! i have to marry him!”
throwing his hands up in defeat, satoru steps towards you, loud and intimidating, and you step back towards the tree. “you can’t even say his fucking name.”
“his name is suguru geto and i will marry him because you forced me to.” you spit, going toe to toe with him — chest heaving but tight from your heart break. “if you and your stupid higher ups had just stayed out my way. maybe there could have been a chance for us. but they didn’t and here we are and duty freaking calls, gojo.”
you storm off shortly after, be before he can see you cry again (for real this time). from his place hidden in the royal gardens, gojo watches sullenly as you approach your grandmother and fiancé — the elder queen disappointed in your current state and suguru clearly worried that the rain might make you catch a cold.
the perfect alibi to cover up the fact that you’d just fucked satoru gojo.
but the entire time, you never look back.
you don’t even look at gojo — and that’s how he knows you meant it. you always look back, always look for him in the crowd.
the knowledge hits him like a strike of lightning. he’s royally fucked up — you’re marrying for the crown, all because of him. and there’s no room for loving when you’ve got the weight of the nation on your shoulders.
꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
#୨୧ KINKTOBER 23’#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#jjk smut#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo x y/n#gojo thirst#jjk thirsts#✧ ₊˚੭ — writing#tteokdoroki#angelshubnetwork
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˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ what I know to be true ⋆｡˚ ೀ⋆｡˚ ༘
Childe wasn't a big fan of the Tsaritsa's demand for him to find a wife, until he'd come upon the perfect girl for the job. You—a lady he knew in his childhood to be a horrible nuisance and demon on Earth. Not only would this marriage fulfill his duty, but would let him settle a long-time grudge as well. Little did he know, he stood more to gain from this partnership than he thought.
Childe x fem!reader II arranged marriage, angst? to fluff, childhood enemies to lovers, romance!
Childe was never one for romance, and especially not for commitment.
He just had so much else on his plate, much bigger dreams than that of settling down in a household and abandoning his place on the battlefield.
He was always looking ahead to a future of bloodshed, of power, of someday ruling the world.
That wasn't going to happen if a distraction stood in his way.
He would sometimes muse about having kids, loving the idea of continuing his lineage and watching a bunch of mini-me's run around, but ultimately, he decided his duty to the Tsaritsa would stand in the way of him being a good father. So he'd just have to settle for being an amazing uncle to the children his siblings would eventually have, spoiling them with presents at Christmas time and teaching them how to protect themselves out in the wild.
So when he was called into the Tsaritsa's throne room and received the news that a harbinger of his status was to be married, in order to keep up with regal airs the nobles of Snezhanaya, he was, respectfully, very unhappy.
"You'll be seen at balls and lead battalions. Your role must be carried with honor. Nobody will respect an old lonely man.", she claimed, then drew out a long, thin arm to hold his chin with a bony hand—long pointed nails pressing divots into his skin. Though her touch was frigid, she looked down at him with a certain fondness in her eyes, though the sincerity of it was undistinguishable. "You need a pretty thing by your side to elevate your status. You know I only want what's best for you.", she cooed, like she was addressing a child.
He new better than to disobey her commands, and something about the smoothness of her voice assured him that this was the right choice. He only nodded, though his fists clenched at his sides in dismay.
Childe read over the listed names of eligible young ladies for him to marry with contempt; scrolling through the meaningless last names and accompanying statures, ordered from top to bottom by how highly they stood in the totem pole of nobility. Like he cared where the girl would come from.
He felt guilt for the miserable thing that would have to marry him; though he could care less about who these women were, he believed that they deserved a partner that loved them, or at least a good man that could stand to take care of them. All they would be to him is a nuisance, a label which they had done nothing to earn.
Though, when he neared the end of the list, a section devoted to common folk who had certain merits like striking beauty or some sort of fame, that he found a name he recognized.
Your name.
Oh, how he remembered you.
You were the daughter of good friends of his parents. Your families would often gather for holidays or dinner parties, sharing what little they had in the name of kinship. The gatherings were lively, full of happiness and cheer...
But you had a certain countenance that stood out to him and branded your name into a special part of his brain to be remembered for the rest of his life.
You were a little brat was what you were.
Though you were only a toddler when he met you, having only just taken your first steps while he was already halfway through being eight, he found you to be the most insufferable little human he'd ever met.
Your parents would always gab and brag about what a good little girl you were; how you never cried or screamed, how you were sweet and patient and loving—a wonderful surprise for parents preparing for the "terrible two's.".
They had to be lying, because every time Ajax would come into view you'd immediately throw a fit, wailing and swiping at his face with a kind of rage an entire army of men could not match.
He had no idea why; he never touched you, or spoke to you, all he did upon your first meeting was draw back in repulse.
You weren't a pleasure to look at; with your beady little eyes and thick eyelashes that lined them, your thin eyebrows and piercing gaze. You looked like some haunted porcelain doll. And there was a certain consciousness behind your eyes that children your age were not supposed to have.
His little siblings were much cuter.
And he did not hesitate to say that.
"Tonia was a prettier baby. What's wrong with her?", he piped up, humiliating his mother and father who immediately scolded him for his rudeness. Your mother only laughed.
"Trust me, she'll be a beauty when she grows up. I won't be surprised when you come around here in sixteen years asking to marry her."
This started a little musing session between your mothers, giggling about the possibility of their children being wed and how wonderful that would be for their friendship and their families.
Meanwhile, Ajax was dwelling on how that would absolutely never happen—if the look on your face was any indicator.
You were red as a tomato, nose scrunched in distain as your eyes pierced his. Like you'd understood him.
How was he supposed to know babies could take offense?
Whether or not your infant brain could comprehend his words, your hatred was clear, and before he could react, your soft little hand went flying towards his face and landed with a resounding THWAP!
Even though you struck him, you immediately burst into tears, bawling crocodile tears that ran down your face and dripped off of your chin.
All of the adults in the room immediately ran to your aid, hushing and petting you while scorning Ajax for "tormenting the poor girl."
Never before had he felt so cheated.
That begun his feud with a two year old.
Your detest for one another ran deep. So much so that every gathering between your families ended in you receiving plenty of sneaky pinches to your fat baby skin and him risking a bald spot with the amount of hair you'd rip out of his head.
It was a nightmare you could walk too, since you'd often seek him out just to babble in annoyance and tug at the knee of his trousers.
"See? Look at how much she likes you!", his mother would coo, but he knew better. Your grappling with his pants was your pea-brained strategy to get him to bend down and remove you so you could bop him one on the nose.
He swore you were such a strong baby. He'd rather take a hit from a club than suffer the force that your tiny fists could bring down on his head.
That's why you were the perfect girl to be his wife
If he were to marry any other woman, the guilt of leaving her alone at home for long stretches of time, depriving her of having the good husband she deserves rather than a man who could never love her, would be overwhelming.
Sure, he was a monster, but he wasn't about to let some innocent bystander be collateral damage.
But you? The evil, horrible little wench you are? You more than deserved it.
In his mind, he'd actually be doing his fellow man a favor by saving an unsuspecting bachelor from accidentally marrying a grisly thing like you.
So, although his retainers were already in the process of scheduling meetings with his potential brides, he plucked your name from the list without hesitation.
"Set the wedding date. I'll have that one."
The organizers looked between themselves warily, deciding whether or not they should challenge him on this monumental decision.
"And nothing too grand—it'll just be family.", he cooly added, leaning back in his chair to rest his feet upon his desk and crushing the list of names under his dirty boots.
In the end, the harbinger always gets what he wants, so his retainers retreated with quiet nods and quick steps.
Though Childe acted aloof towards the decision to have you as his bride, when the day of the wedding actually arrived and he found himself standing at the altar of a small church in Mosepok—his home town, his palms were sweating and eyes darting around nervously. He shifted his weight on his feet as the congregation waited for you to enter; this was supposed to be a small ceremony, but leave it to his mother and father's proud announcements to their friends and neighbors to draw a crowd. As his eyes scanned the faces of those who'd known him in his youth, he realized near all of the small port town was packed into the pews. He wracked his brain for the answer as to why these people would want to watch their old town troublemaker's union, but he supposed it would be the most interesting thing to happen in the town since his era of delinquency.
It was a miracle that the budget the Fatui gave Childe for this wedding greatly superseded the amount he'd needed for the original plan of a small gathering; it was more than enough to feed the whole town for a night, which actually brought a flicker of joy to Childe's chest.
He was pleased that he could give back to the community that handled him like a family in his childhood.
But that flicker was immediately quenched when the creaking sound of the heavy oak doors that led into the chapel reverberated through the room—revealing the silhouette cast in white of his bride.
His stomach turned with anxiety. Childe had led battalions into what could be considered suicide missions if not for their miraculous victorious outcome, and yet, somehow, the fear he felt standing in front of a girl that, though she may not be small by definition, definitely looked so standing next to him, significantly surpassed that of which he's ever felt.
His cold body shook like he stood inches from death.
Suddenly, he remembered the fury your little body had when you were only a baby, and it dawned on him that you've only gotten bigger, smarter, stronger. A little arbiter of the apocalypse couldn't have grown into the meek woman he imagined, if anything, her bloodlust grew with age.
What did he get himself into? Was he an idiot? Did he, blinded by his scheming for revenge, land himself in a lion's den?
With a light tap on the shoulder from the priest, he jolted out of his stupor and found you standing in front of him already, suddenly remembering that he was now to lift your veil.
His hands shook as he reached out, bracing himself for the hideous face he'd been forced to associate with at every friendly gathering between your parents in childhood, and now, due to his own brashness, would have to associate with every time he returned home or attended public events.
He took a deep breath and shut his eyes as he took the fabric between his white-knuckled fingers and threw the thing up and over your head. The procession hummed with awe and approval—some more boisterous men from the docks whistling, to which their wives jabbed an elbow into their ribs.
The sounds of adoration resounding from the audience perplexed Childe, drawing his interest and encouraging him to open one wary eye and peek at you.
But his cautious peek grew into an owlish gawking and dropped jaw when the woman before him shined like an angel.
This couldn't have been the girl he knew in her infancy; her once-beady eyes now twinkled like stars, her red puffy face was now sculpted and the only remnants of her discoloration resided in dusted pink pigments on her cheeks. They were so perfectly placed that they could be mistaken for a painting by an artist with a keen eye. He pried his gaze from your enrapturing eyes to ogle your lips—plushy and inviting. He'd give anything to kiss a gorgeous woman like you.
And he remembered with an unexpected delight that he would by the end of this ceremony.
Before he knew it, the soft ring of your voice settled upon his ears. Having been caught in a trance, he hadn't realized the procession already arrived at your vows.
He only tuned in after the opening sentences of your declaration had passed, your words blurred by his reverie.
"I promise to wait for you when you go and embrace you when you return; to make a warm, solace of a home for you that you can always come back to, whether there be a roof over our heads or not. I promise to follow you through this life and meet you in the next, to be by your side when you need me, no matter how far apart we may be forced to exist. I promise to love you and only you, to be true as long as your ring encloses my finger, and promise to keep it there forever. I will take your family into my arms just as you will me, care for them—as they are an extension of you, to love them just as I do you. I'll hold you ever close to my heart, speak to you with nothing but kindness, recognize your face as that of my partner in life, my one and only, and..."
Childe jumped when he felt your warm hand sneak up on his and gingerly intertwine your fingers, to which he did not resist, nor want to.
"I promise to love you as you are; no matter how much the years we spend together may change us."
To his puzzlement, Childe felt a certain wetness roll down his cheek, causing him to look up at the skylight above the both of you to check if it was raining. When another droplet ran down the other side of his face, he realized he was crying.
Childe never cried, he couldn't even remember the last time it had happened; maybe it was sometime when he was a boy, but the memory simply did not exist. These were not tears shed in misery, they were spurred by your words of devotion, words he'd never been blessed with before. He truly wondered now if you may be divine, but all he beheld of you told him you were, in fact, human, and not a vision of absolution sent from the heavens above.
You tilted your head to the side and blinked your dollish eyelashes at him, obviously waiting for something, to which he remembered that is was now his turn.
He had neglected to write vows beforehand or memorize the traditional vows spoken by couples bound by marriage as an arrangement. He had, in fact, planned on skipping the process altogether, but your profession of love caught him off guard and incentivized him to speak his own.
So, with a blank mind, he resorted to letting the few truths he knew spill from his mouth.
"I'd only known you during our childhoods, but how you've blossomed and changed has..."
He had never been one for words, so making something up on the spot in front of quite literally a hundred people was daunting. His voice seized with trepidation, but he took a breath and moved forward.
"Has...left me speechless. My mind is empty, and all I can think of now is...that I am blessed."
He swallowed a lump in his throat and continued, struck by your endearing gaze on him—it made his voice quiver as it resounded from his chest.
"I'd assumed I knew you, but it's clear to me now that I have so much more to learn."
He unconsciously squeezed your hand for comfort, and, with a gentle smile on your face, you reassuringly squeezed back; making him sigh and yearn to feel more of you—imagining that you felt like warm cotton, soft and homey, something he could bury himself in and happily stay there for eternity.
"And I want to learn it. I...want to spend my whole life in awe of you, discovering as much as I can, knowing you like I know myself."
He could not hesitate before he blurted his next statement, his voice getting carried away from him and spilling his most personal beliefs.
"And loving you as you love me."
Your cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink, and your eyes glimmered as your perfect lips stretched into an even more enticing smile. He could hear your soft, happy sigh, a sound that not even the priest beside the two of you could catch, almost like a secret meant just for him.
Your sweetness enthralled him like nothing he'd ever experienced— slowly convincing him that you very well may be the best thing that's ever happened to him.
"I'll take care of you.", he promised, and meant it. "I'll spend the rest of my life ensuring your safety and happiness. Despite what you promised before, I will always put a roof over your head. You'll be forever warm and safe. I will fight for you, die for you, do anything you ask. You will want for nothing as long as you're mine."
His vow had come upon its conclusion with one final promise he all but growled, like it was somehow in danger of being broken—that he would go to any length to protect.
"And you will forever be mine."
His pause at the end indicated to the priest that the his vow had ended, and the way your lips parted in wonder and your wide eyes remained locked on his made him want to lean in and kiss you like every inch of his body burned to do. But he had to, begrudgingly, wait; hoping the ceremony would end as soon as possible so he could finally have you to himself and ask you all the questions he was dying for the answers to.
Did you really mean what you said? He sure did, and he didn't even know he had the capacity to not only promise, but want, desperately so, the fulfill the oaths he had declared to you.
Soon enough, the priest announced it was now time for the bestowing of the rings—a symbol of the bond you will share for eternity.
As the ring bearer, Childe's dear brother, Teucer, brought the rings resting on a white silk pillow over to the altar and held it over his head while he balanced on his tippy toes so the two of you could reach the rings with ease. Childe immediately felt awash in shame. All he'd purchased for you was a simple silver band—no precious gems, no original detailing, just a band. He didn't expect to want to take pride in the symbol of his loyalty you'd wear for him on your finger. He'd get you a new one, a better one—one he could admire as he kissed your hand, held it with adoration and smoothed his fingers over it.
But although the ring fell below expectations, there was no disappointment on your face. You barely glanced at it, your eyes trained on his face with a fondness he'd never received before. Your gaze had his heart spilling over with exaltation.
You took his hand in yours and slipped the perfectly fitted ring around his finger, giving it a small squeeze when you were done—as if to brand your affection deep into his hand.
He returned the gesture, taking your other hand in his and, carefully, securing the ring around your finger as well; he breathed a sigh of relief and felt a weight he hadn't known was resting on his shoulders alleviate. His heart thundered in his chest, threatening to leap out in a desperate attempt to be ever closer to yours.
The priest spoke, but his voice was drowned out by Childe's inner voice, wailing for you.
All he could register was the sound of your silver bell-like voice, piercing through the fog in his head like a star's light in the void of the night sky above.
"I do.", you said.
He couldn't tell if he'd rushed ahead of the priest's announcement of his turn or not, but he followed your statement blindly.
"I do.", he whispered ardently, brushing the backs of those precious hands of yours softly with his thumbs.
After the final blurb recited by the priest, a sentiment he couldn't bring himself to listen to in his anticipation, he finally heard the words he'd been waiting for.
"You may now kiss the bride."
Without a moment of delay, he brought both of his hands up to cup your cheeks, a look of ache in his face as it felt like you had reached an invisible hand into his chest and gripped his heart, and kissed you.
Fervently, passionately kissed you.
It took your breath away, left you panting when he finally pulled away after remembering he was, in fact, in front of his parents and broader community.
But cheers sang from the crowd for your union as he led you back down the steps of the altar and out of the church, eyes trained on your feet with your hand secured in his—watching carefully as you descended to make sure you wouldn't fall. He treated you as if you were sculpted from crystal glass.
After the two of you crossed the threshold out of the church as one, Childe gently tugged your hand to draw you closer so that he could whisper in your ear.
"Could we take a walk in the garden?"
While the guests made their way to the reception hall for their lavish dinner, you and Childe strolled through the church's garden together, hands still intertwined as the two of you gazed at the various winter shrubs and evergreen trees sprinkled with snow. It was beautiful in its own kind of way; the way life persevered through otherwise uninhabitable conditions, how even the bear oak trees existed as intricate silhouettes against the grey sky—providing cover as the sun sank down and gave way to a grim dusk, it was wonderful, and in this moment, it was yours to share.
The two of you came to a halt at a marble bench next to a large, frozen fountain, adorned with swirling details and moulding from an older, more fanciful era. He swiped off the snow that had built on top of the bench, then removed his large, fur-lined cloak to rest on the surface. He led you down to sit on it, having fashioned a dry, warm seat for you as he stood.
"Won't you be cold?"
"I'll be fine.", he assured you. He'd grown used to the frigid air of his home country, having entered various conflicts with nothing but thin linen to cover him for the sake of his movements not being burdened by thick, heavy fabric.
"Thank you.", you spoke, softly, and the words warmed his chest more than any coat could.
He stood there for a long moment, just taking in the sight of you. He just couldn't believe you were real, and couldn't believe you were his at so little a cost—he'd done nothing but bellyache and pluck your name off of a paper, and somehow the situation ended up being the best decision of his life. He'd found someone that claimed to truly, deeply love him by sheer chance.
