"look guys, i found these brownies, it looks so bomb." gojo saunters back to chair, the chat exploding with people addressing his height.
"i might as well answer some questions because suguru abandoned me." gojo pouts completely disregarding the fact that it was 3 am and people had lives outside streaming.
@diehondblaff: so like are we going to discuss how messy your room is orr?
@madiprogs: you're always eating sweets🥱
@d1alucardglazer: how you stay muscular is a wonder to me, your dentist must work overtime.
@4soggygrapes: omg omg i love brownies😋
@beeswaxinatrap: ^oh cause we were wondering
@bigrahgama: ngl gojo should just put the cakes down
@toejivoete: where'd you get that?
@kimdraculadft: how tall is this bigfoot 😭😭😭
@erenja2hard: genuinely why does my girlfriend like you?
@cellophaanepain: so like when are you leaking suguru's number 🥹
"notice how you guys always beg for q and a's but you never asked any juicy questions." gojo waves his spoon around just waiting to dig into the chocolatey goodness.
"if someone donates ten thousand then we'll talk about leaking suguru's number. infact why don't you guys ask for my number, like I feel left out here." gojo finally digs his spoon into the edges of the dish, taking a bite and letting out a soft hum.
"this tastes like heaven. sometimes I forget my wife is a great baker." gojo smiles mischievously into the camera, he had to instigate fan edits. after all it's what keeps the lights on and maintains his expensive lifestyle.
@utautaprincess: wife? i beg your finest pardon? 😟
@professionalbottom: ain't no way he has a wife😂😂😂
@zuzuzuko1: wife? him😂😂😭
@professionalomega: our apologies sir gojo, we weren't familiar with your game
@getosxmark: you guys must be new here, gojo's wife is his roommate 😭😭
@ryoryomensk: bro she's so cunty🤞
@cablecutter7: bro when am I seeing my wife💔
@pinkhairyuri: GUYS GUYS what if he does the qna with [name]? 🤷🏿♀️
@gyrozeps: ^NOT ridiculous
@giftifgif: YES, YES, YES, GOJO PLEASE.
@coraline4707: nah pack it up
@gojosstainedblindfold: the people have spoken please bring [name]🙏🙏
@syphatopstrevor: the crowd yearns for [name]
@ryommensukuna✓: actually lock in, how the fuck do u fumble someone you live with?
@kataangbangs: SUKUNA JOINED THE CHAT?
@jinishilovesmaomao: oh my days watch him crash out👎
@ピポち: sukuna tops gojo when?
@notevencraigsp: the brownies look so good
@rhyslarsenhater: gojo kinda fine.
@earth2yn✓: if I'm his wife then pigs must be flying 😭✌️
@nctnxtcleour: not her responding 😭
@mikalovesbleach: how would you ever live this down.
the second your name appears on the chat he straightens his posture, his blue eyes illuminating under the soft studio lights, "hmm, I would love to make it know that i'd love for, [name] to join, but she's currently mad at me, what should i do for you to join?"
@earthtoyn✓: give up sugar for a week.
@earthtoyn✓: also stop stealing my skincare.
@pe3kthreetims: the girls are fighting 😭
@frierenhelmxs: gojo not having sugar is like protein synthesis without the amino acids😂✌️
@headbangerrx2: ^bro just go revise 😩
@jeanskssaddle: somebody make more edits of [name]
@rukiarukiruki: ^ LITERALLY even though it's the same five clips.
@femshidouof: guys notice how [name] user name is a wave to earth reference
@ringotbenched: somebody get this bum away from my wife.
@allisagifries: you're one to talk
@tokolosheee: ^the jokes write themselves😭😭
@stsgdfendr: gojo couldn't give up sugar if he tried.
"you guys aren't very encouraging, after I'm not the one who wants to see her, i see her everyday." gojo's eyebrows furrowed. of course he had been offended, watching his audience that he so kindly nurtured from the ground take your side. to be fair it was entirely his fault, but that's not why he was offended. he was offended by people's lack of belief in his ability to quit sweets. the treated him like so type of a addict, which he was not
@renalovedf1: someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed...
@tojisshoulderbladee: bro's mad because he knows he's losing the bet☠️☠️
@senbonbya: bro is past insulin resistance 🚶
@worldleaner: can some tell, [name] to adjust the bet, like we are never gonna see her with willy wonka's nr1 connoisseur over here👎
@azulachoppedsbangs: i just know gojo's the type to fall into the chocolate river
@appasgreyarrow: yeah no like atp we'll just cherish the five [name] clips we have ✌️
@sugurugeto✓: can confirm satoru is definitely not winning the bet.
@lockdisknees: [NAME] PLEASE JOIN THE STREAM AND MY LIFE IS YOURS.😭😭
@earthtoyn✓: ladies ladies, one at a time.
@earthtoyn✓: i'll be there next stream, i have to drop lore about satoru.
gojo knew the next time he'd stream he'd be dragged for days on twitter, only god knew the dirt you held on him
a/n: hopefully I didn't tag random people into my bullshit 😭✌️
toji has been your roommate for six months; you have not had any complaints because he never talks to you and rent is cheap.
at first, toji didn't really care for you; he just wanted his peace and quiet, and everything would be good, but that was until he saw the money shot one night.
it's like any other friday where you’re stumbling inside after a night out with tiny clothes on, but this time your panties could be seen; if you can even call them that, they barely cover your ass cheeks.
when toji’s eyes glide from the tv right to those bright pink lace panties, he immediately pulls out his phone, subtly taking as many pictures as he can while his sweatpants grow a tiny wet spot.
“you need help?”
finally speaking up as he watches you fumble with your heels just trying to get to bed and you giggle kicking them off and waving one hand while the other twists the doorknob to your room open.
“no no no its fine, night.”
he thought this was pure luck on his side, so he took matters into his own hands when it came to getting panty shots also known as “creep shots” to normal people.
the pictures of you in his phone accumulates fast over time.
when you’re in the kitchen he’s in the kitchen pretending to get something when in reality his finger is tapping quickly taking pictures of your ass or subtly sliding it under your skirt.
there’s even a cute designated folder for you that he jerks off to almost every night, grunting and imagining all the times he could’ve easily bent you over and fucked the shit out of you.
of course you noticed that he was around you more, but it didn't click that he had any ulterior motives; you just thought he was more comfortable having you around, knowing how hard it is for someone to move a random person in.
because of this, you went out of your way to initiate little things like watching tv together or sitting down and eating together. toji said yes. why wouldn’t he? having more access to you is exactly what he wants.
the folder on his phone is even more filled now, but now he's unsatisfied because it's just too easy now. he liked the fact that he could catch you in the kitchen and start taking pictures; now it has lost its charm, making him go lower.
it's friday night, meaning you're out and he’s home, making his way into your room for the first time.
when he walks in he takes a mintue to soak up your scent, palming himself while walking to the dresser.
the dresser rocks as he pulls out every drawer, the first two filled with bras and panties in disarray. he pulls out his phone and starts taking pictures of them, pulling out one of the lacey panties and one catches his eye, its a deep purple with thin lace.
he takes them and lays them on your bed and pulls his sweatpants down and starts jerking off over them. grunting and looking over at the picture you have of yourself and some friends, staring at you.
now pretending you’re under him waiting to take his cum, looking up desperately.
his tip is red and throbbing almost vibrating with anticipating, his cum right on the edge waiting to come out, his heart beating out of his chest and his hand squeezing tighter around his dick.
he’s almost there, he just needs one more mintue, one more thats all, until the front door click opens. toji spills all over your panties and onto your comforter, taking a moment to collect himself.
there is cum everywhere on the comforter from how far it shot out. he knows he has time because of how you are on friday nights.
he balls your panties up, stuffing them back into your drawer, closing the bottom one with his foot, and closing the rest.
out in the doorway youre trying to steady yourself to get in your room, laughing and grounding yourself while toji slips in your bathroom grabbing a towel and wiping the cum from the comforter.
its not clean and a little noticeable but he’s confident that you’ll strike it down to a random stain you forgot you made.
he comes out and you’re still standing bye the front door.
“you need help?”
one hand in his pocket and you look up softly smiling and nod, he helps you into your room laying on the same bed he made a mess in.
you adjust yourself and lay on your stomach and he pulls out his phone taking a picture of you with the stain so he can remember.
For all his life, Gojo Satoru has only ever gone for the popular girls. The loud ones. The cheerleaders. That’s just how it’s always been.
This perfect mirror of life shattered the moment he saw you.
It was the first semester of Satoru’s second year at university. He’s settled in nicely, he has a group of friends, a frat, and a circle of women that constantly swoon his every move. What more could he ask for?
Unfortunately, as flashy as Satoru’s life is, his grades pale in comparison. He may be the most popular man on university campus but he currently has to retake Communications 101. That’s where he meets you.
You were quiet, almost invisible in the lecture hall. Satoru had no reason to pay any special attention to you.
Satoru is barely listening to the professor drone on about whatever the subject was about when suddenly she begins to call names. Luckily, Satoru’s name isn’t on his professor’s mind. He’s ready to zone out and scroll on his phone when his ear picks up a soft, shy voice.
Satoru looks up from his lap and he sees you, standing from your seat as you nervously explained the importance of the different modes of communication in society to the rest of the class. Now usually, Satoru would roll his eyes and turn the other way. He wasn’t interested in shy girls. Never was and never will. But there was something about you that had Satoru’s eyes locked onto you for the rest of the lecture.
The lecture ends and Satoru is quick to try and follow you as the students spill out of the lecture hall. Despite the mass of people his eyes never leave your frame and Satoru is truly so close to reaching you but you manage to slip away into the crowd of people and Satoru loses sight of you.
Satoru spends the rest of the week trying to find you on campus. It’s hard. He can’t find you anywhere and it has Satoru thinking that maybe the whole thing was a dream but he was so sure that you were real.
He finds you the next week in the same class. Satoru’s determined to talk to you this time so he takes the empty seat next to you. Usually girls would fluster and shy away from just this but you didn’t seem to care at all and something about that had Satoru’s heart thumping in his chest.
“Do you have an extra pen?” Satoru asked. He didn’t need it. He was just hoping to get your attention somehow.
You turn your head and raised your eyes meeting Satoru’s gaze.
You’re so much prettier up close. Satoru feels the air leave his lungs.
“Oh. Yeah, sure. Here you go.” You hand Satoru a pen from your pencil case. He reaches out to grab it, his fingers grazing yours slightly. There must be something terribly wrong with Satoru’s heart if this small interaction had his heart racing a mile a minute.
You don’t pay attention to Satoru for the rest of the class after that interaction and for the rest of the class Satoru desperately tries to get your attention back on him. He raises his hand, recites, makes jokes. It grabs the attention of everyone else except for you but their attention isn’t enough. Satoru wants yours specifically. He’s hungry for it.
The lecture ends. Satoru taps your shoulder and holds out your pen.
“Y’doing anything after this?” Satoru asked, flashing his usual charming smile.
You pluck the pen from Satoru’s fingers and place it back in your pencil case.
“No.” You replied, voice quiet still. Satoru wonders to himself if you’ve ever been loud in your life.
Satoru decides it’s time to go in for the kill. It’s now or never. Really, how hard could it be? “You wanna grab some matcha?”
“No thank you.” The response is immediate and Satoru’s smile drops instantly. Unironically he’s never been denied by a woman before and he doesn’t know how to react. Does he get on his knees and grovel or does he pretend like he didn’t ask at all?
“Uhm. Are you sure? I’ll pay.” Satoru attempts once more. He reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out his wallet. It’s thick but you barely glance at it.
“No. I’m alright.” You offer Satoru a small, polite smile before you grab the straps of your bag and leave the lecture hall. Satoru is stunned. He can only watch your figure disappear out of the room as he rethinks every moment of his life.
For the first time in Gojo Satoru’s life he wants to chase after something. And it’s exciting.
Satoru couldn't believe the utter nonsense that these brainless were spewing right in front of his face. Never in his 40 years, he heard something so fucking absurd. The board members that were arguing with each other for 30 minutes now collectively fell into silence after taking a peek at their ceo — who didn't have the best reputation going around.
" sir, we absolutely can not lose this deal if we do by any chance — our stock with plummet." It's like they were rubbing it on his face at this point.
A $42 Billion deal. If it fails, Gojo cooperation ’s stock will plummet, and him — the CEO could be ousted by his very own board now stare at him like a flockof birds who trying to either save him from eaten alive or his remaining flesh get eaten by them.
Looking up at his bourgeois high ceiling, Satoru took in a careful breath. The meeting room was suffocating, he was currently on the top of the world but he realised he was never really free to be begin with. And that realisation only left a bitter after taste in his mouth.
He tried to remember the exact words that were thrown at him yesterday — that awfully sounded like a indirect insult. That fucking old man, can he just die and hand over his company to his first born son, that was balding already. Isn't he like 100 or something?? Satoru mentally rolled his eyes while trying to guess that old frat's age.
It all happened in such a short time too, he couldn't even fucking eat his dinner after hearing that traditional bullshits. During a private dinner in Tokyo he attended recently, Chairman Hasegawa dropped an awfully polite looking time ticking bomb. He mentioned that Hasegawa Industries only did partners with leaders who value long-term legacy over short-term profit.
Then that old fuck dared to side eye him while practically tasting out the words that came out of his mouth after. The absolute audacity!! If only,
His secretary — the only one who he can trust and truly stood by his side.
The Chairman had implied that if the CEO — while looking dead in the fucking eye, he might add — who cannot commit to a life partner, he cannot be trusted with a multi-decade partner alliance.
It's hilarious how he thought that's all he would say but he underestimate how messy old traditionalists can be. That old man didn't forget to highlight the fact of his personal dating life and quoting the history of brief, public relationships with models, he had in passing years.
He had been living like a Saint for past 5 years, but he's reputation couldn't be repaired by merely taking a break from dating either.
Satoru's blood was boiling every fucking time, when he get flashbacks of that evening. But he could tolerate all that shit but,
To save the deal on the spot, he had to fucking lie. Satoru had to swear that he had actually been in a serious, quiet relationship for almost a year and is planning for a private wedding. The old man was delighted and immediately demanding that Satoru must bring his new fiancée to the final, week-long Merger Summit in Kyoto in three months to sign the contract.
He just fucking made his death bed so he might as well fucking lie down on it.
After dismissing that board meeting of utter bullshit. He finally could relax at the blissful silence now stretched throughout the space. Now, how the fuck is he gonna find a wife in just 3 months. It's not like he can advertise it on the television. If Hasegawa Chairman gets a whiff of his fat ass lie, he's done for.
