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letoasai · 10 months

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dp x dc Chronos part 2

Part 1 and Part 3

The Justice League sat in the Watchtower, some of them at least. The meeting was meant to be a quick one, only certain members in attendance to make sure they were all on the same page after the debrief of the last mission. Not all of them were necessary and most were usually busy.

Today Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Flash and Green Lantern were in the middle of wrapping things up when the alert sounded. The siren blared twice before the red lights in the corner of each room flashed in an emergency.

“What in the world…” Flash grumbled but was obviously the first to the controls to look for the problem. None of the main alarms had been triggered, none of the doors messed with. No unusual motion noted in parts of the station that were currently vacant. “Weird.”

“What is it?” Batman was next beside him, arms crossed as he peered at the screen with narrowed eyes.

“It’s the sensors.” Flash said. “We’re picking up some kind of interference.”

“Way up here? What kind?” Green Lantern asked, he’d moved to one of the wide windows of the viewing deck as if he would be able to see something approaching. As things were, there was nothing but the normal vastness of space with Earth to one side.

“No idea.” Flash said. “Never seen something like this before.”

“Any idea on a location?” Superman asked, appearing by Green Lantern’s side.

Flash just clucked his tongue, hitting buttons much faster than a normal person. It was almost an irritation that he had to wait for the computer to keep up with him. “I mean, there’s nothing exactly to track yet.”

“An anomaly then.” Wonder Woman said, leaning back against the conference table they’d all just been sitting around. “Something natural?”

“There’s nothing natural about this.” Batman said, tone skeptical as he gazed at the screens.

“Gonna side with that bat on this one.” Flash said, “It’s more like a warning before anything happens. Something setting off the sensors but nothing else? Feels like it was on purpose.”

Green Lantern rolled his eyes. “What, like something’s knocking before they make themselves known?”

Before anyone could even offer their opinion on what they thought of something so ridiculous, a spark of green ripped through the air like lightning. Just as quickly it spread out into an obvious portal. Every member of the Justice League sprang into position, circling the phenomenon to block it in from every direction. Things like this shouldn’t have been possible, but it wasn’t the first time an intruder had gotten creative to get inside the Watchtower.

Without any fanfare, a man stepped out. They presumed it was a man anyway. He was dressed in mostly shades of purple other than his leather boots and gloves. He was covered by a cloak and hood, but when he looked up, it was hard to say what about him was the most unsettling. The red eyes. The blue skin. The pendulum clock that set back into his chest so far that he could only be missing crucial organs.

“Who are you?” Superman demanded, quickly trying to assess if there would be a fight or not.

“How did you get here?” Batman said right after, gravel tone somehow more frightening because he was calm.

The intruder just gestured with his thumb at the portal behind him. “Thought it was rather obvious.”

“Your purpose?” Wonder Woman asked, looking relaxed but her body was tense and ready to react in a moments notice.

“My purpose?” He chuckled quietly. In his hand was a staff they’d almost missed before, the top of it cradling a clock. It seemed to be a theme given the number of watches and clocks he wore. “I’ve come to call in a favor. The Justice League owes me several.”

“We owe you? Ppfff. Yeah right. We don’t even know who you are.” Flash rolled his eyes.

The intruder turned to the Flash, his brow raised. “Speedster, with the amount of times you’ve dabbled in the time stream, you alone owe me your life a fair few times.”

“Time, huh?” Green Lantern looked him over. There were a lot of clocks... “Guess that’s your schtick.”

He chuckled again. “I go by many names, only one will be relevant to you today.” He turned his attention onto Wonder Woman who squared up under his gaze. If she was going to be his focus then she’d take him head on.

“And?” She arched a brow at him. “What name may we call you?”

He looked amused, red eyes filled with mirth. “You, Diana, may call me grandfather.”

The room stilled, the others looking around in varying degrees of confusion while Wonder Woman just paled.

“Chronos. God of time…” she muttered, making it very clear to the team what they were dealing with. A God.

“I go by master of time these days, but yes. I am that Chronos. I have a task for you, Diana. One i do not think you will turn down but i’ll give you the illusion of choice.” Chronos said, the minute and hour hands on his staff moving strangely.

“You’re a god, and you come to us for help?” Batman asked, unimpressed no matter the glowers he was being sent by the others.

“You are the Justice League, aren’t you?” Chronos looked pleased. “Righting wrongs. Defending Earth. Justice is in the name and everything.”

He didn’t talk like a god. He didn’t even talk as formally as Wonder Woman herself tended to occasionally.

“Doing tasks for you is asking for trouble.” Wonder Woman muttered. She’d heard stories, so many stories.

Chronos shrugged. “Time is messy. Keeping it in line is difficult. Especially when there are those who mess with it who should not.” He was not above verbally throwing speedsters under the bus.

“What do you want?” Green Lantern asked, obviously suspicious but paying very close attention.

“Simple.” Chronos answered, still looking at his granddaughter. “You will take custody of your uncle for a time. He needs a safe place to rest and live.”

The silence that followed was loud, no one knowing what to make of that. Wonder Woman herself looked puzzled.

“Are you claiming a sibling of Zeus needs a babysitter?”

Chronos hummed. “He is my son though he holds no biological relation to your father, i suppose.”

“Then how is he her uncle?” Flash asked, with a hint of sass.

“You can ask Batman how it works.” Chronos mused, saying all he would say on the matter but that was enough.

Wonder Woman couldn’t fathom what kind of person her grandfather would see fit to adopt. “Are you going to tell me more?”

“Telling you more would imply you were agreeing to the task.”

She tsked. “None of your word games. I want to know what i could be walking into.”

Chronos never once looked threatened or put out, he did however, appear to look a few years older than he had when he’d first appeared. “He recently needed to be removed from his home for his safety. He can easily visit me but staying with me long term at this time is not beneficial to him for health reasons.”

Superman frowned. “Removed from his home? How old is he?”

“Sixteen. If that is all you need to know, i will fetch him. It may take some time for him to regain consciousness.” Chronos said.

“He’s been hurt?” Batman was frowning at the thought, looking more and more unhappy as the conversation progressed.

“I did say he was removed from his home.” Chronos said, almost flippantly as he stepped back into his glowing green portal. It remained open, everyone exchanging looks.

“Diana, is this a good idea?” Superman asked, willing to accept her judgment. Greek gods were more her wheelhouse.

“Chronos was a titan. Is a titan?” She frowned. “His power is immense for a being thought to be killed.”

“Something about him is off.” Batman agreed. “He was not worried at all. That is someone aware they have the upper hand.”

Wonder Woman just nodded her agreement. Chronos was the god of time. There was no telling what he knew. “I’ve never met him before.”

“Hell of a time for family reunions.” Flash snarked, heading back to the controls to see what readings they could get on the floating portal. It was obvious each of them wanted to study it in their own way. Scans and samples were first on their minds but it was clearly some kind of magic they weren’t familiar with.

It was almost a shame there wasn’t a single member from JLD currently in the Watchtower. They might have been able to provide answers.

Before much of anything could be done, Chronos returned, somehow looking several years younger than when he first appeared. In his arms was a lanky teen, cradled carefully as if he were fragile. He was equally a sight that left the League speechless. He wasn’t blue, in fact he looked more or less human other that the freckles that shined.

Superman was the one to immediately note they were constellation patterned.

His hair was a stark white that wisped and flowed as if he were under water. His clothes were strange, a detailed variation of an old hazmat suit, all done in black and white. Floating above his head was a crown that didn’t seem to know if it wanted to be on fire or covered in ice. It bobbed back and forth and even did a slow flip in the air but never left the area about the boy’s head.

When no one uttered a word, Chronos took that as permission to begin the introductions. “Diana, this is your uncle. Danny Phantom. Son of the Stars. The Personification of Balance. The Ghost King. High King of the Infinite Realm.”

“He’s a king?” Batman frowned. “He’s a boy.”

“He could be both, Bats. He’s got a crown.” Flash chuckled softly.

Chronos shared his amusement. “I did say he was only sixteen.” The god paused for a moment as the teen twisted in his arms, his face pressed against Chronos’ shoulder and a hand lightly pressed against the door of the clock embedded into the man’s chest.

The fact that, even asleep, the boy was comfortable in the gods arms didn’t go unnoticed.

“Is he injured?” Wonder Woman asked. They’d gone over this already but he didn’t look actively wounded. He seemed to be sleeping only.

Chronos grunted once. “One form heals faster than the other. He needs rest, ambient ectoplasm which he knows how to get on his own, and food. He can answer your questions if he feels like it.”

“If he feels like it?” Green Lantern frowned.

“He’s the King.” Chronos’ lips twitched in amusement again. “If he decides to tell you more, or seek help, that is his decision.”

“Seek help?” Batman’s eyes were narrowed. “Seek help for what?”

Chronos approached and shifted the teenager into Wonder Woman’s arms. His crown shifted back and forth but never left the teen. The grip he had on the god wasn’t noticed until he tried to pull away and Chronos needed to carefully extract the boy’s hand.

Ignoring Batman, he pressed on. “He’ll need to follow up with his doctor by the end of the week. He’ll know how to do that. If he doesn’t, his doctor will come to him. That should be incentive enough.”

“Does he know you’re dropping him off here?” Superman asked, brows knitted together in concern. The heroes had been expecting a fight, not to be handed a royal teen.

“He has a fondness for for space, so you might want to let him wake up here.” Chronos said instead, ignoring that question too. He was growing older again, a short, white beard starting to form.

“How long will he need to be in my care?” Wonder Woman asked, noting the boy weighed very little in her arms. In sleep his features were soft, hopefully he was as sweet as he looked.

“Good luck.” Chronos said, staff reappearing in his hand now, turning back to the portal without giving her an answer.

“Hey! Wait!” Flash yelled but for once, he was too slow, the god and the portal disappeared.

Five members of the Justice League just stood in a mild stupor, their attention shifting to the sleeping teen.

“Well…” Superman muttered.

Wonder Woman looked at the boy, floating hair and crown moving in tandem. “I’ll set him down. We’ll see if he can answer any of our questions when he wakes up.”

“You gonna call him Uncle Danny?” Flash asked, not bothering to hide his smile.

Wonder Woman just ignored him and turned to stride off towards the med-station. -------------------------

------------------------- No idea at all if i’ll continue this. If anyone else wants too, go for it. ^_^

@markus209

#dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #clockwork #justice league #Looks like Wonder Woman is Danny's guardian now #Danny Phantom #wonder woman

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etfrin · 3 months

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter nine | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus, hints of somnophilia/non-con [spoiler! Coriolanus steals some kisses while reader is asleep, and reader kinda does the same] | lmk if I missed anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coriolanus leaves you to check out the arena, the night before the games and... WELL... WELL... you find him!

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 for those who asked, i tried my best to deliver, please give me your feedback and reblog! Thank you!

Beta read by the FABULOUS @nowitsmissing

series masterlist | navigation

Coriolanus Snow left you alone. He had to sneak out and check out the arena. The Hunger Games would continue forward. He needed any leverage he could get. Even if it meant to leave your side for the night. He found his clothes in the same bag that you had kept empty of food in. He changed into them.

He bites his lower lip to distract himself from the pain. This was of higher priority. He could rest when he wins. At least, that's what he tells himself as he finishes buttoning off his shirt. Before he could walk out of the room, he leaned down. Your eyelashes were big up close, and so, so enchanting. He felt annoyed that he noticed such a minuscule thing. It was not of importance how long or short your eyelashes are, they added to your beauty.

He couldn't talk himself out of it, he pressed his lips to yours. Your lips were soft. Your lips were perfect. Your lips were poisonous, and addicting because how could he ever stop himself after he already had a taste? So he pressed another kiss to your lips, a bit harder than the previous peck. He pulls away with a gasp and swallows his shame roughly.

“I'll be back,” he whispered to you before he pressed another kiss, unable to stop himself. There was nothing friendly about this. This was a man at the edge of the cliff, one more step and he would fall into a pit of obsession. Nobody can drag him out of it. He barely stops himself from stealing another kiss from you. He forces his legs to walk away from you, it pained him more than any of his physical wounds.

The security around the arena was nonexistent, each peacekeeper in guard sleeping. He slipped right in, checking out the debris. The middle of the arena had huge blocks of fallen pieces of debris, all the weapons will be placed there tomorrow. He checked out around the area and found tunnels to go under and even a vent to hide in.

He turned around ready to leave and relay all of this to Lucy Gray Baird. However, an uncharacteristic yell leaves his lips as he sees you. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest and your face in a frown. So unlike how he left you on the bed resting. He swallows and wonders briefly if you informed anyone of his breaking. He was also curious about how you found him.

It's not like he has a tracker on him, right?

“How did you find me here?” He asked, nervous and tried not to fidget too much.

“I just thought ‘What is the most stupid thing Coriolanus can do?’” your voice turns sarcastic, “Surprise! It led me here.”

“Very funny,” he mutters, not amused at all, “And it's Coryo now.”

“You lost your ‘Coryo’ privilege, Snow.”

Guess he will just have to earn it back.

He pouts, knowing exactly why you were mad. But certainly, you could see the reason why he had to leave despite being freshly injured. He had to survey the place! Get leverage! He has to win at all, otherwise, what's the price of his life?

You walked up to him, pulling him down by his shirt collar. His breath hits your lips. And he could kiss you again. Of course, he didn't. He wanted to steal another kiss so bad that a soft nearly audible whisper of your name fills the air.

“You didn't even leave a note or a warning or anything.”

“Sorry,” he whispered, hoping that apologizing despite not regretting his actions would fix everything. Or at least get his nickname privileges back.

You scoff, “You don't even mean it, Coryo.”

You called him Coryo again, he didn't need to mean it. He would take the win. He gives you a small smile. “I am sorry,” he repeated, trying to put some heart into it.

“A liar and a thief,” you whispered, your eyes glinting with an emotion he couldn't decipher, “Truly one of a kind you are, Coriolanus.”

He frowned. He understood the fact he was indeed a liar. But where did the talk of being a thief come from? Before he could question you further about calling him a thief. You begin to drag him back into your car on the cold night. He sits at the window seat in the front, you beside him. He didn't ask if you had a driver's license. He felt like he was better without knowing.

“Was the Zoo the next location?” You asked your tone on edge with leftover anger over his actions.

“Yes,” he replied with the gentlest tone possible, not wanting anything to trigger an eruption. He fidgeted with his hands, wondering why he had come here when he could have used the night to steal kisses instead. When he could have slept with you, his arm around you and your heartbeat matching his. Such an ideal night, and he ruined it.

“So what did you find, pretty boy?” You asked.

He blushed at the nickname you called him. He doesn't give attention to his heated cheeks as he replies rather enthusiastically about everything (not everything, he kept some places a secret, only for Lucy Gray's ears to hear) and strategies (again not all of them).

You even add some pointers along the way. And he enjoyed the conversation thoroughly. He never thought he could connect with you like this, but he couldn't deny that he was happy about it. His lips stretched in a grin as you both discussed plans for Lucy Gray to win.

“Don't you care about Jessup?” He asked, the chain of conversation interrupted because he wasn't the only one with tribute. So why were you helping him?

You looked at him briefly before looking forward again. “You and I both know that poor boy is as good as dead,” you said, your voice hard, “I would rather let you win instead if I am out of the games.”

Coriolanus nods at the answer. That was understandable. “I am sorry,” this time he meant it, “I should have woken you up,” he looked at the window, ashamed, “It was a foolish thing to do to leave you alone without warning.”

“I am glad you have the brains to understand what you did wrong, and the guts to admit it,” you said, and he felt proud like he got the hardest question in an exam right. “You're forgiven as long as you don't do it again.”

He nods but doesn't make any promises. He did what he had to do. He will do it again, and take you as company the next time. That way he's not fucking up.

Soon, the car reaches its destination. He gets out of the car and you decide to stay, parked in front of the zoo gates. He quickly decided to only tell the key points to Lucy Gray because he refused to let you be alone for too long at night.

He walked into the zoo and reached the cage where he called out the Songbirds’ name. Lucy Gray appears before him with a concerned look. “Is everything alright?” She asked.

“Yes,” he confirmed and began to explain. He said not to run towards the weapons first and go to the hiding place. He tells her to wait it out and a few more strategies so she has better chances to survive and he has better chances to win. He doesn't notice Lucy Gray's tears but a sob catches his attention.

He's annoyed because it's time to listen to him and not be a child if she wants to survive tomorrow. Instead, he gives her a handkerchief he found in his pants pocket and hands it to her to wipe away her tears. He softens his tone and speaks slower. Even using easier terms to make it look like child's play.

Lucy Gray nods and agrees to his plans. She returns the handkerchief and he stuffs it back in. “It's going to be fine,” he said, “You're going to win, Lucy Gray.”

“I can pray, Coriolanus,” Lucy replied, her voice vulnerable in a way that reminded him of the fact she was a teenager like him. She even had a soulmate, Sejanus Plinth. And she loses it all if she doesn't win tomorrow.

“You will win.” He will win.

And with that, it's goodbye and Coriolanus leaves the zoo. The ride back home is quiet. You don't ask what he and Lucy Gray talked about. He doesn't offer any information either. It was a comfortable silence that he needed. He went to his old habit of stroking his soulmate's scar. Was it just him or did the scar seem to be healing?

He couldn't check it out in front of you. Within minutes you parked in front of the penthouse, and he wanted to ask you inside. There's no way he wanted you to drive alone at such late night.

But inviting you inside would mean revealing his secret. The secret that he kept for a decade. The secret was his motivation for everything. The secret that could ruin him.

Was ensuring your safety worth revealing it? He could ask you to call his landline when you reached home, but each minute until you called would be nothing less of hell for him. His mind overthinking possibilities with the result of you being hurt. He wasn't sure his poor heart could take it.

Both of you step out of the car. He can't make up his mind. He opens his mouth to invite you in or say goodbye he doesn't know. You speak first instead. Your eyes meet his blue ones.

“How many kisses did you steal, Coryo?”

He wants to lie. He knew in his mind that it wouldn't do him any good. He feels his palm sweat, his fingers itching to touch the scar to calm himself down. He was sure that he was going to have a heart attack in the next minute or so.

“Three,” he answered, ready for whatever curses and punishment you would give him for his sins. He would go on his knees for you, let the cold street scrap his skin and crimson stain the spot if it meant your forgiveness. He would grovel, and beg, strip himself of his pride for you.

Or he could manipulate you. Fill your mind with lies that it's what friends do. Being district, he doubted you had many friends of Capitol culture. He could lie, lie, and lie. It's what friends do.

As his mind fights to choose his next course of action. You flash him a vixen smile, and whisper, “You didn't have to steal them.”

He couldn't even process what you meant before you pressed a kiss on his jaw. His eyes closed and let out a shaky breath. He gasps softly when the next press of your lips is so close to his lips.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, kiss him.

You don't. You pull back and grin. It takes him an embarrassing moment to come back to reality. His ear burning, and his lips parted waiting for the third kiss you never gave him.

“It's what friends do,” you shrugged, lying to yourself and him. Both of you had to, there's no other way around it. Coriolanus knew why for him, but what about you? Were you simply playing with the strings of his heart? He would allow it for now.

For after the Plinth Prize, you will be his.

“Come with me,” he said, “It's not safe to be traveling so late at night.”

You agree with him without much protest. He noticed your discomfort as both of you walked up the twelve flights to reach his broken, shameful, secret home. He grits his teeth, awaiting your reaction to the truth of the Snow family.