And that thought brought him to the question that had been weighing on his mind since your vows.
"Did you really mean what you said?", he asked, quietly, hesitantly. After the words left his mouth, he wished he'd never said them. He didn't want to know the answer; if he could live in a fantasy where a miracle like you truly adored him, he'd seize the opportunity and hold it close to his heart for the rest of his life. He felt like such a fool.
"Of course I did.", you chuckled, like the question was ridiculous.
"I thought you hated me.", he confessed, his curiosity for your change of heart getting the best of him when he knew better than to ask too many questions. You only quirked your head and blinked at him, indicating that he needed to clarify. "When we were younger, you acted like you wanted my head on a stick."
To that admission, you laughed heartily. It was a lovely sound, one his mind would no doubt play on repeat in his darkest of times, sending sparks to his heart that would keep him moving forward—back to you so he could hear it again and again. "I was a toddler, dear. I didn't understand my feelings! And you were pretty nasty to me, too.", you said with a playful, pointed look.
The term of endearment made his heart bubble, craving to hear you say it again, but his mind was desperate for more answers. "But...how did you...", he coughed awkwardly, "fall for me?".
His carefully spoken question only made you giggle once again, but you could understand his confusion.
"Oh, Ajax. You were the most entertaining person I've ever met. I know we fought, but I remembered your presence in my life so fondly. And I'd look at pictures of us from our old gatherings, where our parents would force you to hold me on your lap and smile, or take candid shots of us chasing each other around, and I'd wish for you to come back so we could fight again.", you laughed at the memory. "I thought of you all the time, you know. And, as I grew older and life passed by, I'd keep looking back on those photos and...", your cheeks turned even redder than the chilly air had already done, flushing your cheeks and nose. After this conversation, Childe would make sure to rush you inside so you could warm up by a hearth. "Well, my heart would beat for you. And I wished you would come back for different reasons...so I could see you again and fall in love with the man you've become."
Childe gulped in shame. He knew the man he'd become was...cruel. Wicked. He'd never thought so little of himself than when he stood before you, your glorious, pure eyes assessing him like Celestia would upon the day of his death.
But how you looked on at him was not in judgement, but affection. "And when I met you at the altar, I did. I truly did."
He was so swayed by your words, so caught up in your devotion, that though he knew he was undeserving, he leaned down and connected your lips with his once again; his large hands warmed you where they caressed your cheek and the side of your neck, his lips thawing your frozen ones. The flavor of you was intoxicating, but as much as he wanted to prolong this moment, your icy skin pushed him to get you inside immediately.
So he drew back, drawing the most angelic whine of protest from your lips. It made him grin in pride.
"Let's warm you up, huh?"
Though you wanted to stay in the privacy of this isolated garden, continue to live in this moment that only existed for the two of you, you couldn't deny how you shivered and your stomach growled. It was time for your reception, and you couldn't keep your guests waiting.
So you, albeit reluctantly, let Ajax pull you up into his arms and throw his cloak around the both of you before taking you back to the church where he married you, now entering sharing one heart, one life, one love. Forever.
#genshin x reader#childe x reader#genshin x you#genshin childe#genshin impact#genshin fluff#genshin ajax#childe x you#genshin tartaglia x reader#tartagalia x reader#tartaglia x you#tartaglia x reader#genshin tartaglia#childe angst#childe fluff#enemies to lovers#genshin childe x reader#childe genshin impact#childe imagines#childe x fem!reader#tartaglia x fem!reader#tartaglia fluff#tartaglia genshin impact#ajax genshin impact#tartaglia imagines#childe fanfiction#tartaglia fanfiction#genshin impact fanfics#genshin impact fluff#genshin imagines
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˚ . ✧ 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄
vol 1; made to break your heart — king!steve harrington x fgirl!reader
summary: in which you see your ex making out with someone else leaving you with no choice but to fall right into the lap of his enemy, steve harrington. (wc: 5.2k+)
warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, or*l sx (receiving and giving oop), some good ol’ bj, drinking, drgs, weed basically, no use of ‘y/n’, degrading, praises, LOTS OF PRAISES, they are both switches but idk if that counts??, nicknames! reader is kinda heartless basically a maneater, steve is an arrogant bastard, and hes got a big BIG di–heart. some lil’ eddie mention that u might miss if u blink!
authors note: i am kinda thinking a pt.2 of this IM open to all ideas, but i kinda am thinking of making it like a mini-series? and maybe introduce eddie in the second part, and then make part 3 steddie? mmmhmm? what do we think? my asks r open for all and any ideass anyways not proofread bc of my lazy ass. ignore any mistakes.
please like + reblog + interact to support me ! thank u ily
read vol 2 here
Booming music filled your ears, sweaty bodies swaying away from you but you couldn't care less.
Whispers from your back, collected gasps, and all you could do was watch.
Fingertips clutched on your dress in fury, gaze unable to tear away from the scene playing out right in front of your eyes.
Tina’s lips were locked onto Billy’s, you thought it was pretty soon to be swapping salivas considering it had been barely two days since he broke up with you.
The red cup in your hand was almost smushed from the hardened impact of your fists, with a quick go, you downed it, ignoring Tommy and Carol’s cackles as they watched you.
With a roll of your eyes, you were quick to turn away from them, ignoring your friends calling out for your name—you didn’t need this, you didn’t need to be pampered. You just needed a generous amount of drinks, and maybe someone to keep yourself busy with.
Tina and her lame-ass party could go fuck themselves.
Billy was an asshole, no real surprise there. And you didn’t care, because the relationship had run its course, again. Tough shit. You were used to it. Another break up with him.
You didn’t care about it, the only thing you cared about was him crossing the line, making out with another girl in front of everyone.
Each break, the two of you fucked whoever you wanted to fuck, just to end up together again, drunkenly. But this time he made it everyone’s problem, and you couldn’t let him get away with that.
The whispers, and the collective giggles every time you passed by were making your blood boil.
You couldn’t let that dipshit ruin your reputation, you weren’t going to pathetically pine over someone who could barely make you cum. And you weren’t going to let any of those gossiping assholes think otherwise.
You stumble onto the porch with a string of curses leaving your pouty lips, quick to fish out a joint courtesy to that Munson kid, always providing you with the best weed, either free or cheap, depending on how much you adjusted your skirt or batted your lashes at him.
Maybe, you should pay him a visit. For fucks sake, you’ve seen him play, and he could roll a joint blindfolded, he knew how to put those fingers to use.
You could just imagine the scorching look on Billy’s face, his velvety lips scrunched together, a sickening feeling sinking into his stomach, knowing that you fucked Eddie Munson, the guy he always went to get his weed from.
The idea of it brings a delicious smirk to your lips. But it wouldn’t be enough, no. You needed something more, something bigger.
“Need a lighter, honey?” A coarse, smooth tone has your head cocking, the joint sitting on your lips rising with the impact.
Steve fucking Harrington.
Falling right into your lap.
Billy would’ve flipped the fuck out if he knew. He always warned you about him, telling you that Harrington was off limits, no matter what. Well, until now.
Your gaze locks with his, dangerous, filthy, and exactly where you want him. Before you can drag out the joint to answer him, he acts quicker, brushing his fingertips on your chin, almost tugging you closer to him, he licks his lips, wetting them with a chuckle.
With a gentle flicker of his lighter, the tip of the joint smolders, casting a warm glow to your face that accentuates the smirk curved on your lips.
Your dress rides up your thighs when you straighten up, taking an inhale from the joint, you blow the smoke in his face without a care. He eyes each of your movements, the stupid grin sitting on his lips growing wider the more his eyes move up and down your body. You almost want to chuckle at how easy this is.
But you also know Steve’s type, you have to make them chase you a little bit, give them a little thrill, before you finally give in. And you had already been doing that, for the longest time.
Always teasing him, but never giving in. Your hands always brushed past his bicep just enough to let him know you were interested, eyelashes always fluttered at him, teeth biting on your bottom lip as you checked him out.
The little game had been fun, but you never plucked up the courage to fully give in to him, Billy would’ve lost his shit. Besides, you knew his type, and you didn’t want to be one of his other trophies. And you didn’t have to be, you just had to use him to get yourself off, and piss Billy off. The second you walked into a room with him, you knew the party would be buzzing with the gossip.
You had the perfect excuse, the perfect excuse to finally divulge your fantasies, all the cheerleaders always blabbered about him, calling him an ass, but an ass who knew how to properly use his fingers and that dangerous mouth.
Exactly what you fucking need.
You had been pent up enough for the months you were with Billy.
This would be a little reward.
“All alone?” He was smug, he absolutely knew about the break-up and possibly saw Tina and Billy’s show, so he knew this was the perfect opportunity to have you in his palm. In a fucked up way, that made you want him more, the unspoken game grew more intense with that gaze of his, he had the same idea you did. The fucker was smooth.
You nod curtly, not wanting to just fall into his lap. No matter how good he looked in those Levi’s jeans that cupped his ass perfectly. Why was he so fucking interesting to you? Arms all toned, face adorned with tiny moles, he almost seemed mystical.
And oh god, his hair. That soft, perfectly layered chestnut brown locks, so effortlessly cool that you just wanted to run your hair through it, tugging at it the more his lips sucked on your clit.
God, the thought had your thighs pressing together uncomfortably.
“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be all alone at a party,” he pouted mockingly. “Where’s that boy toy of yours?” He tutted, hand dangerously planted on your back, ghosting over your hips.
That elicited a giggle out of you, “Didn’t you hear all the rumors, pretty boy?” You leaned further, hand extending to offer him a huff. His attention was somewhere else though, eyes widening the more he admired you in that dress, showing off your curves in all the right way, tits almost busting out of your chest.
God, he had been waiting for this moment, an opportunity to have you, the second he fucking met you. But Billy got to you first.
“We broke up.” That brought his attention back to you, a smirk played on his lips when he leaned into your hand, lips wrapping around the tip of the joint, he sucked on it but his dark amber eyes remained on you.
With an inhale, “Good.” He mumbled, “knew that dipshit couldn’t handle someone like you.”
“You need someone better take care of you…” he hummed, nose dipping closer to your features, “someone who knows how to handle all of this.” His hands were placed on your waist, traveling all over your body.
Your breath was quick to get caught in your throat, a whine leaving your lips with how forward he was being.
And shit, you understood the appeal, you always did, but this time, you were sure your hunger for him grew faster than you intended to. You were in his palm, and you were more than okay with it.
“Yeah?” You teased with a giggle, head falling on his shoulder, brain getting fuzzier.
“I can make you forget him.” He’s bold, and it has your thighs rubbing together.
“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember his name, or how to walk.” He’s so close to your ear, breath fanning against your breath as you almost shudder, but you play it off.
“You’re all talk, Harrington.” You licked your glossy lips, head slightly tilted to the side, teasing him just enough.
“Oh, sweetheart, I know you’ve heard the rumors, and I know you want this as much as you do.” The cocky bastard licks his lips, and you want nothing more than to bite them.
“Oh, yeah?”
“The way you press your thighs together, that little whine you just did when I barely touched you… Tells me all I need to fuckin’ know.” He whispers, and you almost whine out when a sloppy kiss is planted on your neck, harsh and needy.
“You’ll be screamin’ and beggin’ for me, angel.”
Your brows raise in interest. “That a promise?”
“Uh-huh.” He gives you a boyish grin.
“You’re on, King Steve.”
It didn’t take the two of you long enough to find an empty bedroom, lips, and teeth clashing as soon as the door closed.
The wandering eyes of the party had followed you up until that point, so you knew as soon as the two of you left the room with your sexed-up looks, everyone would know.
And you would finally have a sweet release after months of Billy’s selfishness.
A win-win.
You let his curious hands wander around your body, quick to almost rip off your dress, he wants to savor this moment, wants the image of your body engraved in his mind, stuck into the back of it just so he can fish it out whenever he can.
But he’s impatient, he’s waited for this. Wanted you longer than ever, and finally, you’re putty at his hands, ready to take whatever he’s going to give—or at least that’s what he thinks— And he’s feeling greedy. His mouth is pressed onto yours, sucking on your tongue before he lowers you down on the bed, you giggle softly when you sink into it, and Steve has never felt like this before, the hunger in his eyes ignites a spark of pleasure within you, quick to dampen your thighs with need.
A shocked gasp escapes your lips once he unhooks your bra with his left hand. Oh, he’s good. “Pretty baby,” he murmurs before his mouth is latched onto your nipples. “Perfect fuckin’ tits,” He groans into your chest, hand toying with your lace panties, shaky breaths escape his lips as he earns more whines from you.
You look ethereal, with your mouth hung open, teeth biting on your glossed-up lips, head thrown back. Just like he knew you’d be.
The more he circles around your panties the more you feel that pent-up desire burning inside of you, all those orgasmless months with Billy, and Steve was going to elicit more with just a flick of his fingers than you ever had through the entire relationship.
Maybe that’s why he always called you a bitch.
“Steve,” your whines come out pathetically as he looks up at you, layered hair already disheveled and that goddamn smirk sitting on his pretty lips.
“Already beggin’, honey?” He mocks with a grin, tugging on your nipple, all teeth and no mercy. His tongue is making its way further down, soft, wet strokes tickle your body.
“Fuck off,” You spit at him, barely, words dying down your throat when he’s quick to rip away your lacy panties. His light honey eyes are so much darker now, head thrown back when he visually drinks in your glistening pussy.
You look so fucking perfect, thighs spread apart, him between them, mouth hung open and ready to take all of him. He makes a mental image of it, burning it to the back of his mind.
“C’mon sweetheart, let King Steve know what you want, what you really need.” His voice is smooth and coarse, fingertips circling around your clit harder the more you whine for him.
“Do you need my fingers, baby? My mouth?” You moan at that, audibly. It has him chuckling darkly once he realizes how depraved you really are, one touch from him and you’re already soaking his fingers, whining like a pretty little slut.
If he knew how much you’d be such a good girl for him, he would’ve done this much sooner. Would’ve ruined your pretty little pussy for anyone else, Billy would’ve had no chance over him.
“Has that asshole not been makin’ you cum?” It was more of a rhetorical question, but the way you shook your head with a pout, had him melting. He really had you and didn’t know how to take good care of you? What a fucking loser.
“Holy fuckin’ shit… not even with his mouth?” His eyes widened, he really didn’t think Billy would be that bad, everything was working to his advantage.
“He- uh- he never…” You stammered, getting uncharacteristically embarrassed because it was, truly embarrassing. All those months with him, and half the time you faked it. Selfish prick.
“Never? Oh, baby…” He coos with a dangerous smirk, lip all pouty and mocking, “No wonder you were so desperate for me. You really needed this, huh?” He almost gave a chuckle, caressing your pussy with his middle finger, getting you all ready.
“Jerk-” You want to curse out his cockiness, tell him you don’t need him. Keep him grounded, but the whines he’s pulling out of you are enough to make him grin like a Cheshire cat.
Your breath gets shakier when his finger easies into your walls. “Sshh, relax, baby.” He coos.
“I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good, doll.” His fingers are slickly working their way in and out of you, filthy sounds mingling with your moans as his nose brushes over your clit, causing your hips to start rocking up to him.
“Had this pretty little thing, and didn’t even know how to take care of it, hmm? What a waste,” He hummed sweetly, index finger thrusting in and out of your sloppy walls.
“If I had known you’d be this fuckin’ soaked, I would’ve done this much sooner,” he taunts, fingers curling inside of you, enjoying the way you gasp out and buck your hips for more.
He dives in, pressing the flat of his tongue against your swollen lips, enjoying, fully tasting you. With a satisfied hum, he brings his eyes to meet yours, all fucked out, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, had this sweet pussy but never even tasted it… What a fuckin’ dumbass… I’ll give you what you deserve, baby…”
He’s going to explode soon, if he doesn’t make you cum and then fuck you senseless. He can feel his balls draw up more and more, each time you whine, each time you plead for his name as a whisper.
He flicks the tip meticulously, giving you attention everywhere and anywhere, just like he knew you’d like it. “You know, I usually would never do this on a first date,” He mocks, grinning all mouthy and you attempt to dive his mouth further into you, to shut his arrogant ass up, and that fucker resists, “But god, you’re an exception… just begging to be fucked, you deserve this honey, can’t be selfish with you.”
His licks are heavenly, sucking on your clit like a man possessed, and his name falls from your lips in such a filthy way that you don’t even care how pathetic you look anymore. You accept it, you let him take full control, trashing beneath him.
“You like that, angel?” His words are muffled into your cunt, the pad of his thumb still circling around your entrance while he sucks on your clit. Your head sinks further into the softness of the bed, eyes squeezed shut, breaking apart with just his tongue. He moans into your soppy walls, sending a shock wave of pleasure to ripple through you.
He doesn’t even need your words, the visual of you squirming underneath him is enough to have him all bricked up, you taste like the sweetest sin. Velvety walls so tight that it has him bucking his hips into the bed, desperate for some friction, he needs you. And he’s sure he never wanted someone this badly before.
“So fuckin’ special, aren’t you? Such a desperate baby…” You can feel his bulge against your thigh, sitting prettily and throbbing against his boxers. You always heard how big he was, but fuck, you finally get to feel it, and it’s glorious.
And he twitched in his boxers just from eating you out? God, he was fucking perfect.
He dips his head just enough to muffle out a few more words, “I wanna taste you fully, angel. Want you to soak my tongue.” He dives in before you can reply, eliciting dirtier moans from you, alternating between his fingers and his tongue.
He doesn’t care about anything else but you, he wants you panting for him, cumming all over his tongue while you scream his name.
Your thighs start to shake once he pushes two fingers inside of you, gentle but rough enough to have you squirming and bucking your hips more into him, you’re at his mercy, and he loves how tight you are. Just the thought of your tight cunt milking his cock dry has his eyes rolling.
“S-steve,” you breathe out roughly, enjoying how his tongue is licking up that sweet spot. “I know baby,” he taunts all cockily, admiring the way your thighs shake with need. You’re going to cum soon and that prick can feel it.
“N-need to cum, please,” your pleading is unintentional, you just need a desperate release, and he’s so fucking good.