He looked up from his devastated stance to your approaching figure. Satoru let out a pleased groan at the sight of sugary sweet caramel ice latte you slid down on the table — in front of him. Quickly taking a sip of the sugar monastery of his, he finally gained some energy to figure things out before he gets strangled by his own web of lies.
" So, i did a brief background check on Hasegawa Heavy Industries Chairman. He seemed like an extreme — "
" traditionalist?! "
" Yeah, he takes the old customs very seriously — he recently disowned his youngest son after finding out he had a child out of wedlock." Satoru rolled his eyes after hearing this, how typical of that old man. Disowning his own family left and right for mundane things.
" All he could be described as a person who puts his reputation and honour above everything else. He is a traditionalist through and through who believes a man can not rule a corporate empire if he can not maintain a stable, traditional household. He despises American corporate volatility and the new generations leadership."
You can't even believe the very information that you find out about the new business partner of the Gojo Corporation's. Reading it out loud felt utterly absurd even more than writing the whole thing down on your tablet.
" What is this, 1970s or something!! It's 2026, for God's sake." You plopped down unceremoniously in the comfy chair that was sat right to the CEO's gigantic one. Satoru looked at you with a soft fondness that exclusively reserved for you, only. After all these years of working under him — you gradually came out of your shell and started to be very comfortable around him. Kind of comfortable where you stick your tongue out to him — the CEO who is decades older than mind you, and took a long slip from his drink.
" Yuck!! It's too sweet, you gonna get diabetes very soon and die. Just remember to have my name on your will, okay?? I want your beach house in bali." you continued to yap his ear off while still slipping the very drink you called yuck, 5 seconds ago.
" yes, Your Highness. How dare I forget about your important request." Satoru dramatically drawled out his words while taking the tablet from your hands and looking the information by himself.
" um sire?? " nope, he didn't like that disgusting sweet fake ass professional voice of yours at all. The very voice that left his all business partners very satisfied by feeding their ridiculous egos just right. " what is it? Spill it out. And no,you absolutely cannot take any vacations yet." Satoru held his hand out in front of your face without even looking up from the tablet he was scrolling on.
" it's not that. Ugh, I want to resign." he must be having hallucinations after all this stress being put upon his shoulders. " repeat that again. I might have misheard something." He still wouldn't look up from that damn tablet. Grinding your teeth nervously, you repeat what you just said earlier and stood up because you were sweating buckets, even under the air conditioner that blasted to the fullest.
Satoru finally looked up and landed his gaze directly at you, the means one thing. That man is pissed off beyond limits. " You, see my mother is pestering me for sometimes now — saying I should settle down and get married and stuff. I was avoiding her as much as possible, but she threatened me that if I didn't meet this guy she hand pick for me, she would come here and whoope my ass and yours too apparently because I always used the same excuse saying, you don't gimme any leaves. Well, it's not like that's a complete lie. You don't gimme any vacations, though."
You kept rambling like a broken record while he tried to catch up to your talking speed and understand everything that came out of your mouth at 2× speed. " um, so I really don't have any choice you see." you peeked at him under your lashes slowly while passing the ball to him.
" if you don't go to meet this potential partner of yours, your mother will come here and whoope your ass and mine too?!"
" yeah. I will hand out the resignation letter by tomorrow evening." You nodded at yourself while Satoru awfully looked like he's gonna have a stroke at any moment now.
" I'll double your salary. Stay."
" I fear my mother too much to cave in for money."
" five times more than the salary I pay for you now."
" Have you finally gone insane with all the sugar you inhale down to your throat more than the h2o you consume."
" seven times."
" no."
" eleven times."
" HR will flip out and probably sue both of us." you sighed like you were dealing with a 5 year old child who throwing a tantrum over to stop his favourite nanny from leaving. Then Satoru slammed his poor tablet on to the glass table. You flinched away from the sudden display of aggression. It's not the first time, you saw him crash the fuck out but this was the first time he crashed out over you. Well, everything has a first time so nothing you couldn't handle.
" I'll dismiss the HR, those fuckers weren't doing anything anyway, the only thing that they were good at is messing things up." Satoru was not angry. He was not that kind of person. He doesn't get angry.
He get enraged instead.
He wanted nothing but to fucking break things, sometimes even burn this very building to the ground.
" 15 times more - "
" I thought we were over this conversation and for the record, I already get paid more than an average secretary in this country ever get paid for. Probably even more than a fucking neurologist." You threw your hands dramatically to likely to make a point. You were literally pointing out the obvious.
" well, you're not just an average secretary. Your salary is more than justified and if someone disagree, I'll see them in court. " Satoru was daring you to point out the people who called you an average employee. He's just as dramatic as always. You mentally rolled your eyes at his fuming figure, walking around the room like he's pants were on fire.
" the bali beach house. I'll turn it to your name by tomorrow morning. How's that? Is it enough to convince you to stay with me." you couldn't help but gape like a fucking fish at him, utterly speechless by his bizarre bribes that — you were now at a lose of thinking what to say back to them. " sure, I love that beach house, but you know I was just joking around, right? When i ask you to pass its keys to me."
" well, I'm clearly not joking right now." Satoru gestured at himself as to prove a point that he was indeed very serious. " anything you said over the 10 minutes, does not solve my problem at home." You were not happy with resigning either, you loved working here. With him. But you cannot stress your old mother any longer. You've been such a neglectful daughter to her for the last 5 years now. It's only fair for her to blow up on you. But she sure did guilt tripping you to quitting your job here. Satoru took in your distress self, he hadn't seen such a withered expression on your face. It didn't suit your sunny personality at all.
He's just blind. You were the biggest grump hanging around.
" then marry me."
" excuse me? "
" your mother wants to see you get married, yes? Then why not marry me rather than whatever pest you're supposed to meet?? you know that I've to get married in three months too, so why not killing two birds with one stone??"
" You don't even know him. Stop insulting innocent people." Satoru clicked his tongue in annoyance after getting scolded by you. He didn't like displeasing you. It's just put him off for some reason. " it's just my instinct. I don't have a good feeling about him." He grumbled, sulking while kicking imaginary dirt on the plush carpeted floor.
He's such a child, sometimes.
" where do you think you're going right now?" Satoru raised his eyebrows slightly, looking at you already holding the door handle. " get your stubborn ass back here." You immediately let go of the door handle after hearing his stern voice that was barely used towards you. Pouting slightly you made your way back to his side and look at the chair he was pointing out to you to sit down, before even you could sit down properly he grabbed the arm rest of the chair with both of his hands and dragged your poor little self awfully close to him. It all happened so fast that you just stared at him dumbfounded.
Satoru leaned down so fucking close to your eye level — you felt his warm breath tickling your eye lashes. Deliberately avoiding his intense eyes that were fishing out your gaze ruthlessly, you chose to glare at the nothing but the empty space. " don't ever avoid my eyes, now look at me — please." at least he had the decency to say please, and your name slipped from his devastatingly handsome, pretty pink lips oh so quietly. The intensity of the moment made your face burn with embarrassment.
You gathered your wits to finally look at right into his eyes, they were so blue that you swear they sparkled like the sunlight hits the ocean waves. Fighting the very urge to close your eyes tightly, you just brased yourself to whatever gonna happen inside this room.
" good girl."
" that was very creepy."
" I see you blushing, miss secretary."
" I'm just embarrassed by this whole y/n ceo thingie that's going on right now."
" the y/n, what?"
" never mind, not that your old ass might now what's going on with my generation."
Satoru let out a heavy sigh after making out your murmurings, just barely one might add — he doesn't even know who's the sane person here. It's obviously not him and neither his little secretary either. God bless this company.
" I'm not that old, you know? I'm only 40 years old."
" you've been saying that for a while now." You fired right up at him, seeing your pouting self glaring at the floor, he bite back a chuckle. " want me to show you my birth certificate." Satoru kneeled down in front of you and tried to take a good look at your face that was facing the floor.
" you've one? I thought you were so old that birth certificates didn't exist in the era you were born." He finally got a glimpse of your face that was hidden by your hair that was covering half of your face. You were smiling, teasing at him. Pushing his buttons left and right.
" what do you even take me for? A caveman from ice age? "
" something little close to that."
" You little demon." Satoru gasped at the utter audacity of you laughing right at his face. Your laugh was so contagious that he couldn't help but let out a chuckle of his own. Here he is, laughing at his own misery.
" so, yes or no."
" You can't be serious!! YOU'RE LIKE 100 YEARS OLD !! " you were enjoying this situation, way more than you liked to admit while Satoru gasped loudly and clutched his imaginary pearls ever so dramatically. " I'M NOT. I'm telling you, ugh, I'm only 42 this year."
" well, that's make it even more worse. I'm just half of your age!!! This is simply unacceptable."
" says who? Tell them to meet me in the court, professionally."
" You just can't fucking throw lawsuits like you're feeding the street pigeons."
" I've a big ass law committee of my own so why not taking a use of it rather that let those fuckers lazing all day around."
" ykw?? You're so infuriating!! " you silently screamed while throwing your hands so angrily. You're minutes away from ripping away your CEO'S beautiful white hair locks. " you only figuring it out now?? After all those years working for me." Satoru had that absolutely infuriating, agitating smug look on his face, you wanted to scratch his face with your prettily maintained manicure nails. And Satoru would probably like that, which makes it even worse.
" that's not something you could be fucking proud of!! " you hissed right onto his annoyingly handsome face.
" no, it's something you should be scared of." Still grinning like the fucking Grinch that stole the Christmas cheer by beating shit out of the Santa's fat ass, Satoru basked in the victory of winning the argument.
He didn't btw. He's just delusional.
" have you lost your mind??! whatever, I'm not even surprised that your old age is finally catching up to you to fry your bird brain. I'm done with this stupid argument. I'm grabbing my stuff and going home." your voice held finality and tried to escape this forced proximity that being cooking up between you two. But Satoru just kneeled there at your feet while bodily blocking your way up. " move, you fat fuck." you wanna do nothing but kick his balls and annihilate his unborn children.
" not until you accept my proposal. Marry me, please."
" what are you, 4?? stop acting like a child. And adding please to end of every sentence like sprinkles of sugar doesn't get you anywhere."
" enough. we're going on a date. Take a half day and go freshen up, I'll pick you up at 6pm."
" no I'm not gonna."
" yes, You are."
" no. I'm not."
" then I guess I would've to throw your pretty ass on to my shoulders and kidnap you from your apartment." the absolute audacity of this man. he really doesn't give a fuck about your opinion in this matter.
" I'm gonna sue you for threatening me like this." you pointed your finger at him while with a look of betrayal painting on your face. The whole office is mad. There was a pin drop silence as the giant clock in the wall only did occasional sound of ticking. Satoru slowly stood up from the floor he was still kneeling and stare down at you. The thing here is you were both so stubborn as fuck. So you didn't back down either, staring up and him while your chin held high.
" I would like to see you try, sweetheart." that fucking smug fucking piece of shit.
" this is unacceptable. ABUSING POWER and authority." your manicure nails were itching to scratch whatever skin you could reach at the moment. Of course Satoru knew this nasty habit of yours. He remembered this one time all too clearly — to this day like it happened only yesterday. You scratching the face of a male employee who didn't stop flirting and touching you without the consent at a company dinner.
He had to fucking physically remove your body and hands from the man who was clearly bleeding down to his face with scratching marks marking his face like he just got attacked by a pissed of cat. Hauling your stubborn ass that was still trying to break free from his arms to get back to your unfinished business before, as if you didn't almost end the poor man's appearance to life.
Satoru, of course, was very pleased by your feisty attitude. He immediately fired the man and made sure he absolutely would not get another job at any company in the country ever again.
While Satoru was walking down the memory lane, you stood there silently contemplating the consciousness of damaging your infuriatingly handsome CEO'S billion dollar worthy face. Yeah, it was a lot actually. You would've to go to jail for at least 3 years for that. So you calmed down your horses. Barely being the keyword was not very reassuring.
" where the fuck are you going." Satoru was brought back to earth by the ominous screeching sound of the double doors to his meeting room being opening. You glared at him so hard that if looks could kill, he would be dropped dead by 3rd degree burning.
" to die. Possibly lights away from your old ass." you seethe like an angry cat that hadn't been fed for second time since the morning.
The door was slammed shut so hard like that the material had personally offended you. The very floor started to shake a little because of the impact of shutting the door so roughly.
" see, she has the soon to be madame gojo potential in her." Satoru mumbled to himself while smothering out his eyebrows that were tensed after all those banter happened between the two of you.
He's gonna get wrinkles sooner or later because of you. And his sudden decision of wife you up was only sealing the deal.
He's never the one to appear at right on time but for you — he could make anything possible when it's come to you.
Satoru cleared his throat while trying to fix his hair — be presentable for you, of course. He looked nervous.
Are you kidding?
Satoru Gojo, the solace heir to the multi dollar corporation, impossible.
He really wasn't that nervous.
He's so fucking sacred that he will fuck up everything, he planned at a very short time after proposing to you in his very meeting room so unceremoniously.
Satoru prayed for whatever God that watched over him. Please don't get me killed or scratched by the little demon that lived right behind that very door, he's standing in front of.
Oh, Brother, this man is hopeless.
And — kind of creepy.
He pressed his ears onto the door, and check if the atmosphere was right or not. Like he didn't want to get his head smashed by a fucking flower vase or whatever you would grab to throw at his way. But then he heard this —
agitating, grating voice.
Your voice came out muffled through the door or he's just deaf cause of his old age. Obviously,
" 𝒀𝑲𝑾 𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑨𝑰𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑴𝑬𝑬𝑬??!
𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑻𝑻 ~
𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬, 𝒀𝑶𝑼'𝑹𝑬 𝑺𝑶𝑶𝑶𝑶𝑶𝑶𝑶𝑶𝑶 𝑹𝑼𝑫𝑬!!!
—𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑰 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑩𝑯𝑶𝑰𝑰𝑰𝑰
𝑫𝑶𝑬𝑺 𝑰𝑻 𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑲 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑰 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑬???
~𝑰 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫𝑵'𝑻 𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺𝑺𝑺𝑺!!!! "
What the fuck is going on — Satoru couldn't help but frown, who the fuck are you talking with like that. Is this one of your many questionable copying mechanisms. Did someone really say that you were so rude? Is it another employee. Why didn't you tell him about this. He took a mental note to look into this matter.