You don't say anything. “Show me where I will be sleeping, Coryo,” you yawn instead, not even disgust on your face from the rotting wallpapers.

He is surprised and grateful. He feels an uncontrollable urge to hug you, and barely keeps himself from not wrapping his arms around you.

“I suppose you wouldn't mind sharing a bed with me,” he said, quietly, not wanting Tigris or Grandma’am to wake up. You nod in affirmation and he shows you his room with a bit of confidence. It was just as horrible as the rest of the house but it was his.

The bed in the corner with clean bed sheets. The stack of books and finished assignments on his desk. His wardrobe, the wood old and chipped. But all of it was his.

You immediately made your way to the bed and made yourself wholly comfortable. Like it was yours. And in a way, everything of his is yours. He would give it to you if you asked nicely enough, maybe throw in a kiss or two.

You pull the covers up and wait for Coryo to sleep in. Usually, he would wear his pajamas, but right now he couldn't bring himself to care. He lays down, mindful of his injury. He turns towards you. His eyes searched for yours, and the air mixed with both of your shared breaths. Not even an inch apart were both of you due to how small his bed was.

He closed his eyes and whispered goodnight. He doesn't get a reply. He fills his mind quickly falling back to the darkness as his actions catch up to him, taking away whatever strength he had left.

The last thing he feels, which surely is a dream, is a press of your lips against his. Stealing a kiss. And he hears you whisper, unsure if it's a dream or not but he will remember the words until he dies.

“I have you now, Coriolanus Snow. I won't let you go.”

NEXT PART

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mrswint3rs · 4 months

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˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆ Much Needed Company ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

pairings- Sugar Daddy! Leon x Fem! Reader

a/n- wrote this with Vendetta Leon in mind ! (sorry i got lazy but maybe i’ll do something more with this eventually?)

NSFW WARNING :

contains- Depressed Leon, brief mentions of alcohol, mild daddy kink, use of pet names, sending nude images and videos, phone sex, guided masturbation?, reader is kind of innocent and inexperienced 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Leon put most of his money into buying booze. It seemed to be the only thing that could keep his mind off of the shitty life he’s had so far.

Until he met you.

It happened by chance online. You put up some post in dire need of financial assistance. Leon saw your pleas as fate. It was the perfect opportunity to do good with what he had. So he directly messaged you as soon as he saw it.

Everything started off rather innocently. Leon payed you weekly, free of charge. In a way it made him feel like he was saving you, something he’s always struggled with doing before.

A lot of the time that was all he could think about. The loss of many from his job weighed heavily on his mind. He was no hero, no matter how hard he tried to front.

You gave him a chance at redeeming himself.

The saying 'money can't buy happiness' had been proven to be a complete fallacy as he actually got to know you. He didn’t think people as pure as you even existed anymore.

He found himself growing attached to you the more you chatted. The world had been unfair to the both of you. You were so sweet regardless. Meanwhile, he was just moping around, constantly angry and self-pitying.

Just talking with you made those negative feelings fall away. You became the main focus of his attention, making his days go by much easier. It wasn’t a burden to open his eyes in the morning anymore. Not when he had your sweet good morning texts to look forward to.

Things were supposed to be casual between the two of you, but you quickly became his whole world. He could hardly sleep at night without calling you over the phone. He loved just listening to you talk about how your day went.

»--•--«

You couldn’t help but feel like you were taking advantage of this man. You were grateful, no doubt, but he was paying you for nothing. You didn’t have to do anything, just talk with him for a bit and he’d drop a whole 2 months worth of rent in your bank account without an issue.

Leon never asked anything of you. You wondered if he ever would. It’s been 3 months of just talking and he never once made things weird.

That in itself made you want to give him something.

He was so generous, actually listened when you spoke. Not to mention, he was incredibly handsome. But you figured he probably had a girlfriend, looking the way he did. That would explain why he never made a move or asked you for things like most men. Or maybe he just wasn’t interested in you that way.

The thought worried you until you grew the confidence to ask him straight up.

You’re surprised to hear he’s been single for as long as he can remember. A guy like him didn’t have a special someone?

But really, you were relieved to know he was available. Not just for his money. Leon was the whole package it seemed. Though, you’ve never met in person, he was everything you could ever need.

So, you decide to do something out of the ordinary.

You know it’s probably not equivalent to the thousands of dollars he’s gifted you over the months, but you wanted to give something in return.

After many attempts of trying to get the right angles and lighting, you finally get a decent shot.

Your thumb hovers over the send button for a while. You wonder if it’ll upset him or make things awkward if he’s not interested. Or if you should have asked before hitting send.

You anxiously sit in bed, waiting for his response and refuse to look at your phone in the meantime. You’re overthinking the whole thing, fearing he might block you or something. He doesn’t usually take this long to respond and isn’t normally busy at this time of night.

You swear you’re about to have a heart attack when your phone finally chirps.

You rush to check it, almost embarrassingly fast and you’re greeted with a video from Leon. With sound.

His hand pumps over his length at a slow pace as the other holds his phone and records. He was almost teasing with the way he’d tap his fingers over the tip, drawing a string of his leaking precum. His breath was heavy, soft groans sounding from his lips.

He was taking his time, corkscrewing with his palm over and over making a wet, squishy sound with the lube he was using.

He didn’t say anything, but you understood it was your turn to send one back.

You set up your phone between your legs, parting them to reveal your dripping cunt. In return, you slowly, teasingly rub over your clit and folds, smearing your juices.

You quietly moan out as you slip your fingers inside, curving them up to feel for that sensitive spot. You scissor your digits in and out, attempting to match the length of time his video was before pausing to send it. Only you’re not feeling confident enough to keep the sound on just yet.

“Let’s call.” he replies this time, shortly after you sent it.

He doesn’t give you much time to think before your phone starts ringing and his contact info displays full screen.

Feeling pressured, you answer.

Leon’s camera is already on, only showing his gruff face for now. You’re only half showing yours. Even though you just sent the man 90% of your body through text, you’re feeling nervous.

“Don’t be shy princess,” Leon speaks up, his voice low yet soft. “Let me see your pretty face, hm?” He wore a cheeky grin, just waiting patiently.

You give in to him and show yourself, not wanting to make things awkward. “Hey..sorry.”

“Good girl. There’s no need to be so nervous with me.”

Unsure of how to reply, you just sit there. You had never done anything like this and you didn’t even know how to initiate it. He was the one who wanted to transfer it over to a call, so you let him take the lead.

Except he wasn’t.

You sat in a deafening silence for a while, just sort of looking at each other through the screen before he finally said something again. “If you wanna see it you gotta ask me, baby.”

As you’re put on the spot you once again go silent. You didn’t know how to word it. Over text was one thing, but vocally saying such things was another story.

“Aw, c’mon,” Leon teases. “You can do it. Tell me what you want and you’ll get it.”

From the way his camera was slightly shaking, and the way he was breathing you could tell he was already going at it. He was just waiting for you to warm up to him.

Leon adored your innocent aura and was willing to be patient with you. He loved the way you depended on him, but he also wanted you to be able to let loose on your own. He didn’t want you to feel pressured or like you had to give him anything. He would still reward you regardless.

“Can I see it?” you manage to mutter out.

But Leon decides to tease you further by playing dumb.

“See what, baby?”

That grin of his made your stomach do flips. You hated but loved the way he pushed you to do things.

“Can I see your…cock,” you stutter out

Immediately he lowers his phone, revealing the entirety of his naked body. His dick was firmly gripped in his hand, fully hardened still. “Atta’ girl. So proud of you.”

He starts to stroke with his hand again, slowly going over the whole length and back up again.

You follow him, putting the phone back between your legs quickly. Just the sight of him made you a sopping wet mess, there was no hiding that.

Leons movements grow faster when you reveal yourself.

“Touch yourself…” he groans, “touch yourself for daddy.”

The use of the name makes you tingle a bit, and you oblige. You sink your fingers into your tight opening once more, slowly pumping in and out for him.

Your weak whimpers rile him even further. His own voice heightens in volume as he rapidly fucks into his hand. “So fuckin’ pretty, baby. Spread a little further for me.”

Your free hand comes down to part your lips as he asked. You pry yourself open for his hungry eyes.

“Good girl, now rub your clit. Want you to cum.”

You do as told. Your two middle fingers stuff your cunt while your other hand starts to rub at your clit. Leon let’s out needy groans. He desperately chases his high, stroking the head of his cock trying to finish. “Can you be a dirty girl for daddy? Be a little louder.”

Reluctantly, you stop holding back. Watching as his hand races, you try to match pace, imagining your fingers as his cock.

His voice is enough to make you dizzy.

You feel your walls start to pulse, that tightening in your core. You never knew simple masturbation could feel so good.

Leon finishes before you do, shooting cum all over his taut abs. It uncontrollably spills into his hand as he keeps stroking.

You finish soon after at the sound of his moaning babbles. Your back arches into your hand as it hits, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Fuck…you’re shaking.” Leon chuckles a bit at this, coming down from his climax. His stroking comes to a halt as his cock becomes far too sensitive to keep touching.

“Maybe next time I’ll have my vacation where you are. That way I can calm you down after I ruin you.”

With a content sigh, he lets go, letting his softening length lay across his lower stomach. He brings his phone back up to his flushed face and you follow suit.

He goes on pause, seemingly doing something else on his phone.

You soon after get a notification. $850 transferred.

“For lingerie next time. We should do this more often,” he states, “or you could catch a flight down here?”

mlist

#leon kennedy x reader smut #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon resident evil #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil vendetta #vendetta leon #re #reaident evil #resident evil vendetta leon #fem reader #smut #resident evil #fanfiction #rushed

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azsazz · 4 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 4)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,556

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Notes: This story is so healing to me 😌

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A deep thrumming rattling the walls shakes you from your sleep. It vibrates through your chest, the ardent bass and pounding drums reverberating in your bones. The timber of the singer’s words swims in your head, throat and low, and you’re unable to pluck the words and make sense of them this early in the morning.

You blink once. Twice. Your eyelids feel like sandpaper and your head is stuffed with tiredness, a sharp pain settled behind your eyes despite the darkness of your room.

Night licks the walls, and you groan, rolling over. Shoving your pillow over your head, it does little to block the disruption coming from the other side of the wall. You don't know what time it is. If it is still night, it’s either too early, or too late.

Which means that the sounds on the other side of the wall have to be one of those rowdy boys.

After moving the vehicle when ‘Azzy’—as the final boy so lovingly said it—had finally moved that death-trap of a ride, you were beginning to think that things were starting to finally look up for the rest of your first night in your apartment. He had been gone and his roommates’ party seemed to be winding down, if the three giggling, drunk girls on the elevator ride down were any sign. They’d been gushing about one of the roommates, Cassian, she’d said. Some of her brunette hair was disheveled in her ponytail, as if someone had tried to run their fingers through their hair, or had wrapped said hairstyle around their fist. Gag.

“He kept calling me baby,” she gushed to her friends, who were both squealing with excitement. You could hardly contain the desperate urge to roll your eyes at their annoyance, how they were openly talking about the lines of muscle cording his body or the length of his cock with a complete stranger inside this tiny metal box with them. It’s not as if they were whispering, and you’d cut a glance at the girl swooning over one of your rude neighbor’s appendage.

Her piercing green eyes were clouded and shiny with drink. Her cheeks pinkened with a blush that looked permanent. Her lush lips swollen and top button of her shirt still undone, she looked everything beautifully fucked.

Your mouth turned into a sour line, wondering which of the boys had been the one to claim her tonight.

With each passing day, the dilapidated elevator seemed to work slower and slower. As if it was your destiny to be stuck in the confines of this metal contraption with the worst possible people…or trapped outside of it, anyway.

Eventually, the doors had screeched open, but even the shrill noise didn’t deter the gossipping girls’ conversation. They stumbled out of the elevator with a cheerfulness only alcohol and dick could conjure, giggling their way down the quiet streets.

It was a miracle that you didn’t have a parking ticket clinging to the window of your rental. You’d moved it both easily and quickly, something you would’ve been able to do if that bastard Azzy had given you the damn space when you’d asked him to move his sleek motorcycle.

And of course, as you cursed his name for the umpteenth time of the night, he’d appeared.

Cloaked in a worn leather jacket that clung to the curve of every muscle, he’d shown up. There was a tight line to his mouth, deep eyes reflectant of the nighttime sky, caressed by equally dark, thick lashes. He nearly looked as tired as you felt, slight rings around his eyes. His helmet, that, when he shucked off pulled his hair up in the most perfect directions, even more so when he ran his gloved fingers through it with that damned smirk on his face.

He hadn’t let your gaze linger on the handsomeness of it as a streak of mischief streaking across his eyes like a star as he taunted you. Azzy’s tone was deep and dulcet, unexpected for the jeer falling from his lips. It took your tired mind to shear through the thoughts of that mouth and hook onto his words, and the asshole’s smile only widened when you scoffed and retaliated.

Oh, how he had gotten on your nerves.

Again.

And now this, music flowing through the wall at Mother knows what hour.

You’re so exhausted, you could cry. Your body is sore with the efforts of moving, mind a muddled mess. Tears prick the back of your eyes, tightening your sinuses as you grit your teeth, trying to contain them. If the fabric of your pillowcase wets with a drop, you would never admit it.

How has the day from hell somehow managed to turn into the night from hell too? What the fuck have you done to deserve this?

Even more so, how do the other roommates deal with this? Are they all awake and listening to the music, long bored after the party has died down? Or do they delight in the fact, knowing you are their neighbor and have already complained about the noise once. Why not bother you again, when any normal person would be asleep?

Frustration courses through your veins like a lance, hot and unforgiving. The rush has those tears leaking from the corners of your eyes and you push to your knees, channeling every ounce of burning hot ire and rotting tiredness into your fists, pounding them against the thin wall.

Your chest heaves, labored with irritation. You don’t smash your fists against the wall again, hoping that the once will have gotten your message across to the boy on the other side of the wall. There’s something that niggles at your brain, telling you that you know which one is fated to be on the other side of the plaster.

There is no response for one breath, two. Then, a thump as loud as your own, answers. Just one, like you had done to him. The music rings a touch louder, and it sounds nearly clear as day, like you’re standing in the front row to a rock concert.

Prick.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Sighing in frustration, you tear another sheet from your drawing pad, crumple it up with all of the pent up rage and annoyance, charging it with all of your ire. So much so, that you fear it might burst into flames. You want to tear it to shreds and stuff those tiny pieces of paper right up your douchebag of a neighbor's ass.

Instead, you throw the paper over your shoulder and let your head collapse in your hands.

Music pounds loudly through the earbuds you’d stuffed into your ears when it became clear that the raging music next door would not be turned down. You’d considered marching over there to give him a piece of your mind or punch a hole through this very wall, but instead opted to blare music so loudly you can’t make out the lyrics.

Art had been your next attempt at blowing off some of the steam turning your cheeks red. You’d pulled out the well-worn sketchbook from your bag, along with the colored pencils you always had stuffed in there, and attempted to allow your mind to unleash whatever it wanted across the creamy pages.

Except, everything that came out was trash. Lines heavy with exhaustion and anger, deep and dark, nearly tearing through the pages. You’d broken the tips on four of your pencils and couldn’t find the sharpener you swore you’d put in the front pocket of your bag.

It’s as if your body didn’t know what to draw. The beginnings of sketches quickly turned into shapes of madness and sleep-deprivation, things you couldn’t even make out. A bat that had turned into a gruesome image, flesh tearing from its bones. A cloaked figure atop of a black stallion that made your stomach clench. A few soft strokes of a pair of lips with an incredible smirk. Your shoulders had begun to loosen as you worked through this, but once you realized what you had begun sketching subconsciously, you’d torn away that page too.

And that had been the last page in your sketchbook, the black of the back cover taunting you, laughing at you.

It didn’t matter anyway, because your stomach had soured at the thought of your last attempt. You’d shoved yourself away from your desk, spine rigid and bones vibrating with tension. On one of the scrap papers you’d written a list of supplies to get while out shopping; pencil sharpener, new sketchbook, earplugs.

You’d even managed to unpack most of the boxes in your room before the sun had barely licked the sky. Terrible, you know, because you’ve only gotten a little more than an hour’s sleep since moving into this hell hole of an apartment. You curse Feyre’s sister, Nesta, who had claimed that this was her favorite place to live all the years she’d gone to school here.

At least you have been productive in the hours since.

Now, you’re trailing down the roads in town, headed to the small art supply store.

You’d waited until it was late enough for stores to be opening, and the town is quiet on this mildly sunny morning. You bask in it, shoving your earbuds into your pockets as you waltz, coffee in hand and fresh air coursing through your lungs.

You might’ve been able to fall asleep even with the sun peeking through your blinds, but you’d been determined to purchase the supplies you need for classes in a few days. Not even the sight of Azzy’s empty parking spot could turn you around.

Something you will probably regret later.

Feyre had been dead asleep by the time you left, and you figure someone should be getting sleep even if you can’t. At least, that’s how your thoughts are now, who knows how you’ll feel if this shit is a nightly occurrence. You might just have to persuade her to switch rooms with you.

The bell at the shop rings when you enter, but there’s no one at the counter to greet you. This, you don’t mind, because you aren’t in the mood to pretend like your morning hasn’t been one of the shittiest ones you’ve had in a long time, and you’re not even hungover. Whoever is on duty is probably stocking the shelves or something anyway.

Your gaze wanders around the store, stuffed full of art supplies. It’s heaven. Painted lined up by color, a rainbow bursting with life. There’s an entire aisle dedicated to sketchbooks and papers of all sorts, canvases larger than your body stacked against the back walls, spray paints, pencils, ink, carving tools, clay—any and all supplies for most artists can be found here, and that is no easy feat.

The scent of the store draws the tension from your shoulders, settling you to your core. You can feel the recharging of your creative energy, your artistic inspiration opening her eyes to take in the view.

Maybe you can talk to the owner and convince them to let you move in here.

You take your time, shuffling up and down the aisles, taking everything in for all its glory. Pristine tubes of paint, swollen like plump berries, not yet crusted with colors. Pencils with graphite of all weights and strengths. You pluck a new HB pencil from its container and slip it into your basket. And maybe you grab a few more.

A kneaded eraser is added after that, and ah-ha, the sharpener you need. A kit of watercolor pencils catches your eye, but you pass them up, instead heading to the sketchbook area, to linger in the scents of fresh paper.

There’s the shuffling of noise in another aisle, and you gather that it must be the associate on shift. Music begins playing through a speaker by the front, and it’s much less grating than the kind that had awoken you. The chill indie music fills the space with even more life, and combined with the streams of sunlight sliding in through the glass windows, you think your day may be starting to brighten.

You end up with three sketchbooks in your basket—a feat in itself not to choose one of each—and continue trapezing through the store. You pass by the sculpting section and pause for a moment, wondering if you should take a class. Then, at the thought of clay thick against your skin, caked under your nails and embedded into your clothes, you decide against it.

You grab a can of fixative for when you take your drawing class uses charcoals, another messy medium you don’t care for. You don’t like the feel of the dry chalk against your hands, sticking between the creases of your fingers. It takes forever to get out.

You may not know what type of art you want to stick with, but you know that those are out.

And there are so many different types of art to try that it’s almost overwhelming. Well, anything in your current state of fatigue is overwhelming, but you haven’t found the one thing that you can see yourself doing everyday. You don’t even have an artistic style yet, and you’re still fresh enough in college to take all of the classes you want to, weed out the areas of art you don’t care for and narrow down what you do like.