“Cum for me, angel, be a good girl for me, yeah?” Your eyes squeeze shut at the praise, and he takes note of that, admiring the way you tighten around his tongue and fingers at the praise.
His fingers are quick, making you scream out his name louder and louder. “That’s it pretty girl… cum for me.” Arrogant fuck, you wish to say, but the way he laps up your juices has you whining like a little slut. And his smirk grows wider, a wet patch forming on his boxers with how hard he’s straining them, pathetically needing to be inside of you.
You tremble, trash, squirm beneath him, his touches and stripes of licks finally enough to have your stomach twisting, with final screams of “Steve!” and “F-fuck!” the coil inside of you snaps, orgasm overtaking you with such force that your eyes are glued shut.
A gush of sweetness trickles along Steve’s tastebuds, you taste so fucking good that it drives him even crazier, lapping up at your juices and not stopping until he’s sure you’ve collapsed under him.
He’s grinning like crazy, lips all glossy with your juices, and he looks so fucking pretty like this. It makes you want to return the favor.
So badly. And the need to know if the title Big Daddy Steve really suits him or not stirs your stomach, your core pooling with need. If it’s true, your mouth waters with the desire to have him, he looks delicious, and you know he’ll look much more yummy while he’s fucking your mouth, pretty praises leaving his pale rosy lips.
The avoidant part of you screams at you to not do this, but your core is begging for more.
Maybe, just maybe, you could return the favor but still toy with him, take control, and mess with his mind.
Enough to have him begging, pleading for more from you.
As if he can hear your dilemma, he drags you back in, wrapping his fist around your hair as he pulls you toward him and draws your bottom lip into his mouth, all teeth, sucking with an exaggerated hum, “Do you like the way you taste on my tongue?” He mutters against your ear, licking a stripe of your neck.
Jesus, fuck. Now, you had to return the favor.
“Tastes so sweet,” you giggle, you are going to suck him off, but you are going to lead the way now. A smirk gleams on your lips. Teasingly, your hands trace the edge of his boxers, enough to earn a rude whine from him as you squeeze him through the harsh fabric.
You’re quick to yank his shirt off of him without a warning, and he’s quick to flaunt his well-muscled, heaving chest.
Asshole.
With a strong flip, you manage to straddle him, taking him by surprise while you grin at him, and to say Steve is intrigued would be an understatement, his cock twitches at your brow raise. “What are you doing, baby?” He still manages to be so cool that your thighs ache.
“Returning the favor,” you shrug with a smirk, eliciting low grumbles from him when you lower yourself on his chest, leaving sloppy kisses, mouth tracing a trail that leads to his delicious v-line.
You lift the elastic away from his waist, freeing his throbbing tip, the red tip slaps against his abdomen, and your brows pinch together in astonishment admiring it.
Jesus fucking Christ, he was not all talk.
King Steve, indeed.
You had to hand it down to those gossipy cheerleaders, they had described him to a t, perfect girth, slightly bent to the left, and big, really fucking big, you probably needed to use your hands along with your glossed lips to take all of him in.
He chuckled at your expression, basking in the glory of your widened eyes, “Like what you see, angel?” Another taunt, but you ignore it with a smirk this time. Pooling saliva in your mouth, you spit on the angry tip, Steve hisses at the impact and watches with a low grumble once you wrap your palm around his shaft.
He reveled in how perfectly your soft manicured fingers looked around his delicate bubblegum pink tip, attending to his every need.
Your warm fingers are working their way around his cock, coating his length with your spit as you tugged at it gently, causing his eyes to nearly roll back in his head.
He tries his best to swallow his groans, but his hips desperately jerk up at your hand, desperately fucking it, rendering you speechless.
“You like that, baby?” Your tone was teasing, and if he didn’t feel like he was about to explode he would’ve gripped your hair and fucked your mouth with such roughness that all that you would be thinking about would be his huge cock, punishing you for being such a tease, but he was the one wrapped around your finger now, literally.
“S’big, Stevie,” you coyly batted your lashes at him, and a shuddered breath left your parted lips as you looked up at him between his thighs.
He almost wept at the sight, shit shit shit, you were all of his dreams wrapped into one, and he could barely speak. Your palm easily glided down his length, saliva working as a lubricant as you teased him further.
Your other palm was quick to cup his balls, massaging them and giving them a gentle tug, while your other hand still glided down his length, enjoying the way he struggled not to let out loud groans in your hold.
Without any other word, your head tilted down, quick to mouth the tip of his intense tip, it was almost hot to touch, waiting to be attended to, so needy. Just like him.
You swipe his tip, collecting his pearl of pre-cum gently. “Jesus f-fuck!” Pathetic coarse whines leave his parted lips, he lets you take control, eyes clenched tightly.
You give his tip more kitten licks, trying to get your throat ready for his lengthy cock. “Just like that, honey,” He praises with his head thrown back, he avoids looking into your eyes, knowing that the fucked out look on your face as your pouty lips wrapped around his cock would be enough to have him spill down your throat in seconds.
And it would be a bit embarrassing for Steve, to lose his reputation to you in a matter of seconds.
“More…” He demands, but you ignore it while you continue your teasing sweet flicks on his tip, feeling him twitch around your tongue. “Pretty girl,” He whines and jolts his pelvis for more, desperate and needy. Just where you want him.
“Mhmm?” You whine with your mouth full, it sends a rush of pleasure through him, “Suck it, baby,” he whines again, this time pained with need. Your greedy eyes smile up at him and he’s sure you have done something to him.
Because he never wanted to cum this bad before. He wants to wipe that smirk off your face while you gag on his cum, struggling to swallow all of it as it spills down your cheeks, glistening your breasts, ruining that gloss forever, and instead, you walk around with his semen all over your face and lips.
It pulls a twisted groan out of him, you make him feel so perverted and he can’t fucking help himself. You finally accept his pleas, and with one glorious tug, you finally wrap your lips around his cock, fully, getting teary-eyed each time you try to take more of his flesh.
Steve can’t help himself, his head is dipped down, and he immediately feels his balls ache at the visual of you, crystal tears staining your cheeks, and even then, that lewd look did not leave your eyes.
“F-fucking slut, just like that,” His groans are uncontrollable, hips bucking further into your mouth. You don’t let him yank you by your hair, just yet. You let your mouth adjust to him, sucking him deep and tight.
“Such a good girl, suckin’ my cock with all she has, mmpf.” His praise has your core clenching, damn him.
He admires your pouty lips fully wrapped around his flesh, sucking and hollowing your cheeks as you wail for him, “Shit, shit, baby, l-look so pretty with my cock down your throat, mmhmm…” He coos, words incoherent.
“Will look even prettier with my cum shooting down that throat, isn’t that right, angel?” You hummed in agreement, looking up at him with your dark, hooded gaze, an unintentional grin playing on your lips.
He mumbled a string of curses, praising you, worshipping you. You continued your stroke on his base harshly, working the head with your tongue, a new angle that had him go absolutely insane.
“Mmmhmm, need your cum, Stevie.” You mumbled, momentarily letting your hand do all the work before you dove back in, taking his stiff cock deep in your throat, he had been struggling before, but your words were his last straw.
Because it was exactly what he fucking wanted, owning your mouth, and fucking it with ease.
His palm turned into a fist the second he held your hair, yanking it down as he pushed you further down on his cock, enjoying the way it hit the back of your throat, you gagged around it, all teary and Steve’s head fell back in pure ecstasy. “Y-yes, yes, fuck!”
“Gonna cum, baby, mmmpf, god-” He panted, his cock twitching more and more you sucked on him.
“Gonna fuckin’ s-shit-” He shuddered, thighs shaking while your throat continued to squeeze the tip of his cock, and once you gave his balls some more attention, he knew he was a goner.
“Fuckin’ give i-it to you,” He barely let out when his eyes glued shut together, almost rolling to the back of his head when you gagged around his cock, with a glorious groan of “Fuuuuuck!” Steve came in your mouth, hips still bucking into your throat as a spurt of his warm load spilled down your throat, coating it nicely.
You only let go of his softened cock with a ‘pop!’ sound once you made sure you sucked him dry, swallowing all of it while Steve watched you with such a dazzled look that it almost made you want to do more with him. But, no. This had been enough.
You enjoyed his salty taste in your mouth and the way his fingers and mouth worked inside of you. And that was enough for you. For now.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He grumbled a chuckle that had you grinning and winking at him. God, men really were easy. One blowjob and Steve was already looking at you like you were the most precious thing in his life.
You had to go easy on him, tell him that you weren’t going to let him fuck you.
Because you got what you wanted, an orgasm, and the reputation of fucking “King Steve”, everyone would be gossiping about the two of you by now, it was a matter of time before that douchebag found out.
He tried to pull you in for a kiss, but you were quick to dodge it, getting up from the softness of the bed with a groan while Steve curiously eyed you.
His brows were quick to pinch together, watching the way you easily slipped your tight dress on your body while you admired yourself in the mirror. Rubbing your lips together to fix your gloss, fingertips cleaning over the smeared mascara running down your cheeks.
“W-what are you doing?” He inquired, his face quick to fall down.
You shrugged nonchalantly, “I want to go dance,” brows then raised in excitement “Ooohh! Maybe I could get some more weed, have you seen Munson around?” You questioned, that lustful look still dancing in your eyes.
“Uhhh…” he stammered, still confused on what the fuck just happened. “Y-yeah I think-”
“Thank fuckin’ god!” You hummed with a giggle, rushing over to his side, sloppily planting a kiss on his cheek, all shiny and smeared with his juices.
You were halfway through the door when Steve’s protests stopped you. “Wait, wait, wait!” He straightened up, softened cock and all, his glistening chest was begging to be touched, but as you decided, not today.
“What the fuck? I thought-”
“What?” You asked cluelessly, brows raised.
“We were just getting started, angel,” He tried, but his voice wasn’t as arrogant or confident as it was before, and it took you so much to not let your lips twitch into a smirk.
One orgasm and he was already broken? Steve was fun to play with it.
Your giggle at him would’ve felt mocking if you didn’t do it so prettily, Steve just watched in awe.
The poor boy.
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, would you?” You tilted your head with a pout. Oh, you were good, he had to give you that.
Because once he literally got a taste of you, he wasn’t going to stop.
His lips kissed his teeth, it was surely hypocritical of him to think this was unfair since that’s what he always did to other girls.
“But–”
“See you around, pretty boy,” you cooed, throwing a wink toward his way, and shutting the door with that. Leaving Steve all alone.
He had never felt this way before. The way his cock twitched just the thought of you again had his mind flooding, you used him, gave him the best fucking head of his life, and then left.
Maybe this game would’ve pissed him off if someone else did it to him, if it was any other girl he would’ve lost interest, thinking she was trying too fucking hard, but it was you.
And all it did was drive Steve crazier, and make the chase all the more fun, and Steve was nothing, if not persuasive.
#steve harrington x reader#king!steve x reader#steve harrington smut#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fic#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington#king!steve harrington
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Douchebag
A/n: This is honestly the BEST fic I've ever written! I took a lot from prompts I found on this site and the smut scene is inspired from a book called "The Kiss Quotient." (It was just so damn good). This fanfic is also inspired by my original fanfic, "Douchebag" Tengen x Reader. ALSO, I AM WORKING ON YUTA FICS, SO DON'T WORRY!
Word count: 3.5k
Synopsis: Gojo Satrou was a man of many things. It would be hard to find anyone in the jujutsu world who hadn’t heard of his name before, whether that be through his many wins in battle or his reputation as an A-class player. Some describe him as eccentric, and others (mostly girls) describe him as irresistible. You? Well, you on the other hand would describe him as nothing else than an utter, complete, douchebag.
Warnings: Enemies to lovers, teasing, fingering, intense kissing for a sec, squirting, use of pet names, belly bulge, cervix fucking, breeding kink, virgin!reader, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, choking
~
You scoffed, watching through the classroom window as a clearly frustrated old man stormed out of the building, no doubt a higher up. No doubt the work of Gojo Satoru.
"God I hate him." You hissed, turning to face a dozing-off Shoko and your other friend Haibara. The classroom you sat in was almost empty, bathed in the soft light of midday filtering through large windows. Sparse shadows stretch across the well-worn wooden floor. Rows of desks, mostly unoccupied, face a dusty chalkboard at the front.
"Who Satoru?" Shoko yawned, leaning into the palm of her hand to face you.
Haibara lets out a loud chuckle. "Why? Because he's an ass to higher-ups?" He nods to the window and you click your tongue against the rough of your mouth.
"No, it's because he is an ass in general. His whole 'holier than thou' attitude, and don't get me started on the way he treats girls." You practically shiver as you remember the time you saw some poor girl from Kyoto Jujutsu High profess her love to the white hair man, only to run away sobbing.
"I swear to god it's like he expects us to kiss the floor that he walks on, he's.... infuriating"
"Who's infuriating?"
Oh god, you knew that stupidly deep voice anywhere. You whipped around to find yourself face to face with the very tall white-haired man you were talking about; a shit-eating grin spread across his infuriatingly handsome face.
“You couldn't be talking about me, could you?” Satoru's voice dripped faux shock and you rolled your eyes.
“Well you know what they say, speak of the devil and he shall appear.” You spat.
“That must be why you love using that pretty mouth of yours to talk about me so much.” Satoru lowered himself to close the provoking height difference between the two of you until your noses were inches away from touching. “Cause ya love having me around doncha.”
In that moment you have to conjure up every ounce of self-restraint to not spit in his face there and then, and luckily your friends catch the drift.
"Hey Satoru! What are you doing here?" Perked up Haibara who reached out his hand to dap Gojo up.
"Well, Suguru and I are heading for a night out today, small club, and I thought, out of the kindness of my heart,"
You scoff and Gojo merely grins and continues,
"I'd invite you all. Drink on me of course."
As Satrou's invitation lingered in the air, you noticed Shoko's ears perk up. Her curiosity was piqued, a subtle lift of her eyebrows betraying her interest. You bit your tongue, the taste of reluctance sharp against your teeth. The idea of going anywhere with Satrou was far from appealing, but knowing your friends might join made it harder to outright refuse.
You crossed your arms defensively, leaning back slightly as you fixed Satrou with a skeptical look. "And why would you want me there?"
Satrou's lips curled into a half-smirk, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint."You're annoying, I'll give you that," He took a casual step closer, and leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, "but I never said you weren't fun."
His words, intended to irk you, did their job well. You glared at him sharply, the frustration evident in your furrowed brows and the hard set of your jaw.
Satrou chuckled.
“Great, I’ll take that as a yes then, I'll text you guys the details.” He turns around to walk out of the classroom. “See you guys there!”
There was a silence as you all watched Satrou walk away before Haibara turns to look at you. “So are you going to go y/n? Come on it will be so much fun!”
“Yeah no way in hell.”
~
You were a liar.
You were a liar because here you were, leaning over the counter of a bar in a club that was far from "small." The nightclub was a pulsing, chaotic hive of activity. Neon lights flashed in syncopation with the deafening throb of electronic dance music that shook the very air. The club was jam-packed with bodies moving rhythmically, the heat from the mass of humanity palpable as the scent of sweat and sweet perfumes mingled.
The bar surface was sticky under your arms, and the occasional spill from a too-hastily poured drink added to the chaos of sounds and smells around you. You lazily stirred the thin red straw into your drink, trying to politely ignore the creep who wouldn't stop talking to you.
Somehow, in the maze of gyrating bodies and blinding strobe lights, you had lost both Shoko and Haibara, leaving you stranded at the mercy of this clueless conversationalist. Despite the roar of bass and the chatter of dozens of conversations, his words seemed to bore into your ears, relentless and unyielding. He leaned in closer than necessary, trying to make himself heard over the club's cacophony, not realizing or perhaps not caring, that you were more interested in plotting an escape than in anything he had to say.
"And might I say you look gorgeous tonight."
It took everything you had not to scoff at this creep's words, but before you should shut the man down, you felt an arm wrap around you.
"Everything alright love?"
Oh god.
You knew that voice anywhere.
As you turned, you were met by Satrou's piercing blue eyes, their color vivid even behind stylish rectangular sunglasses. The multicolor flashing lights overhead caught in the threads of Satrou’s light blue button-up, making it shimmer subtly, and the fabric clung just right to his broad shoulders and tapered waist, hinting at the well-defined physique beneath. You hated the fact that your brain immediately noted how damn good he looked.
His arm was wrapped around your waist drawing you close and you had to bite your tongue from frowning at the pet name he had given you
As he leaned in, his voice was low, a soft murmur over the noise of the club, "This guy bothering you baby?" His tone was teasing, and you could detect the challenge in it, as if daring you to admit that his closeness and pet names affected you just as much as he knew it did.
"Of course I'm fine baby!" You smile brightly and for a second you think Satrou looked a bit taken aback. If playing along got you out of this situation so be it. "This guy, I'm sorry, what's your name?" You glance back at the creep who had turned bright red.
"I'm sorry, excuse me."
You watched as the man disappeared into the throng of the bustling crowd, your attention fixed until he was well out of sight. Only then did you turn back to Satrou, the false warmth on your face instantly transforming into a cold, hard glare.
"Thanks for that, but you can get your hand off me now," you said, your voice icy as you tried to wriggle out of his hold. Despite your efforts, Satrou’s grip on your waist remained firm, unyielding.
"And why should I? I think we made a fantastic couple," Satrou cooed, a teasing lilt in his voice. His eyes sparkled with amusement, clearly enjoying the moment far more than you.
You rolled your eyes, exasperation seeping through. "You really think I would fall for something like that?"
"Why? Did you?" he probed further, his smile widening, eyes searching yours for any sign of genuine affect.
Anger started to boil up inside you as your attempts to escape his grasp remained futile.
"I don't think you understand the dynamic here very well, Satoru," you began, your voice low and deliberate, each word punctuated for emphasis. You stepped closer, invading his space as much as he had invaded yours, your eyes never leaving his. "Let me make this crystal clear, I'm not someone you can just fucking conquer, and I'm certainly not one of those girls who's gonna kiss the ground you walk on with your whole 'I'm the strongest' act," you seethed.
Your face was mere inches from his now, your breath mingling, the tension palpable. "Because I know what you really are, Satrou," you hissed, the anger in your voice barely contained. "You're a fucking douche bag."