But that was not the problem. Why were you fucking singing that?? Have you finally gone insane. Maybe she was just on crack as always. Sighing loudly, he finally strengthen out his shoulders and knocked on your door, but didn't forget to look around if someone saw him pressing his ears to your door like a fucking creep.
At least he is self-aware. Talk about some progress.
Satoru knocked on the door impatiently after not hearing an answer for 3 minutes, maximum.
" coming!! " you opened the door with hoping to see your fellow Indian restaurant delivery gurlie down the street, but your million dollar smile completely disappeared after seeing your one and only boss and you whipped your head around to look at the clock.
It was 6:12 pm, he wasn't kidding, then.
" took your sweet time, isn't it? Well, well, well, this is not the welcome I prepared for, but I'm not complaining." you quickly looked down at yourself after realising what you were wearing. You were still on your fluffy pink towel. Before even you could slam your door to that one annoying smug piece of shit who was hoarding the entire space of your little apartment entrance while grinning like a perverted fox — grabbed the door you were trying close. But you were no match for his inhuman strength.
That old man didn't have the bulging biceps for nothing. " go away, you Satan." you gritted your teeth until they start to clink sightly. Even if you use your all strength in all your fucking might, you still could not push him away or close the door. Unfortunately, after hissing at him ever so dramatically, you let go of the act of pushing your door.
You were scared that your towel would fall off because the knot that was holding your towel together barely survived with lots of hopes and prayers.
Meanwhile, Satoru fell into the entrance of your apartment, face first. When you suddenly let go of the door, he couldn't fucking control his body from falling down. Serves him right, you thought while standing there with a look of utter delight on your face.
" get up, you're embarrassing yourself." Satoru wanted to dig a hole in this very moment in your apartment, and bury himself alive.
Why does he always embarrass himself when he's around you.
" have some mercy on me, I beg you."
" go and beg somewhere else. Why are you even here." You stomped your feet while whining loudly, complaining that he ruined your peaceful afternoon by showing his annoyingly handsome face.
The last five words were not necessary. You didn't say that, btw. He's just delusional.
" just get out of my fucking apartment. Go do something, man." Satoru's poor face was nudged multiple times by your bare feet. At least your feet were cute.
He's such a weirdo.
Satoru finally came out of his miserable mental state and picked up his worn-out body back. Looking at your figure disappearing to a room, it must be your room. He assumed quietly and welcomed himself in. He took your retreating self as the invitation to come into your apartment.
He's so fucking pathetic.
" put on something nice. We still have time." Satoru called you out while sitting on a cute pink sofa. He noted that your favourite colour might be pink by just taking a look around the tiny apartment. It was decorated rather adorably despite your nasty little attitude. Not that he finds it unattractive, he's very into it. Thank you very much.
" I'm not.going.anywhere." you sheeted out your words one by one like you're making a statement from the government itself. " yes, you are. Do you want me dress you up too?" Satoru made himself comfortable as firing right back at you with a teasing edge in his voice.
" I would like to see you try, over my fucking dead body." He sat right up after hearing you growling like a maniac that escaped from the prison after killing multiple police officers. That's oddly specific.
You paused what you were gonna do after hearing a knock on your door. A giggle escaped your lips while you raced to open the door while, Satoru had this utter dumbfounded look on his face. He also went after you because why did you look so fucking happy — a strange feeling crawled into his heart after seeing you so damn elated.
He can't be serious right. HE CAN'T FUCKING BE JEALOUS OVER YOU SMILING EAR TO EAR FOR SOMEONE WHO IS NOT HIM.
No. No. No.
That's not possible. Satoru liked you as his secretary. Nothing more, Nothing less.
Dude, why are we lying again.
Satoru cursed silently while taking off his blazer after seeing you still in this flimsy towel that barely covered anything.
It was not that short. He's just being dramatic.
" what?? what are you doing??" You flinched sightly after Satoru's blazer came around you — engulfing your figure down to your mid-thigh. " covering your ass, who in the world goes like this to open the door. Do you want to give everyone a free show or something." His voice had a slight annoyance to cover up how jealous he was. Satoru felt like this view was reserved only for him to enjoy.
" it's not even that short."
" that's obviously not what I was implying." Seeing your pouty face, Satoru lowered his voice into something soft and gentle. And carefully pulled your hand from the door knob you were holding into his much larger ones and stepped right in front of you while hovering over the entrance. He slowly opened the door and came face to face with a female delivery driver.
Now, he understands why you were so comfortable with your inappropriate look. It was not a big deal, he's just so old for this generation.
The delivery girl looked taken back after seeing an absolutely hunk of a man — who's very fucking attractive that was standing in your doorway, she only then saw your hands that were waving left and right like a child to came across a ice cream van. " I'm sorry, I was late. There's lots of deliveries going around today. I did my best to get yours quickly as I can." Satoru was pushed aside by you while he stumbled back a little. He was surprised by your strength. You were just three apples tall but your mouth and your fighting strength always made up to your short height this was amusing him, greatly.
" it's okay. I was not that hungry anyway, and thank you for your hard work." You thanked politely while saying a white lie without batting an eye. You know how harsh delivery jobs could be. You didn't want to stress this poor girl any further.
Satoru quickly took out his wallet to pay for your food and to his surprise you keep making a grabby hand to him like you were planning for this from the very beginning. Why is he even surprised. Before even he could ask how much it is, you just snatched his poor wallet rather rudely to your hands and paid ever so effortlessly. Like his money is your money.
Uh, soon to be your money, perhaps.
You took the many take outs bags and passed them to Satoru, not even looking back at him. Great, he's now officially your servant too. Well, he cannot fucking complain because he clearly asked for this even begged, embarrassing he knows— and he's right where we wants be.
" keep it." When she tried to give you the change, you waved your hand off with a smile. It's a 100$ bill. Not that you cared. It's not your money anyway. She left, thanking you with a big smile.
" close the door." Satoru again closed the door with his foot like an obedient puppy. He couldn't move his arms that were full of take out boxes. Still holding his wallet, you padded onto the floor with bare feet — happily humming a song.
" what am I?? Your dog??"
" if the collar fits." You said in a sing song voice that had him losing his fucking mind. He already lost his face, his dignity and what else there be lost anyway.
Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts.
No grey hair or wrinkles. Not yet.
Don't let her agitate you.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
" bring those here. Hurryyyyyyy!! I'm so hungry." Your whining shattered his silent meditation in one go, completely. Satoru absolutely gave up the idea of having some peace in his life.
Satoru finally got you out of the apartment after begging, promising whatever luxury he could ever offer, but you only perked your ears when you heard about getting ice-cream.
He watched you gobbling down the food faster than any normal human being possibly could. It's like you were inhaling the food instead of eating it. Satoru just couldn't get you dressed up any faster, though — not until you finish your ongoing kdrama episodes that were available on Netflix.
Of course, you made him pay for your monthly subscription with his black card. You picked the most expensive one, too.
You were giggling so hard while watching this particular drama. He read the title, saying, " 𝑴𝒚 𝒓𝒐𝒚𝒂𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒔." Satoru didn't look at the 42-inch television that hanged upon the wall in front of him, watching your facial expressions were so much more interesting and entertaining than the show that was playing on the screen. This didn't go unnoticed by you either. You just pretended to act like he didn't keep watching you so awfully close, almost like a stalker.
Then you finally felt some human emotion that called 'pity ' towards the man who splayed on your couch like an overgrown dog with a look of utter devastation.
You're lying. You just left with him because he said he would buy you ice-cream. Your fat ass just cannot resist any kind of food that was given to you for free. Who didn't like free food anyway.
That's how you end up with your annoying boss ten in the fucking night outside of your town. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire with occasional squeeze his hand did to your ones that were engulfed by his thick fingers. His hands were so warm and reassuring. Satoru was navigating you through the sea of heavy crowd that were passing around the two of you. All you could see was his broad back rippling with delicious amounts of back muscles and his intimidating towering height, Satoru towered over every person that he brushed passed by — you couldn't help but admire your boss's amazing, mouth-watering physique. It's not like it's illegal.
But it felt illegal. You wondered how exactly tall he is, like 6'3 or 6'5?? Something close to that, maybe.
The night market was bustling so lively with thousands of local vendors and foreign tourists. The narrow walkways are illuminated by glowing red paper lanterns, and flashing neon signs were so bright that it was almost blinding. The air is thick with the savoury aroma of grilling meats, and sizzling sauces.
You grabbed Satoru's shirt to get his attention. Satoru quickly came to a halt to see if something had happened to you. The sounds around you were a chaotic mix of vendors calling out in energetic greetings , the clinking of beer glasses, the hiss of hot griddles, and live singers having a blast on the side of the street.
Satoru covered your head and shoulders with his now discard blazer, and the other hand came hold your waist protectively. You pulled him away from the crowd to a stall that caught your eyes. That's why you stopped him in the first place. Satoru, let your hands pull him with you. The small stall had no customers, but it was packed with fish-shaped taiyaki cakes filled with custard, soft mochi, and glossy syrup-dipped candy fruits.
" buy me mochi." you pressed your cheek into one of his biceps that was facing to your side and was demanding him to buy you mochi like a spoil little brat.
Well, who made that system up.
Of course, him.
Satoru only let out a pleased chuckle after hearing your demanding voice, it was very adorable of you. " which flavours do you want them, darling." He questioned quietly while rubbing absent mind circles on your waist ever so softly. The touch had your brain melting. " uh, I want mango and vanilla icing filling one." hiding your face further into his biceps, you mumbled slowly to him.
" why only one?? choose some more." Satoru said while moving his hands to caress your cheek. His touch was very gentle and tender in a way that made you sleepy all of a sudden. Snuggling into his soft, warm hand — you tiredly mumbled, saying you want the chocolate and strawberry flavours too. Satoru bites back the urge to devour your chubby cheeks right then and there, you was suddenly being so cute and docile in his arms had him losing his fucking mind.
He was not mentally prepared to see you acting so cutesy around him — and it's indeed not good for his health. His heart felt like it was about to fall off from how loud it was beating.
Alerting the vendor to which flavours he wanted, his arm instinctively came to hold you waist again. He just couldn't get enough of touching you, now. Your soft skin beneath his hard ones felt so fucking amazing. It was like a newfound addiction on his part.
" feeling sleepy, darling." after feeling you trying to snuggle even more into his side, Satoru softly questioned, holding you tightly to his body. " a little hm, and my feet hurt too." you complained to him quietly after burying your face completely into his biceps. Then, sneak a glance at him under your lashes. " why didn't you tell me earlier." Satoru said in his usual dramatically worried tone, fussing over you — trying to take a good look at your feet. It was indeed irritated with angry red marks. " we're getting new shoes." paying the vendor hastily while taking the bags that was filled with sweet mochi — he suddenly picked you up with one hand ike you weigh nothing.
" whaat!! put me down!! you brute." you whisper yelled, trying to loop your hands around his neck. You didn't want to fall off and crack your neck. Thank you very much. Now, you can see almost everything in the night market without straining any joints in your neck. It's like you were at the top of the world.
" you're absolutely not walking with these shoes, not here or anywhere else either. I'm gonna throw these away. What brand is even this. Such poor quality. I should sue them. What if you get irritations after this huh???"
" I'm not throwing these away, and no, we're not gonna sue anyone over a pair of shoes."
" to the record, these shoes hurt your feet, and it's a huge crime itself, and I'm definitely gonna burn these."
" please, you're so dramatic."
" I'll show you how dramatic, I could be." You were about to roll your eyes at his ridiculously dramatic take even on slightest inconveniences. Typical rich people. There was a bit pause in the retort that were right at the end of your tongue but the you saw something — It is a cozy, open-air boutique packed from floor to ceiling with the softest plush footwear imaginable, you never one to walk pass something so cute.
Slippers are stacked on tiered wooden shelves hung from the canvas ceiling on a tiny clothesline. It looks like a waterfall of pastel pinks, mint greens, and warm cream colours. You looked down at Satoru, who had already made his way towards the tiny little boutique before even you could grab his hair and lead him to the store like the ratatouille.
" I got to put me first." Satoru rolled his eyes after letting you climb down on him very carefully. You looked crazed after seeing cute fluffy slippers and shoes everywhere around you. It was heaven.Every pair resembled an adorable design. Plush bunny ears that bounce when they moved, embroidered with sleepy eyes, 3D bear snouts, and slippers shaped like chubby, smiling frogs, or almost every character in Disney world. But then, a very specific one caught your eye.
It's a plush white cat with blue eyes that had extremely cute floppy ears, with an infuriating smirk that you see every day — and the sunglasses hanging off from its eyes were cherry on top combination. " that one awfully looks a lot like you." Satoru followed your line of sight curiously. You pulled his hand to drag him closer to your target.
" why are you waddling like a baby duckling."
" shut up!! Not everyone fell from a fucking coconut tree like you."
" what the hell even that supposed to mean."
You ignored his offended tone and tried to stand up on your toes to grab the pair of slippers that caught your eyes. " y-you!! just warn me before lifting me up out of nowhere, you idiot." slapping his hands that holding you in the air. " Wait, they have your size ones too!!!"
" stop wiggling." Satoru had to pull you back to his chest before you let yourself fall down face first. " it's hilarious. Oh my god!! why are they looks so similar to you. Wait this has to be a family heirloom." holding the slippers one by one to each side of his face — you exclaimed quietly while laughing softly.
Satoru's heart started thudding so hard like it's trying to escape from his throat.
His heart has to go, bro. It's working overtime these days.
He just physically couldn't stop himself from looking at you. It's like his eyes were chasing even a micro expression you make. He can't miss anything that happens at this very moment. Satoru wanted to engrave your smile to his mind.
"Look at these," you said, laughing — sliding your hands inside the slippers and holding them like puppets. You slowly made the floppy ears attached on them nod at him, your eyes crinkling at the corners.
He didn't fucking care to look at the slippers.
He just couldn't.
For the last hour, the market had been a blur of loud vendors, heavy smoke, and flashing neon lights, — but standing under the warm, twinkling fairy lights of the stall, everything else went quiet. Whenever you let out a genuine laugh, and look at him with your eyes crinkled with mirth — entirely unguarded.
It completely disarmed him, utterly at your mercy.
The ambient pink and gold light from the display caught the edge of your cheekbones, but it was the sheer glow of your expression that held him on chock hold. He found himself tracking the slight dimple near your cheek, the way your eyes mirrored the tiny string of lights, and the pure happiness you held in your very eyes.
"You're not even looking," you teased, voice dropping into something softer, playful edge as you took a note of his silence. Satoru swallowed hard and looked away from you for a second to take his shit together. The bustling noise of the night market suddenly rushed back into his ears, though his focus didn't waver from you at all. He forced out a small, helpless smile of his own, unable to deny how deeply that single smile had just anchored him to you.