Surely, you’ll figure it all out. Someday.

You take the longest in the paint aisle. Tubes upon tubes of color scream at you, and you admire each one. From oils to acrylics, gouache to watercolors, it surely is the biggest section. Not to mention the plethora of brushes hanging above. You’d added a painting sketchbook to your cart, small enough for quick and simple paintings. You don’t want to put too much pressure on yourself yet, but you’ve always wanted to try it out.

Reds of all shades, ochres that remind you of autumn, phthalos and umbers and titanium white stare up at you, waiting for you to take them home, squeeze the life from them so their colors burst on your canvas. You gaze even snags on a unique color, and you lean closer to read the name: dioxazine purple.

You forgo that, instead grabbing a tube of the most important colors, colors you can mix together to create any other color on the spectrum. It’s almost like a super power, being able to mix such colors from only a few, and you love it.

After adding a few brushes to your basket, you head towards the front of the store to check out, halting in your tracks when you see who is behind the counter.

No, thankfully it isn’t Azzy, but it is one of his roommates.

He’s leaning against the counter, swiping through his phone. His dark hair looks surprisingly neat, brushed back with dampness still clinging to it from his morning shower. He’s clad in a black t-shirt that leaves a patchwork of tattoos on display. There’s an over-the-top cup of coffee on the counter that puts your simple one to shame. His posture exudes an effortless confidence, and when he looks up and catches sight of you, a dimple deepens in his cheek.

“Fancy seeing you here, neighbor.”

You bite back the groan at the base of your throat, moving closer. All you have to do is pay for your things and leave. You don’t have to talk to him outside of the necessary cashier talk, and maybe he won’t even try to taunt you.

Yeah, right.

“Hi,” you grit, placing your basket on the counter. He peers into it and you tense, feeling judged. You have no idea what kind of art he’s into, if he even is at all, but you don’t like him knowing this part of you, not when he and his roommates have been nothing but rude to you. It feels too personal.

His eyes flicker back to your face, taking you in, and the color reminds you shockingly of that tube of paint you were just looking at. You don’t balk from his assessment of you, taking in your tired eyes and the downturn of your mouth. You want him to stop looking at you and ring up your things, but instead, he smirks.

There goes your lighter mood.

Surprisingly, the first thing out of this one’s mouth isn’t a taunt. “How are you this morning, darling?”

Darling? That thought makes you want to grimace, but you swallow it down in favor of trying to get out of here without your state of mind plummeting further.

“Lovely,” you try for a smile, but it feels forced. His lips twitch higher as he clocks it as well. “And yourself?”

“Fantastic.”

You nod, pinning the sour remark to the roof of your mouth. Yes, I’m sure your party was just lovely, unlike my night of unrest.

Jerk.

“Right…” you trial off, eyes flicking down to your basket in an attempt to tell him to hurry the fuck up without so bluntly saying hurry the fuck up like you so devastatingly want to.

“First year here?”

“Second,” you answer flatly, praying he starts moving. The muscles of his arms flex where they’re on display, and he reaches into your basket, examining the first tube of paint he pulls out. Ochre.

Not for anything specific, maybe say, eyes.

“I’m a junior,” he replies, picking up the check out gun as slow as possible.

“I didn’t really ask.”

That mirth-filled gaze sweeps over you again and you try not to duck your head, to fight off the fire of both a blush at his attention and your irritation at his slowness.

“That’s right,” he muses, and the ring of the scanner going off makes you blink. “I’m Rhysand. I think we’ve met somewhere once.”

It’s what you’ve been waiting for, the teasing. How he’d answered the door after sensitive Azzy had and slammed it again in your face. You remember him perfectly.

“Are all three of you always this insufferable?” You ask, cutting to the chase. It’s a rhetoric question, one you already know the answer to, but he’s responding anyway.

“Most call it charm,” he shrugs, grinning.

You don’t hold back the urge to roll your eyes.

“So, your roommate is pretty cute,” Rhys drawls, scanning another tube of paint. That’s two in the span of a minute. He should be fired for such things. You glance at the door, praying that his roommate doesn’t waltz right in, because that, you think, would mean that you actually have the worst luck ever. “She got a name?”

Your gaze cuts back to him, eyes narrowing. “Don’t we all?”

“And yet, I didn’t catch yours.” He cocks his head and flips another paint tube out of the basket.

You grit your name through clenched teeth, the grip on your coffee cup tightening. Your already thin patience is now threadbare. Only a few strings holding on to your sanity, but Rhysand is quickly sawing through.

“Nice name for a lovely girl, I’m sure,” he teases, but there’s nothing funny about it. These boys might be having their fun, but to you it was never something to laugh at, and the situation has only gotten worse. “And what’s your roommate's name?”

“Sorry, she’s not the secret fuck type,” you bite. Though, she might be, after her breakup with long-term boyfriend, Tamlin this summer.

Thankfully, your basket is nearly empty. You set your coffee on the counter, pulling your wallet from your purse in haste. The quicker you can pay and leave, the quicker you can hole back up in your apartment. Maybe take a nap on the couch.

“Trust me, darling. It wouldn’t be a secret.”

You can’t help but splutter the laugh that bubbles up your throat. You stare at him, incredulous. “That usually works, doesn’t it?”

His façade falters and you lift your chin with pride. Clearly, you’ve caught him off guard. “What?”

“The whole ‘darling’ thing. You just expect women to swoon at that, huh?” His smile is hesitant, and he takes the card you hold out to him. “That’s what I thought. Can I have my supplies now, darling?”

Rhysand takes your card without complaint, running your total. His mouth is set in a firm line now, shoulders tense. The aura in the entire shop has changed, but you don’t have the ability to care right now, itching to get away.

He hands you your card back and nearly shoves your bag off of the counter with a grumbled, “Az was right.”

It’s your turn to question him. “What?”

“You are grumpy.”

The hot sheath of ire is torn away. Your fingers curl into fists around the handle of your bag, the other around your coffee cup. The bite of heat only fuels the irritation sliding up your spine, and you are unable to keep the cadmium red staining your cheeks as you glare up at him.

“Tell me you’re shitting sunshine when you haven’t slept all night because of your roommate.” Rhys answering smirk is cutting, suggestive. It makes you blind with rage. Spinning on your heel, you shove yourself out the door before he can answer your anger with another sly remark.

Fucking assholes, all of them.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl

#azriel acotar #azriel au #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #art school au #acotar modern au #midnight muse

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gumiluver · 2 months

Note

Prompt 20 w geto? But the after math.. like yk, when reader keeps pushing his buttons after that 🤭 fem reader plsss

I’m feeling the vibes babe, let me give it a shot!! <3

prompt 20: “Behave. You don’t want to see the punishments I have in mind for you.”

lover <3: suguru geto x afab!reader

byr/byi: the content in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18–minors will be blocked (DNI), wc: 1.1K

cw: smut, nsfw, pwp, afab!reader, handcuffs, slight degradation, manhandling, dom/sub dynamics

an: first request for my series special!! if you haven’t put in a request yet, they are still open! check out the guidelines here for more info :)

border credit: @/cafekitsune, pic credit: cckaisen on pinterest

You really were testing his patience.

From the second the two of you woke up until this very moment—you had been egging Suguru on just to pull away at the very last second. The long glances, the shameless touches, the coy laugh you throw at him when he lets out a frustrated groan, a visible tent starting to form through his sweats. It was all adding up on him where he could, quite literally, feel his rationality start to slowly slip through his fingers.

He doesn’t hide it either—in fact, he wants you to see what you’re doing to him. A part of him honestly hopes that when you see the dark stain of his precum fade into his sweats that you’ll finally break and bend to his will.

But of course you had…different plans, to say the least.

At first it was fun, getting pampered and dotted on by such a pretty little thing like you, his loving sweetheart. Feeling your nimble fingers play with his hair, his chest, his cock—of course it was going to drive him towards the point of breaking. Hell, a single touch from you at this point would probably get him to cum in his pants prematurely.

You knew what you were doing to him too—taunting the big beast with a supple treat, but right when he goes in for the kill you spring up, giving a lame excuse like shoko or gojo texting you about an emergency, and all he can do is watch as you flaunt your pretty ass to the other room with a small giggle and mischievous glance.

Such a tease.

Sure—he’s a patient man, but what you’re doing to him was just downright cruel. He can’t help but wonder how much longer you’ll play with your food, feeling his own composure slip every second you even look at him. And fuck—is that a new perfume you’re wearing today? It’s making his mind turn into mush; you’re making him turn into mush.

And yet again here you are, sittin’ pretty on your Sugu’s lap, straddling his toned waist as he rested his hands on your hips, gently rocking you to and fro—aching for more of your touch, for more of you.

“Fuck baby, need to fuck you,” he grunts, brows furrowed and veins bulging from his arms. He grits through his teeth, trying his best to restrain himself and his perverted desires of punishing you. Call him vindictive, but he’s just aching to give you a little taste of your own medicine—for his pleasure, of course. He smirks wickedly, a sinister thought coming to his mind as he quickly switches the position the two of you are in—figuratively and literally.

You yelp at his actions, the sudden change in demeanor making you feel as if you had whiplash. You feel Suguru press his clothed groin harder and faster against your pussy, as if he were trying to fuck you through his clothes. Times like these made him wish he had his friends six eyes ability, wanting to forever imprint the entirety of your pleasure filled body into his brain and see your energy build, and build, and build until you can’t do anything but release it—lost in your own desires.

You figured he’d caught on to your antics with the way he’s gripping your wrists tightly above your head, rendering you helpless to his mercy. Big doe eyes meet sharp primal ones, and like prey getting caught you feign innocence—playing with your food a bit more.

And he does not appreciate that one bit.

Suguru growls, diverting his gaze from your face by diving into the crook of your neck. He knows he’ll give in if he meets your gaze, ultimately a sucker for pleasing his pretty girl. Instead, he gives you gentle nips and licks that decorate your neck, and trails his lips to ghost over the shell of your ear, his daunting voice reverberating throughout your body “Behave. You don’t want to see the punishments I have in mind for you.”

And of course, you just had to tempt the beast—per usual.

“Shhh baby, I know,” he coos at you, soothing the skin on your soft ass. Red marks adorn your glowing cheeks after taking him so well, and suguru can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt when he sees you cringe.

But then again, he wasn’t quite sure if that was a cringe of pain or pleasure—considering he’s got you stuffed full of his cock as you lay pitifully on top of him, and fuck did it make all the teasing worth it.

“S-sugu, I ca-*hic*-can’t…n-no more,” you cry, taking in his sharp and deep thrusts with a whimper and cry. Your wrists are cuffed behind your back, helpless to your lovers ministrations. The hand that was soothing your red ass moves slowly to the small of your back to press you further into him and sink you deeper onto his cock. The groan he lets out is ravenous, and he snickers at your yelp when you take him to the hilt, remaining composed as he ignores your pleas for mercy.

You really didn’t think he’d react so strongly to some teasing as simple as this, but seeing your usually stoic boyfriend become so primal and unhinged was a sight so sacred that it made you yield to him.

You—his little firecracker—were finally under his demand, and he’d be damned if he let this opportunity slip from his fingers. He’ll make sure to take his time and draw out each and every one of those mind-numbing orgasms that Suguru and only Suguru can pull out of you, wanting to imprint this memory into your mind and show you just how mean your sugu baby can be.

“Oh yes you can, and you will,” he growls, giving you another sharp thrust that has you yelping and clenching your jaw. He smoothes the arch of your back, calming your poor, aching body—a sinful balance of dominance and praise that makes you willingly croon and comply.

His other hand surprises you by coming up towards the nape of your neck, grabbing a fistful of your hair, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. Your wince tells Suguru that your feigning innocence again, because what good girl would clench their pussy so tightly when they get their hair pulled like a common slut?

“You dug your grave, and now you’ll lie in it, pretty girl. Take your punishment nicely, or I promise it’ll be worse.”

an: if you are interested in submitting a request, make sure to check out the guidelines for requesting!! <3

As always, likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators

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melobin · 5 months

Text

nurse ✧ anton lee

warnings - smut, nurse x anton, slight sub!anton, loss of virginity, subtle manipulation(?), nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, reader calls anton bunny.

wc - 2.2k

summary - anton goes to the nurse for an issue he’s having and ends up getting a thorough examination.

a/n - loosely based off of this video i got sent in an ask!! // spoke about this with my sofie a while ago ..

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

"anton?" the boy looked up at you from where he sat across from you, your monitor blocking you from properly seeing his face. once you pushed the monitor aside you saw him, he looked sweet. edible. wide eyes, parted lips, flushed cheeks. cute. he hummed in reply. “oh, you requested a male doctor? sorry i was the only one we had available on such short notice”

“hi” it was short, gentle. his voice was so quiet you almost missed his greeting. you wondered what you could do to make him a bit louder. “it’s okay i don’t mind”

“what brings you here today, sweetie?” the tips of his ears reddened at the name, eyes subconsciously flicking down to where your elbows rested on the table, tits pushed together, peaking out through due to your the top few buttons of your dress being open. anton felt dizzy. he could have sworn he saw a subtle smile on your lips.

“well” he gulped, trying to make his eyes meet yours “i swim a lot and i’ve had a few red patches on my inner thighs. my coach said it’s most likely just irritation from the trunks i have to wear because they’re so tight, but he wanted me to come and check it out anyway” you nodded at his words, eyes following his that seemed to struggle to leave the sight of your tits.

“oh i see, do you mind letting me take a look?” anton’s eyes widened and you struggled to hold in your giggle. he seemed so pure and shy. pathetic. you could tell he was a virgin just from the way he looked at you, or how he struggled to look anywhere but your tits.

realistically, anton knew that whoever he saw would have to look at the irritation, that’s why he listed down the request for a male doctor, if it was possible. he knew that having a woman so close to his cock would set him off, the moment he stepped foot in the room he felt nothing but panic, already knowing someone as pretty as you having their hands on his thighs would make him hard in an instant. poor thing. he was already half hard the moment he saw you, he had no way of hiding the way his cock was only growing harder.

“i don’t mind” he did mind, infact he was scared shitless about the fact you were going to be so close to his almost fully erect cock.

“come this way” you stood up, his eyes instantly fell to the way your dress had ridden up your thighs, exposing so much of the bare skin. anton felt physically sick as he stood up to follow you, watching as your dress rode up even more when you pulled open the curtain to the bed in the corner of the room. he felt like a pervert. “you can go in here, are you okay to take your trousers off? i’ll need to be able to see the irritation. if your underwear is too tight you may have to take those off too”

he gulped he knew exactly what underwear he was wearing and he cursed himself for it. it was tight, not the kind that he’d be able to roll up in order to show you the irritation. anton realised he’d have to show you his cock. the cock that was throbbing in his boxers, already leaking precum and staining them, he knew he was fucked. he sighed and pulled them down his legs, sitting on the edge of the bed before letting them fall to the floor under him.

“are you ready?” he heard you call from the other side of the curtain, anton took a few deep breathes before responding.

“yeah”

he looked down at the floor and closed his eyes as you slipped behind the curtain to see him. he missed the way your eyes fell to his cock, how a smile graced your lips as you saw just how easy he was to work up.

“you can relax, sweetie” anton was sure he felt his cock throb “i just need to take a little look” he opened his eyes when he felt your presence near him, regretting looking up at you when he realised just how close you were to him.

he held his breath when you knelt down between his legs and brought your hands forward, they looked gentle. small compared to pretty much all of him. he shivered as your finger tips traced his inner thigh, inspecting the irritation of his skin.

anton panicked, jumping why he felt the back of your hand ghost over the skin of his cock. he felt shame run through him when he noticed a drip of his pre cum fall onto your skin.

“i-“

“it’s okay, sweetie” you looked up at him, his face was flushed and he struggled to hold your eyes “it’s okay to be nervous, i won’t hurt you. i just need to take a look okay?” he nodded as your eyes went back to his thigh, not before stopping momentarily on his cock.

it was thick, quite long. it fit his bodies build perfectly. but he was so hard, red, the tip swollen and throbbing, leaking steady streams of pre cum. having your last patient of the day be a pathetic virgin wasn’t something you thought would happen but here you were, poor boy was jolting every time you touched his skin. sure, doctor and patient relationships meant you shouldn’t indulge in any physical or emotional intimacy with him but he was too hard to resist. you couldn’t deny the way your mouth watered just looking at his cock.

“it seems like it’s just a heat rash, since your trunks are tight on your skin they’re most likely causing it to get hot and rub against the material. using cream should clear it up but i’d recommend looking for different trunks, maybe a thinner or shorter pair” he nodded, not trusting his voice in that moment.

“is there anything else you’d like me to check over whilst we’re here?” he shook his head but you stopped him, placing your hand higher on his thigh, finger barely grazing over one of his balls “because it seems like you have another irritation here” you gestured to his cock and anton thought he was imagining things. he was sure he’d passed out during the examination and was now in a land of his own delusions. he was wrong though, it, and you, was real.

“oh?” he squeaked out. gulping as he looked down at you.

“mhm" you slowly trailed your finger over his ball and up the side of his cock “it looks so red and swollen, don’t you think as your doctor i should help you fix that?” anton was at a loss for words, but he nodded. “it’s purely professional, doctor and patient confidentially. whatever happens in this room doesn’t leave it okay, bunny?”

anton was at least a second away from moaning at the pet name, sweetie was one thing, but for you to call him bunny? he was sure you were out for blood, his blood to be exact.

“lay down for me” he done what you told him without any hesitation, his upper body was slightly elevated due to the incline of the bed. it gave him a full view of you when you straddled his thighs “comfortable?” anton went to nod but your voice stopped him “i need words, bunny”

“i feel” he let out a deep breath, it was clear he was struggling to grasp what was happening in that moment. the boy had never had a woman touch him before, let alone had one be so sexually forward with him, he was nervous. “it’s okay, i like it”

“good boy” you trailed along the skin of his abdomen that had appeared due to his shirt riding up, your laid your hands flat against him and pushed the rest of his shirt up “want me to take it off for you? just so i can get a good look at all of you. full body inspections are important”

he leaned forward and let you lift his shirt off of him, barely taking notice of it as it fell to the floor. your eyes were trained in his toned body, fingers tracing the ridges of his abs. you could tell he swam competitively, he was built so nicely. there was no way you could deny the sexual attraction you felt toward him.

anton was cautious as he watched you, barely moving as you wrapped both of your hands around his cock. your hands seemed so small around his cock, especially as it throbbed in your grip. he felt weak.

your hands moved slow, an up and down motion on the thickness of his cock. he felt breathless despite you into just starting, he knew no matter what was to happen he wouldn’t last long.

“you know” you squeezed the base of his cock “maybe it would be useful to do a more thorough inspection” anton cocked his head to the side, curious about your intentions.

“thorough how?”

“i was thinking perhaps a more internal device should be used, something a little tighter. just to make sure your cock is working okay” he shivered when you used the word cock, it was his first time hearing you say something so crude “do you agree? bun?”