"Oh? Is that so."
Satrou's expression shifted subtly, the amusement fading into something more measured, more cautious. He studied you for a moment and you took the chance to wiggle out of his grasp and make your way through the crowd on the dance floor toward the door. The beat of the music pounds in your ears and throughout your body making your synapses jump like beans in a tin can. You can barely see the floor, only flashes of bodies you frantically tried to push past. Before you can make it to the back door, a hand grips your wrist tightly enough to halt your forward rush. Above the din of the pulsating music and amidst the strobe-lit shadows of dancing figures, Satoru's face comes into view. You feel your breath catch in your throat.
God his is beautiful.
Strobe lights catch and accent every one of his sharp features alighting them in a multicolor color hue. He pulls your wrist to him so you're close, too close. You can smell the old spice shampoo from his hair mixed in with some sort of sweet cologne. It's a smell that makes you want to bury your nose into him over and over again.
"Jesus fucking Christ y/n" he breathed his eyes searching yours. "How long are we going to keep this thing of ours going?"
You furrowed your eyebrows. “Our thing? What thing?”
“The thing where we act like we hate each other but actually want to fuck the brains out of each other.”
Your eyes widen and you feel your face grow deathly hot. You try to step back, get some space, some room to breathe, but the hand on your wrist keeps you from doing so
“I-fuck you” the words come out of your mouth more soft and meager than you intended to, and you find yourself locked into his blue gaze.
“Believe me, I've thought about it.” His voice is low, and his face isn't painted with a shit-eating grin like it so usually is, he's serious and his eyes are soft.
Fuck it.
You can no longer hear the lyrics to whatever song was playing, only a soft dull hum of the beat in your ears. Immediately your lips are on his.
The kiss is frantic, hot, messy. The club's pulse thrummed through you like a second heartbeat, the noise and chaos all but forgotten in the singular focus of his presence. You could feel one of his large hands on the small of your back, drawing you in until there was no space left between the both of you. Your mouths clashed against each other as if you were both seeking something vital, something long-denied.
Satoru's lips were insistent against yours, moving with a fervor that matched the pounding bass surrounding you. You whined as his tongue slipped into your mouth, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the firm press of his chest against yours. The scent of his cologne mixed with the smoky air around us, intoxicating and heady.
Your mouths separated with a soft pop, and Satoru is grinning while you're left dazed, breath heavy and chests rising and falling after it.
"How bout you say we get out of here Princess."Gojo's voice was a low murmur, his breath warm against your ear as you broke from the intense kiss.
Before you could even respond, a dizzying rush enveloped you. The loud club vanished in an instant, replaced by the quiet, dimly lit ambiance of his bedroom. You were suddenly on his bed, the soft duvet beneath you a stark contrast to the hard dance floor we'd just left. Right, he can teleport. You forgot about that.
Wait was he... where are you going to...
Before you can get a word in, he’s once again engulfing your lips with his and pulling you into a feverish kiss in which the two of you can’t seem to get enough of each other. The moment one pulls away to breathe, the other is immediately searching for their lips again; intertwining tongues and teeth clashing together recklessly.
Your hot, everything is hot, your body is burning up by the second and there’s a sickly sweet feeling in your stomach that keeps on expanding as time passes.
You whine into his mouth when you feel a hand slip under your skirt and lightly trace the outline of your slit with his index finger. You're painfully wet; your arousal has made a large spot on your underwear translucent.
“Just touch me,’ you whined, arching impatiently against his hand. He couldn’t make either of you wait any longer. Slowly, he brought his middle finger down and slid it gently over her folds. You threw your head back. "Ahhhh, more please." He did it again, this time his fingertip slipping between and gathering your wetness. He parted you with two fingers. You let out a gasp when he hit your clit and started to rub it in small circles.
You tried to say something, anything to explain how hot you were feeling right now, but your words were lost against his soft lips.
The taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him so close against you, skin to skin. Time and space had no meaning anymore. There was only you and Satrou.
“You feeling good baby? Satrou speaks slowly, breath on your neck and voice in your ear making you shiver. You bite your lip and nod like any words that came from you would ruin it.
You almost wince when you feel two fingers slip into your tight hole.
"Jesus, fuck. You gotta relax princesses." He chuckled, knowing far to well that the tightness was going to feel delicious around him.
Two fingers worked into you, and your eyes rolled back into your head. He began a steady rhythm as his tongue nipped and sucked the tender skin of your neck. You couldn’t prevent her hips from rising to meet his thrusts. Oh God, you were riding his hand. That had to be bad. You told herself to stop. You couldn’t. Somehow, you found your hands tangled in his short white hair. Your body was coiled tighter, grasping at his fingers, so wet now you could hear the slippery sounds every time he drove back into you.
"Hnghhh.... so good." You squeezed your eyes type, becoming focused on the tightening feeling of your core and the blossoming warm pleasure. Your legs started to tremble under the unbearable pleasure and your back arched against the bed as if your body was trying to escape the euphoric feeling that coursed through your skin.
"That’s it, fuck, beautiful girl... such a natural submissive...."
You want to tell him he's wrong, all this pleasure wasn't because of his egotistic ass, but it'd be a lie. And as if on command, all feelings come to a heightened crescendo; explosions of euphoria clouding your brain causing your toes to curl from pleasure and your body to shake like a leaf.
It takes a couple seconds after you calmed down to realize you squirted all over Satoru's hand and all blood rushes to your face turning you a bright red.
“Oh my god in so sorry I didn’t-”
Your voice dies out as you watch Satrou pull off his shirt, revealing his extremely built body and toned muscles, to wipe the liquid off his hand. You don’t even notice that he had pulled out his dick until you feel something pressing against your entrance, making you look down and your eyes widen as you do so.
Your stomach inwardly twisted, filled with the sickly excitement and your breathing started to quicken.
"Shhhhh baby," Satoru cups your cheek and kisses your forehead. It was a sweet gesture despite everything happening right now, a gesture that made your heart swell and your mind yearn for Satoru.
The stretch of his dick spreading your walls is insane. No amount of preparation could've prepared you for the length of Satoru's dick. You feel it heavy inside you and Satrou pushes into you until he can't push anymore, until his hips are flush against you and the tip of his length is smushed against your cervix. The pleasure of that alone felt numb, unbearable, you needed friction, you needed him to move.
You practically faint when he first thrusts into you in earnest. It's euphoric; the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up. His cock pulsed inside of your silky walls, stretching you to the fullest capacity as he bottomed out again and again.
"Oh fuck." Satrou groaned.
He was no longer grinning, Satoru's playful resolves vanished and his smile quickly dropped. He knew you'd feel good, but he didn't expect how good you'd feel. The feeling of his hand he had fucked himself to the thought of you for so many nights was nothing compared to the real thing. It was too much, the feeling of your wet soft walls gripping him so tightly. How was he able to live without your pussy in the first place? The pleasure built rapidly, too potent, too insistent. He kneeled over you, a groan escaping his lips—a raw, primal sound that vibrated through the charged air between you.
Satorus thrust your quick and hard, a clear display of strength and endurance he had gained from years of jujutsu training.
"Been thinking about this, so long, bet you have to have ya~"
As Satrou's long, deliberate fingers encircle your neck, a thrilling chill races down your spine. He applies pressure gently at first, then with a firmer, insistent grip that gradually restricts your airflow, sending a wave of exhilaration through your senses. The world around you narrows, focusing intently on the point where his skin contacts yours, heightening every other sensation that courses through you. His other hand slips under your bra bra to grab and massage your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipples.
"Satoru..! Ahhhh..! I..I, fuckkkkk can't handle this.." You had no strength to answer him, only offering wanton moans in retort as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed with his hand squeezing your throat it was just all too much.
Satoru. Satoru. Satoru
"Slow down.. please im gonna ahhhh~" Drool slipped passed your lips and you writhed and squirmed at the feeling of hot euphoria passed over your body in flesh arrow.
"Gonna cum? Fuck baby, let's... let's come together m'kay?" Satrou almost stuttered. His body had kicked into autopilot, and a deep primal need for you settled in as he thrust in and out, creating a methodical rhythm that echoed in your ears.
Your ankles lock around his lower back and you cry out when the head of his cock kisses your womb, your legs shaking as you feel yourself start to be thrown into an intense orgasm. You want to say something about the weird feeling in your stomach, how your skin is buzzing but it's all too much, and before you know it your tumbling toward the edge. It feels like your whole body was shot with electricity and color dances in your eyes as you float in ecstasy.
"Sh-Shit, shit, fuuuuck~" He chuckles into your ear, choking over his words as his hips sputter inside of you, hot cum fills you as much as you can hold inside of your stuffed cunny.
Satoru doesn't pull out as you both come down from your high, instead watching you intently as you ride through the aftershocks of your orgasm.
"Wanna do this again?" He chuckles.
"Fuck, yes, please."
#gojo x reader#gojo smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader smut#gojou satoru x reader
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Flustered: Part 2 (FINAL)
Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Two-Part Fic: SMUT
Request by @aryarcharon: enemies to lovers, fuckboy!Bucky, praise kink.
Summary: You might be able to fuck away a crush but you can't fuck away an obsession.
Warnings: profanity, fuckboy!Bucky, size kink, praise kink, oral sex (female receiving), kinda threat with a belt in the bedroom but nothing happens, unprotected sex, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 3.9k
A/N: I hope this meets some expectations lmao, I get nervous when the first part of a series or two-part thing gets a lot of attention. Also to the people who have randomly tipped me, BLESS YOU 🥹🖤 I actually cry a little when I get those notifs.
Fucking someone, anyone but you, is what Bucky needs tonight. It’s what he’s needed every night since he met you honestly, but especially tonight. The dangerous game that the two of you have been playing has left Bucky with a feeling similar to that of climbing Mount Everest. The longer the climb goes on, the harder it gets for him to breathe. God, it feels like his lungs are trapped at a high altitude every minute that he’s around you at this point. So, Bucky will be skipping the monthly team game night to fuck a girl he met two days ago.
He pulls his leather jacket over his arms and shoves the key to his bike in his pocket as he gives himself one last look in the mirror. The tiniest seed of doubt presents itself in his mind as he meets his own gaze in the mirror. Fucking someone else won’t fix this. Fucking someone else might put a crush out of one’s mind…but this is more than a crush. As Bucky stands there, staring at himself, the realization comes crashing in like a damn freight train running off of its rails. This is obsession.
If Bucky’s breathing can be compared to the struggle of oxygenation at a high altitude, then your breathing can be compared to taking one’s first natural breath after a successful lung transplant. Every time you say something to get under his skin, every time you watch his smirk fall away and his chest rise and fall a little faster, you suddenly feel like you’re standing outside, taking in a breath of cool, crisp autumn air. The dirty little game between the two of you is simultaneously ruining Bucky’s life and giving you life.
________________
“Hey, you’re staying for game night?” Sam’s voice rings out as Bucky steps into the main living area, where the entire team is gathered both on the couch and the nearby floor. The entire team except for you, he notices, as he scans the group.
“I have somewhere to be.” Bucky answers gruffly, coming to stand next to the end of the couch where Sam sits.
“Hot date?” Sam jokes, giving him a quick once-over. As soon as he sees the leather jacket, he knows he’s either taking the bike out to wherever he’s going, or he’s going on a mission. Sam is positive it’s the former, because if it was the latter, he’d know about it.
“Always.” Bucky says with a smirk, shoving Sam’s shoulder. As the rest of the team begins chatting amongst themselves, Bucky catches himself looking around for you. Are you out tonight? Do you have a date? Bucky’s jaw clenches as he briefly envisions you dressing up for your trainer and sitting down to have a meal with him. You had better fucking not.
“Heading out?” The unexpected sound of your voice breaks Bucky out of his moment of mental weakness and he turns around quickly, coming to face you. You must’ve been in your room, he thinks, since you came from the direction of the hallway. Of course his obsessive mind would assume that you went out with the piece of shit who thinks you’re as fragile as a damn butterfly. “That’s too bad, I was really looking forward to kicking your ass tonight.”
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” Bucky says calmly, staring into your eyes as the room grows quiet.
“But I thought—” Sam begins repeating Bucky’s earlier claim that he had somewhere to be, but he’s quickly cut off by Bucky shooting him a look that says something along the lines of say one more word and watch what happens. “Oh, right, your date is tomorrow night, not tonight.” Sam recovers with a lie. After one look at you, Bucky abandoned his plan to fuck away his feelings. You brush past him to take a seat on the floor by the coffee table, and as your arm collides with the fabric of his leather jacket, all he can think about is the image of a freight train careening off the rails and going up in a fiery blaze. Obsession. His obsession with you is going to be his undoing, he’s sure of it.
______
The team game night was significantly more intense than normal with both you and Bucky being present. Well, it wasn’t just the fact that you were both in attendance for once. It was the fact that you were both so set on showing one another up. The entire night basically turned into a cut-throat duel, with cards and game pieces instead of knives and guns.
You stand in the living area alone now, stacking up all of the game boxes on the coffee table as you listen to the soft sound of the kitchen faucet running. After all of your back and forth arguing and shit-giving, you and Bucky were forced to take the cleanup duty yourselves, as restitution. You thought Bucky would continue on with the act once everyone went their separate ways for bed, but you were utterly surprised when he offered to take the kitchen cleanup and leave you only to handle the games. It was as if whatever competitive, teasing switch he had that had been turned on all night was suddenly turned off once he had you alone.
Bucky rinses off the last dish in the sink, watching intently as the suds run down his vibranium fingers and into the drain. With every dish he washed, he imagined his obsession going down the drain with the suds. It was almost therapeutic, until he sensed you stepping into the kitchen behind him. He stiffened instantly as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
You stand still as Bucky turns off the faucet and sets the final clean dish in the drying rack. You don’t really know why you decided to approach him. You could’ve gone to bed once you finished putting the games away, but your feet carried you in the opposite direction. So, now here you are, staring at the defined muscles of his back through his taut shirt.
“What’s up with you?” You ask quietly, leaning back against the island a couple of feet behind Bucky. You realize you’re in similar positions as the night you figured out that he has a size kink, except you’ve switched places.
“What do you mean?” He answers your question with his own as he towels his hands dry and turns around to mirror your position. He leans back against the front of the sink as he looks you over carefully. You’re suddenly entranced by the way he meticulously dries in every little crevice of his vibranium arm, as if he’s done it thoroughly a thousand times before, as if it’s a routine. When he notices you staring at the action, that familiar smirk returns to his face. “You don’t know how to act around me when I’m not fucking around with you, do you?” He asks in a near condescending tone. You narrow your eyes as you raise them to meet his gaze. When you don’t say anything in response, Bucky continues his work with the towel, warring within himself. He knows he shouldn’t keep going like this. He should leave right now and spend the night with any other woman underneath him so he can bury whatever it is that he feels about you. But the next words leave his lips anyway. “You miss it, don’t you? You can’t stand not having my attention, even for five minutes.”
“Bullshit. You’re too damn cocky for your own good.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. You don’t make a move to leave the kitchen, and Bucky takes note of that.
“And you’re a tease. Which is worse?” Bucky asks. He begins carefully folding the towel, slower than you’ve ever seen him do anything. You’re mesmerized by his hands.
“I’m not a tease.”
“Bullshit.” Bucky calls out, setting the towel on the countertop beside him.
“I’m not.”
Bucky exhales slowly as he pushes away from the sink and straightens up before you. The look he gives you sends an icy shiver down your spine.
“Good girls don’t lie.”
______
To you, the next two minutes were a blur. The only thing that registered in your mind was a brief, fleeting thought of not giving a fuck and punching Bucky in his smug face. Your legs had the right idea when they rushed forward, carrying you straight toward him, but the rest of your body betrayed you and somehow you ended up kissing him.
Bucky didn’t even return your kiss at first. He stood there, completely stunned, as your soft lips met his. It took two seconds before his senses were able to convince his body that this was actually happening, and then he lost every ounce of control. The days of back and forth teasing, the innuendos, the lingering glance, it all came together like a pile of firewood and combusted right there in the kitchen. Bucky’s right hand tangled in your hair like it was instinct. As his palm connected with the nape of your neck, he gave your hair a gentle tug and earned himself a sweet moan that traveled from your mouth, straight into his.
He was fucked.
Now, Bucky’s heart is beating out of his chest as he watches you step into his dark bedroom in front of him. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears as he turns around and pushes the door shut, turning the lock into place and then taking a deep breath. Obsession. He has you in his fucking bedroom. He started out the night telling himself to go fuck another woman and now he has you right where he’s always wanted you.
His room smells just like him. It’s dark, but not so dark that you can’t make out his neatly made bed and distinct lack of decor in the space. You’re suddenly aware of the reason why he never brings women here, always choosing to meet them elsewhere instead. The place could be mistaken for a hotel room, without a single personal memento or hint that a person actually lives here. You can feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you take in the new setting. When you turn around to face him, he’s leaning against the door.
“You don’t have a single picture in here.” You point out casually, as if you didn’t just jump the man three minutes ago and then follow him to his bedroom for god knows what. Bucky keeps his eyes trained on yours.
“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.
“Among other things, yeah.” You admit, walking backwards until you feel the edge of his mattress against the backs of your knees. You sink down onto it, maintaining eye contact through the dark space around you.
“Other things…” Bucky mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair and for a second, he almost looks unsure of himself.
“You were so cocky just five minutes ago.” You tsk, shaking your head. “I didn’t expect Bucky Barnes, the ultimate man-whore, to have performance issues.” Your words could’ve gone in either one of two very different directions. You could’ve hit a sensitive spot of his and turned him off, or you could’ve brought out the side of him you’ve been seeing for days.
“You talk so fucking big for someone so fucking small.” Bucky’s demeanor shifts, and suddenly the energy in the room is as charged as it was the day you sparred with him. You’re silent as he steps away from the door and starts undoing his belt with one hand. One. Fucking. Hand.
“Bucky—”
“No, you sit there and look pretty, don’t say a fucking word.”
You close your mouth instantly, partially due to the shock of his boldness but mostly because when Bucky Barnes tells you what to do, with his hand on his belt, you’ll do it. You aren’t quite sure when your body decided to switch from always wanting to do the opposite of what he said to wanting to do everything he says, but you have a feeling it happened around the time he started praising you for the tiniest things.