He realised that he's in deep shit.
Screwed for life.
Despite having a dozen places he was supposed to be, a hundred things constantly weighing on his mind.But looking at you right now, illuminated by the cheap, twinkling fairy lights of a ridiculous slipper stall, the noise of the world simply disappeared.
He didn't want to be anywhere else in the world other than right here.
With you.
Choosing ridiculous fluffy slippers in a cramped boutique, watching you laugh freely without a care in this restless world.
Even if the entire city froze around them, he wouldn't mind at all. Satoru felt like he could die in this moment. He would die as a happy man, right here without any regrets.
"I am looking," Satoru said softly after breaking the blissful silence that was stretching between you and him. His voice was steady but held a weight that made your hands pause inside the plush slippers that you were holding. "I'm looking right at you."
" ugh, that's so cheeky."
" I see you blushing, miss secretary."
" shut up."
" yes, madam."
Satoru leapt into action before even you could bend over to remove your shoes. He kneeled down in front of you and softly grabbed your feet while you held sat on his shoulders. " getting comfortable, I see." He said, urging you to lift your feet up. " Hmm, very comfortable. A 10/10 seat. I should give you 5 star reviewing for this."
" well, I've a seat even better than this-"
" save your breath and stop being delusional."
" nah, we will get there. Naturally."
" in your dreams."
" yeah. I'll dream about it. Thank you very much for reminding me."
" stop biting your future husband. this is considered domestic abuse." Satoru exclaimed while holding his arm after you bite his biceps rather violently. When he took a look at the damage — your whole teeth had left its imprint on his bicep. The angry red mark felt so contrast against milky white skin.
" what the fuck are you?? A fucking feral cat in streets?? Biting and scratching people left and right??!!" Hah what is this behaviour!! "
" You were asking for it, you were dying for it!! "
Satoru had to cover his face for a second to get the strength to deal with your nasty tempter and attitude.
Well, he asked for this, btw. Even begged.
Suffering from success, I guess.
While Satoru kept contemplating his life decisions, you look your sweet time trying the slippers that you chose. " sooooo, how do I look??" Satoru eventually broke out from his reverie and stood up from the floor. " Hmm, it's hard to decide. give me a little spin."
You did just as he said — giving him a cute little show, the white, flowy fabric of her garment rippled around your ankles like water, catching the gentle breeze drifting through the market alley. The delicate blue straps of your dress, tied into neat bows at your shoulders, shifted with your movements. The contrast was striking—the elegant, airy white of your dress making the ridiculously bulky, fluffy slippers look even more endearing.
You looked up at him, biting your lower lip to suppress another laugh as you wobbled slightly in place after twirling. "Are they too much? Be honest." Satoru looked from the blue bows on your shoulders down to the giant plush slippers on your delicate feet, his heart hammering against his ribs. Just looking at you standing there in your flowy white dress, framed by a wall of pastel fluff slippers, you looked entirely breathtaking — and Satoru had never been more certain that this was exactly where he belonged.
" no. they look very cute on you — almost like you didn't just bite me with your teeth."
" then they can do a good job."
" yeah. hiding that fact you bite and scratch people in daily occurrence??"
" yup. you get my point, old man." sticking your tongue out to taunt the poor man further, you continued what you were doing by standing in front of a giant ceiling to floor size mirror — checking out the cute slippers that you wearing.
" I'm not old."
" denial is a river in egypt, and your wifey is right." The words slipped out of your mouth with effortless, teasing confidence—until the reality of what you had just said caught up to you in a speed of light.
Wifey.
That one word hung in the air between you two. Your breath caught in your throat. Completely frozen, your foot still slightly raised in front of the mirror, as the playful smirk died on your face while you didn't dare to look behind.
Satoru didn't dare to move. He didn't even fucking blinked. The teasing warmth in his expression instantly melted into something intense, possessive, and fiercely obsessive. That one word you uttered so easily had sent a electric jolt straight through him, pinning him to the spot.
Meanwhile, you realize that after you screwed up a big time after accidentally spoken your hidden feelings aloud so easily, a fiery crimson blush rushed up your neck, instantly staining the cheeks and tips of your ears. Desperate to swallow the words right back in, you pulled her lower lip between your teeth, biting down hard on it as if you could physically trap the rest of your thoughts inside.
You finally turned and looked up at him through your lashes, lip still caught firmly under your teeth, eyes wide with a mix of panic and breathless vulnerability. Caught red-handed.
The silence between you and him stretched — suffocating you two with an undeniable tension, thick and electric, completely drowning out the entire roaring city around you.
Satoru stared intensely at you biting your poor lips, his gaze dropping to the blue bows on her shoulders that were swaying sightly, then back to your flushed face.A quiet, low chuckle vibrated in his chest—not a teasing laugh, but one of pure, overwhelmed disbelief at his own luck.
Did he just fucking get his dream girl?
After all this time, having you right under his nose. How could he not realise sooner that he undeniably, utterly, irresistibly in love —
With you.
After all this time.
Hell yeah.
Always.
Satoru took a single, deliberate step closer into your space, his shadow completely eclipsing the pastel light of the stall. "Is that so?" he murmured, voice dropping an octave, entirely hypothesise her with his voice. " my wifey, huh?"
" woah, woah hold your horses."
" can't do that now they escaped the second you said the word wifey."
" I'm gonna get a restraining order on you."
" as if that could stop me. you're all mine now."
You did such a poor job of hiding how nervous you're at this moment — pretending to act as if you are not trying to physically hold back your racing pulse.
You looked so small underneath the glowing fairy lights, caught between your own careless words and the intense, unyielding weight of Satoru's gaze that pinned down at you.
He didn't give you a chance to backtrack or room to laugh it off or pretend it was just a silly joke — he knows you more than anyone so there's no way escaping without any consciousness.Satoru took one more slow, deliberate step forward, completely erasing the last bit of distance between you and him.
The crisp white fabric of your garment brushed against his clothes, and the subtle scent of your flowery soft perfume mixed with the warm air of the stall. He reached out, his long fingers gently holding the smooth skin of your jawline. Satoru let his thumb wander just below your lower lip that was bitten so harshly by you, a soft but firm pressure that coaxed you to finally stop biting it.
Satoru leaned down slightly, his cerulean blue eyes locked onto yours, it's almost looked teasing, but the fiercely possessive edge into it told you otherwise. The roaring night market, the flashing neon lights, the passing crowds—none of it existed anymore.
"You said it, not me," he whispered, a breathless little smile tugging at the corner of Satoru's lips. He looked so ethereal, stealing your breath away for a second. "Which means you're all mine now. don't make me repeat that again." your poor heart thudding violently against your ribs, the blue bows on your shoulders kept trembling slightly as you took a sharp, shallow breath to calm your racing heart.
His hand drifted from your jaw, fingers sliding lower to gently wrap around your wrist, his grip warm, solid, and entirely inescapable. It was certainty a simple touch, but that made her knees feel weak, especially while balancing in those ridiculous, oversized plush slippers."There’s no escape, not after tonight." Satoru murmured against the quiet space between your lips, his voice steady, low, and laced with absolute finality. "You're stuck with me."
" have you ever murdered someone?"
" hm, no not yet."
" the fuck you mean by not yet?? were you planing to??"
" no, but I've a very strong feeling that you'll make me wanna murder people in the future."
Before even you could bite back a response — Then, the soft canvas flap behind them rustled."Excuse me! cute couple!" the voice was bright, booming, and completely unaware of the brewing tention between the two of you. But to you, this loud vendor is a heaven sent angel who saved you from the blue-eyed apex predator that was about to swallow you whole.
The elderly vendor with a pristine white apron and a friendly, wrinkled face popped out from behind a tower of pastel fleece, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. He looks genuinely elated after seeing the outfit that Satoru was wearing. Any normal human could just guess how expensive that suit. Satoru's regal stance only added the fuel to the fire.
"You both look so wonderful together! Are you going to buy both sizes of the cat slippers? I see this miss already found the larger size for the handsome boyfriend right here!"
You immediately face palmed after hearing that. You knew the exact words that were about to slip from that infuriating white-haired menace's tongue.
" future husband." Satoru's shameless voice chirped rather loudly, and the vendor awkwardly kept smiling. Well, Satoru's smile can be so creepy sometimes. He looks like kind of an overly smiling serial killer appeared in movies.
" t-that's nice. haha, young love. Indeed." The vendor side eye Satoru so hard after saying the young part. It was suspicious. But Satoru just let it slide because he's too happy to be worried about something so trivial.
He's lying. He's so fucking offended.
Probably gonna bulldozer the whole stall by the morning.
You covered your face in utter humiliation, face turning a shade of crimson that rivalled the glowing red lanterns down the street. You instantly ripped your wrist from his grip, burying your face into hands as the sheer embarrassment of getting caught in such an awkward situation with a total stranger. The poor vendor probably thinks they both nuts.
He blinked when you suddenly snatched your hand back from his grip — as he slowly turned his head to look at the beaming shopkeeper.
For a split second, a flash of mild irritation crossed his features at the prior interruption." just pay him already. I wanna go home."
After hearing your stern voice. Satoru looked down at you —hiding your burning face, you were trembling with embarrassed laughter, shoulders twitching—his irritation completely disappeared.A genuine, breathless laugh escaped from his lips.
Satoru reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet without a single hesitation. He looked the enthusiastic vendor right in the eye, a proud, undeniable smirk settling onto his face.
"Yes," he said, his voice ringing out clearly over the market noise as he gestured to the giant plush paws on her feet, and then to the larger pair that already was in the old man's hands. "We’ll take both. Anything for my future wifey." Looking away from him and the vendor, you pretend not to hear anything and let out a muffled, defeated groan, but you couldn't stop the hopelessly happy smile from spreading across your face.
You're so fucked.
You like this fucking shameless old man.
" let's go, wifey."
He's so insufferable.
" don't call me that."
" nope. you started it. and you can't back out now."
So fucking annoying.
But you liked him anyway. " why not get married tomorrow morning anyway."
" shut the fuck up."
" yes, wifey."
" STOP CALLING ME THAT ALREADY."
" I see you blushing, my darling wifey."
Your face was still burning a furious, hot pink, and you could feel his smug, victorious gaze heavy on the side of your face without even looking.
"I'm leaving," you muttered, voice a mix of a squeak and a huff.Without waiting for him, you turned on your heel and stormed away from the stall — not bothering to change out of your slippers. The delicate blue bows on your shoulders bounced with every angry, embarrassed step you took while marching straight back into the crowded narrow street of the night market.
"Hey, wait up!" Satoru's voice called out from behind you, entirely laced with amusement. You completely ignored him, weaving furiously through the clusters of tourists and locals. But it was impossible to outrun him in a crowd.
And you looked utterly ridiculous with the fluffy slippers that you were wearing.
Within seconds, his long ass strides caught up to you, his shadow falling over you once again."Wifey, hold on," Satoru teased restlessly, leaning down slightly so his voice vibrated right next to your ear. "You’re walking too fast. Can't lose my three apples tall wife in this crowd." He held up the plastic shopping bag, shaking it lightly so the plush slippers inside rustled. And his other hand was holding the shoes that were cutting your feet earlier.
"Stop saying that word!" you shrieked quietly, covering your burning ears while kept marching toward the bright neon exit of the market. "I was just joking! It was a slip of the tongue!" you exclaimed so loudly over all the sounds of the night market.
"Sounded pretty official to me," he countered, a low, effortless chuckle rolling through his chest. Satoru didn't try to stop you from walking this time; he simply walked right beside her, matching your frantic pace with ease, a proud, permanent smirk etched onto his face.
By the time they reached the edge of the market where the neon lights faded into something quieter. The night was officially winding down. The roaring crowds began to thin, and the cool night air brushed against your flushed cheeks.
You finally slowed your pace, letting out a long, exhausted sigh, though you still refused to look him in the eye.Even though you had tried so hard to storm away to escape his merciless teasing.
But as you both walked side by side toward the parking spot, the heavy weight of the shopping bag that was in his hand was a constant reminder — you were caught red-handed. And judging by the soft, fiercely affectionate look Satoru gave you whenever you tried to steal glance at his way, you're 100% sure that insufferable blue-eyed menace absolutely wouldn't let you forget any of this.
The view from the top floor of the corporate tower usually anchored him.
But today, it was just an annoying distraction. Satoru's office was a piece of architecture that screamed generational wealth. Polished obsidian floors stretched out to meet floor-to-ceiling glass walls that overlooked the sprawling Tokyo skyline. A heavy desk carved from a dark walnut sat in the centre of the room, stark and clean.
There was nothing felt out of place but except for the massive, slightly crushed plastic shopping bag sitting on the sleek leather sofa across from him. Peeking out from the top was a flash of white-colored cat with blue eyes and a goofy, embroidered smirk apparently reminding you of him.
Satoru rested his jaw in his palm, his eyes boring holes into the vacant desk just outside his glass door. Your workspace was perfectly neat. The computer monitor was dark. Multi-coloured pens and highlights that you used for your reports rested inside the cute pen holder you had on your desk.
No blue bows tied into your shoulders as shaking with silent laughter. No rustle of a white, flowy garment as you rushed around making his life a chaotic mess.It was 08:45 AM.
You were never this late. That's a lie, he's just being dramatic. You sleep like dead every morning. Even missing your 19 alarms that were shaking down the apartment of yours.
Satoru's mind traced back to the previous night. After you had spent twenty blocks frantically marching away from his relentless teasing, he had finally managed to guide you into his ridiculously flasy car. During the drive, you had pouted, staring stubbornly out the window at the passing neon lights while your cheeks retained a stubborn, lovely pink hue.
When he reached your apartment building, he walked you safely to the very door of your apartment. " See you tomorrow, boss," you muttered, intentionally using his professional title to re-establish boundaries, though your eyes had darted nervously to the bag of slippers in his hand. " See you tomorrow... wifey," Satoru had murmured back, just to watch you suffer.
He's such an asshole.
Satoru shifted in his gigantic ass chair, his brow furrowing as a rare spike of genuine anxiety pierced through his usual idgaf demeanour.
He picked up his personal phone for the fourth time in ten minutes.No texts. No emails. No formal sick leave request routed through HR.
Did he push you too far at the market? Was the "no escape" comment too intense?
He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the dark wood of his desk. Satoru was a man accustomed to having absolute control over multi-million-dollar mergers, yet here he was, completely devastated because his secretary had missed her morning check-in.