“if that’s what you think is best” his voice was shaky, the gentleness it held before had somewhat disappeared. it felt rougher, more rugged now “i trust you” you smiled at him, a smile that was far too comforting giving the situation you were in.

you took your hands off of his cock, spitting on one of them before placing it back on his cock and pumping it a few times. you held the base as you knelt up so you could move to straddle it. you looked at him before bringing your other hand down to pull your panties to the side, lining yourself up to sink down on his cock.

you moaned when you felt him push inside of you, his thickness stretching you out the more you sank down on him. you stayed still for a few moments once you had taken all of him, your nails pressed into the skin of his abs as you clenched around him. breathing heavily whilst trying to get used to the feeling of his cock.

anton himself looked a mess, his eyes had shut, lips parted, shaky whimpers fell from him as he tried to adjust to feeling you wrapped around his cock. it was like nothing he had experienced before. you were so warm and wet, so tight as you squeezed around his cock. he was sure within minutes you’d be milking him for every drop of cum he had inside of him.

“anton” his name came from you in a whiny tone, your hips lifting so you could sink back down on him, he moaned when began to repeat the motion. the stimulation your cunt gave his cock had him in a euphoric state. “fuck- you’re so big”

his hands were still at his sides so you grabbed them, bringing one to sit on your waist whilst you brought the other to your chest. unzipping your dress as far as you could, you let him wrap his hand around your breast, squeezing your hand over his to signal for him that it was okay to touch you.

so he did, his hand squeezed your waist whilst the other held your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple as you rode him. one of your own hands crept up to his nipple, you had a feeling they were sensitive and you were right. he was already a. wreck, cheeks flushed as he whined so sweetly, but your fingers rubbing and pinching at his nipple only increased his sounds.

“i-“ he swallowed back a moan as he tried to speak “not gonna last” fuck he was so lovely, you couldn’t help but want to milk him dry. “gonna cum” he just wanted to tell you, he felt ashamed that he was going to cum so quickly, but he had to let you know “feels too good” all of his words were broken by whines, fingers squeezing your skin tightly.

“ ‘s okay bunny, cum for me” you bounced on his cock, moving quicker to set off his orgasm, wanting his first ever one to be as good as possible “will even let you cum inside of me, anything for my special bunny” that set him off, his hips bucked up before his body froze. hand falling from your breast to the skin of your thigh, fingers digging into the skin as his orgasm washed over him.

“ ‘m sorry, i’m so sorry” he repeated his words a few times, tears glossing over his eyes “didn’t mean to cum so fast ‘m sorry” god.

you sat still on his cock, basking in the feeling of him throbbing inside of you, cum filling you up as he cried out beneath you.

“my sweet bun” you reached your hand up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over his tender skin “don’t be sorry” you leaned forward, he whined as he felt you move on his sensitive cock.

“we can find another way for you to make it up to me”

#✧ melody posts #riize smut #anton smut #✧ hard hours ✧

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heartfullofleeches · 5 months

Note

angel darling whos a bit disconnected from modern terms walking up to c.c and saying "yas girl slay. so cunty girlypop" with not contexr because they saw it online and thought it was a normal compliment

Yan Incubus + Angel Darling blurb

The human world is such a fun and interesting place.

Everywhere you look, you learn something new. Things have changed so much since the last time you interacted with the mortal realm, but with the help of the kind demon you met during your travels you've had an easier time at processing everything at a beginner's pace. Your superiors always warned you to steer clear of his kind, but he hardly seemed like a threat. Not only had he given you bed and board, but as an added gift for staying away from humans as he instructed the demon had given you a cellular device to use while he was away.

There was a lengthy list of restrictions on the device, his number was the only one you could call under these boundaries, but that hardly put a damper on your fascination with it. You haven't seen one of these since they were just buttons and dials attached to a cord on the wall. It's amazing how much human technology has advanced in such a short time. Regardless of setbacks you're learning new facts about the modern world left and right, and you owe it all to your new companion.

You felt as if you owed him for his kindness, despite him insisting your company was payment enough. If that truly was the case, what better way to thank him than with gentle adulation using words you've picked up during late night binges scouring the internet. He always teases you for your "grandma speech" when you've complimented him in the past, despite the flush of his cheeks reaching his ears everytime. You wonder what his reaction will be when you call him by terms more fitting to the times.

C.C poses in front of his mirror - balancing on his toes as he bends to get a better look at the curve of his skirt over his rear. "So what do you think, babe? Am I cute enough for your first night out on the town?"

It's about the sixth time he's changed his skirt alone, but you think he's looked lovely in all of them. Nevertheless- it's your time to shine. Clearing your throat, you straighten your back as your eyes meet his from the mirror.

"Slay, Queen - you are serving so much cunt, girlypop."

C.C blinks - expression drain from his face. "What?"

"I said - Sla-"

"No, I heard what you said. Where did you pick up that kind of language?"

"Aside from you, online, I suppose."

C.C rounds the side of the bed, extending his hand with a few dramatic gestures forward. "Gimme your phone."

"Huh?"

He huffs and leans in close. "Now, Y/n."

"Have I don't something to upset you?"

Eyes flashing red, C.C grips your shoulders - hissing through his teeth as he speaks. "You aren't supposed to say things like that. You're supposed to call me beautiful or "a grace among man" or any of that other cute dorky shit you normal call me."

"Oh.... my apologies. I didn't mean to offend."

C.C sighs, throwing his arms around you in a tight hug. "No.. it's alright, I just really like what you use now. It's cheesy, but it's you and you are the most adorable your God ever had a hand in creating." He kisses your cheek, lips curled into that mischievous grin he's known for as they draw up to your ear. "But - I'll gladly be your Queen any day so I don't mind if we keep that one.... I'm still blocking the sites you picked the rest of those words off of."

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #male yandere #yandere incubus #C.C my oc

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feminismisstillahatemovement · 1 month

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In 2017 I interviewed Bernadette Wren, then head of psychology at the Tavistock Gids clinic, and asked what effect puberty blocking drugs have on the adolescent brain. Looking highly uncomfortable, she replied that the evidence so far was only anecdotal but that the clinic would study its patients “well into their adult lives so that we can see”.

Even back then, before whistleblowers had exposed the rush to medically transition children, it was alarming to hear that heavy-duty GnRH agonists such as triptorelin — used to treat advanced prostate cancer and “chemically castrate” sex offenders — were being prescribed to arrest puberty in hundreds of children as young as 11.

Moreover, they were being used “off-label” before any clinical trials. And the long-term study Wren promised never materialised: Gids (the Gender Identity Development Service) routinely lost touch with patients, and the 44 it did follow reported little long-term mental health improvement.

This shocking chapter in medical history, where the ideological objectives of trans rights campaigners trumped the welfare of disturbed children, is coming to an end worldwide. The decision by NHS England effectively to ban the prescription of puberty blockers comes after the Cass review noted these drugs could “permanently disrupt” brain development, reduce bone density and lock children into a regime of cross-sex hormones requiring life-long patienthood.

NHS England unites with other national health services including those in Finland, France, Sweden and, most notably, the Netherlands — where the “Dutch protocol”, a regime of early blockers then hormones, was devised in 1998 — in pulling back from prescribing them.

Even in the United States, where a toxic combination of extreme activism and medical capitalism has pushed child gender medicine to grotesque extremes, with double mastectomies performed on 14-year-old girls, there is some retrenchment.

Leaks from the World Professional Association for Transgender Health, the body which formulates guidance on “trans healthcare”, reveal doctors perplexed at how they should explain to an 11-year-old child that drugs will render them infertile. Crucially, liberal media such as The New York Times are now reporting grave medical misgivings about child transition, once dismissed as a culture-war issue for the Republican right.

Yet the question remains: how was this ever allowed to happen? For years, puberty blockers were cheerily billed as a mere “pause button”. In 2014, Dr Polly Carmichael, the last head of Gids before the Cass review ordered its closure, went on CBBC in a show called I Am Leo, saying of blockers: “The good thing is, if you stop the injections, it’s like pressing ‘start’ and the body carries on developing as it would if you hadn’t started.”

The BBC permitted her to make this unevidenced claim to an impressionable audience of six to 12-year-olds. Imagine hearing this as a developing girl, freaked out by your new breasts and periods. No wonder Gids referrals subsequently rocketed.

Carmichael failed to mention that she did not know if pressing “restart” on puberty is always medically possible — it is not — and in fact, almost every child Gids put on blockers went on to irreversible cross-sex hormones.

After years in a Peter Pan state while their peers developed, they understandably felt there was no way back and forged on with treatment. Yet if allowed to experience natural puberty, almost 85 per cent of gender dysphoria cases resolve themselves.

Nor did Carmichael tell CBBC kids that the blockers-hormones combination, if taken early enough, not only results in sterility but kills the libido so that a young person will never experience an orgasm.

At the 2020 judicial review brought by a former Tavistock clinician and Keira Bell, the brave young detransitioner rushed onto hormones by Gids, judges expressed astonishment at Gids’s lack of an evidence base.

Reporting on this issue for seven years, I too have been struck by a complete clinical incuriosity. Not only was data not collected, but those who queried treatments or pressed for evidence faced angry condemnation. Perhaps activists knew what research might find because one long-term Finnish study, recently reported in the BMJ, destroyed the myth used to justify blockers: that a child will commit suicide if denied them.

The Finns found that “gender-affirming care” does not make a dysphoric child less suicidal. Rather, such children had the same suicide risk as others with severe psychiatric issues. In other words, changing bodies does not fix troubled minds.

Yet even after NHS England’s announcement, activists refuse to heed the now-overwhelming evidence. In its response, Stonewall persists with the myth that puberty blockers “give a young person extra time to evaluate their next steps”.

Many questions remain unanswered: will private clinics still be permitted to prescribe puberty blockers; and is Scotland’s Sandyford child gender clinic still determined to close its ears to all evidence? Plus, we have few details on how the NHS’s new “holistic” treatment for gender-questioning children will operate when it opens next month.

This repellent experiment — in which girls who like trucks or little boys who dress as princesses, and who invariably grow up to be gay, are corralled inexorably down a road towards life-changing treatments — belongs in the book of medical disgraces. As do the cheerleaders who raised money for Mermaids and those who persecuted whistleblowers or damned journalists asking questions as transphobic.

In 50 years, chemically freezing the puberty of healthy children with troubled minds will be regarded with the same horrified fascination as lobotomies — which, never forget, won the Portuguese neurologist Antonio Egas Moniz the 1949 Nobel prize.

--------------------

{Article source (behind paywall)}

#i think it's going to be a lot sooner than 50 years tbh

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tiredlilguy · 6 months

Text

" Since When Did You Get So... Big?"|DILFTOBER W2

lost? main masterlist. / dilftober masterlist. / jjk masterlist.

a/n: that new episode amirite? ;) godamn i've never seen a man so fucking scrumptious... im just letting you know rn that i was already a nanami girlie (in a gender-neutral sense) before the new episode so I WAS IN LINE FIRST /j uh... enjoy~ this is also available on A03!

pairing: Nanami Kento X GN!Reader cw: NSFW 18+ (if you are a minor, you will be blocked), proof-read but there still might be mistakes desc: while you're out on a date with your sweet husband, you're leaning on his arm wondering when he got so big... and it kind of got your mind running ~~ kink(s) this week: overstimulation + breeding + sensory deprivation

It was around 5:15.

You were currently running around the room in a badly buttoned white shirt as you looked around the room for your corset. You weren’t wearing any pants at the moment, as you were waiting to put them on last. It almost seemed as if the corset was hiding from you, and so you were rummaging through different drawers (even your husband’s drawers too) to find the damn thing. Your husband, Nanami, just so happened to walk through the door, his tan blazer off and folded over his forearm and his glasses off of his face in his hand. He ran a hand through his hair as he watched you with a raised brow. You were currently bent over the laundry hamper, half of your body being engulfed by the hamper and your ass and legs sticking out from it. He went to place his glasses and blazer on the side table. A couple of moments late though, he heard you shuffle yourself out of the hamper, letting out a small cheer to yourself.

Nanami softly chuckled to himself before calling out to you,” Darling.”

“ Oh, Kento!,” you perked up, placing the corset off to the side and walking over to him with a smile.

Your husband opened his arms for you to place yourself in. You did so, wrapping your arms around his neck as he wrapped his around your waist, rocking you both side to side. “ Evening,” he greeted, a softer expression on his face as he smiled at you.

“ Good evening,” you replied shyly, blushing at his soft smile.

“ Getting ready for tonight, I see?” he leaned down and whispered just before your lips, gently pecking them. You returned his gesture before pulling away with a nod. Nanami closed his eyes, enjoying your warmth and scent. Eventually, an idea crept into his mind.

“ Let’s fix this shirt, sweetheart,” he offered,” It’s a little messy.”

You blushed, feeling slightly embarrassed as you recalled yourself just trying to throw it on. You were moving to unbutton it when he stopped you with his rough hand gently cupping your own.

“ Let me do it, just stay still, ok?,” Nanami said gently. Despite how rough he looked from the outside, he was always gentle with you… whether it be in the way that he spoke or how he touched you. It never failed to make butterflies crowd your chest making it hard to breathe, but you felt… in love.

Nanami’s hand, still as gentle as ever, took each button out of the loophole until he reached the very last button. He let go of the fabric and paused for a second.

“ I-I can take care of it now, Ken… Thank yo-,” you were about to finish, but stopped yourself as you felt a soft kiss on your stomach.

You looked down to see Nanami on his knees in front of you. His hands were on your waist, gently caressing your sides as he left kisses in his wake. You felt yourself freeze up, a warmth slowly building up in your stomach and you couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath. One of your hands reached up to veil over your mouth as he kissed your lower stomach teasingly. You swear you almost heard him chuckle at your reaction as you let out another breathy moan. He took his time moving up, buttoning your shirt, and leaving a kiss on every inch of skin up until he reached the collar, to where his lips moved to your neck. He let out a deep exhale, his hot breath fanning your neck almost desperately.

Nanami gently nipped at your neck, though not hard enough to leave a mark. You closed your eyes, waiting for him to do more, but he pulled away with a smirk. You looked up at him desperately, but he only smiled, moving to place a soft kiss on your lips once more.

His calloused hand met your cheek, making you blink out of your trance-like state,” Stunned, darling?”

You blinked a couple more times, then pouted and placed a palm over his chest, slightly pulling away,” You’re such a tease, Kento!”

The hand that was on your cheek moved up to shuffle your hair away from your forehead. Of course, he kissed there as an apology,” Sorry, love. Couldn’t help myself.”

You grinned, thinking to tease him back as you crossed your arms and jutting a hip out,” Maybe you should help yourself to some more, baby~”

This time, Nanami was the one to blush, a growl coming out from under his breath,” Don’t tempt me.”

“ Just getting even, babe,” you hummed, walking past him to the walk into the closet,” Now go get ready. We gotta leave soon. Your stuff’s in the bathroom, I just ironed it.”

Nanami let out a soft sigh, rolling his eyes at you. Though, of course, he couldn’t help but smile.

…

You were both now heading over to the restaurant together, arms linked as you leaned onto his bicep. He gently guided you both through the streets, on occasion looking at his phone to see if he was going in the right direction. Nanami had looked down at his phone once more as you both waited at the stop light. He was oblivious to your finger trailing his exposed forearm, tracing over every vein as you did so.

“ Almost there, darling,” Nanami said in a hushed voice,” Sorry, I wasn’t expecting the walk to be this long.”

You only hummed, continuing to trace your fingers over his arm,” It’s okay. I don’t mind walking if it’s with you.”

“ Hm… alright,” he replied softly, placing a kiss on your head.

“ By the way Kento…,” you sighed, leaning into him a little bit more,” Since when did you get so big?”

“ Huh?” the blonde raised a brow. The pedestrian light turned on, and so you two started walking. He still looked over at you with a confused expression.

“ I don’t know… You’ve gotten bigger, like, muscle-wise,” you explain, moving your hand away from his forearm,” You look hot. I like it.”

“ Rather blunt there, love,” Nanami let out an awkward chuckle under his breath,”… but I guess you are feeding me well.”

You scoffed with a grin,” I better be.”

“ I do eat everything out of the lunches you make me,” he hummed to you,” … and you know I work out.”

“ You’re always just really gentle with me,” you said,” Though, I don’t really mind it to be honest.”

“ Would you rather I be rough with you?”

“ Hm…,” you thought for a second,” I think I have an idea. Though, we’ll have to wait until later tonight.”

Kento took a second, trying to understand what you meant by that, but that thought soon faded as you both arrived at the restaurant doors.

…

Dinner went by smoothly (minus you both arguing over the bill… you lost), and so did the travel back home. You were back in your shared apartment, placing down your keys and shrugging off your coat. Nanami took your coat from your shoulders, hooking it up on a coat hanger and he soon followed. You kicked off your shoes, walked over to the kitchen, and hoisted yourself up on the counter. Nanami followed you, raising a brow at your actions, but letting out a sigh with a soft smile when he looked over at you.

“ What’s on your mind, love?” he said, footsteps stopped as he stood right in front of you.

You smirked, a small glint in your eyes as you looked up at him,” Remember that idea I had earlier?”

“ I recall you saying you had an idea, yes…,” he crossed his arms.

Looking over at his forearm, you felt yourself bite your lower lip. You sat up slightly from your leaned-back position and reached over for his tie, pulling him closer to you, in between your legs. Nanami’s eyes widened, placing his hands on the counter on your sides to stop him from falling. You, on the other hand, were enjoying his proximity to you, the smirk on your face widening.

“ I want you to be rough with me…,” your breath fanned his ear, your hand moving up to loosen his tie,”… but I think it’d be nicer if I guide you first.”

You then moved yourself to face him now, lips barely touching as he exhaled. Before you could kiss him though, he pulled your body a little closer, hands gently gripping on your hips.

“ Alright then,” he whispered against your lips,” Show me what you want, babe.”

That was all you needed to kiss him desperately, exhaling as you did so despite your breath already being taken away. Nanami would return the kiss gently, but you weren’t as gentle back, moving to kiss him rougher as your hand traveled towards his tie: unknotting it and reaching for the buttons on his shirt. Your husband moved his hands to your sides, gently caressing his arm to your back as he started to unbutton the corset that was around your waist. You let out a soft sigh into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip as you did so. He opened his mouth and allowed you to intertwine your tongue with his. You were halfway done with taking off his shirt, your fingers sliding up his abs to his chest and moving to take it off his shoulders.

Nanami broke away from the kiss, however, making you whine a bit at the proximity loss. He was soft, taking your hands in his.

“ I think we’re moving a bit too fast, sweetheart,” he chuckled,” As much as I love making love to you in the kitchen… how about we move to the bedroom?”

You looked up at him and nodded, despite you initiating it, you still listened to him obediently.

“ Good,” the blonde smirked, a hand gently touching your chin as he pecked your lips. You were about to get up from your spot on the counter when he placed his hands under your thighs, lifting you up himself.

He laid you down gently on the bed, making sure to support your head over some pillows before he moved to climb over you. You wrapped your arms around him, hands pawing to take off his shirt as he placed his lips on your neck.

“ Ah-! K-kento…,” you gasped at the feeling of his hot wet tongue on your neck. He let out a hot breath, lips sweetly kissing your neck as he sunk his teeth in. You felt yourself arch, despite how gentle he was on you.

Your ideas of taking over seemed to wash away from your brain as he meticulously stripped you, helping you unbutton your shirt and take off your pants, just leaving you in your undergarments. To be honest, you hadn’t minded him taking over, enjoying how his rough hands would touch your body, gently squeezing down on your skin, making him groan at how pliable you felt. You were lost in your own thoughts, not even realizing that you were pretty much naked under him. His lips trailed down from your neck to your collarbones as he worshipped your body.