“That’s right, you can’t even help yourself, can you? You listen to me because you know it’ll get you what you want.” His voice is smooth and even. Any hint of hesitation has vanished. As he pulls his belt out of the belt loops, he glances down at the strip of leather in his hands. So many things he could do with it, he thinks. He steps even closer to where you sit at the foot of the bed and you swallow hard as you look up at him. Bucky’s mind is reeling. He remembers the way you looked up at your trainer in the gym that day, the way you smiled at him. He almost laughs thinking about how jealous he was of that. And now he has you like this. Bucky drops the belt on the bed beside you and then pulls his shirt over his head in one swift movement, dropping it on the floor beside your feet. As your gaze drops to take in the sight of his toned chest, the scars along his left shoulder, his godly abs, he smiles to himself.
You feel the last dry fabric between your legs become wet when he hooks a finger under your chin and tilts it upwards, forcing you to look up at him once more.
“Keep behaving, and I won’t touch that.” He says evenly, cocking his head in the direction of the belt. Bucky slowly drops to his knees in front of you, placing both hands firmly on your thighs. “Act up, and you’ll have two reasons why you can’t sit down tomorrow, instead of one.”
When he talks to you like that, things either start moving in slow motion or they start fast forwarding. You find yourself flat on your back, with your legs hooked over his shoulders so suddenly that you aren’t sure if it happened in seconds or minutes. You aren’t even sure if you said a word, though the belt still lies on the bed beside you so you must’ve kept his command and stayed quiet.
“You have no idea…” Bucky whispers as he kisses along your inner thigh. “No idea how long I’ve wanted to be between these thighs.” His admission sends blush to your cheeks and a shudder throughout your body. He raises his head for a moment and looks into your eyes. Fuck, he needs to stop doing that. Every time he makes eye contact with you, he’s pushed closer and closer to throwing every care out the window and fucking you like a goddamn animal. He focuses on your dripping cunt instead, finally giving himself the chance to admire it. Every time he breathes you feel it. When he presses his tongue flat against your entrance and begins to drag it up toward your clit, your back arches off the bed at the sudden contact.
“Fuck.” You exhale the word sharply, letting your eyes flutter closed and your fists grip his bedding. As soon as the word leaves your mouth, you remember what he said. Don’t say a fucking word.
“You taste so fucking sweet.” Bucky groans, breaking away from your cunt and pressing his forehead against your thigh to ground himself. “Shit.”
Seconds later, Bucky is working his tongue all over you, into you, like he really has waited forever for this moment. His desperation and fervency only adds to the sensations between your legs, causing a knot to twist in your lower stomach at record speed. As soft whimpers and moans slip past your lips, which you’re trying hard to keep pressed together, Bucky sucks on your clit and remembers what he told you to do.
“Let me hear you, please.” He says just loud enough for you to hear, before diving right back in. In that moment, you can’t believe the filthy sounds that begin spewing from your mouth. Bucky eats up every single sound, every single swear, every single syllable of his name falling from your lips. His name. God, every time you moan his name, his cock twitches in his jeans and he loses another piece of his mind. When your back arches off the bed again and your thighs tighten on the sides of his head, he knows you’re right on the edge. That’s when he, without warning, flicks his tongue over your clit and slips two fingers inside of you. With a few thrusts and curls of his fingers against your walls, and his mouth’s unrelenting actions on your clit, you’re coming undone for him. “That’s it, cum for me.” He encourages you, practically finger fucking you right through your orgasm. “I knew you’d sound so fucking pretty when you cum.”
You’re a limp, panting mess on his bed as he crawls over you, peppering your naked body with kisses all the way up.
“Talk to me.” He coos, leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as he waits for you to say something, anything.
“That was…” You take a deep breath mid-sentence, trying to steady your voice. “You just…” You’re mentally kicking yourself for not being able to form a coherent sentence. You have no doubt that your loss of basic speech skills is only going to inflate his ego.
“That was a fucking dream.” He says softly, sucking on your earlobe and then moving to hover over you. He takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are flushed, your pupils are blown, and you’re struggling to catch your breath. It’s adorable. “Can you move up higher in the bed or do I need to move you myself?” He asks. At first, you think he’s joking, but when you look into his eyes you see that he’s dead serious. A moment later, you’re settling in with your head on his pillow as he stands beside the bed and strips every last shred of his clothes off. Though your eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the room, the shadows make it impossible to see Bucky’s fully naked form. It isn’t until he’s positioning himself back on top of you that you get the answer to the question that had been on your mind.
“Oh my god, Bucky.” You gasp as his hard cock presses firmly against your thigh.
“Hmm?” He knows exactly what you’re reacting to, and if you could see the smirk painted across his face right now you’d probably want to slap him.
“It’s…you’re so big.” Your voice turns into a whisper. You’re sure you feel his cock twitch and a little bit of precum drip onto your thigh when the words leave your lips. Oh, right. Bucky’s size kink. It makes sense now. How could a guy with such a big dick not have a size kink? “It’s not going to fit.” You say assuredly.
“Oh, it’ll fit. Remember what you said?” Bucky remembers what you said like it was five minutes ago. “I can take whatever you have to give me. You said that to me.” He reminds you.
“I didn’t know—”
“Oh, you knew.” He chuckles, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss. He distracts you with ease, licking along your bottom lip and then letting it delve into your mouth gently, just as he grinds the head of his cock against your clit. You gasp into the kiss, which only encourages him to deepen it further. He starts rutting against you, dragging his cock back and forth between your folds with every movement of his hips. If he had it his way, he’d be fully sheathed within you right now, fucking you so hard you’d see stars.
Bucky lets the head of his cock get closer and closer to your entrance with every rut of his hips, but he continues distracting you with his mouth. He fully intended to keep kissing you when he finally let his cock slide into you, but just as he notches inside of you and starts pushing in, he breaks the kiss.
His lips hover within millimeters of yours as your pussy grips him and pulls him in deeper and deeper. You’re both open-mouthed, breathing into each other, looking into each other’s eyes as your bodies meld together. Obsession. It’s the only word on his mind as he watches your eyes squeeze shut while your legs spread all for him.
He fucks you slowly at first, giving you time to adjust as he sticks to shallow thrusts. When your eyes open and you look up at him once again, he smiles down at you and picks up the pace, thrusting a little deeper as you start to focus on the feel of him. But when your name leaves his lips and you start scratching your nails down his bare back? He starts fucking you like he owns you. He fucks you as meticulously as he cleaned the crevices of his vibranium arm earlier.
“Fuck, you’re taking me so well.” Bucky groans, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. “My cock is splitting you in half and you’re fucking taking it.” He can feel how close you are, and the absolutely cock-drunk expression on your face only confirms it. Your expression paired with the most sultry moans he’s ever heard have him following you right to the edge. “You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl, ready to cum all over my cock.”
“Bucky, if you keep talking like that—fuck.” He only speeds up when you start talking, convinced that if you’re still talking, he’s not fucking you hard enough.
“Shut the fuck up.” He groans, hating the way those few simple words from you nearly made him blow his load. “Shit.” Bucky hooks your legs around his waist and pulls your arms away from his back, pinning them down on the bed on either side of your head. He doesn’t have to say another word for you to know what he’s doing. He’s fucking you until you can’t do anything, until you can’t say anything, until all you can do is cum for him.
Your orgasm is uncontrollable when it comes crashing in, making your back arch off of the bed and your bare chest press against his as you cry out his name.
Bucky’s orgasm? Bucky’s orgasm was so much more uncontrollable that it didn’t even cross his mind to pull out and cum anywhere except inside of you. He pushed so deep inside of you when he started cumming that you swear you felt the heat of it in your stomach. Even when you were both finished, he just couldn’t stop thrusting in and out of you.
“Good girl, such a good girl.” He kept whispering against your neck as he rutted into you, using his own cum mixed with your wetness as lube.
As he collapses on top of you, your hands immediately move in two different directions. One begins tangling in his hair, gently massaging his scalp, while the other goes to caress his back with the softest touch. Only one word surfaces in your mind as you listen to his heavy breathing and focus on the feel of his skin against yours.
Obsession.
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#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x you#mcu#marvel#the winter soldier#winter soldier
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Moo business (monster!Konig x CowHybrid!fem!Reader)
Promotion to colonel has its perks. Having your own caretaker with fluffy cow years and a nice pair of...additions is one of them - and Konig is about to enjoy his new rank.
Content warning: Hybrids, Konig is a huge pervert, naive cow hybrid reader, slight dub-con, power imbalance, and inappropriate work behavior, lactation kink. Implied big chested!Reader
Humans have learned to live with monsters.
Obviously, having dangerous, much more powerful neighbors in this tiny green planet, didn’t allow humans to actually thrive and succeed – the power dynamics were shifted ever since the first monster decided, that wearing a collar and identification badge doesn’t really go with their style. And humans would be much more suited to wear it.
Unfortunately, monsters aren’t created equal – while most of them are killing machines with little to no regard to the danger of real life, there are some particularly fragile hybrids with no use in fights or even normal life. House cat hybrid girls, almost no claws and all purring and laying on their backs to let humans and other monsters pet their bellies. Sheep hybrids, all fluff and tiny, rounded horns that would never hurt anyone. Cow hybrids, adorable and silly, no use in the fights except for moral support.
Which is exactly why König was fucking pissed.
— G…good evening, sir. I will be your assistant for the day. I mean, every day. As long as you’re having me.
You smile nervously, munching on your lips. When the only way up the social ladder was working in the army as an…assistant? Moral support? Waving your nurse training like you’d be able to safely secure a monster’s health when he is twice as big as you?
Being a colonel in the army has its perks – better gear, better paycheck, better chunks of meat that he can bite off the enemies without higher-ups whining about war crimes and rules of war. Having a cute lil’ assistant with fluffy ears and a chest that physically can’t fit into the uniform, forcing you to wear permanent cleavage and just let a bit of chubbiness roll on the tight fabric is also a perk. For a pervert, maybe, but not for König who is already sworn to never deal with anyone who is this sensitive, this soft, and this…adorable.
He thought he was quite certain in his wishes – if higher-ups really need for him to take a fuck toy, he wanted it to be resilient. Maybe a dog hybrid, maybe a vampire, just weak and hungry enough to overpower with little fights. Not someone like you, who has no idea what she is doing in the army and why her hands are trembling like he is going to devour you alive. Although, looking at the way your chest is swaying every time you flinch…maybe, he can do just that. Teach higher-ups a lesson on why he doesn’t need their handouts.
— Dismissed.
He doesn’t even look at you. Honestly, you’re a bit hurt – honestly, you almost want to yell at him or scream or tell all of your higher-ups that the colonel is a huge jerk who clearly doesn’t need a little cow darling to make him coffee and tend to his needs and be a huge moral support because they can’t take another fucked out recruit when the dangerous hybrid is in heat again. You feel like a glorified whore – the one that he doesn’t even want.
— B…but…
You pout your lips, a billion questions raised in your mind – why is he like this, what is his deal and you should even look at him if he clearly doesn’t want you…and that look on your face, helplessness mixed with a bit of deliciously sweet anger, combined with your soft, doe features…
Colonel has a problem.
He thought he knew what he wanted – a strong partner, someone resilient and fiery, someone who can take his cock anywhere without whining. Someone who wouldn’t require a lot of attention and softness, someone who knows their place. Now König looks at you, your floppy ears and trembling lips, and his gaze darts lower, his nose getting milk fragrances even under all of those layers of fabric.
It doesn’t take a genius to know why they sent you. He doesn’t need a secretary, he doesn’t need an assistant and even if he needs help with something, there are always lower ranks ready to do whatever he says. You’re useless to him, on all levels he can imagine – and yet, he can’t find it in him, to truly dismiss you. To hate your trembling lips and obedient stare – no thought behind those pretty eyes of yours. He always thought he wanted someone strong, someone who is hard to break and resilient to any advances.
He looks at you and, for the first time in forever, has this wild urge to protect.
— Sir? Is everything alright?
You tilt your head to the side, that naive stare you has makes his cock twitch in his pants. It was a long time since he had sex with anyone, especially that adorable. Some hybrids look like they are made to be fucked and loved and used in all of those delicious ways – he knows it’s problematic, he knows that having that view on fellow monsters isn’t right for someone as strong as him, but he wants to devour you. Wants to see that pretty eyes wide from desire – he knows you’d feel the urge too, it’s in your blood, to present your soft belly and even softer tits to a larger predator.
Indulging on you would mean giving up on his attempts of constantly undermining the higher-ups – it would also mean that he would finally receive a partner for the extensive mating seasons that clash with his work and make his skilling rate go up – and not just for the enemies. Private Halseen, you will be missed. Your ass probably wouldn’t.
— I thought you’d heard me the first time.
— But I brought coffee.
— They make coffee machines in cows now?
— Sir! I was just trying to…break the ice? I’m your new operator, or, um, assistant, I have nurse training, and I…
— What are you going to do with an injury? Lick it away?
— M…my saliva has healing properties, so…
— They really sent me a magic cow, ja?
— That’s a very…special way to put it, colonel.
You are surprisingly stubborn for someone who isn’t a confident killing machine. You balance the little tray with a cup of coffee – a big one, seems like you did your homework on that one – and he can’t help but imagine your hands gripping something else this tightly. Your body is trembling, your face switches between a sad and a surprised expression as he slowly emerges from his table to get a good look at you.
You’re a cow hybrid – they are naturally adorable, naturally soft, and naturally made for someone like him to tower over. He is good over 7 foot, even in mostly human form, and his monster height would be almost twice your size – he'd love to take you like this, raw, bully his giant cock into your, no doubt, tight pussy, and make you squeal from the stretch. Maybe, he can help you with milk production – put another hybrid into you, make your belly swell from his cum. Keep you locked away in his room like a perfect little treat, using your soft body as a perfect pillow.
He can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation – saliva collecting in his mouth as the thinks of all the ways he can use such a pretty secretary. There is no way you don’t know why they sent you here – no way you think that your self-worth is something more than being his obedient pet, beloved toy. König never thought of settling down, the bloodshed is his one and only partner – but he looks at your rounded horns, at your twitching ears and pouty lips – and he thinks about putting his earring right into your floppy ear. lick away all the blood and calm you down as you’d squirm under the pain, soothe your panicking cow brain as he would bully his cock even deeper, claiming you as…
Ah, shit. You’re still here, waiting for his answer – your eyes are shocked and afraid, anticipated a little bit because of course you’re aroused, his pheromones are too overwhelming for a thing like you – you stare at the bulge in his pants, at nis, no doubt, hard cock – and he can almost see gears in your head turning slowly. God, you’re adorable.
— You forgot the milk.
— Sergeant Horangi didn’t say anything about milk.
So, Horangi was the one to set you up. Of course, tiger shifter probably got his hots on you – pretty prey, perfect for every hunter nearby, but, just as a good officer, he let you go to his colonel first. You talk back with a surprisingly fierce tone and König appreciates the way his mask covers up his whole face – you couldn’t see his smile, the way corners of his mouth jerked up at your pout. Continue like this, and the colonel will do more than just smile at your antics.
— Probably because he knew that our milk is shitty.
— If…if you need me to bring you something else, I will do it right away, sir.
— No need, Kuhen. I think you have what I need right here.
His cock twitches in his pants again – your eyes are locked on his bulge, you slowly push the tray to the table. You’re naive, you’re cute, and he knows that KorTac probably pays you triple for being this adorable and playing dumb like the good girl you are – bastards probably know that if you’d be upfront and pushy, he would just set you away from his office.
But standing here, munching on your lower lip, your soft, pink tongue disappearing in your mouth only to reaper to lick your lips again, your face not ever betraying the emotions you, no doubt, are feeling – König can smell your arousal, can almost see the way your pussy is glittering with juices flowing right into your soaked panties. They send a lamb – a cow – to his chambers and they know that he would never resist a good hunt. You allow him to cut through the chase, to just pin you to his desk and take what’s his – but anxiety, that stupid fucking worm eating his brain over the tiniest facts, is making him question everything again. He knows he thinks too much, he knows it’s not going to do him any good – still, he wants to be sure that you’re not too dumb to understand his advances. Still, he wants to play a bit more. Delay the moment of sex because his doubt can eat him alive otherwise.
— Take off your shirt, Schatzen.
He doesn’t even look at your chest, bouncing from the tight shirt you were wearing – poor buttons holding on for dear life, barely containing your soft flesh – he drinks up your expressions, embarrassment, and poorly hidden curiosity. You saw the job requirements for an operator, saw his profile – high risks, high aggression, can be very, very violent – and you decided that you can take him, for the right pay.
— You want me to…take off something else, sir?
A smart girl would run the fuck away from him – but you just lock your hands in front of you, not even bothering to cover your chest. God, he wants to be with you forever – just for that little look on your face your nervousness. You’re standing in front of him, only wearing pants and your bra – and you’re afraid that he isn’t going to like what he sees.
Just for this expression, he might as well push a ring on your finger already.
— Ja. Bra is next.
You nod like you expected this. You probably did – for a prey hybrid, you’re surprisingly smart in understanding what he needs. Your bra is lacy and cute, white, with little flat roses printed – surely not something he expected from military personnel, even if your duties are laying in under him, not with your belly in trenches and your cute hands squeezing the trigger.
Your breasts look even bigger without a bra to keep them close. You place a hand under your chest, feeling a bit awkward with your colonel just standing here, looming over your form. You lick your lips – he cocks his head closer to you. You can hear something shifting under his hood – you don’t know what his face looks like, rumors were opting for either a bunch of tentacles tucked neatly inside of his hood, the head of some mythical animal, or a normal, but disfigured and burned human face. You don’t know which option you prefer – even the files you were reading before choosing this job didn’t give you an answer. There is something stirring inside of you when you’re thinking about tentacles, though.
— Braves Mädchen…good girl.
You smile, feeling the knot in your tummy getting even tighter at the praise. You like him – despite his rough exterior and the obvious arousal, you like being liked, wanted, and devoured by a much stronger predator. Not having any supernatural powers, your only survival option in this world is to appease the strongest – and it looks like you just got a really juicy target.