He unlocked his phone, Satoru's thumb hovering over your contact name. Part of him wanted to demand an explanation as your employer, but the louder, more desperate part of him just wanted to make sure you didn't catch a cold from walking around the market in your thin, flowy dress.
The rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the dark walnut desk stopped instantly when the internal intercom buzzed.
" Sir, your eleven o'clock appointment is arriving, and I have a quick update from Human Resources regarding your executive assistant," a generic voice from the temp pool chimed through the speaker.He didn't care about the appointment.
He pressed the button, Satoru's voice dropping into his usual tone, commanding corporate register. "Put the HR update through."
" Ah, yes, sir. Head of HR just messaged. Your secretary submitted a digital formal request about twenty minutes ago. Stating that she is taking a paid day off today for... personal reasons. It was auto-approved due to her perfect attendance record."
Personal reasons. Is this how you gonna play this??
"Understood," Satoru said shortly, cutting the line before the temp could say another word.Leaning back into his leather chair, an annoying scowl clouded his face.
Personal reasons? you had never taken a random day off in the five years — you had worked for him.
Not once. Well, he didn't let you take any, btw.
Satoru's eyes drifted back to the giant plush cat ears peeking out of the shopping bag on his sofa. A slow, knowing realization began to dawn on him, replacing his anxiety with a wave of deep amusement.
You weren't sick.
You were just hiding.
This dude is so fucking delusional.
The proud, stubborn little secretary who had boldly claimed she was going to be his "wifey" under the night market lights had woken up this morning, realized the full weight of what she had said, and panicked.
You probably couldn't handle the thought of sitting at your desk outside his glass wall, having to look him in the eye while he poured your morning coffee and reminded that there was no escape.
Talk about being delusional. I had been diagnosed for less.
A low, slow chuckle vibrated in his chest. Satoru stood up, fastening a single button of his tailored suit jacket as he walked over to the floor-to-ceiling glass window. "Personal reasons," Satoru murmured to himself, his reflection showing a thoroughly entertained, fiercely possessive lopsided smirk. "Nice try." Did you really think a digital HR form could keep him away?
You told him last night that you were gonna be his wife very soon, — you didn't, btw
And Satoru was a businessman who always collected his dues. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and ignored all the boundaries entirely, like what the fuck personal space did even mean?
You loved your personal space. Satoru also loved your personal space.
Grinning like a love sick fool — Satoru kept typing direct messages to your personal number.
Ass, tits or thighs? (Ft nod krai cast) (Typical warnings of NSFW, fem!reader, mentions of a lactation kink in Albedo's, possible OOC for all of them. Fight me all you want in the comments if you want. English is not my first language)
(this plot is so overused. Does that mean I care? No, I'll do whatever I want so just enjoy my analysis or whatever)
Varka: Ass
He'd be super embarrassed about this question and probably blurt out "personality" or something like that. A knight shouldn't be so improper with his lover! But sometimes you see him staring a little too long on your behind for it to be a "friendly" look when you bend over to pick something up. If he's ever holding you close to him, his hands are always on the hips or waist, just close enough to your ass but never doing anything until you ask. Basically cock blocking himself lmao
Flins: Thighs
Also the type to say "personality" but more of an endearing way than anything else. Probably be like "you are so enchanting, how could I pick just one?" So he says personality instead. Though, he's never one to complain if he gets a nice shot of your thighs, doesn't care if they're small or big. He seems like the type of guy to enjoy giving oral, so having your thighs around his head is probably a fantasy of his.
Nefer: tits
Not ashamed of her answer, and it was quite obvious. She doesn't care about your body type either. If you're flat, she likes pinching and playing with your nipples from underneath your shirt, perhaps dragging her fingers along your areola. If you're well endowed she prefers to squish your tits between her fingers to relieve stress. One thing's for certain, with those claws on her fingers your skin will hurt and look red. Good thing she has her mouth to help.
Lauma: tits
Unlike Nefer, she prefers to admire your body from afar more than anything, and she is most importantly not crude. She likes laying her head on your chest regardless if your tits are big or not. If you're ever sore she likes massaging them within her fingers, but she'll never go past your boundaries. Though, if you ask her to take a step further she wouldn't mind, after all she does have a few fantasies and needs of her own.
Nicole: thighs
If you ever asked her this question, she'd at first go on a tangent about how human evolution evolved and why we find such body parts appealing despite them being storehouses of fat for the most part. If you ask her to give a straight answer she'd say thighs. She likes it when you wear shorts, maybe when you sit down and they seem to look bigger. Regardless of their size she likes to lay her head down there and stare up at you whilst yapping about another topic. If she feels cheeky she might bite.
Alice: ass
Practically has an obsession with slapping your ass, with how red it gets from her fondling sometimes. Especially likes it if you wear a tight dress or shorts, she just loveees admiring your figure. She may be busy but that won't exactly stop her from meeting you often enough to eye-fuck you. If you have a tattoo on your lower back best believe she's kissing that senseless. Other than that, she prefers to bend you over with her strap and take you from behind.
Arlecchino: thighs
You're often the one straddling her waist while she does her paperwork, and her hands always find themselves digging into your thighs. She'll stop if it hurts, but gods does she love looking at your legs when they're properly marked by her fingers. If she's eating you out expect plenty of teeth marks around your inner thigh. When she's holding you by your waist, she finds her fingers drawing circles on your hip, to outer thigh. Also likes the feeling of control when her hands spread your thighs open.
Columbina: tits
She takes a long time to think about it, especially since she likes all parts of you and never bothered to think about these sexual questions. She eventually says tits because they're the closest to your heart. She spends the time with you mostly listening to your heartbeat, so she finds it fair to prefer your tits. If anything else, you'll sometimes find her either squeezing or pinching your nipples since she's interested on your reactions and how they feel in her palm.
Illuga: tits
He'll freak out at first if you ever ask and refuse to answer. Though, he stares at your chest a lot more than what is necessary. If you have a gap between your tits, he likes fixating on that for whatever reason, especially when he can see that gap from your top. If you don't have a gap, that's fine too because he'll still be staring at how much space your breasts take. If you allow him to touch he'd probably do it once before chickening out. If you offer a titjob he's practically jello in your arms.
Sandrone: no preference
It's either she doesn't care or she cares for all parts of you equally. There's no real problem for her anyway, she takes what's most convenient. If you're cuddling with her her hands will rest on your tits. If you're standing beside her (with no one around) she'll place a hand on her ass. She likes observing how your thighs enlarge when you sit. You can please her with almost anything.
Dottore: different per segment.
Webtorre likes your tits, Omega your ass and prime your thighs. Though, if you attempt to seduce the different versions of him with any one, it will work. Webtorre will be the more eager of the three to grab a hold of your tits. Omega usually just takes whatever chance he gets and places a hand on your ass whenever he gets the opportunity of your bending over. Prime prefers it when you're cockwarming him and your thighs wrap around his waist. He gets hard just from the feeling of your thighs.
Wanderer: no preference
Also another one that doesn't care. If he's carrying you while he's flying, his hand will subtly palm your thighs. Time to time he listens to your heartbeat, so the cushioning on your chest is appreciated. If you don't have any, that's fine too. His hands are (for the most part) on your ass when you're walking together with no one around. He's not overtly dirty too, if you don't like it then he'll immediately stop.
Albedo: tits
I know that for most of the characters you've seen me saying tits but it's more true for him than ever. He feels like the type of guy to have a lactation kink to be honest. Like, he'd research it for normal purposes and be completely normal about it but it will eventually grow on him. If you're ever pregnant with his kid he will suck your tits at least once for a taste. He's very gentle otherwise, compared to a certain Nefer.
testing the limits ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ a valentines special
genshin men in different s*x tropes || part one
ᡣ—𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅— neuvilette, dottore, zhongli
note !! MAJORITY of it was written gender neutral, except for dottore (afab!reader for his parts) , NSFW, m!receiving (zhongli), f!ngering (dottore), different plots for each character some are placed in genshin universe some are not! enjoy!
it was a simple contractual obligation. stay married for a year until you can make yourself powerful and known within noble society. meanwhile neuvilette could get all the forceful mothers and constant begging of other nobles off his trail, plus the divorce would make him undeemable in society. who would ever want a divorced man?
It was a simple marriage. straightforward goals for you both. you to place revenge on those who have deemed you wrong, all while he offers aid and assistance as a grand duke.
it was supposed to be a simple marriage, so why does he feel himself wanting more after your one and only kiss since your wedding?
it was supposed to be a contractual marriage, no love, no strings attached. so why do you see him in your dreams, embracing you in your chambers while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear until your waking up in sweat and soaked undergarments?
"forgive me for my insolence..." is what neuvilette mutters under his breath, patience wearing thin all while his hunger grows ever more. next thing you knew, the hand that once tugged him back from leaving your room is now being pulled in his direction. soft lips crashing against yours full of despair, consumed in the ardor he had impatiently held from within.
large hands encasing your waist, while his foot forces the door shut. he's consuming your very being, its feverent far from the softness and gentleness your servants squeal to you about. there's passion rather than the caution he had placed from your wedding day, it's like he was trying to remember every motion for it may fleet away once more.
"mmh- my lord-" your hands weak from sudden discourse finally pushes him away. breathless you're cut off,
"neuvilette." you look up at him in confusion. quesitoning him from what he had just told you.
"I-" his eyes furrow, face inching closer as a warning.
"n..neuvilette... I've never done this before.."
"it's alright darling, we'll go slow..."
...
"mm-! neuvilette! s'too fast!" his face is deep in your neck, nibbling against your skin placing another love bite. you've failed to count how many times his lips covered your body, failed to count how many hours have passed in the night.
it's restless, no sense of patience placed in his thrusts. the pain long gone and instead your drowning in pleasure, but the absolute pace your husband was going at was overstimulating you to the brim. he's chasing another high, you still shaking from your previous orgasm, yet you're about to feel yourself release once more.
"i''ve been dreading for this moment. hah- dreaming of you every godforsaken night- heavens... of you beneath me just like this..." he's groaning as his pace only increaes, you're clawing against his back mewling at him all while you tighten against him. it has him cursing the heavens, cursing the gods for having him wait so long to embrace you.
"you're close darling? hmm?" a kiss is placed on your cheek, urging you for one more high. his hand holding your face as he places his forehead against your own.
"you can do it.. just one more time..." he's kissing you with so much impatience, hips languidly moving against you, addicted to the very feeling you were giving him right this very moment. his thrusts fasten, signalling he was about to release one more time, you're holding him so tightly afraid he may run away.
but neuvillette was far from running away. no, he was gonna keep spending this very moment, remembering every place of your body. every blemish and curve, you were an art piece. his one and only.
and he was never planning to divorce you from the very start.
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ dottore || exes and messes
it's wrong. you know how defile he is. how much he mistreats you, how many lies and facades he's put up in front of you within the duraiton of your relationship.
kept you hidden in the dark from his secrets, his chaos and his insane thirst for knowledge. you couldn't believe him nor yourself for how clueless you were to his experimentations, his mania for information.
how you turned your back to his unfufilled promises of showing up, to the fake pleasantries that he'd be there on your most important achievements at the akedemiya. it's been years since your graduation, years since you finally put your foot down. so why are you here face to face with a sudden dread to cling onto him once more..?
why is it that you feel your heart flutter at more of the lies hes whispering behind your back as his hands trace you from the waist down, sending shivers down your spine.
the doctor having caught wind of you showing up within snezhnaya, he knew he had to get a hold of you one way or another. it was deplorable, how someone so dignified as him is sprawling his hands to take back the person who he believed did him wrong. all he believed that this chase collecting data would benefit you soon enough, as it did him. it just seems you never agreed to his terms.
"you say you hate me. how much you despise me. so why are you here at the doorstep of my labratory way past midnight..? hm? care to explain yourself dearest?" his gloved hands were crossed behind his back, his unique mask placed at the nearby lab bench. those fiery red eyes bore into you for the first time in years as he leaned down at your unreadable stature.
"you don't get to call me that.." is all you could really say in response, because even now you're now questioning as to why your feet have dragged you here.
"really? yet here you are surrendering to my touch. blushing every time your eyes meet mine. you haven't changed at all y/n." now one hand held you by the chin, forcing you to look back up at him. and there you both stood there, looking deep within each others eyes... long enough that you soon both crashed into one another.
next thing you knew you were being pushed against the metal counter while his cold lips melted into yours. the sound of glass viles shattering, the sound of papers fluttering as dottore was pushing everything out of his way from hindering you both. he's lifting you with so much ease, moving in ways like he's done this with you countless of times, when this is the first time in his life he's touching you so indecently.
large, scarred hands encase your face, gloves long gone just so he could feel the very warmth you emanated. he's longed for this, he's never felt so warm in his life, the chills of snezhnayas night now disippating. it's like he cannot get enough of you, he's high off the feeling of just feeling you against his lips.
"I need you zandik..." you moan, hands sprawling to rips off his annoying lab coat and the other layers of his clothes. meanwhile one hand is now trailing down your body feeling you all over.
"hah... really now? I thought you hated me dearest?" he teases, hand now pushing aside your panties feeling the pool of slick that has formed between your legs. your body never fails to deny him and it has him swelling in pride.
he doesn't waste time in pushing in two of his fingers, curling them within you letting you fall in ecstasy. you're consumed in lust and desperation for him and he's giving it all to you on a silver platter. his motions fasten before they stop, edging you from release.
"ah.. zandik please..."
"please what darling? you need to use your words" lips nibbling onto your neck as his fingers are sinking deeper into you. it's insane. this feeling is insane. he's insane.
"more.. i need more..." clawing into his shoulders, his pace increasing by the driven desire to see you absolutely fall by his hand. the sound of your slick along with your breathless mewls for release is like music to his ears.
his thumb presses against your most sensitive part, and your eyes are widening at the sudden surge of pleasure. hes moving in ways as if hes studying your very being in the midst of your high. you're tearing up at how insanely good it feels. it shouldn't feel this good, but here you are pulling him, begging him for more.
you were loving every breath shared with him, and he had no plans of letting you leave him ever again.