It was blissful, and your mind almost felt as though it wasn’t there.

Until.. he flipped you both over, you now straddling him with your hands on his stomach.

“ H-huh…?.” you blinked yourself out of your trance as you looked down at him with a blush.

God, he looked so fucking hot for no reason, a faint blush on his face as he looked up at you with a smirk.

“ Well…,” he spoke up,” What’s your idea, love?”

You felt slightly embarrassed, getting lost in him for a moment as you were lying on the bed just a moment ago. Eventually, you let out a breath, looking down at him,” Where’s your tie?”

“ I think it’s somewhere on the floor,” he responded, pointing in the direction where he threw his shirt.

You hopped off of his lap for a moment, reaching over and taking his tie.

You had it in your hands now, and leaned over to him, placing the tie over his eyes. Nanami was curious, allowing you to do so, lifting his head to help you tie it behind him.

Once it was securely on him, you reached down to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. Your hands were slightly shaky, however, as you felt a tinge of excitement run through your body as you saw his cock spring out. You looked up at Kento, who had only been able to rely on his senses of touch and hearing. You looked back down at his cock, feeling your mouth water as you looked at the sight of it.

You stuck out your tongue, gently licking at the tip. You noticed Nanami buck his hips nervously, you assumed he didn’t expect you to do that immediately. You tried again, licking up at his length, slicking him up with your own saliva. You heard him let out gasps and groans as you worked your mouth. After some time, you placed your mouth over his length, tongue aiding to add more stimulation.

“ Fuck…,” Nanami cursed, hand reaching touch to grasp your hair, pulling it slightly. He was still trying to be gentle with you though, much to your dismay. You took your mouth off him, looking up at him with a pout,” You can pull my hair, Kento.”

“ I know,” he answered,” S-sorry… I’m just used to being gentle.”

You smirked, placing a kiss on his tip and making him shiver at the small contact,” It’s okay, baby. I’ll try to set the pace this time though.”

“ I- agh…,” you placed your lips over him again, this time, swirling your tongue around him as you took more of his length in your mouth,” Fuck (Y/N), I’m gonna cum.”

You continued on, taking even more of his length in your mouth, booming your head up and down as you wanted him to reach his climax. This time, his hand gripped at your hair, pulling and then pushing you further down on his length, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

“ Fuck… hah…!” his voice was still hushed as he felt himself release. His warm cum shooting into your mouth, as he bucked his hips a little further into your throat.

You swallowed his liquids, wiping a hand over your lips as you sat back up. You enjoyed the small whine he let out from his release, his voice faintly cracking under his raspy voice. He laid further back into the sheets, gasping a little bit for air as you pulled away.

Your hands reached for the drawer in the nightstand, taking a bottle of lube from it before pushing it shut. You opened your palm down, uncapping the bottle and squirting some lube onto your hands. You felt a lewd sense of excitement at the sound of the bottle, capping it and placing it aside. You slicked yourself up, spreading the lube on your hole. Nanami heard you gently gasp to yourself at the cold sensation of the lube. You pulled your hand away, wiping the rest of the slick off on your hip.

“ Slow down,” Nanami warned you. He knew he was big… and sometimes you tended to get a little carried away when you wanted to ride him. You hummed, aligning his length with your hole before gently pushing down.

You felt the tip insert inside of you, that feeling already making you moan. He reached to your hips and helped you guide yourself down as you took more of him in. You took your time, enjoying the places he touched inside of you… because godamn, he felt so fucking good.

He was now all the way in, making you bottom out on top of him. He still couldn’t exactly tell where you were with the blindfold on, but his hands reached out to hold yours. You shakily reached out to intertwine your hands in his, trying to get used to his length despite using lube. You gently gripped his hands in response, taking your time as you took a breath in.

After some time, you exhaled,” I-I’m ready to move.”

Nanami nodded, letting you continue as you rolled your hips. You felt yourself hesitate as you continued on, feeling his cock hit all of the right areas.

“ Fuck… you feel so good,” you moaned, speeding your pace up a bit, letting go of his hands and placing your hands on his chest.

“ Shit baby,” Nanami breathed out,” Keep going like that, yeah?”

You did so, continuing to buck your hips into his desperately. The pace started turning into just simply rolling your hips into practically rutting yourself into him sloppily. You were now lying over him, lifting your lips up and down on his length as you felt yourself get hotter.

“ Ngh!,” you bit your lip harshly,” I-I wanna cum.”

Nanami’s hands were currently gripping your hips, helping you move as you started to get a little tired,” M-me too.”

“ Fuckfuck! N-nanami…!,” you whined.

“ You’re so warm,” he whispered against your ear. He’s started to take over a little bit, slamming his hips up into you, making you writhe and moan on top of him.

“ Hah-ah…! I’m g-gonna,” you couldn’t continue your sentence, already letting yourself go, liquids falling out of you.

Nanami soon followed, bullying his cock further into you as he came inside of you. You jolted, feeling yourself getting filled up as his hot liquid shot into you.

You fell limp on top of him, not being able to move anymore. Nanami pulled himself out, a lewd pop coming out of your hole as he pulled away. You felt his cum start to leak out of you a little bit, you pouting at the loss of warmth. Nanami reached up to take off the makeshift blindfold from his eyes, moving it to the side as he let out a sigh.

He looked over at your fucked out expression, moving a hair out of your face. He placed a kiss on your temple, pulling away with a little smile and closing his eyes.

You were silent for a moment until you poked his face again. He opened his eyes, looking back at yours that had a lust-filled look inside of them.

“ Kento… Can we go again? You can even breed me again this time.”

[also if you want, please consider getting me a coffee or commissioning me ;) no pressure ofc!!! i understand that we're all in different circumstances/situations, any support of any kind is appreciated <3]

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami jjk #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #mono writes

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

Text

A NOOSE TO HANG ONTO (III)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER IV

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 7.3k

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of stalking & stalking behavior, talks of death, weapons, violence, suggestive thoughts/comments, toxic modeling standards, food issues, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Sometimes you wonder if meeting your soulmate would even matter—it would never fix the void in your heart, you know. It would be foolish to think that it would.

But there is such a drug attached to being loved as you are, despite your flaws and failings, destined to be tied in a game of commitment. Yet the simple fact showed that, while soulmates were able to bring you color, that didn’t change people's nature.

Even among those tied pairs, divorce was rampant; assaults, and murders as well.

Soulmate Psychosis, it was called. When your mind broke from having it all figured out, or even when you knew it was falling apart.

It happened to your father and it happened to millions of other spouses too. When your entire life is already decided when you look at someone, it can be…a lot.

So, part of you was happy that you’d never know who yours was unless they told you themselves—you can hope and pray that they stay their tongue and give you a chance to fall for them naturally. Because it scared you, truly, becoming like all of the rest. A statistic.

Lord, don’t let yourself become a statistic.

Nikto silently walks at your heels as you push through the front doors of your penthouse, taking off your ball cap and stuffing it into your jacket pocket.

The man at the front desk calls to you, and you raise a hand in greeting, sliding a soft smile his way.

“Seraph!” Isaak has been working at this building for as long as you can remember—the man with grayish hair and dark eyes. A face that was sharp and a nose crooked; like a chocolate-chip cookie, dark splotches along his face led to the impression of freckles.

The man was slightly older than you, lanky, and always dressed luxuriously.

“Having a good day, Isaak? Has that girl come back and given you her number yet?” You slow your pace to the elevator, digging into your pocket and peeling out one of the keys from your lanyard for your floor. You nearly drop the thing before you snap and catch onto the metal quickly. Nikto lets off something like an annoyed growl behind you at the interruption from the man across the room.

He’s impatient, you hum and send him a little glance over your shoulder. Light eyes dig with a warning. You only chuckle and shake your head calmly. One would think that for a PMC he would have all the patience in the world.

“You know I keep trying to get her to go away,” Isaak smiles at you. “The only woman I’d accept a number from is you, my Little Angel.”

Where the flirtatious comments had gotten you into bed with the man before, now they just didn’t strike you as they had before. Not…anymore.

You clear your throat and blink away for a moment before you school your expression back to an easy malleability.

“Good try.” Your focus goes back to the keys, fingers jerkily sifting through them.

Isaak’s brows furrow at your form, perhaps a bit of offense making his face twist—dark eyes slip down your body; pupils dilating.

A black form steps slightly forward, a large shoulder blocking you from view in one firm movement. Like some wolf with its neck fur standing on end, Nikto’s head is lightly bent down; eyes so intense that they render Isaak frozen in a sense of internal instincts warring with one another.

Nikto doesn’t speak, doesn’t make a sound—only stares and doesn't blink, immobile as a stone.

The soft music of the lobby blurs to the sound of a heart pounding.

You don’t even notice, humming when you find the correctly marked key from its slate mass and moving forward to press the illuminated button of the elevator.

“Oh!” Your mind pulls itself back to the present and away from letters and fire. “Isaak, this is Nikto—he’ll be…” A pause, eyes narrowed in confusion. “Are you okay?”

The man looks like he’s about to piss himself.

Without another word, Isaak scurries into the backroom, the door hitting so hard closed behind him that you flinch slightly and blink in shock. Standing for a moment, you tilt your head slowly right before the elevator dings, signaling you can enter.

Nikto suddenly grabs the meat of your arm and moves you inside.

“Woah!” You call, huffing. “Careful!”

“Inside,” the PMC grumbles, eyes tight and beady.

Your feet stumble when he lets you go, having to steady yourself on the back railing so you don’t fall over and hit your face on the floor. A sharp look is leveled at Nikto as he drops his duffel bag to the ground and hooks his arms at the collar of his rig, grunting and shifting his legs to set himself.

Blinking rapidly, you sigh out a fast breath.

“You know,” you begin, slotting your key into the plaque that says your floor number, twisting, and then taking a step back. Eyes darting to your side, you ease out slyly. “I’m sure people would like you more if you had the ability to articulate what you’re feeling. I’m getting the sense that you carry your emotions around like you’re trying to choke someone out.”

Nikto glares ahead, a brick wall of nothing but a harsh breath.

You smile softly and chuckle.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll get you into shape in no time.” Pale eyes slowly slide to your face and Nikto’s dead gaze stays there—brows in such a straight line it’s like looking at a statue. “I always do.”

While being around your mom led you to a subdued state, you had no trouble easing back into your usual route of subtle flirting; it was natural to you, even after traumatic events. A cushion, if you will. It felt good to still be able to regulate yourself and have some level of control over your life.

The three bodies and the Stalker, that senseless shadow, still haunt the back of your eyelids but having a distraction in the light was helping. Something new to focus on.

“We need copy,” Nikto glares at you, ignoring your soft tone.

As the elevator rises incredibly high, you hum in question, smile flicking to a confused frown. He grits his teeth under his mask.

“The key, Whelp, да?” Your eyes spark.

“Oh, sure,” you shrug. “I don’t have one.”

Nikto’s shoulders move back, blinking at you quickly. “You…” he trails off into a snarl of Russian. A hand comes up from his side to harshly dig into the bridge of his hidden nose.

You have to restrain a wide smile, the muscles in your face twitching.

When the doors open, you’re led into the sight of your safe place—an entire world away from the one outside the half-closed blinds of an opposite wall of all windows.

“I’ll order you one,” you try to reassure Nikto, sending him a side glance as you let all of the tension leak out of you as you step inside. “No worries.”

The man follows, jaw tense, as he stoops down and swipes up his bag.

“How is it that you do not have a second key?” Nikto’s eyes dart around the living room, not showing the slight way he’s taken aback by the size of everything and the design choice.

It was certainly…unique.

High mass, there were knickknacks on nearly every surface—a far-off ceiling due to the open second level where the rooms must be. There were hanging beads from the stairs, and plants that grew large and verdant; Nitko blinked at paintings on nearly every surface of the visible wall. A hanging chandelier that emits light over the antique-looking furniture of wood and velvet.

Even a taxidermy deer head, with its antlers holding jewelry that glints rich and luxurious. Books and painted bits of the walls that were near sheer fabric draped as an accessory from the top of bookshelves.

“Sorry for the mess,” you utter, sincerely, “if I’d been told that you were going to be staying here, I would have gotten the spare room ready.”

The kitchen is simple and mixed in with the living room in the form of a large island piled with magazines and notebooks.

You sigh and look around, wrapping your arms around your waist as you glance around the space. Not a stranger to the confused looks you’d get from your style.

Aly described it as a fairy tale. A hut in the woods holding secrets and magic. So different than what AMA had you displayed as—a cold angel of white and sharp feathers.

A product of some great lust machine.

“Just wait until he sees the loft,” you murmur, thinking about all of the various fabrics and tailored clothes you’d had in the open space directly when you walk up the stairs. The Dress Form torso mannequins wearing dresses you’d made with pricked fingers and shaky nerves.

You hoped he hadn’t met his Soulmate, because you’re sure it’s a hideous mess of colors up there. The thought makes you pause, and you realize you haven’t asked that question to yourself yet.

Did Nikto see color?

“No need,” Nikto immediately returns to his stoic monotone at your concern over the state of things. “I make do. Step aside.”

Slipping off your shoes, you place them in the old claw foot parlor table you’d made into your entryway storage, glancing at the void as he walks around your creaky wooden floors with his heavy boots.

“Shoes,” you remind, voice light.

The beast halts, his back to you halfway onto your handmade Persian rugs. You watch his fingers twitch around his duffel bag straps, as you go to close your secondary door; hiding the gaping wound in the building as the elevator leaves. A soft click emanates just as the man grunts lowly and lets his bag slam to the floor.

In one movement, the Russian bends down and unlaces his boots in firm and quick motions, grabbing them and turning like a puppet on a string. He plants them next to yours on the parlor table and sends you a tight look with hard eyes.

Nikto’s accent flares in his quick comment. “You are strange, Girl.”

You hum and shift out of your jacket, folding it and placing it atop the shoes.

“Oh, so I’m strange because I don’t want you tracking dirt on my clean rugs? The people you live around must be slobs.”

“We do not live around others.”

You blink, staring into his eyes as your skin pulls lightly. “Then I’m sorry. That must be very lonely.”

Nikto’s muscles tense under his gear, great thighs hardening. He growls low after a moment of stiffly watching you. “I do not need pity, certainly not from you,” and then stalks off, leaving his bag in the foyer.

Lips slightly parted, you let him walk away and snoop, taking account of the rooms and the layout for his own needs. Sighing, you rub at the back of your head before letting your hand drop back down, pulling at the fabric of your turtle neck.

You couldn’t deny that you found Nikto physically attractive—the large stature and built frame made your neurons fire, how he loped along with his bulky gear. Sure, that was natural, and despite the attitude, you did feel secure around him. He had an extensive record for a reason, and your mother would only include the best in her decisions.

It also attested to the fact that you didn’t find his aggression at all fear-inducing if that made any sense at all. To everyone else, he would be the pinnacle of an axe murderer, but, for some reason, he didn’t feel like that to you. A bit loose, sure, but the knowledge that this man was entirely mission-driven sat well with you.

It confused you—why did you not entirely mind having him around?

I can live with this, you tell yourself, brushing off your sweatpants and telling yourself not to think of the bakery or about Sergi, Yefim, or Petya; Aleksandr.

But when all that’s moved away like a curtain in front of the window, the view still remains.

The Stalker.

You still couldn’t rationalize it. How could someone do that? Be so bold and brute-like? And it was all over you.

Never had you been overconfident in yourself—you knew you had the looks and the money, the ability to do what few people could, but that had never gotten into your head. It was common knowledge that every model had a shelf-life and yours would probably end sooner than later if this kept up.

Any damage to your flesh that left long-term scarring was an instant dismissal. No negative press for AMA, either.

In all of this, you were walking a very thin path of horror and reality, like a show at a circus. And you of all people know you can’t walk in a straight line.

The overwhelming feeling of being hunted was setting in and you were entirely in the woods with blood poured over your body; weighing down a dress of linen and calling the beasts to feast upon your flesh with a ravaging appetite.

Swallowing the bile in your throat, you quickly go to find where Nikto had slinked off to, suddenly very cold and not liking the silence. On the way, you flick at your record player, and the old rusty thing spits out Clair De Lune as the glass sun catchers shaped like stars glimmer from the loft’s beams.

“Nikto?” You call in question, looking around before you murmur to yourself. “Where did you get to?”

Carefully grabbing the railing to the stairs, you watch your feet as you slowly ascend, piano music in the background; fingers tight and hard as you slide it up one at a time. You only knock your foot once, two steps from the top, but quickly recover with only a huff and a tiny chuckle.

Nikto walks through the top seating area filled with your materials and fabric, glancing at every book and measuring device that you have; the half-finished pieces. You blink and watch, wondering what he’s thinking as he clicks his tongue before walking to the first door and pushing it open. Your eyes slightly widen at that.

“Well, you sure do like making yourself at home,” your voice calls to the dark figure, and you shake your head. You begin following as if he is showing you around your place and not the other way around.

“I am doing my job.” Nikto’s voice spits out from the opening as you shuffle in. He glances around the small guest bedroom quickly. “Your home is cluttered.” The Russian mutters. “Messy.”

“I call it controlled chaos.” You ease, hands slipping into your pockets beside your phone and wallet. “You’ll find I’m fond of shiny things.”

“We can tell.” Head tilting, you restrain yourself from asking why he keeps referring to himself in the first person like that.

“You’re free to take this room if you want.” There are three doors that make up the separate walls—the one you’d both just walked through, one to the adjoining library and joint bathroom, and the other to your master bedroom with a respective master bath.

All connected to one another like a train car.

Nikto grunts and slips his eyes to the bits of personalization you’d left, though not as much as the rest of the penthouse. The bed was a Full size, there was a desk with bits of lush greenery coming off from a planter, and storage for clothes in the form of a large wardrobe you’d found in an antique store.

Classy, you thought, however, your standards for decoration weren’t the pinnacle of design. A set of Russian nesting dolls from your mother was put onto shelves, and in one of the corners, a hanging oil lamp sat above a nightstand.

Gray plush duvet and a fluffy rug you were told was purple when Alyona stayed over, with large pillows that looked like bear fur.

“Again,” you send a glance to the blank stare that Nikto keeps on you. “I didn’t know you were staying over.”

“It is… sufficient.” Gruff and final, though with an air of annoyed disgust, the Russian goes into the library second to last and then heads into your room with his broad back expanding; leaving a trail of authority in his wake.

Under your breath, you quietly mock him before rolling your eyes and following. For all this, you ended up being correct. Nikto was a good distraction.

The first thing that he notices is the stuffed animals.

They take up most of the window nook, some incredibly large and fluffy while others are small and could be crushed in his palm, even sitting atop one another if the space allowed. Nikto blinks at the sight of a very large bear plushie with a small bird on the head—little felt feet sticking out in front of it.

You clear your throat, the hot embarrassment flooding your face as your smile turns sheepish.

“Just…uhm…it’s just a little bit of an addiction.” Like the rest of the house, that fairy tale feeling emanates here as well—fancy curtain holders, old tea cups holding palm-sized pewter statues, paintings, and stained-glass lamps from the nineteen hundreds.

Pale eyes tilt their gaze down to you, silent as always.

“But at least it’s not drugs!” You push out quickly, awkwardly chuckling and shrugging your shoulders.

Your feet shift from under you, the large room that you call your own not something you planned on having to describe today. There was something incredibly intimate about letting someone into your house—someone you didn’t know especially.

Nikto puffs a bit of air in something akin to a scoff, turning his head away from you but not after a slight quirk of his brow.