Suddenly, König grabs your waist and lifts you to his table – documents go flying around and you put a bit more, thinking of how long it would take to put everything back together. He doesn’t care for your concerns – the next thing you know, you are pushed ever further into his table, and the colonel lifts the end of his hood just enough to envelop his mouth on one of your nipples.
— S…sir! Please, a little warning next time…
He laughs, his hands pressing small, sweet bruises into the curve of your waist. His mouth feels cold at first – then he flicks his tongue at your hardened nipple, and it feels like an oven. You moan you squeak, you squirm under him – all those documents and transferring and half a dozen Suits trying to tell you of how dangerous your work is going to be, how unstable and irritated the colonel is, how he is probably going to shoo you from his office the first two weeks – all of this comes flying right out the window.
— You already think of the next time, Schatzen?
König never tastes something as sweet, as silky, and smooth as your breasts. There is something deep, primal, wild in the way he sucks and bites at your nipple – he devours the taste of your skin and it feels like he can come to his pants just from the feeling alone. You’re squirming in his grasp, poor thing, probably aren’t used to sensation – he closes his eyes and allows his monster to take over, to take what he wants from you.
He shifts to your other breasts, warming and cooling them at the same time. He isn’t an expert in that weird kind of massage, but you don’t need an expert in boob sucking when all of your cow instincts telling you to spread your legs and allow him to put babies in you, to breed like the prey you are, to take care of you outside of this stupid job. You’re terrified that his sharp teeth can draw blood and arouse at the way his tongue clicks at your nipples so perfectly, so naturally, like he was doing it his whole life.
You moan, whispering little begs and praying to deaf ears. Your hands are going to hig his neck, to just kind put your fingers on his hood and just keep it here, not daring to try and direct the movements of his tongue. All of those days of constant preparing for the worst, long nights of studying the psychology of hunters, of predator hybrids, didn’t leave you much time to milk yourself in the past week – you might just be a hybrid, but it doesn’t release you from the endless burden of constant lactation.
— S…so embarrassing…please, sir, we need to stop or I will…
— Ja, meine Kuh? Did you want to say something to your colonel?
— Please, I’m going to…fuck, this is embarrassing…
— Language.
He closes his teeth on your tender bud, making you moan his name – his callsign – loudly. He grunts from satisfaction, finally tasting sweet milk pouring from his body – might be the only thing that makes cow hybrids useful for someone as strong as him.
Your milk is sweet, rich, and creamy, and your little cries only make it tastier. He pushes his tongue deeper, swirls it around your hardened bud, waits for you to moan even more – every inch of your being makes him feel weird, protective, like he already put a baby in that soft tummy of yours and made you his. It’s dumb, you aren’t even connected on the official level – but he sucks your milk ever so passionately, forgetting about every mission trouble he had.
Sucking your tits feels like therapy – giving up all of his powers just to kiss you, to bite you, to drink your milk, and softly massage the flesh until your pussy starts to grind against the round corner of his table. Poor thing, he doesn’t even touch you in any way – you’re too precious for this, and he falls too deeply into your eyes and the swell of your chest.
— Sir! Pl…please, don’t…if you’d stop, I will…
He drinks your milk swiftly, feels the liquid dripping down his chin – always a messy eater, one of the reasons he used the mask to hide his embarrassment. He can’t look at your face, the angle is too far off for this, and it disappoints him – he wants to drink your pretty expressions, wants to know that he is one to make that pretty cow this slutty. Just a few minutes ago he was ready to get your ass off his office – and now he is changing between two of your round breasts, making sure to not waste a drop.
Fuck, this is far better than any milk the base kitchen can provide.
He sucks a little bit more, pressing his tongue against your swollen, abused nipples. You whine at the sensation, poor little hybrid isn’t used to his teeth and his mouth – he’d have to make sure to repeat this procedure every other day, if possible, to get you used to direct milking. He’d have to spend weeks spreading your pretty cunt for him, teaching you how to milk his cock and meowl like a good prey hybrid you are – but he didn’t become colonel because he was afraid of challenges.
He stops sucking with a little pop, final droplets of milk falling to his lips as he licks it, groaning from pleasure. His stubble made the soft skin around your nipples irritated and you tremble when the cold air hits them – you feel fragile, used, your pussy is twitching around nothing, the pulsation forcing you to grind against the corner of his table like a bitch in heat.
König made you like this – half-naked, trembling, so fucking horny that you can’t even look at him without dropping to your knees, and it almost made you want to run away. He squeezes your tits again, enveloping the soft mounts in his large, rough hands – you whine a little bit, still all too sensitive after this pleasurable torture he created.
— How do you feel?
He sounds…weaker now. Almost embarrassed at his little outburst, he picks up your bra and helps you get dressed – you both want more, to check if his table is really as sturdy as it looks, but König has a training session in 30 minutes and you have König’s training session, standing behind his shoulder and watching him yelling at the recruits. It would be hard to get scared at him again, when every time his cold gaze darts to your face, he softens. When you look at him and can only imagine milk dripping down your chin – your milk, no less.
— I’m…empty. In a good way, I mean. Thank you, sir.
You feel weird when he gently helps you get into your clothes, his fingers are simply too big for the buttons – he presses his head against your shoulder, trying to concentrate, and you awkwardly hug him for stability. He chuckles.
— My pleasure, Schatzen.
You stand here, awkwardly – your neck enveloped with a collar, with his name on it, and he can’t pry his eyes away from it. God, he never knew that being a colonel would allow him such a cutie as a bonus. KorTac didn’t seem like an organization that would give away wives so easily, but König isn’t going to complain.
He just has to make sure to keep you chained to his table, that’s all.
#cod#yandere konig#konig x reader#cod x reader#call of duty#cod x you#konig mw2#reader insert#yandere cod#yandere x reader#konig#konig x you
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I COULD DO THIS FOR HOURS
G. Satoru — さとる ⋅ fem reader
🔞 mdni / mdnr / smut / n.sfw / 18+ content
NOTE: i took a 3 am thirst draft and made it a fucking fic wtf 🥴 i'm so dizzy over this one idk why i usually don't drool for my own smut but god damn this one is special to me. ik i post a lot about gojo atm and it's because i love him no apologies 👍
SUMMARY — making a cheeky comment leads to a long, steamy session in the bedroom with your husband, who's got a point to prove.
WARNINGS — nasty smut 🤤, rough sex, namecalling/nicknames (b*tch, good girl, baby, dirty girl, sweetheart), he's kinda mean, hubby gojo, multiple rounds, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, messy/sweaty sex, daddy kink, p*ssy kiss (1), long session (3h), overstim, dirty talk (teasing, sweet, mean), incl. aftercare, lmk if i have missed smth thank u
WORDCOUNT ≈ 1.3k
PLAYME — daddy
🍒 — J ⋅ reblogs and comments help a lot ! enjoy reading :)
Your husband didn’t like that cheeky comment you made about his stamina and how fast he cums. He thought you were being pretty hypocritical, considering the fact that you cum sometimes solely because of lazy clit thumbing and shallow strokes.
“ Baby, careful what you say to me. “ he smiled at you in the kitchen, serenely washing the dishes after dinner. “ You know damn well that I could go for hours straight with no breaks. The only reason I don’t do that is because you’re too weak to handle it. ” he boasted confidently.
You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him. That scepticism pissed him off so much that he stopped cleaning the dishes and violently threw the towel down. Your giggles rung sweetly in his ear while he scooped you off your feet and tossed you over his broad shoulder, strong build carrying you to the bedroom like he was on a mission.
He threw you down on the bed with the same force that he threw the towel down with, his hands quickly finding his phone and setting a stopwatch.
You were already giggling apologies, but he wasn’t listening. He tossed his phone onto the bed and dented the mattress with his weight as he climbed on top of you, feverish kisses nearly knocking the wind out of you.
“ I’m sorryh – mmf – ‘toruh – didn’t meanh ih – I’m sorryyy. ”
“ Save your sorries and spread your legs. Gonna have to be a little rough with you, angel. But you like that, huh ? Yeah ? Like it when daddy’s rough ? Mhm, I know. Probably like it when I’m pissed off like this, too.
You smiled. “ Yeahhh, I love it. ”
He smirked. “ Dirty girl. ”
Folding you in half and sinking his cock inside you, it felt like he was your enemy for a second with how he beat up your gummy walls with his mean cock; you were giggling and squirming about his playful roughness in the beginning, but now? You’re screaming, going dumb and limp. It makes him chuckle.
“ Fuck, baby, just look at you. ” he cooed, “ . . . just cumming over and over on this dick like a dumb bitch. I told you that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, didn’t I ? Uh-huh. I fucking told you so. Keep it together, it’s only been twenty minutes. Haha . . . and you were the one talking shit about my stamina ? Come on, apologize to me. Good girl. Tell daddy how sorry you are – haha, you cummin’? Yeah, ‘can feel your pussy fuckin’ pulsing ‘round me – fuck that’s good. You like it when I’m mean, don’t you ? ”
“ Y-yesss ! Love it love it s'much Sa—to—ruuuh ! ” you panted frantically, body jiggling like jelly with each harsh thrust.
“ So cute and dumb. ” he cooed tenderly, as if he wasn’t rearranging your guts and breaking the bed.
“ Feel that, sweetheart ? Feel me sweating ? I know you like it when I’m this close, ‘like it when you can feel the sweat drip off my abs ‘n rub against your tummy ? Yeah, I know. Damn dirty bitch. Nah-uh, eyes on me. ‘S only been an hour don’t zone out on me. ”
Really, the concept of time flew out of your head when you were laying there taking him.
You’re shaking, gummy walls and sweet spots being beat up by your husband’s mean, yummy cock. The pressure inside you builds and builds until it snaps, and you scream his name in such a high pitch that it almost makes his ears ring. He laughs a little, watching as you writhe, trapped under his beefy body. He relishes in the feeling of your pussy pulsing as you cum, it brings him close, too. Before you know it, he’s pumping his cream deep inside, pounding into you like he’s trying to ruin your pussy and reshape it to fit only his cock.
“ Fuckin’ takin’ it so well, angel. Now ‘gimme another round. Get on your tummy – there we go, aw your legs are numb ? I don’t care. It’s only been an hour. You can hold on longer than that, can’t you ? ”
From the back, he fucks you so sensually and deeply that the two of you sweat sweat sweat it up. He insistently bundles up with you under the covers to make it extra toasty. The smell of sex is hot and pungent in your lungs, and inhaling yours and his arousal and scent of cum drives him crazy. Bodies wet and slippery, he’s made a sloppy mess of you before but not quite like this; his cheeks dampen, his hair sticks to his forehead; there’s little rivulets of sweat running down the center line of his abs, following along his v-line. There’s an ache in your thighs, you’re getting overstimulated but it’s so good. And listening to his ragged, heavy breathing behind you just brings on another orgasm.
“ Fuck, baby, ‘wish you could see yourself from this angle. ” he groans erotically, brows finally knitting together tightly as he loses composure and succumbs to his own sensitivity. “ Oh, angel, just cum. Don’t hold it in – cum cum cum yeahhh there we go – that’s my fucking girl. Cumming so pretty on this dick. You’re so fucking beautiful, ‘m gonna cum too. Sh-shit look at all that frothing up, feel that ? ‘so gooey and nasty. Hahhh-ahah I’m cumin’ – cumminggg ~ ”
You can practically hear the hearts in his voice when he cums, vocals straining and rasping against the nape of your neck. He lets out this one last primal sound before pumping you full of another load of thick creamy cum. You can feel him pulsing and twitching. He presses his weight onto your back a little too much, you can feel the tones of his sweaty torso and how wet and hot his body is.
“ Haha . . . fuck . . . ” he runs a hand through his hair, smiling down at the pretty mess on his dick. “ Baby, you did so good for me. You okay ? Did I go too hard ? ” he asks tenderly, nuzzling the back of your neck, just listening to your shaky breaths as you come down from your high.
“ I can’t feel my legs. ” you swallow, dazed smile on your face. “ So good . . . ”
“ Aw, sorry, angel. I’ve got you, come here. Ooh – where’s my – phone – let’s see how long you endured me for. ”
“ Felt like . . . forever . . . ”
He chuckled under his breath at that and leaned off the bed, reaching for his phone that had fallen right off the edge when he was making the bed violently shake earlier.
“ Ooh ! Baby, we’ve got a new record. Three hours. ”
“ Oh my god, no wonder I can barely fucking move . . . you’re a menace. ”
He smiles cheekily, “ Wanna make it four ? ”
“ Are you crazy ?! ”
“ Yes, of course. Don’t you love me for it ? ” he coos in a sultry voice, coming to press a loving kiss to your damp cheek.
You feel his weight lift off the bed, you tiredly peek at where he’s going and – of course, like the sweet husband he is, he’s getting you a towel. You can hear his exhausted huffs of breath. There’s cream running down your slit, some smeared across your pussy and frothed up.
He comes back into the room, smiling admiringly at your sleepy body. You’re sinking into the pillows, too tired to think.
“ ‘toru . . . ”
“ Angel ? ” he hums in response, slowly starting to clean you up from the thighs up. You feel his big hands massaging the numbness out of your legs.
“ I love you. ”
He smirks and presses a kiss to your pussy from the back, making you giggle. “ Love you too, my girl. No one makes me feel better than you do. Come here. Haha, are your legs still numb ? Should I massage them more ? M'kay, sweet girl. ”
The silence is sweet and long. He's massaging your body, feeling over you like you're his little masterpiece, his little angel.
Then he breaks the silence.
“ Told you so. ” he smiles victoriously.
You groan. “ Shut up. I was just teasing when I said you had shit stamina ! ”
“ I know, but I still hated that you said it and felt the need to prove a point. ”
You snuggle into his chest, making his heart flutter like he's a boy with a crush again.
“ Yeah yeah, point proven. ”
“ Aaand what's the point ? Tell me, I wanna hear it. ” he teases.
“ You can go on for hours. ”
He smiles to himself. “ Damn right I can. Glad my good girl learned her lesson. ”
© arminsumi
Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.
Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
#mdni#smut#gojo smut#gojo x fem reader smut#gojo satoru smut#jjk smut#jjk x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#satoru gojo smut#jjk#jujutsu kaisen gojo#gojou x reader#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#gojo saturo#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen#satoru#gojo x fem reader#gojo satoru x fem reader
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when gojo falls in love - gojo satoru
gojo satoru x fem. reader
Summary: She fell first, but he fell harder.
It was hard not to fall in love with Gojo Satoru. He was a ray of sunshine, always lifting the mood in every room, radiating the friendliest, kindest aura you have ever witnessed. His youthful, laid-back personality complemented his intelligence and wit, always having a funny comeback to Suguru's constant teasing.
He seemed so unapproachable to you, the Strongest, the Honored One, the Heir of the Gojo Clan, the Wielder of the Six Eyes, and Master of the Limitless. Those were the titles he was referred to in your crazy world, someone who was to be praised for the immense power he wielded and the enemies he had eliminated. However, you saw Satoru in a different light, finding other reasons to praise him. The gentleness he would befriend a stray cat with, the way he politely bows at the cashier at his favorite bakery, or the fact that he makes soup for everyone after a night out to cure your hangovers. He buys a bouquet of tulips for every girl and woman on Jujutsu Tech's campus, without exception, on International Women's Day. He remembers the lunch lady's son's birthday and gives her the remote-control car the young boy so desperately wanted because he knew Watanabe-sama, as he refers to her, could never afford it. He sits down to play chess with the elderly man in front of the convenience store every day because he knows he lost his opponent for the last 40 years not too long ago.
It is easy to fall in love with Gojo Satoru, however, it is hard for Gojo Satoru to fall in love. Or at least, that's what he thinks. At first, when you join them, he doesn't give much thought to it. He's pleased that there is another girl added to the group, so he and Suguru don't have to listen to Shoko's constant whining about them being gross anymore. He also relishes in the attention you give him, because he knows you're quite infatuated with him, like most of the girls are.
However, as time passes, he realizes that your kindness makes a red hue run across his pale cheeks. Every time he does the smallest things, you praise him for it. Others don't compliment him on his politeness, something he prides himself on because his mother taught him to act this way - the only person who loved him for him so far. Other people praise him for his technique, his unique eyes, and his otherworldly good looks. You're the only one who notices the small things he does and that warms his fragile heart. So he asks you out on a date.
He doesn't give it much thought, just a walk in the park full of cherry blossoms and ice cream. However, he swoons at the fact that you seem like this is the best date you have ever been on, you thank him repeatedly for paying for your ice cream and offer him the Kit Kat chunk the guy stuck into your dessert as an attempt to flirt with you, because you know Satoru loves Kit Kats, they're his favorite candy bar.
Gojo Satoru reaches one important conclusion that night, after walking you to your dorm room. You are, in fact, very easy to fall in love with.
Instead of fighting it, he lets this new feeling flourish. He starts putting in an insane amount of effort, he pays attention to the small things, he drinks up every word that you speak, he takes notes on his phone because he wants to walk the extra mile for you. His new goal in life becomes making you, the first girl who looks past the titles and likes him for him, happy. His enthusiasm in doing so never falters, even after years together or after marriage.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" he asks you as his extremely perceptive eyes take in your slumped shoulders, the dark circles under your eyes and the slight frown that replaces the pretty smile he fell in love with.
"Long day, baby, long day." you sigh and he is quick on his feet, he embraces you, leaving a loving kiss on the crown of your head.
"Change your wizarding clothes, pretty girl, I'll run you a bath. How does that sound, huh?"
"Amazing, Satoru. Thank you!" you respond, smiling tiredly, leaving a kiss on his glossy lips.
"Everything for you."
Not only does he prepare a bath, but he also lights some candles, drops some lavender-infused salts in the water, and prepares some fruits and your book as well. While you relax your body in the water which is the perfect temperature, he makes your favorite meal for dinner and starts up the fireplace so that the two of you can cuddle up on the couch.
After dinner he holds you close, absentmindedly running his hands over your back, in your hair, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, small confessions that make you feel a lot better about yourself. Satoru would like to think that he is perfect at everything, but there's only one thing he takes pride in the most: learning how to make you feel better over the years. He always knows what to do, regardless of the reason why you're down. He knows how to pick you up.