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ zhongli || his sweet secretary
zhongli is a boss with strict professionalism. he sticks to the rules, and expresses great mannerisms no matter how difficult a potential business partner or employee might be.
an employee is acting out of line? talking back? he'll simply respond calmly all while having you write up a letter of letting go that very employee. its his "nice" way of firing someone so distasteful.
his demeanor is welcoming yet also one with unspoken boundaries that should never be crossed, at least that's what it always seemed. he's always so gentle when speaking with you, whenever he was off to a meeting—seeing you in the specially built in the office he had just for you. his ever so special secretary—he spares glances your way with a smile that had your coworkers swooning, but one you responded with respect.
but under those gentle responses to his kind gestures was one where you wished you were the one by his side every night. guiltily you've touched yourself at the thought of zhongli dominating you as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. you yearned for him to hold you, wanted him to-
"y/n? did you order the perfume sets to give to our client?" you were currently in his office, laptop on the side of his desk as you sat across from him. he had welcomed you in to eat a lunch with him while you finalized the contracts with the new partners he had recently made business with. yet instead of typing down the requirements and agreements, you were dazing off at thought of zhongli instead.
"oh! uhm yes yes... sorry sir..." you turn pink as you're brought back to reality, hastily typing away the contract. however zhongli places a hand a top yours, stopping you from typing any further.
"if you are tired and need a break, feel free to y/n. there is no need to rush, I do not want my secretary to fall ill now.." he looks at you softly, as if there was 0 desire behind those very eyes. however zhonglis versions of taking a break, turned out to be a bit more twisted.
really, he had 0 intentions to do this at first, especially within his office at this very moment. yet the way you looked so ravishing, so alluring, you were like a treasure he couldn't refuse. Just quietly munching at the sandwich he brought for you to share, full of the ingredients he remembered you liked most. he was cracking beneath his facade.
"could you come closer here y/n?" you nodded, getting up and circling around his desk until you were in front of him. there he rose up before looking deeply into you.
"sir..?"
"may I?" is all he asks and you quietly nod.
it's been an hour since then and now your on your knees beneath him, his white tie loose, pants and belt unbuckled. his length is held within your hands, lips teasing his blushed tip.
you're taking him in so well, his one hand is gripping tightly against your hair guiding your mouth along his cock. the other brushing his hair back so he could relish the view in front of him.
its curved a slight and covered in your messy, half assed efforts of sucking his sheer length. your lips are puffy, eyes welling up from his forceful efforts as he chases for a release. he's pushing your head down, letting you take all of him in.
"oh archons.. you're taking me so well..." he's groaning, your motions are getting messier and needier. the lewd sounds of you sucking him off is echoing within his office. the vibrations of your moans is throwing him into a fucking world of disarray, and it isn't long till he's releasing all over you.
you're gripping against his thighs, feeling his cock pulsate in your mouth as you finally break free from his hold. his cum and your saliva string along from your mouth, those golden eyes look down at you with absolute desire at the sight.
"come here sweetheart", he pulls you up wiping your face with a nearby napkin. you on his lap, feeling him growing hard again at the feeling of your ass against him.
fatui male harbingers smut headcanons w f!reader , ranked from highest to lowest stamina (headcanon) | includes all male harbingers except pulcinella
a/n: requests are open for headcanons, mostly for fatui and nod krai cast ! send me an ask don't be shy :3 request rules are here !
minors dni | likes , reblogs , and follows are appreciated ! <3
TARTAGLIA — HIGHEST STAMINA
as the youngest harbinger, there's no doubt he has the highest stamina out of the fatui men. he's very proud about it, too. he loves to fuck, and it's a surprise to no one. there'll be some days where all he wants to do is ravish you after a long day of combat and fatui affairs, while on other days he wants to take his time to fuck your brains out. sometimes it's hard to keep up with him in bed, with the way he seems to never tire. he loves every single bed activity there is: fucking, eating your pussy, fingering, playing with sex toys, having you suck his dick if you wanted it, and even anal. there is never a time he isn't in the mood to fuck; he'll take every chance he gets to spread that pussy of yours open. this man can't keep his hands to himself at all either; all he wants to do is touch you and please you. tartaglia doesn't have any shame either, he'll take you anywhere and everywhere. quickies by the training grounds, in one of the hallways of the zapolyarny palace, in a secluded spot in the northland bank, and even short makeout sessions during work. this man's hunger is never a joke, because he'll never get tired of you. either way, you'll always be in for a ride with tartaglia, as he probably won't stop until the sun comes up.
SCARAMOUCHE —
technically... he's a puppet... so do puppets really get tired? but seriously, he's definitely a freak—a bratty and cocky freak at that. he loves to degrade you while his hand is wrapped around your throat as he thrusts his cock sharply into you. he gets off to the sound of your moans and pleas, the way your pussy flutters around him with desperation and need from every thrust. scara definitely loves to tie you up too, hands bound together with your legs spread wide and your ankles shackled down so you can't move. he'll tease you, edge you, and overstimulate you until you can't take it anymore. sometimes he even uses a vibrator on you while you're tied up in that position, pressing the toy in a torturous motion against your pussy. and he's not nice about it either. he'll continue to overstimulate your clit till you're shaking and sobbing, begging for him to stop the vibrator. if he's nice enough, he'll lower the intensity, but otherwise... he'll only ramp up the speed. and when you come for the nth time that night, he'll do the honour of cleaning you up by eating your pussy, licking all your juices. and just when you think he's done with you, he comes back for another round, ready to hear your pretty moans.
DOTTORE —
having dottore as a sex partner means having a tons of other guys as your sex partners too. what i mean by that is his segments. each segment has their own level of freak, and by extension, their own level of stamina. omega definitely has the highest stamina out of the rest of the segments, followed by moonttore and primettore. prime definitely has a thing for watching his segments fuck you in front of him, it's like a guilty pleasure. he loves to watch as a segment thrusts himself balls deep inside of you while another has his cock in your mouth, and maybe another to touch and tease you while the other two work on you. moonttore is especially cruel; he'll fuck your pretty little cunt till you're full of his cum and you can't walk. sometimes dottore takes turns with his other segments to fuck you, milking your poor pussy out for the night. he fucks like a man deprived and starved, burying his cock deep inside of you until you beg for him. he's definitely the type to use a drug or aphrodisiac on you if it means you'll be extra sensitive for his cock and touch. anything to help you keep up with his desires. stamina is never a problem for dottore, because there'll always be a segment that's ready to keep your pussy full and warm.
PIERRO —
don't ever assume that his age affects his stamina in the bedroom. while yes, his stamina has definitely worn down over time, pierro knows how to fuck and satisfy their partner properly. he knows your weaknesses and your sensitive spots, and he uses them to his advantage. his knowledge definitely comes from his years of experience, and he'll use them to the fullest to satisfy you. as the director of the fatui harbingers, he's always stressed and has a lot of pent up frustration. so what better way to relieve himself than to fuck his partner? he's the type to fuck you anywhere: bent over his desk, hidden by a pillar in the halls of the zapolyarny palace, or even in the tsaritsa's throne room—as long as she isn't there, of course. pierro will give his all to satisfy you, regardless of how quick he is or where you two are. he's usually very rough with you, but can be quite gentle surprisingly. by the time he's tired, you're shaking and trembling with pleasure, down to your fourth orgasm. even though he gets worn out faster than the rest, he knows how to leave a lasting impression on your pussy.
CAPITANO —
capitano is only this low on the list purely because of how crazy the rest are. most of the time, capitano likes to take his time with you, with slow and deep thrusts and a lot of groaning. he drags out each thrust of his hips and each flick of his fingers against your clit, drawing out soft moans from your lips. he takes his time to please you, conserving his energy while satisfying you. but on days where he feels more stressed than usual, he's rough, fervent. he'll bend you over against the nearest surface, rutting himself deep inside of you till you're arching your back and seeing stars. he'll have his large hands everywhere on you—your hips, your thighs, your waist, your breasts, even your throat to choke you when he's incredibly horny. he loves to watch your expressions as he pounds into you, watching the way your chest heaves and rises sharply with each thrust. and when his body finally gives up and spills his seed inside you, you're ruined beyond comprehension. he'll carry you effortlessly to somewhere more comfortable once you two are done, and he'll make sure to ease any pain he may have caused you during his fervour.
PANTALONE — LOWEST STAMINA
pantalone is a loser. the end. jokes aside, i think pantalone definitely has a lower stamina compared to the rest of the fatui men, but not to be disappointed. he's absolutely kinky in the bedroom, often spicing up your activities with toys and gadgets. he loves to tease your pussy with a vibrator, playing with the setting while shoving a dildo in and out of your pussy. but that doesn't mean he's lazy, because he loves to touch you everywhere and anywhere his hands can reach while using the vibrator on you. fondling your breasts and ass, rubbing your thighs, marking and kissing your neck and collarbone, even fingering your pussy while the vibrator rubs on your clit. but when pantalone does actually fuck you, it's absolutely hot. he'll have his hands everywhere on you during sex, teasing your tits as he drives his cock deeper and deeper inside of you. his thrusts are sharp and rough, but they gradually get sloppier over time when his stamina begins to wane. he'll hold out long enough to see and feel you cum at least twice from his cock, watching as your juices coat his cock and wet the bed. and when he's exhausted? if you're still horny? don't worry, he's still got that vibrator and his fingers to fuck you.
your boyfriend of 3 years is possessed by a sex-obsessed demon, aka an incubus.
suguru was never super sexual; of course, the both of you had sex a good amount, but it wasn’t obnoxious. things started getting weird a few months ago.
at first it started as dreams, suguru prying your legs open. licking stripes up and down your wet slit, your taste gathering on his tongue.
in the dreams you could never see his face, only his long hair beautifully hiding his face, taking your hand, putting it in his hair, wanting to move it to see his face, but something was stopping you.
but that didn’t strike you as weird; the night fucking did.
you’ll be sleeping nicely, and then you would hear the floor creak and suguru softly pull the comforter from over you, making you shift and wake up.
“i want you… right now.”
the light illuminates his face, his eyes almost light in a glow, and you’re too sleepy to ask questions, so you pull him down in between your legs, putting the comforter over the both of you.
you softly kiss his cheek, adjusting yourself while he strokes himself over your soaking pussy.
“are you okay?”
your voice is soft while you look up at him, not really grasping what’s going on, just thinking your boyfriend is horny late at night.
suguru doesn’t reply and instead slides himself inside of you slowly with a low groan, putting his face in the crook of your neck so he can smell everything.
he drives deeper when he hears you gasp, clawing his back while he gets faster; it felt so different but amazing, like he was bringing your soul out inch by inch while keeping you grounded in your body.
This was only the tip of the iceberg.
it became routine at this point: no sex in the morning, afternoon, or start of the night, and instead right at twelve when the moon would be shining through the curtains. he’ll put you in different positions and drive you to the point where you feel like your body is holding onto this intensity and cum right inside of you while he breathes you in.
nothing is suspicious to you because he acts like regular suguru during the day: loving, funny, and everything under the sun.
there’s no complaining when he wakes you up now; your body has grown to love it because he’s marked you.
the first time the incubus took over his body and saw that beautiful face of yours, he knew he couldn’t let you go, and so he marked you. putting his hand over your abdomen, talking to it while you slept right before waking you up.
a glowing mark now marked on you for only him to see, knowing you’re his.
when he’s fucking you and you’re letting out orgasm after orgasm, making a mess all over his dick while tears pour out, you’re giving him little bits of your soul every time.
when it's too good, almost like you’re floating, you’ll get nosebleeds, clutching onto him like a lifeline while you squeeze around his dick, making sure he pumps you full with cum.
his eyes glowing when the both of you cum at the same time, watching how your mark lights up, connecting to him.
he didn’t want to let you slip in the grasps of suguru anymore because you’re his now.
The recent hire. “_____” Female. 22 years old. Young. Pretty. Hard-working— the next upcoming employee of the month. And most of all, the favourite of the two bosses of Fazbear’s Pizzeria. Henry’s, and William’s favourite. There is no denying that, and it’s clear as day. As much as your colleagues appreciate you taking their shifts, willing to stay overtime, willing to take the closing hours; it’s been widely known that there is clear favouritism when it comes to you.
Williams clear attention on you, which many find it rare for him to even listen to them at times, Henry’s effort to help you with carrying items, which many find it rare for him to do as he barely gets out of the workshop- Williams smiles, Henry’s lack of distance: you were the clear winner of their praise and attention, which of course gave you looks from your fellow coworkers.
But it would be a lie to say you didn’t like the attention. Sure, it violates many codes, and if this was in another workplace- you would’ve called HR.
However, Fazbear and Friends was never a company of ethics and honesty. Considering the fact that some of the designs are ripped off of another man's passion project- or the fact that the pizza is probably composed of different older ones- you knew this company was never for safety, or for lawful ideas. Anyways, having the spotlight from the two older men isn’t all creepy (not minding Williams stares), it can carry benefits. Like, having Mr. Afton not yell at you at all, or not having to do any dirt work with the mechanics of the animatronics with Mr. Emily. It’s a win win situation as you believe- and maybe they’ll raise your wage for this thankless job.
Thus, you continue your hard work. You scrub at the table a little harder, making sure the grease from the pizza residue is off. You allow yourself to be yelled at by children, who demand you to give them a toy from the prize counter. You are willing to be the mediator, or the ‘temporary’ leader when something wrong happens in the kitchen. You were always there to fix, to solve, to negotiate- to the point that one of your coworkers, Nick, commented on how.. “Obedient’ you were to the two bosses. If you weren’t so caught up in the duties of your job, you swore you would punch that shit-eating grin off his face.
In spite of that, William still would pat your shoulder, crooning to you that nothing is amiss. Like he is doing right now, while you tell your worries as you rub the party area with a cloth. “Mr. Afton.. do you think I’m doing something wrong?” You hesitantly asked, as you put your attention to wiping the tables while putting effort into conversation.
“You? Doing something wrong? Love, out of all employees… you would be the least of my worries. I tell you this, without you- nobody in their mind would know what they’re doing.” He says, the last words carrying a bitter poisonous edge.
A pause of silence presumes after, you then look back at him with an awkward gaze. “I..I mean. I know.. that,” a sigh escapes your mouth “I just keep hearing whispers, from the staff. Like I’m the reason why nothing is going right. Or that I’m such a doormat...”
He snorted, laughing as he shook his head. You stare at the older man in the purple suit, a little surprised to see such a reaction. “They’re silly. You’re special. That’s all. Don’t worry about your pretty little head.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his calloused knuckles caressing the side of your cheek. “Jealous. They are… It breaks my heart to see my sweet thing to feel so… humiliated.” He coos, his hand now fully palming your cheek— and you felt the pull to push your head in, to feed from this man’s hand, even if you know it wasn’t professional at all-
“William.” Your eyes darted to the other man who spoke, stern yet soft, while the other man’s hand immediately fell down from your cheek. Henry stood before you two, with a furrowed suspicious eyebrow. He crosses his arms, pressing against his orange flannel long-sleeved shirt. “Let the poor girl work.”