“Are you sure you are not on drugs?” You snap up to stare at him, falling silent for a moment as he turns and leaves.

Gaping, you stutter, slightly amused, “W-was that a joke, Nikto?” He doesn’t answer and a slow smile grows on your lips. “Hey! C’mon did you just make a joke? Awe,” you coo, “I really am good at this!”

“Stop talking.” Nikto snarls, glaring as he goes down to the ground level. “You are making my ears hurt.”

You hurry to the stairs, following after with a steady mood, chuckling.

“If you’re going to be my glorified roommate, I think talking is part of the—” A sharp gasp rips from you as your leg hits on the banister, your foot locked through the metal as you yelp loudly at the sudden pain. In a quick tilt your vision slides, a swift sensation of gravity taking over as your body takes you tumbling backwards.

You tense mid-air, mind already made up about the incoming pain of your head knocking off the hard material, your skull rattling and splitting open; blood and brain matter spilling out to coat the—

Arms snap around your waist, legs still on the top half of the stairs and back hitting a large chest as you grunt in surprise; eyes blinking wildly.

Heart hammering, your head quickly looks up only to find the piercing eyes of Nikto burning down into you. Your nose brushes his face mask, the harsh fabric of the lover half pressing into yours.

You both stay there for a moment, Nikto’s blazing gaze unphased, it seemed, by the close contact. Inside of your gut, your stomach flips, and a tightness flares in your lungs.

Upon the air, your voice stutters out, tiny, “M-my bad.” You accent it with a helpless chuckle.

Nikto’s breath brushes over your forehead, and with a quick jerk of his arms you’re set back up on top of the stares. Even here, you meet the man’s height perfectly—him a few steps below you yet still a giant.

“This will be a problem, yes?” Nikto barks out. You steady yourself on the railing and take a deep breath. “You. You are…” His eyes twitch as if trying to find the correct word in English. He grunts to himself, fingers twitching.

You tilt your head, still calming down. Your throat is tight at the heat that still emanates from where Nikto’s hands had wrapped around you.

“...Shaky?”

“Hm,” Nikto doesn’t seem like that word fits best, but he nods once firmly, folding his arms over his chest and never once releasing you from his stare. Studying you as a monster does a maiden. “Да.”

You jerkily shrug, rubbing at your neck with one hand.

“Well, I guess brain damage will do that to you,” your lips tilt in an amiable smile—trying to play off what you say as you continue. Nikto’s body goes still, yet his attention never leaves. His eyes narrow. “I should have told you when we met, but you were, eh,” you chuckle, looking away for a moment. “Pretty quick with wanting to leave.”

A strained silence falls; an unknown emotion in the air.

“I—” Your voice is cut off by your phone vibrating from inside of your pocket, and with your hand snapping to that general area, you blink in surprise. “Oh.”

Fishing it out with awkward fingers, you find the illuminated screen and a text from Alyona calling up to you.

‘Video call w AMA & managers. 5 min. Be ready!’

“Shit,” you mutter, immediately going into your professional headspace.

But before you can rush off to grab your computer and slap makeup on your face, Nikto’s hand yanks your phone from your grasp. Blinking at your empty palm, your face darts up with a swift offense growing.

“Nikto!”

“Quiet.” The man taps into your contacts and you watch helplessly as he begins slashing in his own number with his digits firmly pressing in hard intervals to the keypad.

Huffing, you shake your head and leave him there to do what he needs to do, not overprotective of a device and more concerned with the time constraint that was leveled like a noose around your neck.

You had to look somewhat good for the call, after all, they could be waiting to tell you you’re fired.

They wouldn’t do that with Alyona there, you reason as you narrowly dodge running onto a side table before you enter your room again, though this time from the main door. Not the managers either.

Your lips pull straight.

But if the CEO was on call, then you’d have to worry. He had no problem being ruthless about policy and public image, always so pretentious with his power over all of the men and women employed at Allurement.

But then again, he had always seemed to take an interest in you, anyway.

You slip out of your turtleneck and pull on a silk top that seems either white or a very very pale color—either way, they always put you in something near to white, so it didn’t matter. Since it was a video call, there was no need to show your bottom half; the sweatpants stayed.

Makeup was the hard part.

With your nerve spasms always showing up at inopportune times, it took a long time if someone else wasn’t doing it for you. You had ways to combat it, sure, but none you could get ready in five minutes.

Three, you tell yourself.

An idea hits your head like a rock.

“Nikto!” You call, rushing to your vanity and pushing aside a plush raccoon to snag your mascara. There wasn’t time for anything else. “I have a favor!”

“No,” the man materializes in the opening of your door, the backdrop of your fabric mess in the loft behind him; the clashing of shades momentarily confuses you, blinking quickly, but you recover with a huff and a plea.

“I need you to put my mascara on—my hands are too unpredictable right now.” He’s growling in the way you’re already accustomed to. This must be one hell of a day for him. “Your job is to protect me right? I need you to protect me from public humiliation.”

“Then humiliate yourself.” Nikto’s narrowed eyes lower even farther, face turned sharply to you as you walk over and hold out the stick. “This is not my job.”

You dig hard into his eyes, serious if not a bit willing. “I’d owe you.” Your tone is hard but true.

The Russian bear’s shoulders roll slightly, getting higher and more irritated. He grunts at you. After a long and heartstopping moment, he grabs onto your pocket and slips your phone back inside, jostling your body into his as you make a noise in surprise.

In that same movement, the mascara stick is yanked from your hand and fingers grapple onto your chin.

Your eyes go wide; body instantaneously tensing, as the unyielding grip moves your chin to the side and one hand unscrews the mascara with a slight pop of the seal.

“You are dependent,” Nikto’s digits are tight, but you don’t blink or pull away as the stick spreads pigment. “I do not like it, Girl. Like child running with a knife.”

“Aren’t you such a ray of sunshine?” You grumble but stay deathly still. Nikto’s body is tight against yours, leaning over you.

The guy certainly didn’t mind getting handsy if he needed to. Thinking like that makes your feet shuffle tinily under you, a heat emanating from your cheeks and your thighs momentarily becoming stiff.

His body warmth bleeds through his bulk; the grating press of his chest plate to your upper body.

“Stop breathing,” Nikto hisses and your cheek is moved to the side, knee knocking into his leg.

You feel and see the stick descend and move your lashes delicately, quite adverse to the attitude you’re getting. The Russian is attentive and set on getting his task done, even if he despises it.

“What kind of a request is that?!”

“Hush!” He barks and you both try to glare at each other as the last of the mascara is bushed on. “Get out.”

You pull back and frown up at him.

“I’m sorry you think that your attitude is appropriate, Nikto.” With your nose in the air, your hands grapple for your laptop on the way out of your room and sit at the desk out in your loft. Tossing a stack of fabric to the floor and brushing down the surface.

Behind you, there’s a plain-colored sheet hung to the wall for conferences—and you make sure it’s in place as you plop down to your seat.

Nikto’s angry eyes bore into you from the doorway, which he slowly leans against and crosses his arms heavily.

He mutters under his breath in fast Russian, shaking his head as you unlock your laptop and log in, easily clicking where you need to go and pulling up your video call with twenty seconds to spare.

Alyona’s face appears first, looking to the side, and you send a soft smile before you unmute yourself.

“Feeling better?” The woman perks up, eyes coming to you. She beams.

“Солнышко!” You laugh, tilting your head. “No, no, forget about me, how are you?” Aly gives you her full attention. “I need to come over and visit, yes? We should have a girl’s night again. Just us.”

“I’m…alright,” you simply say, fast to reassure her of her worries. There was no need to burden the model with your fears. Not when she’s still living with her own. “And that might be a bit difficult on the ‘just us’ part, unfortunately.”

She sighs but is serious in her concern.

“New bodyguard, Seraph?” Nikto listens to everything from across the loft, and you glance up at him before you open your mouth to speak in the affirmative.

“Live-in.” Alyona thins her lips, but, surprisingly, doesn’t seem off-put.

“Perhaps that is good, hm? If it’s to keep you safe, I would be willing to deal with it.” Before you can admit that it’s not the worst idea in the world, though draining, three others pop into the call.

Yours and Alyona’s managers, and, of course, the CEO of AMA.

You have to hide your curse before it sneaks out of your mouth. Everyone greets one another, and you send polite smiles and hellos in return. Corporate professionalism a virus that sweeps your features into a mask of compliance and brain-dead agreements.

Kliment Fedorov, CEO of Allurement Modeling Agency, shows his large and round face in the very center of the screen; with tiny eyes like a fly and a bald head. He’s in his office.

The man calls your name and smiles wide, pure white teeth leaning more towards fake looking than just the results of frequent brushing.

“It is good to see both of my best girls getting along. No lasting marks, I hope?” You and Aly dart look.

“None, Sir.” You both answer, still smiling and falling in line. They only speak in English for your comfort—in your manager’s box, you see his translator lean into his ear and relay the words being let out.

“Good, good! This is great news. Seraph,” you perk up, Nikto from the back shuffling while looking around his surroundings. He picks at a piece of reflective fabric on a side table with his brutish fingers, twisting it before huffing and tossing it away. He snoops as if put off by the high-mass areas, used to order and cleanliness.

Not that it wasn’t clean, but outwardly it gave off a certain impression of clutter.

“How soon can you be back? We have had even more propositions offered because of this event.” Your lungs stutter. “Mrs. Solovyova and yourself are very profitable for the company at the current time; this only made your popularity better!”

Your manager, Kostya, spits off into his native tongue with its harsh edges. Nikto’s head shifts back your way but says nothing.

Profitable? Wanted? You can’t say you’re overly thrilled at the comments. Just like you can’t say you want to get back to work when the Stalker knows exactly where you’ll be.

Who could say when he would strike again? A day? A week? Going back to AMA would make the target on your back as large as a damn elephant.

Kliment waves a hand and your manager falls silent at the sheen of anger in his fly-eyes. He continues.

“Of course, AMA had to take precautions, Ladies.” Alyona shifts in her box on the screen, glancing to the side. “We were very close to having to terminate your deal with us. Such events are…ah, dangerous for our image.”

It’s like a punch to the gut you knew was coming. The only reason you were still employed was because of companies trying to profit off of the girls who beat the odds and survived a direct attack on one of their own.

You could already see the headlines—had seen the headlines.

Aly and you know the response you need to give.

“Thank you, Sir.” Smiles are stiff, but a sheet of pleasure washes Kliment’s face.

“Well, of course, my girls! I would never get rid of such beauties, no, no. This agency is your home—I love my women like my own.” His eyes stay on you, and your body shivers even miles away. “But lovely Seraph, again, when can we have you back? Everyone has been asking, yes? Photographers lining up! But of course, you’ll keep your assigned one.”

Everyone? You swallow down saliva thinking about crowds and the peering eyes.

“Uhm,” Nikto openly stares, and you glance up at him. He offers no help above a tilt of his head; arms over his chest. “W-when would you need me back, Sir. My calendar is always free for you.”

“Good! Tomorrow, then. Mrs. Solovyova?”

“...That works for me, Sir.”

“Perfect!” You sigh and close your eyes for a moment before the CEO jumps into business—your managers taking notes in preparation for scheduling and locations. “I will send the details over to your departments and good wishes to the companies, I’ll expect to hear of you both being in tomorrow.”

He leaves the call, but not without a smirk forming on his face.

The managers talk for a few moments, getting almost everything in order before they too leave.

Aly and you release a deep breath, both sagging. The other woman is first to speak.

“Bastard.” Nikto scoffs from across the room. You peek before you rub your head and nod in turn.

“A creep, one hundred percent.” Alyona sighs, and her palm acts as a headrest as she lays her chin on it. She licks her lips, face going hard.

“You don’t think that he…” Your brows tilt in confusion before you catch what she’s trying to say.

“No, Aly, it can’t be him.” She frowns. “T-that would be,” you force a laugh, hands beginning to spasm. Swiftly you move them under the desk. “That would be insane.”

Nikto takes his phone out of his pocket and taps something into the screen, feet spacing themselves in a display of a perfect soldier.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was, Солнышко.” You turn away for a moment. “Anyone could be at this point.”

“My mother said there was a break-in at the bakery before the explosion. Someone planted that bomb because they guessed on an off chance that we would go out.” You breathe sharply. “Do you know how insane that is? Anyone could have,” swiftly stopping your sentence, you shake your head to clear it. “It’s…the person who’s doing this can’t blend into normal life. It has to be obvious, and everyone’s missing it.”

“Easy, Little Seraph,” Alyona eases, showing you a hand to get you to come back to her. “We will figure this out, yes?”

A hand rubs along your face and you whisper out, “Okay.”

“I’ll see you and the new man tomorrow—you know you can call me with anything. Nikifor and I worry about you. Yekaterinburg is a dangerous place, regardless.” You have to smile at that, lightly chuckling. Aly tilts her head as her hair brushes her shoulders after a moment of quiet thinking. A lighter air spreads out like her voice from the speakers. “...Who did your makeup in so little time?”

“See you tomorrow!” You grab the end of the laptop and slam it closed as the woman yells out to you.

“Don’t fuck him on the first day!” Wanting to shrivel up and die, you avoid Nikto’s suddenly brutal gaze and quickly push a smile to your lips.

“S…she’s joking.” His pale eyes aren’t amused.

Nighttime is a strange affair between the two of you.

You jump at every strange noise—like Nikto rearranging his room better to his standards—as you think of dinner for two. Laying on the couch, back in your turtle neck, it’s hard to focus above the scrape of hardwood and the low grunts from above; the distant rhythmic stomp of feet.

You rub your eyes and groan low. This was going to be a task, even for your usually placid attitude.

“What the hell does a monster eat?” The comment is directed at the taxidermy deer on your wall as you move to stand. “Liver? The souls of my enemies?” You blink, pausing before you mumble. “Maybe that’s not so bad, now that I think about it.”

Your pantry was already sparse at best.

Tapping the cupboard, you settle on something that Alyona had taught you to make with her mother. Cabbage Soup—Schi or щи—low overall in calories but still filling when you know your limits; healthy as well as hardy. You mess with the bag of potatoes and peel out a few, turning and setting them down on the island.

With the dark night soon setting in, you push the automatic button on your wall and watch the curtains close the rest of the way with a soft buzzing sound. Sighing, you flick on the lights and get to work as the gray blobs of potatoes fall apart under your knife, set to the side.

Cooking, while you still had a complicated relationship with food, did truly make you calm down. The tremors eased up, your feet stopped moving so much—you even felt yourself getting hungry as the ingredients were roughly chopped and dropped into a pot to boil.

If you allowed yourself it, you wouldn’t have minded growing up to be a cook instead of some form of greed and envy. But the thought of that now made you lose your appetite entirely.

When you’re half done with your tiny bowl, water on the side with nothing else, Nikto stalks down the stairs.

He takes one look at your bowl and speaks lowly.

“Щи.” You hum, recognizing the word that Aly’s mother had said. He grunts, chest jerking as he comes around the island to the boiling pot; his back now to you. “You will starve with that small of a portion, Whelp.”

Blinking, you sip down some of the broth from your spoon and furrow your brow. That nickname still makes your eyelids narrow in slight disapproval, but you let it go.

“I don’t think so, Nikto. It’s the last bit of calories I need for the day.” Pale eyes watch over his shoulder, pulling smaller.

“I find that insulting.” His hand grabs the ladle, bringing it up to stare. The Russian’s shoulder blades pull out at the motion, the line of his spine most likely showing through his skin under all that gear. You should tell him it’s okay to take it off, but you highly doubt he ever does outside of sleep. “Pointless.”

“You try being a model,” you remark. “You’ve got the body for it, at least. I know a few people that would swoon over the height alone.”

Nikto’s visible skin pulls, biceps tense. “Swoon, Girl?” The accent makes it sound like a bark from a dog.

You take your last spoonful, covering your mouth with your hand as you speak.

“Like,” pausing, you swallow, “actually I don’t know what that means. Become emotionally affected, I guess?”

“I do not care if people become ‘emotionally affected’ by my height.” Nikto pulls a bowl from the cupboard—a large one. “Such things are below me. All that matters is the mission.”

“Sounds boring,” you huff. “Sour cream is in the fridge.”

The light from the machine greets you as the condiment is taken out and emptied into a nearly overflowing bowl of cabbage soup. Blinking at the amount of food that would burst your stomach if you ate it, you shrug and clean out the last of the broth by bringing the lip of the bowl to your mouth.

Nikto huffs, looking down at the soup. He pauses.

“Where is баранины?” Your confusion must be plainly stated on your face because he seems to clench his jaw and say through his teeth. “Lamb.”

“Alyona never made it with meat,” you answer, hopping off your stool and moving to put your dirty dishes in the sink. “But I’ve heard everyone makes it differently depending on where you grew up. Was that how your parents made it?”

When you turn back around he’s already walking away from you. Watching, wide-eyed at how silently he cleared the room, you make a small sound in the back of your throat as he disappears upstairs.

The silence wafts back in, only the small noise from the record player dancing in your ears.

You lick your lips for the remaining taste of food and clean up with a still-growling stomach, shaking your head at the strange character living with you. Hoping this doesn’t drag out any longer than it has to and you’re able to find the stalker soon, you hear your phone go off on the counter as you mull over your predicament.

After you put the last of the leftovers away, you pat your hands on your pants and reach for your device, flipping over the screen and reading what will probably be a text from Aly for tomorrow.

You pause.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

‘Why won’t you let me love you?’

Staring, whatever sense of normalcy you had from cooking was snatched away. The blood in your veins halts with a blockage of iron and fear. Instantaneously, adrenaline spikes, making your pupils go small and your jaw clench.

Hands shake. You almost drop your phone.

With a quick punch of your fingers, you delete the text and block the number—tossing your device back to the counter and moving away from it until your back hits the cupboards.

Spasming palms slap to the stone countertop, grip tight.

You stare at the phone for a very long time, hearing nothing but the dull drone of the piano, the sounds of the city outside, and the pulse of your veins. Static was in your ears.

Gasping for a sudden deep breath, you clear your throat and turn away to finish cleaning, your body unable to stay still.

That night, like the ones previous, you find trouble sleeping.

The room was only illuminated by the fairy lights you’d strung from the ceiling, a soft fade and reentry like twinkling stars hanging in a black sky. You stare at them with open eyes, laying on your back surrounded by a multitude of quilts and blankets—pillows that crowd with doughy insides.

Nikto was turning in his bed, and the movement was setting you on edge.

The PMC had ordered you to keep the door between your rooms open at night, in case something was happening he would hear you better. You held your tongue on the fact that if this creep managed to get into your penthouse then it was already over for you. Regardless, now you could hear every shift and grunt—every huff of annoyed air.

No doubt the Full bed in the spare room was too tiny for him, nothing compared to your King.

Sighing and covering your eyes with your forearm, you call out sleepily.

“Are you sleeping alright?” The shifting stops. You wait for a response but get none. “Nikto?” Nothing.

Sitting up, your large silk pajamas hang off one shoulder as you yawn; covering your mouth you stand and steady yourself on the oak bed frame. Standing so you can get your bearings, you decide to do what you normally do when you can’t sleep.

Grabbing your phone’s flashlight, you flick it on and head to the kitchen—being extra careful and taking the stairs at half the speed you normally would. In the kitchen you grab at the stacked teacups and pick one with flowers on the sides; giggling to yourself at the thought.

Magnolia Tea.