"Toru?" he hears your voice, calling him by his favorite nickname. It makes him blush every time you call him that and he swears his heart picks up too.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Don't you ever get tired of taking care of me?"
"How could you say that?" he asks as he sits up, glaring at you with offended eyes "Of course not, baby. You're my everything, I could never get tired of making you feel good, love. It is also my duty as your lover to ensure your happiness. It's in my contract and everything." he makes you smile fondly, adoring his way of phrasing these things. Because even the hardest of conversations are pleasant when Satoru is there to put things so stupidly.
"Oh yeah? What else is in this contract of yours?"
"That I have to kiss you all the time. And - and that I will have to get you a cat at one point because I know you want one. I have to feed you when you're hungry and I have to do the laundry when you get home late. Oh, and most importantly I always have to split my desserts with you. Only you, not even Suguru gets to do splitsies."
"I see. And what is in my contract?"
"Nothing. You already honored yours." he says curtly and you look at him with confusion.
"How?"
"Well, the only thing in your contract was that you have to be my lover. Nothing else. I'm the one doing the heavy lifting here, every day I get to spend as your significant other is a good day for me. You don't have to do anything else to make me happy." he explains.
You look him in the eyes, your irises filled with nothing but adoration towards the man in front of you. It is so easy to be in love with Gojo Satoru, because he is a gentleman in a world of boys.
#jujutsu kaisen#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#jjk imagines#gojo imagine#jjk x reader#gojo fluff#jjk x you#gojou satoru x you#dad gojo#jjk imganie#satoru imagine#satoru gojo fluff#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#Ren Writes - Gojo ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
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It is almost five centuries ago, and the girl who will one day be a swordswoman is lying in the red-tinged mud. She can't get up—broken bone? severed tendon? She can't tell. She's yet to cultivate her palate for pain. Her enemy towers over her, a cataphract mailed in screaming steel and poisoned light. His warhammer falls, and it is death, forever death, death unconquered and unconquerable.
"No," says a part of her. She is not even seventeen years old. Her body is mangled and broken, wound piled upon wound piled upon wound. A dull kitchen knife is her only weapon, though she lost that in the mud the second her grip faltered. Her enemy is no thing of this earth. And yet—
"No. It is not death, forever death, death unconquered and unconquerable. It is only a hammer, falling. It is only 'an attack.'"
And the girl understood.
~~~
It is the better part of three centuries ago, as best the swordswoman can reckon, and she is beset on all sides by foes. They are not monsters—just mountain bandits, or highland rebels, as one cares to see it. But they outnumber her by dozens, and even an exceptional swordswoman might struggle against but two opponents of lesser skill.
From in front of her, beside her, behind her they advance, striking from every angle with spears and blades and axes. Others fill the air with arrows, sling stones, firepots. It would be effortless, to parry any single blow. It would be impossible, physically impossible, to defend against them all.
"No," says a part of her.
"You are not outnumbered. You do not face 'multiple' foes. It would be impossible to defend against every attack — but there is no 'every' attack. Only one."
"Oh," the swordswoman said. And it was, in fact, effortless.
~~~
It is eighty years ago, or thereabouts. A coiling spire of stony flesh and verdigrised copper throbs like a tumor on the horizon, coaxed from the earth by spell and sacrifice. It is the tower of a sorcerer-prince, and a birthing place of abominations.
Seven locks of rune-etched metal are opened with her single key. Wretched shapeling beasts, grown by sorcery in vitreous nodules, flee wailing from her, absconding before she even draws her blade. Demons sworn to thousand-year pacts of service find the binding provisions of their agreements unexpectedly severed.
These things dissatisfy the sorcerer-prince. He waxes wroth. He makes signs of power and chants incantations. With a flask of godling's blood, he draws the binding sigil inscribed upon the moon's dark face. With cold fire burning in his eyes, he speaks the secret name of Death. It is a king among curses, all-corrupting, all-consuming, and it falls from his lips upon the swordswoman.
"No," she says, and she turns it aside with her blade.
The sorcerer-prince's brow furrows. How did she even do that?
"Parried it."
But—
"With my sword."
No—
"See, like this."
Stop—
"Well," the swordswoman finally says, "I figured that if I just...looked at it right, and thought about it, and construed your curse as a kind of attack...then I could block it."
That's not how it works at all!
"If you insist," says the swordswoman, shrugging, and decapitates him.
~~~
It is now. It is the end. Death couldn't take the swordswoman, not when she'd spent all her life cutting it up. At times, Death might sidle up to one of her friends, or peer down into a grandchild's crib, and she'd just give it a look. That's all it took, by then.
Heartache couldn't take her, either. Bad things happened to her, and they hurt, and she lived in that hurt, but if it was ever more than she could take...she'd just, move her sword in a way that's difficult to describe. And she'd keep going.
Kingdoms fell, and she kept going. Continents crumbled and sank into the sea. Her planet's star faded and froze. She started carrying a lantern. Universes were torn apart and scattered, until all that had been matter was redistributed in thermodynamic equilibrium. With one exception.
But now it is the end. There is no time left; time is already dead. The swordswoman has outlived reality, but there is simply no further she can go. This is not a thing that can be blocked. This is the absence of anything further to block.
"No," says the girl who will one day be a swordswoman. "This isn't the ending. And even if it was, it's not the ending that matters."
The swordswoman looks back at who she was, at the countless selves she's been between them. She looks forward, at the rapidly contracting point that remains of the future. She grasps the all of linear time in her mind, and sees that it is shaped like a spear.
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Pacify Her
Lando Norris x reader
•Tags: smut, toxic Lando, hate-fuck, makeup sex
•Loosely based on a song by Melanie Martinez with the same title.
•Wordcount: 1.6k
It was unbearable how Lando squeezed this new girl's thigh and whispered in her ear. You knew it was to make you jealous, he was a tease even more when you two were in a relationship. You had really bad arguments that let to the decision of splitting, but since you didn't want to break up the friend group, you agreed to just say the relationship ended on good terms and decided to be friends which was a total lie and both of you knew it.
Now, only a couple months after everything, Lando had shown up with a new "girlfriend" which drove you absolutely mad how uncouth he could be. Bringing this girl in your group out of the blue fully knowing that neither you nor himself had moved on from that deep, long term thing you had.
She looked at you like she wanted to be your friend and get your validation so bad. You didn't know if Lando had told her you were his ex. He didn't even dare mention it when he was introducing her. You automatically hated her, although her big brown eyes seemed lovely and innocent. She didn't have a clue what she had gotten herself into. You pitied her cluelessness.
You noticed Lando's griny glances at you, he kept making sure you were looking before each kiss he left on her cheek. The bastard had all his moves coordinated and planned but you had been with him for too long not to see right through his facade.
You were at your limit, who was he to inflict this hurt on you after all that he had done?
Rage made your body dense as you walked towards Lando's house the night after, when you made sure nobody else was with him. His Friday nights had always been free on purpose to sleep until noon, game, and sleep again. You remember trying to wake him up for lunch and he was dead asleep because he had stayed awake to play with friends.
You rang and he buzzed the door open without asking. Walking towards the stairs you noticed the rose garden you had planted in a corner. The thought of Lando's face after a thorn had poked him in the arm and how he treated the flowers as his enemies forced your lips into a fainted smile. You hated that his memories made you happy. You hated it was him you had those memories with.
You pushed the thoughts away and tried to focus on why you were here. Lando opened the door, a confused look on his face, "y/n? What is it why are you here?"
"We need to talk." And you stormed in.
"Please come in, make yourself comfortable." The sarcasm in his voice was familiar, and now that you weren't in love with him, infuriating.
"Want to talk about what?"
"About how you're being such an asshole."
"Excuse me?"
"Don't act like this Lando I know you did those things on purpose."
"Damn I don't know what you're talking about." He kept his sarcastic tone. You hated it.
You pushed his chest back in anger, "stop playing with me. You know damn well this girl you keep bringing is just a doll to mess with my head."
Lando smiled as if he had been expecting these words from you.
"This is way too low, even for you Lando."
"Everyone thinks we're friends, why can't friends introduce their new girlfriends to their other friends?"
"I'm not everyone. I know this is a lie stop trying to make it sound casual."
"What do you expect me to do? Stay single until you're over me?"
"Yes!" The loud sound that exited your mouth surprised you as it did Lando. You never planned to sound weak or needy. You just wanted to get closure, "look. I'm not trying to control your life or whatever, but what you're doing to make me jealous is messy and fucking pathetic. Fix it. Goodbye." And you started walking towards the door.
"Well did it work?" Lando's voice stopped you. He sounded sort of genuine for the first time in months.
You kept silent and still, wondering what to answer. Turning around to face him you said, "well do you love her?"
"Of course I do. She's very real."
You took one step closer, "stop lying."
Lando took a step closer to you, "stop being jealous."
You took one more step, "she looks way too innocent for you. I pity her."
Lando took another step , "I can teach her."
-"Funny."
-"I know."
-"You're insufferable."
-"I know."
Silence.
Now you were only one step away from eachother. Only one breath. You were mad at him and the tension felt heavy in the air as the sun was halfway set. His eyes looked crazy blue in the last golden rays of sunshine coming in fron his big windows. His face stingy and lips so soft it made you even more angry at him.
Your self control was getting shaky and you felt it shatter when Lando swinged his arms up to hold your face to kiss you deeply on the lips.
You squeezed your hand on his arm in protest to rip him off of you before it was too late but he was desperate.
He kept kissing you harder and harder like you gave him air to breathe.
You hated this. You hated the way his body pulled you in and you hated how it felt so good. He knew his way with you. Every single button, all the nooks and crannies.
You finally eased into the kiss, letting go of Lando's hoodie that was balled up in your fist and started to kiss him back.
His hands unzipped your sweatshirt and pulled it off your arms as soon as he felt that you wanted this as well. You let him. He slipped his hand under your tshirt, pinching your belly, messaging your back.
You let out a heavy exhale.
"I missed you." He whispered into your mouth, putting his lips on yours before you could say anything back.
Lando's hands moved down to your jeans but you held onto his hand to prevent him from going on. He stopped kissing you.
It was all too much for you and you hated him for being so good at this. You stared dead into his eyes, knowing full well that you were helpless, and said, "you fucking bastard."
He giggled when you pressed your debating lips on his again.
You let him kiss your lips, your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, your belly. You let him get down on his knees for you, between your legs.
His wet tongue on you made you jump in a surprising pleasure. The tip of his tongue moving in circular motions, in search of the place that made you moan the loudest. You tried fighting the sensation but failed miserably when he raised his finger to your entrance, messaging and warning about what's to come.
The moan that left your lips after he pushed his finger inside you was involuntary. You could feel Lando smiling on your pussy with the sound. He kept moving his tongue with your hand in his curls; pumping his finger and pulling moans out of you until you felt like you could take it no more. That's when Lando pulled his now soaked finger out and stood up, Leaving you clenching around nothing.
He faced you again to continue his kisses; you could taste yourself on his lips as he took off your tshirt and your bra, leaving you completely naked in the middle of the house. He looked at you once more before taking off his own hoodie you've been pulling on to get rid of since the start, he turned you around and got closer. His bulge rubbing against your butt from under his sweatpants.
"You're so pretty." He whispered into your ear, "wait here okay?"
You turned around to see him almost run to his bedroom to get condoms and you got a chance to take a look at his smooth, tan skin as he walked back.
Lando kissed you shoulder and your back as he slowly bent you over the handle of the couch. Messaging your body as he bent on you to let you feel his skin, his pants were off, your could feel his hard dick against the back of your leg. He adjusted himself on you and pushed in. You weren't hesitant to moan anymore. His length inside you was a familiar sensation of pleasure after this long. He was all you needed.
Lando started pumping deeper into you, making you feel fully stretched. You could hear his little groans and exhales when he grabbed your neck to make you arch your back more, pulling your head towards his mouth. "I bet nobody fucked you like this since I was gone." And he started moving faster. You pushed back your body into his, blurring the lines infront of your eyes.
You came within seconds after that.
He pulled out of you. You turned around quickly, grabbed his shoulders and lead him to the couch to sit down.
"Could you ever teach her this?"
And you climbed on top of him, each leg on each side. Leading his still erect dick to your hole and pushing down on him. Lando threw his head back with a moan. You took his hands and put them on your ass. He squeezed his hands with every movement you made.
You started kissing under his ear, where you knew he was sensitive. Moans started turning into whimpers and he started pushing up his legs towards you. You both moved faster as you reached your high. You nails dug into Lando's shoulder and his hands tight around your back when you both came and you collapsed into his arms.
****
"What a stupid decision." You said through your panting and you both giggled since you knew you were going to make more.
(This is the first time I'm posting a smut one shot online sorry if it's short or lacking♡)
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#lando norris smut#f1 smut
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Valedictorian - l.hs (m)
He never knew that the nerdy-virgin thing you had going on would turn him on, but maybe it did. And he needed to do something about it.
☆ Summary: Heeseung is your sworn enemy and you hate everything about him. You hate how he looks, you hate the fact that he gets better grades than you, and you hate the way he makes you cry. The problem however, is that you are his favorite plaything, and he couldn't get enough of you.
☆ Genre: Academicrival!Heeseung, Badboy!Heeseung, nerdy!reader, virgin!reader, SMUT
☆ Words: 5,2k+
☆ Warnings: Dacryphilia, a looot of crying, Dom!Heeseung, Sub!Reader, Manipulation, Heeseung is super mean, degradation (praising in the end though), chocking
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You had always been at the top of your class, getting straight A’s throughout all of high school. You didn’t care that you never went to parties, never talked to boys, or the fact that everyone calls you ‘teachers pet’ behind your back. It’s you who are going to have the bright future you have always dreamt of, and not them. And, if you are at the top of your class at the end of high school, the valedictorian title would be yours, and the dream of attending a top university would be achieved. But it was one person that was ruining everything for you.
Lee Heeseung. Even his name makes your blood boil. Lee Heeseung. Leeee. Heeeeseung. Urgh. He wasn’t always there, and oh you wish you could turn back time to freshman year when he wasn’t present in your life. When you first saw him, you didn’t think he was much more than a low-lifer like your other classmates. Black hair, eyeliner, tight black clothing? Ah so an emo then, probably too depressed to be good at school, spending all day rutting in his room listening to mcr. Or he was maybe a bad boy, spending all his weekends on parties and fucking girls without even knowing their name.
But you were so wrong.
You clearly remember the day when you realized Heeseung might even be smarter than you, which was also the first day you talked to him. You had just got back the result from a massive math test, and of course you got an A. You triumphantly look at your score, 96/100, not bad - you thought, could definitely be better, but surely no one else got as high of a score as you did. That’s what you thought until you squinted at Heeseungs table beside yours.
Down on his desk you saw his exam paper, and you could not believe your eyes. To make sure you saw right, you adjusted your thick glasses. 100/100. What? How is that even possible? Was Heeseung a nerd?
Not realizing that your stare caught his eye, you get surprised when his voice interrupts your thoughts. “Jealous? People have told me a lot about you.” Wtf? You get startled by his dark voice, looking up at Heeseungs dark orbs with an irritated expression. You observe him. His body is tilted back against his chair, legs spread wide - as if he wants to show off his dominance. His ripped jeans and the shirt he was wearing was both black, which is the color he always wears. His black hair was peeking out from the same coloured bennie, and his ear was covered with silver piercings. You hate the fact that his bad-boy-emo persona makes your heart skip a quick beat. He is so annoyingly good looking that it hurts, hurts even more now that you know he is a smart asshole.
“What the fuck did you say”, you say, trying to sound intimidating even while wearing your thick nerdy glasses. People have told things about me? What? His lips turn into a smirk, and with his elbow on the table in front of him, he leans his head down on his hand. His eyes look at you up and down to take in your appearance. You are wearing a neatly ironed shirt, paired with a pastel yellow thick sweater and a pleated skirt just above the knees. The skirt looks way too big for you, and way too long. How old were you, fifty? The tights that you were wearing were thick, making anyone unable to see your skin through the fabric, and your hair was far from styled - messy, as if you just woke up. Probably were up all night studying for the test he aced. You looked like a nerdy-virgin (which you were), and he couldn’t help but to imagine what you would look like under all that clothing.
“Well, that you were supposed to be this wannabe smart-ass, and annoying, really…” Oh so he is not just a nerd, but also an asshole. In frustration you turn your whole body facing him, before standing up so you can look down on him - getting the upper hand. With a hand on your hip and another on your glasses, you really do look like a smart-ass. “So, what? Are you saying I'm not smart?” He chuckles at your attempt in challenging him and stands up, looking down at you. He tilts his head and pouts his lips at you. Fuck he is tall. Embarrassingly, you look down at your feet and begin to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. No boy has never been this close to you, especially someone like him, someone bad.
“Maybe you are, but you are nothing compared to me, bunny”. Bunny. Ah hell nah. You quickly look up at him again with furrowed brows, oozing with anger. Did he just use a pet name on you? How dare he look down at you like this, and how dare he try to flirt with you. “Please, everyone knows that I am going to be valedictorian, dick” You say and cross your arms in front of your chest, puffing out air and looking to the side to avoid his gaze. What you don’t know however, is how your arms in front of your chest pushes your boobs up, making Heeseung able to look down your shirt. “Let’s see who gets that title, Sweetheart.” He bites his lips to hide the laugh he lets out, enjoying the state you are in right now. “By the way, cute bra. I love the color blue” he says and walks out of the classroom leaving you speechless. You look down. Fuck. You didn’t know that one of the buttons had opened up when you crossed your arms. You will never wear stupid this bra again.
This was just the beginning, and during the last years of high school Heeseung could not stop bothering you. And as the times passed, the hatred for Heeseung increased. The way he looked at you teasingly when you got something wrong in class makes you want to vomit, the way he would brag when he got a better grade, makes you want to punch him hard right in his face and the way he was watching you throughout class, making it impossible to concentrate, makes you want to scream in his face.
But that was not even the worst thing about him. He knew he was hot, and he knew that you thought so too. Therefore, at least once a day he would embarrass you, torment you, flirt with you. How could someone be this bad, this sinful disturbing a girl like you. He would always sit beside you in every class, even though you protested him not to. Occasionally you would feel his hand on your thigh sliding up and down, making you shiver. You would always immediately slap his hand away, ignoring him throughout the day. What was his deal?