The other man contorted his subtle annoyance, to a full-blown grin. “Oh, but I am, Henry. Can’t you see? She can multitask.” He points at the cloth you were holding, as well, putting attention to how your body bends a little over the flat surface. Henry immediately cleared his throat, pulling his collar a bit. “Y..yes. I could see that, but still.. Hovering over her might not be the best move.”
William's smile falters, his eyes rolling a little. “Don’t be prissy. She’s a grown woman. She can handle it, can’t you darling?” The man in the purple suit gives you a glare- almost forcing you to agree with him, to allow him to have a little leverage over his business partner. You gave a nervous laugh, and nodded your head rapidly- to which, gained William’s approval. “To this day Henry, ever since college.. You don’t know how to loosen up. I swear.” A growl leaving his lips, although hiding it with a sarcastic smirk.
Henry tightens up, his shoulder stiffens a little. “Maybe it's because I’m the only moral one in this partnership.”
Immediately, William darts his eyes back to him, he lets out a laugh, a bit strained and forced at most. “Oh, bringing up the higher ground- will you? I swear, Henry, you-” And before he could say anything, a beep interrupted his words.
The work clock-out machine makes a ringing noise- cutting through the tension. You turn your head, looking at the time-punch appliance, and you announce to the two other men. “I believe It’s my time to clock out.. I don’t want to miss the bus after all.” A small, but relieved chuckle escapes your mouth. You punch your time in, and quickly put your silly work hat away to the side of the table, but before you could leave, you look to your bosses’ who seem to settle down after they were snapped out of their ‘disagreement.’
You look down to the floor, awkward and a bit shy- however still holding your ground. “Uhm.. well have a good night, Mr. Afton.. Mr. Emily. I’m really grateful that you guys are my higher-ups.” Soon your eyes reach to both of them, the two older men staring right back at you. “I couldn’t ask for better bosses.”
You took your small bag and gave them a little wave as you exited through the door. Leaving both of them behind while they look out at the window- seeing you wait for the bus. As if holding his breath, Henry lets out a large sigh, palming his face and rubbing it.
“Lord help me.. I truly need it.” To which, William amusingly scoffs at, yet picking a cigarette from his pocket- and giving it to Henry. The bearded man grudgingly accepts- because well, nothing is going right, and you were tempting- so tempting; that he feels shame bubbling in his guts. However, his fellow colleague shrugs, as if having temptation wasn’t new to him.
“Well, my friend, I think she’ll need the help more."
----------------------------
Another day of clocking in again, but this time- almost everyone can smell the taste of sadness and bitterness rubbing off you. And no one knows why. Yes, you would still help your colleagues if they needed, yes, you would come to the beck and call of your bosses. However, you won’t be doing it with a polite smile, or a wave of humble dismissal, nope- today, you do it with a nod and a look of resignation. Which, admittedly, freaked everyone out. Even Emily took notice of it. Even Afton wondered about it.
Well.. William can make a small deduction about it. On one of the closing shifts where you worked- you mentioned meeting this boy your age next to the store besides Fredbears. Funny, gangly, a little silly- but overall a man you presumed to be dating material (which he largely disagrees with.) Afton can assume, or largely picture the idea that the young man did something wrong. (which he did, by stealing you away from him and Emily.) But William wouldn’t say he was surprised, no- he expected it, and he would even call it a blessing.
Really, It was almost offensive, clearly you had two men who were much smarter, richer, experienced than you- and here you are, playing with punks. If William didn’t worry about your poor heart, he may have killed that boy just to hurt your brain. But William loves to play favourites, and he isn’t willing to show that side of him. Yet.
He even talked about it with Henry. While at the workshop, the sanctuary filled with smoke and oil grease, he brought the topic up to discussion.
“She’s.. seeing a guy.” William sneers, with a smile holding anger. Henry peeks up from looking at the blueprints, his glasses falling on his nose. “..So?”
If William wasn’t tired from his brats at home, and at his business- he swore he’d break those glass frames into two. But he doesn’t, opting for a laugh instead. “So? Are you serious, Henry? I see the way you look at her. And I know, it must grind your gears seeing her talk to the boy. It does for me.”
Only the sound of Henry turning the bolts with a screwdriver could be heard. Afton almost thought the other man would ignore his comment, brushing it off.
Yet, the purple suited man found himself surprised, as Henry looked up once more- acknowledging with a cough clearing from his throat. “It does. But who am I to do anything about it? She’s our… employee. Sweet girl doesn't deserve the likes of us-“
“Oh please.” William scoffs, putting his cigarette out on the table. “Henry, are you still a Mormon or some bloody fucking sort? You preach about goodness, about what’s wrong or not..” The man darts his eyes to his fellow business partner, “But how are you, to judge? We profit over stolen ideas..”
The two men fall to silence.. The admission of their deed echoing across the room, with only Henry feeling the guilt, the shame of it all. The ginger-haired man sighed, almost letting out a groan. “Don’t, push me to do another fucked up thing, William. I don’t want to hurt her! Goodness. I’m telling you, we’re both divorced, and probably need to get laid- hell, let’s go find a prostitute instead of-“ William puts his hand up, stopping more of what his friend could speak.
“We never know.. Maybe an opportunity will fall to our hands, hmm? And.. well. Henry, I think you’re so stuck in the workshop, that you don’t hear her oh-so dirty thoughts about you, and me. Whispering it to her fellow coworkers, gaining the laughter of them. Slutty, isn’t it?”
Henry drops his screwdriver, his eyes widened behind his glasses and his cheeks blushing. “C-christ, really?” Which gains a nod from his sly companion, the man informing with a knowing cocky smirk. “Mhm. The silly girl doesn't notice her surroundings, to the point she’s unaware that I’ve been hearing her flimsy school-girl crush on us. Cute, no?”
Henry didn’t answer that. But as he does at moments of nervousness, he tugs his collar. Hoping to relieve the choking sensation of.. want.
----------------------------
And here was the opportunity of a lifetime. William, coming to the rescue- as he puts his hand on your shoulder; which makes you look up at him. Round eyes, a little puffy- you’ve been crying, haven’t you? Afton knows he’s an evil calloused man, but there is never a moment in time where he isn’t perceptive. “Care to tell me what’s wrong, love?”
You turn your head to the side, a little embarrassed. “Oh, it’s nothing for you to even worry about, Mr. Afton-“ He tightens his hold on your shoulder and shakes his head. “No. I wish to know. You’re my favourite star employee. You deserve my attention.” His words make you raise an eyebrow, a little heated from such validation- you can’t help but resign to his words.
“Ok, uhm, fine. So that guy I mentioned? You remember?” He nods, listening. “Well.. That jerk was also talking to like.. two other girls. And he would say the same shit to them- making them feel special, like he did with me,” your voice gives out, trembling with anger and betrayal.
“Fuck him, really! I mean really, fuck that guy-“ you ranted, but soon enough you quickly cover your mouth with your hand, realizing the foul language you displayed in front of your own boss. William didn’t seem shocked though, actually, he held an amused smile. He then cupped your cheek and looked at you, holding you like a fragile thing.
“Oh.. he’s stupid. So stupid. Why on earth, would he see other girls? If you’re available.. No, he doesn't appreciate you. Not like how I do” He bends his knees a little, to look at you straight eye to eye; however your vision looks to the side, almost a bit nervous to see him directly. He then tsked, “Look at me.” Which immediately gains your attention. “You do not deserve him. You don’t deserve his attention. I would even say, nobody deserves you, but.. me. Of course.” He laughs, “oh, and maybe Emily.”
“But love, I mean it. I’ll give you everything that a silly young boy would never do.” You giggle, flustered, and you shake your head. Knowing this isn’t right, knowing that this bends the rules- a taboo that surrounds this temptation. “Mr. Afton, I appreciate your words b-but-“
You barely could get a word out. He presses his lips against you, and your knees buckle. Thank god, you take closing shifts. Because although your conscience lets out a cry, you can’t help but put your arms around his neck, tipping on your toes to taste his tongue while out in the open of the empty lounge area.
He tastes like cigarettes, and that whiskey he keeps in his office. He tastes like bitter black coffee, to which your sweetness contrasts. And his large palms move down your uniform, to have a handful of your behind. If you weren’t so dizzy with sensation, you would’ve been able to notice the growing hard-on the man seems to be having. You would’ve reached down, maybe unbuckle his belt- but he moved faster. He moved down to his knees.
You look down to him, a blush arises from your face- seeing the older man down on you, tugging the hem of that unflattering skirt of yours. Like he was starving. Hungry. Famished. “You don’t know how much.. I think of this.” He breathes out, your skirt falling down to the tiled ground- which exposed your panties. It wasn’t the most exciting piece of fabric, but he could see the dampness seeking through- and that was enough to push his hooked nose against your clothed clit. Just licking a strip against your mound— teasing you while you grip a bright tablecloth. As he takes a taste of your core, he quickly decides to just rip it off. He can buy you new ones, anyways- and it was getting in the way of what he truly needed.
“Mr.. Afton. I-I, shit!” He laughs, not caring of your yelps or protests- which didn’t come from true fear or undesire. It was the embarrassment of it all- your bum pressed against the table, the fact that it was in an open large space, the fact that your boss was on his knees- diving in and licking your folds. At any moment now, some onlooker can peek in and look at your own demise, or even worse, Henry coming into the scene, seeing your legs spread out like a bitch in heat—
“William.?” Fuck.
You meet eyes with the bearded man. His freckled face blushing, a red against his cheekbones. The papers in his hands long forgotten, now slipped onto the tiles of the floor. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but nothing comes out- and Afton, snapped out of his pussy-drunk stupor; looks to his friend with a smug grin. “Oh.. don’t worry. Just cheering our favourite employee up.” He excuses, as if the act of eating out his pretty little employee is nothing wrong, just an act of ‘help’. Emily looked to the two of you, knowing he should immediately stop this act, to shame Afton for abusing his power- but all of that ethical code comes crumbling down, when you look at him, blushing and panting, gripping your fingers against the table.
“Shouldn’t we make our sweetheart happy? Wouldn’t you wanna help out?” The suited man taunts, his words a temptation that his fellow friend wishes to deny. “I..I-I William, this isn’t-“
“Please.?” You whimpered out. Giving into the pleasure. This was absolutely against guidelines and everything you stood for- but with William drinking in your juices and lapping you up- your head dizzy and totally forgetting about that boy you were seeing, you might as well allow yourself to lose yourself. And besides.. you talked and giggled about the idea of this, didn’t you? This opportunity is nothing but a win for you, and you can admit to that. So with your flustered face, you mustered up the courage to look at Henry— and pleaded. “Please, please Mr. Emily.. please help me- I.. I want you to help me.”
And as if those words had broken a dam, Henry’s legs moved forward before he could think. Taking in the sight of you, and his business partner licking all over your cunt, he takes a deep breath. His hand cups your face, their warmer, much kinder than William’s— however, he smashes his lips, as if he was dying for a taste. Which then you let out a yelp, your bum fully sitting against the table as your thighs close around Afton, and he grunts. “That’s it.. What a good slut. Squeeze around me, make a mess.”
You nodded your head, eagerly and obediently, “Y-yes— I-i’ll, mmph!” mumbling beneath the lips of Henry, which he breathes in your scent when hearing your begging, desperate wanting cries. “You’re so cute, honey. Doing such a good job.. god- you’re so pretty.” And as if he can’t help himself, Emily dips his head down to your neck, peppering worshipping kisses, a red and purple mark blooming under his touch. He grabs a handful of your tits, and you can’t help but squirm.
“Christ, Henry you’re making her move too much.” William snarled out, however, going back to performing his duties- ensuring his tongue touches the bud of your core; his friend can’t help but talk back. “Can’t help it. She’s driving me mad.”
“Well, hold her down- will you?” And so Henry did, his hands grabbing your waist, making you stay still while he explores your mouth in every corner and crevice. You can’t help but whine— the dual stimulation makes your skin feel like it’s on fire, as if your voice can only let out moans and whimpers.
“Taste so fucking good.” Afton pulls out of the area between your thighs. Strands of your wetness were connected to his mouth, which he licked it up with the help of his tongue. He taps his friend, which did help Henry snap out of devouring your mouth- “Say.. Hen. Don’t you want a taste?” His friend looks down to the sight, your mound wet and glistening with clear liquid- silent to Afton's words, but clearly showing interest in doing so.
“I.. fuck. Y-yeah.” Emily looks at you, brushing your hair to the side of your ear. “Will you let me, honey?” You bit your lip, nodding. He shudders, thanking you repeatedly, as he helps you down to get on one of the chairs- so he can kneel down and fully eat you out. While you’re fully seated- William taps your cheek, reminding you that you don’t have just one boss at your disposal, but two.
“You’re my best worker, right, love? So..” He unzips his slacks, the bulge clear to the eye- and uses his hand to get his shaft out. “I know you can multitask, no? Be a dear, and help me out.” Afton grunts out, his hand stroking down and up- his tip seeping with pre-cum. As much as you gulp at his size, its length makes you hesitate, you push down your fear. You are his best worker, their best worker- so if it means having to get eaten out and perform a blowjob; so be it.
Immediately as you lock eyes with Afton, he taps your cheek with his cock, a large grin forming. And you obeyed- your lips wrapping around the tip, then down and down you go. William grunts, for the first time, losing his composure- “Fuck, that’s, that’s right.. Oh darling, what can you not do?” You hum from his praise, and also from Emily on his knees sucking you up- now adding his fingers to the mix.
“Pretty pussy. Such a pretty pussy- everything is so pretty about you, baby.” Henry breathes out, kissing your cunt- he then presses his finger in, which your hole sucks in the digits. “Take it in, you can do it.” His two fingers knuckle deep, hitting your spongy walls with slow deep strokes.
“Yeah.. Whatever Henry said. Take it.” Afton says, which he then takes the initiative to make you gag- hitting his cock to the back of your throat. You choke, spit and saliva spilling out of your mouth- and Henry looks at you with concern. “Will.. you’re not being too- rough, are you?”
“No, no, certainly not. You know why?” William pulls out a bit, only his tip being sucked on, “Because, she fucking likes it.” He then thrusts back in again, hitting the walls and caressing your tongue, and on cue- your pussy clenches around Emily’s fingers. Making Henry gasp out in surprise.