Its smell burns into your nostrils as you prepare it in near-darkness, like a beacon of light the liquid shimmers. You remember your mother making it for you after the accident—helping you to sleep and stave off the nightmares; the insomnia.

You finish your cup in the kitchen but bring the second back up with you. Spilling only a little onto the tea plate, you go through the main door to your room and then turn to the blackened opening of Nitko’s doorway.

“I made tea,” your voice echoes. But no sound.

Maybe he was already asleep now.

“No need to drink it, but it helps me when I can’t sleep. Magnolia, if you’re curious.” You chuckle, fairy lights illuminating your face. “Sorry, I’m keeping you up. I’ll leave it in the doorway, okay?”

Silence, but perhaps a tiny huff from inside the lion's den. Good or bad, you have no clue. Slipping back into bed, you try not to think about what you’re sleeping above—the letters from the Stalker’s gifts.

You’d never opened them, and you never would. Inside that lockbox is where they would stay.

Your phone vibrates on your nightstand, and even with the tea in your stomach, it is a long, long, time before your eyes flutter closed.

Yefim’s body dances like a puppet on a string, a shadowy figure pulling the cords and letting his decimated corpse sway; jewelry stapled into his burnt neck like a collar. A noose that your desperate fingers try to hang onto.

How long could you keep this game up?

TAGS:

@anna-banana27, @random-thot-generator, @midwesternwitchery, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @halfmoth-halfman, @alpineswinter, @blingblong55, @cryingnotcrying, @lxne20, @not-eclipse, @theecoffeebean, @phoenixhalliwell, @h3ll-guttz, @tiinkerbell, @genjilvr, @azush4rp, @escapefromrealitysm, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @finnigansxz, @cowboybaby2, @delaynew, @doggydale, @zapphir, @littlemisstrouble, @xxtmoe, @grizzersmamma, @andreas-river, @blogdddxx, @jade-jax, @emthegrace, @lovebugmsyd, @makariaspresence, @noisyprofessorhoundsalad-blog, @scythebot, @blueoorchid, @kra-rino4ka, @caramlizedtomatos, @strawberymilk,@frazie99, @homicidal-slvt, @develised, @crispyhusband, @cathnoneofyourbusiness, @ghostslittlegf, @generalcloudtraveler, @azsteris, @rvjaa, @creminemisinthehizzyforshizzboy, @comsyki

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trulyumai · 21 days

Text

Oh, Mr Mosses (Series)

Part One: (Author Note towards the end!)

Synopsis: You were fine with the job, the steps were easy enough but the secret of the D.D.D was getting harder and harder to contain. Each night a new entity would enter the building, each with its own horrific look and intentions. Just as you debate on leaving, a new resident has entered the premise; Francis Mosses who is absolutely entranced by your being. Not only that, it seems his “mimic,” is obsessed with you too.

Will you be as smitten of them as they are of you? In the end, who will you choose? Only time will tell.

Oh, Mr. Mosses I

It was simple: check the ID, match the numbers and appearance, ask them questions to form an alibi, push the red or green button. Yet, as she stared at the blood soaked neighbor, she reconsidered her options; the job at hand. He was scratched, bruised and covered with layers of dried blood.

The smell seeped through the glass somehow, spoiling her thoughts and pushing away any rhyme or reason. She gagged, carefully covered her mouth and started her task at hand.

“Mr. Peachman,” She began, a cough flooding her senses, “The… blood, are you okay?”

The said man did nothing but stare back, his unwavering eyes were bloodshot and wide. Finally letting a cough escape her she glanced towards the lockdown button, until a bloodied and battered hand slammed against the window in front of her.

“I'm real,” He said. “I'm REAL, REAL REAL REAL,”

“Mr Peachman-” “REAL, REAL REAL,”

Quickly she pushed the lockdown button, a metal screen blocked her vision from the man and she quickly slid her fingers over to the dial, calling the D.D.D as quick as her shaking hands would let her.

“Hello, yes, there's an intruder on the base floor, no, yes he is sealed, okay thank you.”

The wait was the worst part. How eerily silent everything got and then a knock. Three taps were signaled on the metal casing to let her know the job had been done, the neighbor had been confiscated.

With a sigh she leaned forward, just until her forehead pressed against the wooden desk, scratching it lightly with each intake of breath she let in. It was hard, keeping this from the other residents. Sometimes they would ask, question why there would be random alarms, random screaming. She would start to sweat, always responding with the same thing. “Ah well we are in a busy city, afterall,” most of them would take that answer, although hesitantly.

There was a new face amongst the regulars, he was quiet she noticed. Most of the time she wasn't on schedule when he ran through, but she would see glances of him from time to time, always leaving before her shift. In all white he had a somewhat of a thin build, his shoulders were strong, firm against the buttoned up shirt that he seemed to wear everyday. His eyes were tired, more so than hers and she wondered if that was because of his job or him.

The night had started off bleak, a neighbor came in with sewn up eyes and a mouth, she didn't even attempt to ask it a question before shutting down the doors and calling the D.D.D. They didn't do as clear a job as they normally would, splatters of blood littered the wall in front of the main desk and she winced. She'd have to clean that up later.

Rubbing her temples she let her eyes close, maybe within the month she could afford to quit, to move and find another job, another life. Maybe she coul-

“Mmm. Hello.” A deep and somber voice broke her out of her thoughts, with a jolt she glanced up, only to be met with tired eyes and a light frown. “Ah, hello Mr,” She glanced at the schedule

“Mosses,” he muttered.

“Mr. Mosses, yes, it's nice to meet you, I always see you around but, it seems are schedules are always the opposite.” She was rambling, a bad habit she found when reading and comparing ID numbers.

“Yes, it's nice to meet you.” Seeing nothing wrong she finally glanced back up to meet his gaze.

“Everything looks in order Mr. Mosses, you're free to go!” She smiled, slotting the paper through the thinly made entrance.

“Mmm, thank you.” Without meaning to, his fingers collided with hers, his fatigue was weighing on him and he could feel his face flush with embarrassment. With his paper back in his wallet he shuffled awkwardly before returning his gaze on the woman. She was pretty, he noticed, too pretty for a place like this. Her hair perfectly framed her face, her eyes, although tired were beautiful, he couldn't stop himself from staring until a clear of her throat broke him of the trance.

“Are you okay, Mr. Mosses?” He winced, he hated that name, although it sounded pretty coming from her lips.

“Francis,” He whispered, unable to break free of her, her arms, hands, neck, jesus those-

“Francis,” She smiled. He swore he could die happily right there, in that miserable outfit with his miserable job, he could go happily as long as he could look at her.

“Have a good night, hope to see you soon!”

Walking away he felt shame, said nothing but nodded his head as he mashed the elevator button. All he did was stare like a freak, someone like her would never be romantically involved with him. He’s a milkman for god's sake, and yes, they're still around.

Walking to his floor he swore right then and there, he would change his whole schedule if he could just see her for seconds at a time.

A/N:

Hi everyone, I hope you liked the first part to the series! I love this game and it’s mysterious neighbors so I wanted to take a shot and write about everyone’s favorite milkman. I’m trying to write him to be obsessed yet in love, I don’t want it to be overwhelming or weird. A quick warning this series will get more heated and violent, as the mimics do have murderous intent.

Thanks for all your support and the next part will be up soon! Much love, TrulyUmai

#thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #horror #x reader #Francis Mosses x reader #game #horror game #fanfiction #TNMN #romance

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therealdogsinmymind · 19 days

Text

✩ My Rival (All Mine) ✩

18+ MDNI

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

AO3 Link | Word Count: 2,394 | Chapters 1/1

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Synopsis: Sung Jinwoo pisses you off but maybe you've you've finally found a way to ruffle his feathers a little bit.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo/Reader, Sung Jinwoo/You

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Tags: Reader POV, Gender Neutral Reader, Virgin Sung Jinwoo, Jealous Jinwoo, Rivals to Lovers, Bickering, Kissing, Neck Kissing, Tenderness, Light Angst, Miscommunication, Conflict Resolution, Happy Ending

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Picture from @oo0mika0oo ‘s icon edits

“You piss me off,” you say under your breath, fully intending for him to hear it. He always fucking does.

You don’t like Jinwoo, you never have. Not before you awakened as an S-Rank hunter and you saw him on TV and certainly not now that you know him personally. He’s got shitty vibes and an even worse personality. He’s closed off, and you can smell his fucking god complex from a mile away.

“Good to know,” Jinwoo says coolly, taking a sip of his water. You don’t know why he needs it, he hasn’t even broken a sweat, despite the fact that he’s been running circles around everyone in the training arena for hours. Just to show off, you suppose. He’s kicked almost everyone’s ass so far, sans for yours. You really don’t feel like going up against him though, you’d like your ass to remain un-kicked, thank you. There’s also some cards you’d rather keep close to your chest; but god you wish you could rub his face in the dirt just once.

As Jinwoo lingers against the wall next to you, head turned just barely so you’re in his line of sight, you grow increasingly agitated. Why the fuck did he come over here? Why is he looking at you? What’s his deal? He’s always doing this, he’ll follow you around just to piss you off. You swear he started going to the only coffee shop you like just to torment you with his extremely pretty, extremely punchable face. As your irritation reaches max cap you decide it’d be better to just take a deep breath and walk away, you don’t need to get into a pissing contest with this guy, you’re better than that. You’ll be taking your leave now.

You spring up, intent on heading for the door when Jinwoo calls after you, ”You don’t want a round?” Yeah, no.

You turn around briefly, still walking backwards towards the door. ”With you? No. I can think of better things to do with my time.” You take a little pleasure in the way Jinwoo looks slightly shocked at your rebuff. You turn around and pick up the pace, hoping to get the hell out of dodge.

Suddenly Jinwoo’s in front of you, blocking the door, having somehow appeared out of the shadows. ”Fuck!” You startle, you didn’t know he could do that, is there anything he can’t do?

“The better things, what are they?” Jinwoo asks, staring at you intently as if your face will reveal the answer.

”What?”

”What are the better things?” He repeats.

”I don’t know, dude? Get laid? Not that you would know anything about that.” It doesn’t even occur to you until his face twists, all sorts of emotions that you’ve never seen on him. They mar his usually such impassive features; he’s jealous. You said it as a joke, really more than anything wanting to call him a virgin, but this is too good. You have to hold in a laugh, it’s almost unthinkable, you have an antagonistic relationship with him at best. It intrigues you though, you wonder if you could push his buttons like this, he’s usually so unconcerned with others.

When Jinwoo doesn’t reply right away you take that as your cue, needling him, “Anyway- I do actually want to get fucked sometime today, so if you’ll excuse me…” You have no such plans but you wave your hand at him dismissively anyway, just to be a bitch.

His face stays twisted but he doesn’t otherwise react so you push harder. Leaning in close to him and speaking low so as to not be overheard, “Unless you want to see to that.” It’s just to throw him off his game, you just want to see him gape like a fish, or maybe sputter, curse you out, anything. You’ve thought about what Jinwoo might be like in bed before of course, who hasn’t, a simple curiosity if you will. That’s neither here nor there, you’re truly just aiming to rile him up at this point; surely any second now he’ll reel back and run away.

Instead Jinwoo grabs your wrist and pulls you out of the training arena. All that comes out of your mouth is a grunt, too worried about making a scene. Although maybe you should, where the hell is he taking you and why? He says nothing, simply dragging you down the hallway until he seems to sense an empty room where he promptly tosses you in; and for all your agility and grace you still land right on your ass. Great.

He shuts the door behind him just as you’re springing up, ready for a fight. That’s the only reason you can think he dragged you out here, to kick your ass away from prying eyes, the room is kind of small though, maybe he’s just that overconfident. You decide you won’t let him throw the first punch but it’s too late, Jinwoo’s fast, faster than you. You’ve barely had any real combat training as a new hunter and he’s the real deal. He’s in your space before you can even blink and you’re sure he’s about to beat you to a pulp. However no pain comes, there’s only a horrible sense of too-quick motion and then you’re seated firmly, feeling a bit dizzy. It takes you all but a moment to realize you’re sitting on Jinwoo’s lap, he seems to have scooped you up and sat down on a couch; you must be in someone’s office.

“I’ll be seeing to that now,” Jinwoo says in a low voice, giving a healthy pause before he moves at all, perhaps to let your brain catch up with his words.

It sure tries its best, running at a million miles a minute. You think about the fact that you hate Jinwoo, he’s fucking annoying, he’s stupid as shit. Your mind screams at you that he’s too powerful, it's dangerous, you shouldn’t get close. He’s too confident even if he can back it up, it’s kind of hot. You ignore that last part, you don’t who said that. However you also have eyes, he’s really fucking good looking and maybe if Jinwoo wants to fuck you so bad you can make him work for it a little.

You slip out of his arms and off of his lap. You don’t even dream of laughing at the poorly concealed heartbroken look on his face; it’s actually kind of sad to see. You click your tongue before sliding back onto his lap but this time straddling him.

“Come now, don’t make that face, I'm just getting comfortable,” you coo at him, stroking your thumb across Jinwoo’s cheek, it’s oddly tender for what the two of you have. He just looked so sad. He leans into it and it makes you want to be nice to him again, disgustingly enough. You lean in and give Jinwoo a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, deciding to kiss him more when he sigh softly, happily. You’ve never heard him make that noise, it’s entirely new to you, you wonder what kinds of other new sounds you can drag from him. More kisses, one on each of his cheeks, and again on the corners of his lips, missing the true mark purposefully. Jinwoo audibly swallows and his arms wrap loosely and hesitantly around your back. It appears all of his earlier confidence has sapped right out of him. You wonder if you were right on the money when you said he doesn’t know anything about getting laid.

You press a kiss to his jaw and linger there. “Jinwoo,” you whisper softly against his skin and he shudders. That’s cute, but you must stay focused, you have to ask, “Have you done this before?”

Jinwoo stiffens, “Define…’this’...”

“Fuck someone, baby.” He whines a little at the pet name and you make mental note of that. “Have you ever fucked someone before? Been with anyone? Made out? Kissed? What are we working with here?”

He clears his throat and turns his head away from you as his cheeks go red. You groan and drop your forehead onto his shoulder. You were just going to mess with him a little, kiss him a bit and leave him wanting more; but there’s no shot in hell you’re going to fuck up his first time. He deserves someone better than you for that, someone he actually likes. You have to ignore the way that thought stabs you in the heart so badly you can barely breathe.

��I’m sorry, baby,” you say, your forehead still resting against his shoulder, “We can’t do this.”

“Oh,” Jinwoo says, voice flat, devoid of any emotion, truly reminiscent of the closed-off man that you so often see. His hands fall away from your back and you wince at the way he shuts down.

“Hey,” you pour as much emotion into your voice as possible, “I promise it’s not you.” You tuck your head into Jinwoo’s neck and squeeze him tightly. You wonder if he can still breathe like this, you feel like you can’t despite nothing restricting you. “When you find someone you like you’ll be glad we didn’t do this.” He says nothing so you pull back to take a hesitant look at his face. Jinwoo looks angrier than you’ve ever personally seen him.

“Already did.”

He grabs you by the face with both hands and before you can figure out if you heard him right, Jinwoo crushes your lips together too hard and too fast. However once your lips are touching he hesitates for a second, unsure of what to do next. Well, apparently you heard him right, and his hasty kiss answers all of your follow up questions about what he said, go figure.

You can’t just leave him hanging, so you kiss him back like your life depends on it. All in all it’s a crappy kiss. Your teeth clack together painfully, he can’t seem to find a rhythm with you, and you bump noses incessantly too. Despite all this you can’t fucking stop kissing him; you don’t think you could even if the world was ending. Jinwoo pulls back after a bit, gasping, apparently no one ever taught him how to breathe.

You grab Jinwoo by his hair, “Breathe through your nose, dipshit.” Using your hold on his hair you pull him back into another kiss, delighting in his shocked moan. This kiss is slightly better, he seems to be learning quickly. Jinwoo wraps his arms around you again and grasps at the back of your shirt, you worry if he pulls any harder he might tear it. That could be hot though, an idea for later.

This time you pull back first and Jinwoo emits an uncharacteristically pathetic whine in response. “Shh.”

You press kisses up his jaw, before sucking a mark directly below his ear. You’ve never known anyone to leave a scratch on Jinwoo, maybe you’ll be the first. The thought fuels something new and feral in you. You begin covering his throat in as many marks as you possibly can, something delightful burning inside of you when you see each new bruise forming. You want him covered, you want everyone to know that this stupid man, this dangerous, closed off man is yours. Nobody else is allowed to see Jinwoo a mess like this, this is for your eyes only. That’s all you’ve ever really wanted, isn’t it?

“Jinwoo…” you whisper, your breath fanning across the spit-slick marks you’ve just made on his throat.

Jinwoo shudders beneath you, “Yeah?”

“We are not fucking in a stranger’s office.” Just on so many levels that is not happening.

He sags into the couch like a puppet that just had all of its strings cut. “I truly hate you sometimes…” he says with absolutely no malice, in fact it sounds kind of whiny and you have to hold in a giggle.

“Until about ten minutes ago, I was under the impression that you hated me all the time.”

Jinwoo scoffs and runs his hand up your side gently, “I don’t hate you ever, you’re just really annoying.”

You rub a thumb over one of his blossoming bruises, admiring your hard work. “Awww thanks, you’re also a real fuckin’ peach.”

“I do try.”

You roll your eyes, patting him on the head now that you know he won’t kill you for doing that, “Come on, you can fuck me in my bed later. I’m dying to know if I can fit your dick in my throat.” The last bit is tacked on with a pointed wiggle of your hips, just so you can feel Jinwoo’s cock straining against his pants. God, he’s such a virgin, it’s painfully cute. You absolutely would give him a quick hand job here just to help him out but it’s so much funnier not to.

Jinwoo’s hips twitch and he groans deeply, the sound reverberating in his chest, “Fuck you-”

“Happy to help!” Being a hindrance is your favorite activity, especially when it’s Jinwoo you’re hindering. You can’t believe you’ve finally found his weak spot.

“Yeah, I’m sure you are…”

“Aww, I’m sorry baby,” you say, voice thick with condescension, “I promise I’ll make it up to you later, just be patient.” You press a quick kiss to his lips before you slip off his lap. He sighs, folding over and dropping his head into his hands.

“You’re a nightmare…”

“Yeah but I think you might like that about me… Just a hunch.” You’re not actually sure if that’s true or not. You’re not sure of anything anymore. Really where the two of you stand now is a total mystery, but the soft laugh Jinwoo warms your chest, and that’s something isn’t it?

With a soft tone Jinwoo says, “Get out of here, menace.”

“Yeah, yeah… Hey- see you later?” Your words come out as a question, quiet and hopeful.

He sits up and looks at you, the corners of his lips quirked up. “See you later,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Of course, you almost forgot, ever since you came here it’s been that way hasn’t it? Where you go he follows and vice versa, he’s your rival after all, what would you do without him?

#solo leveling #sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #only i level up #solo leveling x reader #sung jin woo #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung headcanons #jinwoo sung x you #jinwoo x reader #solo leveling fanfic #solo leveling headcanons #solo leveling jinwoo #Zephyrs Stories

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joshhutchersonsgf · 2 months

Text

“million dollar man.” a derek danforth fic ♡

an: smut starts after the third separator for all you horny people (this: ♡•♡•♡)

“mrs. danforth? your phone is ringing.”

her phone vibrates in your hand as you walk toward the conference room, only a few inches behind the president.

being the assistant of the woman in charge of an entire country was not an easy job. her orders were often strict and precise, and dealing with her son was a whole other story. it wasn’t uncommon for her to ask you to “take care” of him when he’s around, unfortunately. you loved your job, of course, but some things (or some people) made it hard to enjoy.

mrs. danforth takes her phone from your hand and answers it with concern.