Another day you remember clearly, exactly a year after first talking to Heeseung. You were starting to get used by his daily torment, almost getting immune from his mean comments. I guess he wanted to step it up a notch, and decided to do it during a presentation in English. You were as prepared as you could be, wearing a neatly ironed blazer and a hair up in a ponytail to look professional during your speech. Your speech cards were decorated with blue paper, perfectly organized in order for you to ace the speech in front of your classmates.
The teacher called up your name, you got to the front, and started talking. You were good, so good, and you could see the anticipation throughout the class. Your flow was on point, not showing a single sign of nervousness. That was until you met Heeseungs gaze in the back of the classroom. Heeseung hated to see you succeed, including this geeky english speech. He was even more annoyed when he saw what you were wearing. Again with the try-hard-good-girl clothing. The blazer? Too big. And could you not let your hair out for a single day? Nonetheless, he got bored doing nothing but listening to your nonsense, his speech was better anyways, but he couldn’t let you go away unbothered.
With his legs wide apart, and a hand on his thigh he looked at you, smirking - licking his lips even. You begin to stutter with your words, losing the confidence you built up for the presentation over the last four days. You couldn’t look away, and continued to watch Heeseung grace his veiny hand up and down his leg. Everyone else noticed that there was something up with you - the top student stuttering during a graded speech? Still, you continued - and tried to calm yourself down, until you met his eyes once again. Now, he was sending you a wink, while biting his lips. You unwillingly let out a surprised gasp, his actions making you drop all your cards on the floor. In panic, you quickly let out a weak “sorry..”, before dropping down on your knees, picking up all the cards.
The teacher looked at you concerned, “Are you sure you don’t want to do the speech again?” You looked down on your feet, too scared to look up knowing who is watching you. “No, it’s okay”, you say before storming out of the classroom. While you do so, you look back to see a laughing Heeseung.
Since then Heeseung could never stop bother you, he loved to see you so worked up. He loved the face you would make when seeing his result on a test, he loved how irritated you became when he talked loudly with his friends about how much better he was than you. But he also loved how quiet you would be when teasing you. Seeing your flushed face when being touchy, stuttering when he lowered his face towards your neck to whisper something in your ear, only for him to say how much of a loser you were - making you punch him away. He never knew that the nerdy-virgin thing you had going on would turn him on, but maybe it did. And he needed to do something about it.
“Man, why are you always staring at her? Give her a break” Jake says, looking at Heeseung. He was sitting at a table eating lunch in the cafeteria with his closest friends. He had known all of them throughout high school, and they were even close now in senior year. They also knew his obsession with teasing, as Heesung himself likes to call you, his ‘loser classmate’. He looked at you, you were sitting alone reading a book - as always, eating a sandwich your mom probably made. You were wearing the same ugly skirt you always wore, with a blouse that was way too big. The thick glasses that were helping you read your boring history book, were resting low on your nose bridge. Sensing that someone was watching you, you looked up only to see Lee Heeseung staring at you. Urgh, Why does he always do this? He smirks when you look at him, biting his lips to make you nervous. As irritated it makes you - it works, making you look down at your History book you were reading for the massive test later the same week.
Heeseung lets out a chuckle when Sunghoon punches his arm. “You sure love to tease her, why do you even do that anyways”. Heeseung looks at him and cocks an eyebrow, as if the answer to his question isn’t obvious. How can you resist making fun of something like that? “Because she is a loser, and the way she acts when I tease her is way too enjoyable for me to stop?” He says and takes a sip out of the cola in front of him, still staring at you. “Hmm, I don’t know Heeseung. Maybe she has a freaky side, all nerds do” Jay says and turns around to look back at you. Jay also staring at you is too much for you to bear, so you quickly gather your things and leave, looking back at Heeseungs table. That was when Heeseung got an idea, something that would sure really rile you up.
“Of course she has a freaky side, Jay. Haven’t you heard?” He says and looks at the others. With wide eyes the boys look at each other, shaking their heads. “No, bro, what do you mean? '' Jake says with a curious expression, always a sucker for some high school gossip. Heesung signals them to lean in so he could whisper, and they do. “Last week y/n got a B on a super important math test - oh you should’ve seen her face, and because she was so desperate to get an A, she gave Mr.Park a blow job after the lesson in his office.” He lied, of course. He knew that you got an A from that test and would never suck off a teacher. But he can just imagine the look on your face when you find out about the nasty rumor. His friends let out a big gasp at his words, not believing that the school's good girl did something like that to get a better grade. “ No way dude, you are lying”, Jay says and punches Heeseungs chest. Heeseung brings his hands in front of his chest to defend himself. “No, trust me! I saw everything.”
The rumor spread like wildfire, and It didn’t take long before everyone knew about it, including you. You already knew who would come up with something like this, and that’s why you are running towards the library to find him. He may have made everyone in school think that you went down on your teacher for a better grade, but oh but you were not going down without a fight. You hurriedly run down the hall towards the library.
With tears embarrassingly streaming down your face, you run up to Heeseung and his friends in the library. He looks up at you with a cocky expression, laughing when he sees your tears behind your thick glasses. He looks at Jake, “Do you see her? The way she cries? So embarrassing” You are now standing right infront of him. He continues, “What do you want? Do you want to suck me off too, bunny?” You swallow down your saliva, gaining courage to look deep into his eyes. “Stand up Heeseung” You say, your hands formed in fists. He looks around at his friends, laughing, before standing up crossing his arms in front of his chest. Heeseung looks down at you. You are wearing the same thing you wore the first day he talked to you, although now the sleeves on your shirt is wet from wiping your tears. Your face is red and puffy from crying, and small parts of your mascara are now under your eyes. He towered over you, making you feel small and fragile. But that was not going to stop you from standing up to yourself though.
“Why did you spread a rumor about me sucking off Mr.Park for a better grade?” You say, still looking at Heeseung. He lets out a chuckle and tilts his head to the side. He walks up to you, getting closer with any second. “Who said that was a rumor? What I know is that you went down on your fragile little knees and wrapped your dirty little mouth around Mr.Parks cock. I heard you were good too, really knowing how to use that soft tongue, and here I thought you were a virgin. Maybe you want to show me how you did it? Of coarse if you are even able to fit my massive cock in your mouth”
Oh he was sooo dead. “What the fuck did you say to me?!” You scream at him, punching him in his stomach. He lets out a grunt from the pain. Right after, he grabs your wrist and lifts it up - almost making your feet leave the ground. You breath hitched, surprised by his sudden movement. His face is close to yours, making you feel his hot breath on your face. “Did you just fucking punch me?” If you thought Heeseung was scarry before, it was nothing compared to now. You immediately regretted punching him. Before the conflict could escalate any further, a teacher stormed into the library and separated both of you. “What is going on here? Y/n I thought higher of you, and Heeseung, why are you threatening another student! Detention, after school, both of you!” She says and storms away.
Detention. No way. You look up at Heeseung with tears in your eyes. “This is your fucking fault.” He only looks at you with a smirk on his face. “Let’s settle this in detention sweetheart”
You were already crying when you walked to detention. You hate Heeseung. Hate the fact that he is so smart, even getting better results than you - probably making him earn the valedictorian title instead of you. You hate the way he looks. How can someone be so smart and look like that? Dressed in all black, eyes coated with black eyeliner, hair covered in a dirty beanie, his stupid piercing that made him look like a bad boy, stupid combat boots that would echo the halls when he stomped his feet on the ground, how stupid you felt for thinking he was hot, stupid, stupid, stupid!
The classroom is completely quiet, the only people in detention being you, Heeseung and the teacher guarding you. You had brought your history book, still studying for the same history test - at least you were productive to keep your grades up. But still, this bothered you. Of course it was only you Heeseung in detention, wouldn't it be other students too? At least then you wouldn’t have to be alone with him. As if the devil heard you complain, the teacher suddenly stood up from her chair. “I’m just going down for a coffee break, don’t do anything stupid - I’ll be back in twenty minutes” She says and walks out, slamming the door after her. The classroom was at first completely quiet, before someone spoke up.
“Twenty minutes?" That is a looong time”. You look besides you at Heeseung from across the classroom. His body is facing you and his hand is on his thigh, creeping up closer to his cock, the same way he did during your speech that one time. You were already weak, unable to look away from the thing you swore you hate. His tight ripped jeans hugging his thighs perfectly makes your mouth water, but the way he looks at you makes you want to run away. Stop it y/n! He is doing this on purpose! You were already trembling, your feet bouncing against the floor while biting your nails anxiously. You tried to read your book, tried to concentrate on the French revolution you were supposed to have a test on, but Heeseungs gaze was - something.
Heeseung stands up from his chair, walking towards you until he is right beside you. You glance at him behind your glasses, still trying to concentrate on your studies, trying to ignore the weird feeling in your stomach. You really are a loser, only his presence makes you want to cry. “Look at me, bunny” He says and licks his lips. Oh, he loves this. Loves how he can see your bottom lip tremble. You didn’t look at him however, still reading your book.
Irritated, he pokes the inside off his cheek with his tongue, and lets out a sigh before grabbing your chin, almost lifting up your entire body using his strength. The chair you were sitting on falls to the ground from his movement. Tears are already forming in your eyes, before sliding down your cheeks. Why is he so scary? “I said look at me? What is it in that demand that you don’t understand, sweetheart?” He says and backs you up, still holding your chin, making you sit on the desk behind you. You bite your lips trying to muffle your cries, but it was no use, Heeseung could still see how scared you were from your tears. “T-this is unfair!” you try to let out between hiccups, your thighs clenching together from being this close to your sworn enemy. Being this close to him, you are able to smell him - a mix of mens perfume and sweat filling up your nostrils.
Heeseung looks down on you with furrowed eyebrows, he slides his thumb across your swollen lips. Damn you cry all the time, is it this easy to make you upset? “What is unfair, baby?” He says, trying to sound sweet, even though he is forcing you in this position, the thumb leaving your lip so he can wrap his hand around your neck. You let out a yelp, which makes him chuckle. Through sobs you try to let out an answer. “It’s unfair how much I've fought to be at the top of my class, only for you to barge in and be better than me. Not only that but you're so mean to me, using your strength to force me like this”
First, he doesn’t answer, suddenly putting his hand on your thigh to spread them apart. You don’t even try to fight back anymore, lost in the way he looks at you. Heeseung grabs the end of your long skirt, and pushes it up to your thighs. “Mhm, using my strength to force you? Am I forcing you baby?” He says and bites his lips, his hand still playing with the hem of your ugly rolled up skirt. He tilts his head, and the hand leaves the front of your neck to pull out the ponytail you were wearing, letting your hair down. “I know how you look at me. Probably loving the idea of a bad-boy fucking the nerdy good girl up, making you sweat, making you tremble with my touch” The hand leaves your head and wraps around your neck again but from the back. His other hand is closing up towards your inner thigh, and the closer he gets to your core - the heavier your breathing gets.
“That’s not true, I could never find someone as irritating, mean, annoying as you attractive. Even though your tal frame, your strength, and your black silhouette would make any other girl fall, I’m not like the others” He chuckles at your statement, you just exposed yourself by the way you described him. Suddenly, he leans down towards your neck, giving you kisses with his soft lips. The sudden contact, that you had never experienced before, makes you bring up your hands to Heeseungs chest to grab his shirt, trying to push him away. But he is too strong, and your grip loosens when you feel his other hand just above your core.
You unwillingly let out a moan at the feeling. What is going on? “Oh, are you not? So you don’t like it when I touch you like this?” He says, pressing his fingers harder down against your clit, making your back arch. The humiliation is too much, and your entire face is wet from the crying. You hate how weak he makes you feel, and how much you know he can do to you, and how much you would let him. Your glasses are getting foggy, making Heeseung chuckle, before taking them off. The sight of your teary eyes without your glasses makes his cock twitch. “Aw, baby, don’t cry. I’m going to take care of you, bunny”
You pathetically nod your head, before letting out a high-pitched moan at the feeling of his finger on your clit, making soft circles through the fabric. Only this could bring you over the edge, this being the first time someone touched you. Heeseung let out a chuckle when seeing how desperate you were, making him want to push you even further. Therefore, he stopped touching your clit to pull off your thighs under your skirt. “No- stop!” You say, trying to push him away for the last time, even though you secretly want him to continue. You can’t let someone like him touch you like this, your reputation would be ruined.
“What baby, you want me to stop?” He says, while pulling off your panties and letting his finger come in contact with your bare skin. You don’t answer, too busy letting out sweet moans from his touch. God he was good at this. Your hand leaves his chest, and grabs his shoulders to keep yourself from falling back out of pleasure. Heeseungs other hand begins to button up your blouse, laughing when he sees the same blue bra you were wearing at your first encounter.
“If you want me to continue, you have to actually beg for it bunny” Heeseung says, laughing in your face at the whine you let out when he stops touching your clit. Desperate to feel pleasure, desperate for his touch, desperate for him, you unwillingly get down on your knees in front of him. Heeseung gets surprised by this, thinking you would never do what he says.
Through ugly cries, tears running down your cheeks in desperation, you clasp your hands together in front of your chest and look up at the man in front of you. Because of your open blouse, the tears from your eyes run down your neck, between your boobs, something that Heeseung can’t keep his eyes away from. He always adored your cries, definitely if it came because of him, definitely if it made you look like this. “Please Heeseung, please”
You sure knew how to beg like a bitch.
“Don’t worry bunny, I’m going to take care of my nerd real good” He grabs the back of your hair and pulls you up to your feet- earning a loud whine from the pain you feel in your scalp. He flips you around so your back is against his chest and punches you down on the wooden desk, while throwing away your history book with his other hand. You let out a pathetic cough from the hard impact from the fall, feeling the air being pushed out from your chest. Knowing he does not have a lot of time to fuck you, Heeseung quickly wraps the hem of your skirt, dragging it down to your ankles. The sight of your bare skin makes him let out a groan, making you wet. He unbuttons his pants, pulling them down alongside with his boxers to let his hard cock free. He looks at the clock on the wall beside him, 10 minutes before the teacher gets back.
The contact of his cock against your wet folds makes your knees buckle, only being able to stand up from the grip Heeseung have on your waist. The embarrassment you are feeling is still making you cry, feeling defeated with your bare ass up in the air in front of the biggest asshole you have ever met. Heeseung leaves his hand from your waist up to your mouth to cover your cries, he was maybe an asshole but he doesn’t want to get caught.
Before you could protest any further, he pushes himself into you, making you cry out of pain and pleasure. He was massive, and if you weren't so wet already from his harsh words, then you would never be able to take all of him. “Shh, shh, bunny, I’m going to be careful alright? I know it’s your first time taking cock”, he says, while pushing in and out of you slowly. Everytime he pushes himself into you, your back arch, making Heeseung let out a chuckle from your pathetic movements.
The only sound coming from the classroom was your muffled cries alongside with wet slapping sounds from the way Heeseung fucks into you. But Heeseung can’t resist, he needs to hear more of you, so he removes his hand from your mouth so you can let out your moans free. When he does, he grabs your waist again, stabilize himself, before fucking harder into you - getting impatient by treating you like a fragile doll.
His cock is hitting into you as deep as it could go, making you let out a loud cry. It's painful and you can’t feel more disgusting than what you already do, pushing back to make him go even deeper. He lets out a loud groan from your sudden movement. How did he turn this nerdy good girl into something so nasty?
“You’re such a dirty girl, y/n” Heeseung says, not slowing down his pace. Too lost in the pleasure you agree, giving him a weak nod between moans. “Tell me you are dirty, say it!” He says, feeling how he gets closer and closer by any minute, looking at the clock between thrusts to make sure you don’t get caught. “Im a d-dirty girl, Heeseungie” The way you say his name could make him cum then and there, but for your sake he tries to hold back.
He lets out a laugh at your response, realizing that he finally got you under his spell. “Say how much better I am than you, tell me that you are nothing, nothing more than my little nerdy loser to play with, say it bunny” Heeseung says, slapping your ass right after, making you cry even harder. The pain, the pleasure, the fury you feel inside of you is making your head fuzzy, not caring if the words you are about to say will make you look pathetic. “Yes! You are so much better than me, I’m nothing except yours Hee!”
The guilt you feel inside your chest is almost unbearable. Your worst enemy had just made you swallow your pride while fucking roughly into you over the schooldesk in an empty classroom. All this work to seem like a good girl, wasted, only to get dicked down by someone who makes you cry every night. He has taken everything from you, your virginity, your confidence, not to mention the dream to become valedictorian. Heeseung can feel the shame oozing out of you, and he hugs your body from behind to get a stronger grip so he can fuck into you harder. You feel his sweaty, muscular, chest against your back, and you lean your head back against his shoulder to feel some sort of comfort.
“Fuck yes, your mine alright baby? Now cum all over my cock” He says, fastening his pace. You cum because of his words, his commands, and the feeling of your juices covering his cock brings him over the edge, making him cum as well. He doesn’t pull out however, fucking his cum into you for a few seconds before realizing that the teacher is back in any seconds.
Heeseung pushes your body away from him, and you are too weak to stand so you fall down on the hard floor. Your whole body hurts, and you try to use your strength to stand back up, until you feel Heeseungs arms wrap around your body. He helps you to pull on your clothes, helping you sit down in your chair as he brushes your sweaty hair away from your red face. “You were so good baby, so good for me”. He says as he gives you your thick glasses, dirty from being on the floor. He gives you a kiss on the forehead, and rubs your cheek with his thumb. “You are mine now bunny, understand?” You give him a weak nod, before he walks away to his desk.
When the teacher got back, she had no idea that the schools ‘good girl’ finally got ruined by her worst nightmare.
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Finally another fic! Rebloggs are really appreciated :)
#enhypen#enhypen smut#enhypen hard hours#enhypen x reader#enhypen hyung line#enhypen imagines#sunghoon smut#enha smut#enhypen hard thoughts#Heeseung smut#lee heeseung x reader#heeseung#lee heeseung#heeseung x reader#heeseung enhypen#heeseung hard hours#heeseung hard thoughts
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