“yes, derek, what do you want?” her stern strict voice questions.

damn it.

you pray to whatever god was up there that you didn’t have to deal with another one of his messes he can’t seem to clean up himself. you continue your path behind mrs. danforth, hoping to hear what derek has to say.

“i’m at the beach house. you’re welcome to join if you behave.” mrs. danforth tells derek.

you internally curse yourself for ever agreeing to this job in the first place.

she goes quiet for a moment, taking in what derek has to say. your eyes don’t leave the back of her head as she continues her signature strut through the hall. with every step she takes, she radiates nothing but confidence.

the guards around the both of you seem to pay no mind to her or the phone, and you begin to wonder if your body language has changed at all since mrs. danforth took the call. you sigh and roll your shoulders back, trying to keep perfect posture with every step.

“fine. no drugs.. give my assistant the details. love you. i have to go.” mrs. danforth quickly hangs up the phone and stops when she gets to the room filled with important people.

she turns to you and places her phone in your hands, then says, “derek’s joining me this weekend, help me keep him sober for the party.”

“yes ma’am, i love babysitting.” you smile, amusing yourself. she nods you off and puts a smile on her face, turning back to the people she’s here to talk to.

“madam president, this is..” you begin to introduce the people in a sorted line, all eager to meet your boss.

you feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and when you leave the conference room, you see multiple texts from derek. he informs you about what time he’s arriving, who will all be with him, etc. you roll your eyes at the text and put your phone back in your pocket without replying.

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

on the day of derek’s arrival, mrs. danforth is no where to be found. she told you she had an important meeting in the afternoon and she was sure to be back before the party started. did she really leave you to take care of derek by yourself?

you wait for derek and the others outside of the beach house, the sun shining in your eyes. you look up, eyes squinting, and see derek’s private jet flying overhead. you look back down and try to look as professional as possible, hoping he could take you seriously.

when the jet lands, you put your hand above your eyes to block the sun. you definitely should have brought sunglasses.

you scan the aircraft for anything you should take note of. after the guards gets out, derek slowly steps out with an unopened bottle of vodka in hand.

you take a moment to really take in his appearance, and you could almost laugh. he was wearing a green suit with a yellow and greenish button up underneath, and his hair had been dyed blonde at the tips. he’s always had a “different” sense of style, but this really takes the cake.

derek walks up to you and looks you up and down, then looks around the property. you felt small when he looks at you like that, but remind yourself that you’re supposed to be in charge. you straighten your back, and follow his gaze around the beach house.

“where’s my mother?” he questions, still searching.

“she has an important meeting but she should be back before the guests arrive. your mom wouldn’t want you to have this, anyways.” you reply, taking the bottle from his hand.

“well if she’s not here, then it doesn’t matter, does it sweetheart?” he says, smirking. you roll your eyes at the nickname and turn around to walk away.

“no, but when she gets here,” you start, turning your head to the side to make sure he hears every word, “it will be my fault. so until your mommy gets here, i’ll be in charge.”

derek scoffs at your answer, but when he sees how serious you are, he frowns.

“come on, she won’t be here for a few hours. let a guy have some fun,” he drags out, hoping you’ll give in.

you laugh at his words, and it must really get to him. but before he can open his mouth add any stupid remark, you’re both happily greeted by the people at the front of the beach house waiting to take his belongings.

“here, take this,” you say, giving the bottle of vodka to the woman closest to you and leaning in, “and put it somewhere he can’t find it.” you add in a quiet voice that you know derek won’t hear.

you turn back to him and smile innocently, then begin telling the woman you would like everything to be.

“what the fuck? that was some expensive wine, you know,” derek says to you. you couldn’t care less about the price of it, as long as it wasn’t in his hands before mrs. danforth got here. you were given an order, and you weren’t going to disobey it.

“derek?” you begin, completely ignoring his words. “tell this nice lady where to put your stuff, hm?”

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

derek seems absolutely miserable and he’s only been here an hour. you confiscated everything his mother ordered you to take the second he walked in the door, and of course he tried to fight to keep every last thing.

“i don’t understand what the big deal is. my mom won’t be here for a while, anyways.” he argues, watching you search through his last suitcase, frowning when you pull out a small bag of white powder.

“your mom may not be here, but i will.” you correct, turning behind you to give the last of his “hidden items” to the maid.

you glance over derek’s shoulder to check the clock behind him. you still have time until mrs. danforth gets here, so you might as well start getting ready.

“i’m going to go change, stay here.” you tell derek, smiling when he furrows his eyebrows at your order.

“i’m not a dog, stop ordering me around like one.” he grumbles with his arms crossed.

you give him a toothy smile and turn away, making your way up the stairs to the room you’re staying in.

you open up the door and immediately start searching through the top drawer of your dresser. you wanted to look nice, of course, but not too nice. you’ve done nothing but wear your absolute best business attire everyday for as long as you can remember with this job, and you finally got to wear something different.

you find the perfect dress that fits your body well, and you smile at your reflection in the mirror, seeing how well the dress looks on you. it’s been forever since you’ve let yourself wear anything other than the best, so wearing this felt so freeing. even though it was still pretty nice, it wasn’t business attire.. and you loved that. you take one last look at yourself then walk down the stairs.

you go into the main room and see derek sitting on the couch, talking to one of his colleagues.

you would have to be blind if you missed derek’s reaction.

derek’s eyes widen the moment he sees you and you thought they would pop out of his head. he sets down the glass in his hand after he chokes on the contents inside.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer.” you taunt, sitting down next to him on the sofa.

derek scoffs at your comment and starts picking at the side of his face, another one of his habits you didn’t like.

“don’t do that,” you scold, swatting his hand away, “it will leave scars.”

“and why do you care what i do, sweetheart?” derek questions, even though he already put his hand down.

you roll your eyes at the nickname he knows you hate, throwing your head back against the cushion. derek’s friend dismisses himself and begins greeting others the hallway, leaving you and derek alone. you find yourself in the company of derek, finally enjoying a private moment together, free from any outside disturbances.

you glance over to derek to see him already staring at you, then quickly looks away when you make eye contact.

“are you seriously going to wear.. that?” you ask derek, pulling on his green blazer. he takes offense to your comment, ripping his shirt out of your grip.

“calm down, derek. i’m just kidding.” you say, smiling widely at him. he folds his arms and turns away from you like a child. you laugh at his reaction and close your eyes, leaning your head on your hand that lays on the armrest. the silence was nice.

your eyes furrow when you realize how quiet derek is being. you’ve known derek for as long as you’ve had this job, and him being quiet was extremely rare, almost impossible. the silence was wonderful, and you could actually almost tolerate derek.

your eyes flutter open and you see derek staring at the wall, deep in thought. you observe the way the soft glow from the sun outside the window dances across his features. it would be impossible to not realize how beautiful derek was. sure, he had an .. interesting way of expressing himself through his outfits (or hair), but his features were mesmerizing. you look down at his hands that now rest in his lap, and you can’t help your mind from wandering.

no, you can’t think about that kind of stuff with your boss’s son, you thought. but you really can’t help it. attempting to break the silence, you clear your throat to get derek’s attention.

“what are you thinking about, sweetheart?” you say, using his own stupid nickname for you against him. like you pulled him out of a trance, he looks up at you and shakes his head.

“sorry” he apologizes, cracking his knuckles against his thigh.

“i’ve never seen you so quiet, derek. what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” you question, suddenly gaining a new found sense of confidence.

derek cocks an eyebrow at you and smirks, but before he can say anything, a housekeeper walks into the room you and derek are situated in.

“excuse me, mrs. danforth is here.”

you thank the woman for informing you both and look over at derek, seeing that he’s already standing up. derek quickly dismisses himself and you sigh, the room feeling empty without his presence.

soon, the party will start, you thought to yourself. did mrs. danforth seriously expect you to be able to keep a man like derek danforth away from any drugs for the entire duration of the party? your tongue plays with the side of your mouth as you think, soon following derek outside.

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

once guests started arriving, you realized how out of place you felt. you wanted to enjoy the party on your own, but instead you have to watch derek like a child. you have not let derek out of your sight for the whole party, but when you realize you haven’t seen him for more than a few moments to get a drink, your heart sinks.

you quickly search around the party, desperately trying to find him. you ask people if they’ve seen him, and when they shake their heads, you feel a heat rush to your face.

why did you have to be his personal babysitter? if he can’t stay sober for one weekend, that’s completely his fault. it shouldn’t be your responsibility to constantly keep up with a twenty eight year old man all the time.

you stop in the middle of the crowded room and take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. when you spot derek, you’re not sure if you’re happy or angry. you see him leaning against the doorframe, talking to a girl you don’t recognize. feeling upset and relieved emotions intertwine, you walk over to him and grab his arm tightly. he jumps at the touch, but when he turns around and sees who it is, his eyebrows furrow.

“can’t you see i’m in the middle of a conversation?” derek asks, slightly annoyed that you interrupted him.

“i need to talk to you,” you scowl, completely avoiding his question. before he can pick a fight, you practically drag him by his arm into the hallway. you pull him into the first empty room you find and slam the door behind you, locking it just in case anyone decides to interrupt.

“what the hell, derek?” you scold, annoyed that he wandered from you, “why did you walk away?”

“i’m not some child that needs to be told what to do, I’m a grown man.” derek snaps at you.

even though you’re annoyed with him, you can’t help the laugh that falls from your lips at his words.

“what’s so funny? do you know how embarrassing it feels to have someone have to constantly watch me like i’m some child?” derek throws his hands in the air dramatically and stares at you sharply, waiting for a reply.

you honestly didn’t know what to say. you will admit that you’ve only thought about yourself today, and didn’t bother to think about how it made derek feel.

you walk closer to him and study his features for a moment. you see the way his jaw clenches slightly, and how there’s a hint of red in his face. you didn’t mean to upset him, but with his child-like temper, it’s really not hard to push his buttons.

“you know, i wouldn’t have to babysit you if you could just listen to what your mom says.” you argue, pointing a finger in his face.

derek’s voice is now filled with irritation and annoyance,“you might be my moms assistant, but I’m the one that decides what i want to do and what i don’t want to do. i don’t need to take orders from someone who only cares about what my mother has to say, not about me.” derek’s eyes narrow as he keeps eye contact with you, not wanting to look away.

your eyes widen as you look into his, shocked at what he had to say. you open your mouth but no words come out, and derek scoffs at you.

“don’t have anything to say?” derek taunts.

you stare into his eyes for a few moments more, then look at the ground in defeat. you look to see derek’s hands clenched, his nails digging into the palm.

“i do care about you, derek. but you have to realize that if your mom tells me to do something, i have to do it. it’s my job.” you explain, voice more calm than before. derek rolls his eyes and sighs.

“did my mother tell you that she’ll give you a raise if you pretend to care about me?” he asks, annoyance lingering in his voice. your face scrunches up at his harsh words. you couldn’t believe he thought so lowly of you.

“this might sound crazy to you, derek, but not everything is about money. i’m actually a real person with genuine feelings.”

the tension in the room is almost suffocating, and you can’t stand to see derek annoyed.

derek opens his mouth to say something back, but before he can get one word out, you cut him off with a kiss. he pushes you back slightly, confused as to why you just did that. embarrassment washes over you but before you dwell on it, derek grabs your face roughly and begins to kiss you again.

you knew that derek would not be a gentle man, but the way he was kissing you had you convinced your lips would be sore the next morning. he bites your bottom lip aggressively, pulling your lips apart so he can put his tongue inside.

derek groans when he first feels your tongue brush against his, feeling his cock twitch in his pants. he wastes no time exploring your mouth harshly, like the only oxygen left in the world was from your lips.

derek’s lips tastes slightly sweet and you swore you could get drunk on the taste.

even though his kiss was aggressive, he begins to rub soothing circles with his thumbs on the side of your face. the feeling of his calloused hands holding your face while he was kissing you had your mind racing and begging for more.

he pulls away from your lips, looking at how your lips are already swollen. he puts his bottom lip between his teeth, staring at you thoughtfully. derek softly kisses your lips a few more times, contradicting the previous kisses he left. he grabs you by your hips and drags you to the bed, pushing you on your back. you gasp at the impact, not expecting to be manhandled like the way he is handling you now.

“don’t know how long i’ve been wanting to do this,” derek whispers and crawls over you, situating himself between your legs. derek reconnects your lips again and it feels even better than before. his kisses are so hungry and desperate for yours. you felt like forgot how to breathe.

this is wrong, you thought to yourself. this is all wrong. you shouldn’t be making out with your boss’s son under her own roof. your mind keeps telling you to stop and leave him there, but your body is aching for his touch. if it was so wrong, why did it feel so good?

derek’s hips slowly rut against your clothed cunt and you swear you’re on cloud nine. everything was moving so fast and it felt like the room was spinning. you whine loudly against his lips and he swallows your sounds.

after breaking the kiss, he brings his head down and begins to suck dark circles into your neck. you put your hand in his hair and start playing with his bleached curls, tugging lightly on the ends.

when derek finds your sweet spot just above your collarbone, he abuses it with tongue and sucks on it harshly. while he does so, you accidentally pull his hair a bit too hard, but to your surprise, he doesn’t get upset. instead, he groans loudly and his hips jolt forward aggressively.

you smile at this new discovery and start pulling his curls harder, which quickly turns him into a mess. he can’t help the moans that come out of his mouth with every pull while simultaneously pushing his hips down to meet yours. he felt like a horny teenager, dry humping you for pleasure.

even though he didn’t want to stop, he also didn’t want to cum completely untouched. he wanted to hold out for as long as possible, but considering how much he’s daydreamed about this happening, he knew he wouldn’t last as long as he wanted to.

derek pulls away from your neck and looks back up at you, staring at your face in complete admiration. your lips are formed into a puffy pout while your eyebrows are pinched together softly. you looked so needy like this, and he was thankful he wasn’t the only one. he looks down at your body underneath him, eyes locking on the way your hips are angled up.

derek brings hand down to your aching cunt and pulls your underwear to the side. he runs his middle finger through your folds and his eyes widen.

“jesus christ, you’re this wet for me?” he smirks, his confidence skyrocketing.

you wanted to argue with him, but all you could do was shudder when his calloused finger began to circle your clit with slow, antagonizing circles. you didn’t want him to see how good he made you feel, so in an attempt to silence your moans, you put your bottom lip between your teeth. all this does is make derek move his finger faster. your mouth falls open in an ‘o’ shape, and derek feels accomplished when a loud moan leaves your lips.

derek replaces his middle finger with his thumb on your clit and slowly slides his middle finger in.

“you’re so fucking tight,” derek groans, watching as your pussy swallows his finger. he gives you a moment to adjust before he curls it a few times, perfectly hitting the spongey spot inside of you.

you pull him up by his collar and kiss him again, trying to hide your moans. derek muffles every sound you make and loving every second of it. he wishes he could hear every sound from you, but knew you wouldn’t let him hear you easily.

you were stubborn and he knew that. you didn’t want derek to know that you’ve been thinking about this as long as he has, but when he adds another finger, you’re falling apart.

his fingers feeling perfect inside of you, with his thumb massaging your clit. derek pulls away from your lips and looks back down at his hand, then back up at you.

“can i taste you?” derek asks, searching your face for approval.

you swore you could cum from hearing those words alone.

“yes, please. you whine a bit too loud, then quickly cover your mouth with your hand.

“you want the whole house to hear how much of a whore you are for the president’s son?” derek mocks.

you moan against your hand at his words, eyes rolling back when he curls his fingers in a certain way inside of you. you push his head down to your cunt, begging for him to eat you out. derek pulls his fingers out of you for a moment to pull your underwear off, and the coolness in the air made your hips jolt.

derek smirks at your action, then places his head between your thighs. you look down at him to see him already staring at you.

you push his head against your pussy, moaning when his nose brushes against your clit. you take your hand off your mouth and move both of your hands into his hair, guiding him through it.

derek licks your pussy from your cunt up to your clit a few times, tasting you.

“you taste so fucking good.” he mumbles against you, and the vibrations of his words have you a mess. you knew you wouldn’t last long with him like this, especially after he fingered you earlier.

you wrap your legs around his head tightly, trapping him between your thighs. he seems to pay no mind though, since he just continues to lap your pussy like his life depended on it.

the way derek sucks on your clit sends a shiver down your spine. you feel the bed shaking slightly, and when you look down, you see his hips rutting against the bed. your eyes widen when you see that, surprised that he can get off so easily just by eating you out. the thought has you clenching around nothing as he continues to suck on your clit, using his tongue to flick it harshly.

you arch your back against the bed, throwing your head back against the pillows. you pull on derek’s bleached curls and he moans against your clit loudly.

you cry out at the feeling, pushing your hips against his face. derek lets you get yourself off with his tongue, the bed only shaking more due to derek’s movements.

you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, taking in the feeling. derek’s stubble is rubbing against your thighs, and you wondered if they would be marked. you didn’t want to think about anything other than the feeling of derek eating you out though, so you quickly push the thought of your mind.

derek’s hands are gripping your outer thighs tightly, leaving crescent moon shaped marks.

the sound of the bed shaking is now evident, you and derek both rutting your hips for pleasure.

“derek— fuck, i’m gonna cum.” you whimper, hoping derek can hear you with how tightly your squeezing his head between your legs. derek only speeds up his movements against your clit, sucking on your clit harshly. he takes his two fingers he previously had inside of you and pushes them back in. the stretch around his fingers felt perfect.

he curls them up into you at a quickening pace, even moving them in and out of you for more stimulation.

after a few more curls of his moving fingers, you’re gushing around them. you lock derek’s hair in your fingers and pull up, moving his head in the way you want to. derek groans loudly and ruts his hips down a few more times. one of his hands is shaking on your thigh as the other continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

you see stars with how hard you came, completely going limp against the bed. derek doesn’t slow down, his tongue perfectly overstimulating your clit. soon though, it becomes too much, and you’re pulling him off of you.

derek slowly pulls his fingers out of you, and you whine at the loss. he plops down next to you, breathing heavily. your slick is coating his face, and he looks beautiful. his curls were now all messed up due to you constantly pulling at them. there was a thin layer of sweat coating his forehead, and he was shaking slightly. you kiss him again, but not like before. you kiss him slowly, enjoying the moment. you gasp against his lips when you taste yourself on his tongue. derek lets you take control of the kiss, following your touch as you explore his mouth, continuing to taste yourself.

you pull away, putting your forehead against derek’s. you close your eyes, letting yourself fully relax.

“thank you,” you whisper to derek, who seems to be just as tired as you are. you look down at his pants, seeing a wet stain on the front of them. your eyes widen and derek follows your gaze, gasping when he sees what he did.

did he seriously cum in his pants while eating you out?

taglist: @xcherryerim @laurrrelise

#Spotify #josh hutcherson #derek danforth #derek danforth smut #joshhutchersonsgf #josh hutcherson smut #mike schmidt #billy burn #five nights at freddy's #josh futturman #josh hutcherson is my man #five nights at freddys movie #fnaf #clapton davis #mike schimdt x reader #derek danforth x reader #mdni

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