“She’s a slut, clear and thorough.” Afton breathed out, his eyes fluttering from the stimulation. He could feel your tongue wrapping around, licking his undershaft as he fucks your face. “A really sweet slut, though.” Henry adds softly, however even with his gentle words- the way he was scissoring your cunt with his two fingers was not gentle.
Soon enough they were in rhythm with each other, when William pushed his cock into your mouth, making sure you spill and drool around it; Henry pulls his fingers out a little, and brings it back to the hilt to rub that spot in your walls. In and out, out and in- and god, you were going to cum. Wailing to them, alerting your arrival, you yelp around the shaft invading your mouth. “Oh, is that pretty little slut gonna cum?” William hums, and Henry grunts. “She is.. Fuck. Oh honey, you can do it, you can do it—“
“That’s right love- shit- I’ll be cumming around soon. You’ll be a darling and drink it up, will you?” You nod, eyes welling up with tears, but you know you can take it, you need to take it. And soon enough, with Afton's last push, he hits your throat- his cum spilling out in your warm mouth. All the while, your cunt clenched and creams, your orgasm all muffled. But Henry shudders at the sight, licking up at any of the honey you poured out. William- for the first time giving you mercy, pulls out of your mouth, for the sake to hear your cute moans.
“Mr. E-emilyyy!! A-awhh.!! C..cumming.” Henry growls, he can’t help but to put his non-busy hand around your shaking ones, all the while he makes sure the last drop ends up on his tongue. “Goooood girl.” The man says, his beard a bit wet, but pussy drunk and obsessed with how his favourite worker came around his fingers and tongue.
Although you were all jelly, somehow you knew you weren’t done. It’s as if from this first ‘task’, you proved how much you can truly do. And both men were inching to use up your body, make sure their cum was inside and out, to taste you, to keep you in their hold. Afton kisses you, a chaste kiss that made him taste his own doing, and he looks you straight, eye to eye. “Such a good slut. Now.. Can you take more? I’m sure Henry wants relief.”
Emily coughs, he clears his throat “Ah.. no, no it’s not a big deal, we shouldn’t make her do it anymore-“ William chuckles, “Oh. Yeah. As if your hard-on isn’t visible at all.”
“And didn’t you say that you dreamed of her using your mouth on you?” Henry blushes, flustered at his old friend calling him out. The man then looks to you, to make sure that you were okay with it- and you respond with a dazed out smile, which signals; that you didn’t mind, no, you didn’t at all.
To the point, that your hand slowly gently cups his crotch, which you received an inhale from Mr. Emily. William chuckles at the sight, “Ah.. see Hen? I knew you would come around. Besides, it will be just like our time in college.”
Afton comes around to your behind, his palm rubbing against your ass. While you unzipped his business partner’s pants, you felt a familiar sensation against your weeping cunt. His cock, pressing against your slit, teasing your hole side from side— you whine, however trying to pay attention to the other hard cock underneath your face. As your hand pulls out from the man’s boxers, Henry’s shaft quickly comes into sight, its length lesser than William’s, but girth..
“H-how am I gonna fit this?” You admitted, Emily chuckles- giving you a wry smile. “Just try your best, sweetie.”
Hearing his encouragement, you nodded and took a tentative lick at his underside- which he responded with a loud groan and pant. “F-fuck.” Almost amused with his sensitivity, you give a coy smile: which leads you to gulfing half of his dick. You sputter, but it was worth it to hear Emily’s whine. As well- William shuffles closer to you, making you position away from the chair, your hands and knees going against the (hopefully) clean floor. Afton exhales, unraveling his tie around his neck, and taking off his purple suit jacket- which is thrown over the table. He rolls his sleeves, and soon he pushes his chest against your back, making you feel the expensive fabric of his shirt. “You be a good girl and help my old friend out. While i’ll- fuck- I’ll slide my cock right up into you, and you take it. Ok, sweetheart?”
You nod, and your whimpering consent is muffled due to your mouth being busy. Willam groans in approval, “Atta girl.” His cock now sliding up inside you, and your eyes well up.
“Oh. Fuckin’ hell. She’s tight as a fist, Henry.” Williams breaths out, his eyes darting towards his friends fluttering ones, and Henry lets out a strangled sigh. “Her mouth too.. Fuuuck.. God I could just cum. B-but I gotta.. gotta hold it.” They talk about you as if you’re not there- only commenting about the feeling of your holes and the warm insides, yet somehow this makes you drip even more.
William finally is thrusting into you, and you couldn’t help but allow your mouth to pop from Henry’s tip to let out a loud whimper.. “A—awh!! F..fuh, fuck! Soo muchhh.”
Henry can’t help but to share his sympathy, his hand holding your cheek and shushing. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You can do it baby, I know you can.”
William snorts, “You better do, darling. I’m counting on you to take our cocks like the whore you are. ‘Ohh no, it’s so much!’- come on, are you gonna be pathetic or just take it?” Afton mocks, and pushes his cock deep, deep, into you, and as you whimper- you go back to work. Henry lets out a sharp breath, his glasses fogging up. “Oh baby, thank you, thank you! Feels so fuckin’ good.” His words babbling, a strand of pleading as if he’s worshipping your mouth. The pleasure getting to him so much, his soft hands grip your hair, making you take him deeper— to the point it hits his base.
“Shit, Henry. If you do that she tightens up. Go fucking harder.” William growls, his hand grabbing onto your ass, certainly going to leave fingerprint bruises. Henry would’ve disapproved at the thought, but hearing your whimpers, your choking slurps— he couldn’t help it. And he abides, listening to his close friends order, which allows the men to be in sync. The pleasure almost numbs your mind.
Afton makes a large smile, “Great job, Hen.” The cock in your mouth pulses, and Williams breathes out, “See, sweetheart? Look how good you’re doing. Good at being a slut for two men that could be your father, good at being a fucktoy for your two bosses.’ He sneers.
He pounds into you harder, making you grip the floor tiles, mascara running down your face. “Say.. maybe this should be your new job.” He slaps your ass, which causes you to choke on Henry’s cock- the other man letting out a grunt. “Being the personal toy for your two bosses. The CEO’s slut,” Afton hovers more over you, as his tip grinds against your cervix- he nips your ear.
“You’ll be good at it for sure..” Henry admits, his hands trembling as he holds your hair, making you lick and swirl your tongue, your throat working its way.. “I wouldn’t mind.. no. F-fuck. I know it's so bad, but honey you’re just too good..”
Henry pushes you down harder. “Can’t help it sweetie. I’m so sorry. So sorry— fuck!”
“Yes.. You do feel too good.” William adds, and his silver eyes look down at you, degrading yet almost obsessive. “Too.” He pulls his cock, “Fucking,” and continue to thrust deep inside, “Good.”
Your legs almost give out, eyes rolling back to your head. You could feel yourself going dizzy, your head shooting blanks- unable to think except the feeling of having two cocks inside you. That warm feeling in your stomach arises, and you make a loud muffle. Alerting the two men. Henry pants, “I-I think she’s gonna cum. S-shit.. God! I’m gonna blow my load into you, honey.”
William lets out an exasperated laugh, shaking his head at the sight of both of you, however, still clearly affected by the feeling of your body. The slick sounds of skin and gurgles echoing in the large space, Afton's peppered hair sticking against the sweat of his head- William could admit, he had never been so fucking hard in his life.
“Christ. We should’ve done this earlier, Henry..” He complains, “Better late than never though.” He laughs, but soon he gets back to business- allowing his hand to slightly slap your face, “Darling, listen to me.”
William commands you, his eyes demanding your straight attention. “Me and Henry are gonna count to five. And when that countdown- ugh fuck… - goes down.. You better fucking take our cum. Got it?” And as you heard your final order, you immediately nodded.
“F-five. Oh honey.” You gagged around Henry. The drool dripped to the floor.
“Four.. That’s it, what a good fucking slut.” Afton growls out, his hand gripping your hips.
“Three,” Henry lets out with a strained voice, “Two.” William sneers. “One.” Both of the men said, and soon you could feel your body fully giving out.
“Sh-shit..! Oh baby, I love you.” Henry cries out, his cums going down your throat- which you had to swallow down, making sure no drop goes against the floor.
“Fuckin hell.” William breathed out, kissing the back of your neck, as his cock pulses inside your cunt, some of the liquid seeps out of your pussy. The two men slowly pull out, and your body gives out. Limbs now splayed against the cold ground, as your eyes flutter dumbly. Your two bosses look down at you, Henry with tenderness and William with subtle amusement, however they were, oh, so proud of you.
------------------------------
You were left against the couch of the office. The two let you sleep, while they take a smoke and drink break, sitting next to your body that’s cuddled against him. Henry wraps your arm around you and peppers kisses against your tired face, all the while William rubs your ass, as if repenting for all the spanking and gripping he did.
William exhales a puff of a cloud, and he looks to Henry, his friend stiffening as if he knew his buddy will say something outrageous. “That boy.. Yeah he didn’t talk to other girls. I just framed and bribed him to stay away from her.” Afton casually says, and Henry blinks.
“What the fuck..?” He sighs, but Henry forms a smirk. “You know what.. I don't mind. We have something we can finally agree on. Our star employee.”
Summary: König and Gaz are assigned to travel to an island where their target is currently staying. However, König became distracted when he saw you at the beach wearing only a bikini.
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, NSFW, AGE-GAP, AU, HEAVY SMUT, explicit content, mature language, sexual innuendo, erotic, mention of jerking off, cum eating, mutual pining, obsession, lots of teasing, manhandling, choking, spanking, reverse power dynamic, submissive, petname, dirty talk, degradation, oral activities, multiple penetration, unprotected, PiV, squirting, spanking, fingering, blowjob, overstimulation, breeding, markings, rough sex, older man x younger woman
König stood at the edge of the sun-bleached boardwalk on a sleepy Hawaiian island, the kind of place where time moved like warm honey. His massive frame was poorly disguised in a loud floral shirt that strained across his chest, cargo shorts, and a wide-brimmed hat perched awkwardly over his hood.
The mask stayed as he looked like a very tall and very suspicious tourist who had lost a bet.
“ Status, König.” Price’s gravelly voice crackled through the earpiece.
“ You’ve been ‘admiring the view’ for twenty bloody minutes. The cartel leader isn’t hiding in the bloody clouds.”
“ Trying to blend in, Captain.” König muttered.
“ It's hard when I am built like…this.” He gestured vaguely at his own seven-foot silhouette.
“ Children have been staring. One asked if I was a lifeguard. I do not even swim.”
A snort from Soap came through the comms. “ Big Austrian laddie in a Hawaiian shirt. Aye, perfectly inconspicuous. Ghost owes me twenty quid if ye get recognized before sundown.”
“ Focus.” Price growled.
“ Locals. House. Now.”
König sighed and approached a group of aunties selling shaved ice near the beach path. He tilted his head while playing the curious tourist.
“ Excuse me, that big house up on the point? Very beautiful. New?”
The women lit up. “ Oh, the big one? It belongs to a foreigner. A Mexican gentleman, I think. Come and go. Very generous, that one. He donated a new generator for the community center last month.”
König’s jaw tightened beneath the mask.
Generous.
The same man whose network had funneled enough product across borders to drown cities and left bodies in its wake. Task Force 141 had chased his shadow for years and now the bastard was here while playing benefactor.
“ Very kind.” König said smoothly.
“ Good to see. Danke.”
He thanked them and retreated to a shaded lounge chair under swaying palms while pretending to relax. The ocean glittered like shattered sapphires. For a moment, the mission noise in his ear faded.
Until she emerged from the water.
She rose like the sea itself had decided to show off. The water cascaded down sun-kissed skin and tracing every curve as she walked up the sand.
A simple black bikini clung to her like a second skin. Her full hips swayed with unconscious grace while her breasts drew his gaze before he could stop himself. The thin fabric left nothing to the imagination when the clear outline of her nipples tightened by the cool breeze made heat slam into his gut like a rifle stock.
König’s head tilted slowly as his mouth went dry.
“ Scheiße…” He breathed.
“ What was that?” Price snapped.
“ Nothing. Just…scenery.”
She laughed at something one of her friends said while reaching for a towel. The motion lifted her arms and arched her back. König shifted in his seat when he suddenly felt uncomfortable in his shorts.
He imagined those curves under his hands, the way she’d feel pressed against his much larger frame, soft against hard.
How she might sound if—
Her eyes met his. It's direct and curious with a spark of something that looked a lot like amusement. She paused mid-wipe as the towel hovering over her collarbone.
For two full seconds the world narrowed to that stare, König jerked his head away so fast his hat nearly flew off. Under the mask, his face burned as the sweat prickled at his temples. He could still feel her gaze like a physical touch.
Price’s voice cut through again. “ König. More intel. Stop gawking at the bloody tourists and do your job.”
“ I am doing my job...” He hissed back.
“ Unlike certain captains who only bark from a safe distance.”
Soap cackled. “ He’s got ye there, Cap.”
“ Shut it, both of you.” Price said, but there was a thread of dark humor in it.
“ König, if you blow this because you’re chasing tail—”
“ I am not chasing anything.” König muttered, but he couldn’t help one last glance.
She was still watching him with a small and knowing smile playing on her lips as she draped the towel over her shoulders. The motion did nothing to hide how the wet fabric clung to her chest that made his pulse hammered.
He wanted to walk over, introduce himself properly, and see if that spark in her eyes would ignite under his shadow. Instead he kept moving while every step fighting the magnetic pull backward.
The elegant house loomed further up the beach, white walls glowing in the sun. It's the target’s temporary fortress, König’s mission, and the reason he was here.
Yet as he disappeared down the path toward the village when the image of her rising from the waves burned behind his eyes. The way her body moved or the way she’d looked at him.
“ Focus.” He told himself.
But the heat in his veins whispered otherwise and the mission had just become far more complicated.
…
König pushed open the door to their rented beachside hotel room, the floral shirt still clinging awkwardly to his broad chest from the humid Hawaiian air. Gaz was sprawled on one of the beds while flipping through a local newspaper with a lazy grin.
“ Finally. Took you long enough, big guy.” Kyle said.
“ So? What did you get on the cartel leader?”
König dropped into a creaking chair that barely contained his massive frame and sighed heavily. “ Basic information only. The locals think he is some generous foreigner. Donating generators, smiling at everyone. He plays their minds well. Hides behind charity like a shield.”
Gaz whistled low. “ Smart bastard. I dug around too. There’ve been a string of ‘disappearances’ and shipments moving through the docks lately. Local government’s doing jack shit about it. Probably getting fat envelopes to look the other way.”
“ Likely.” König muttered while rubbing the back of his neck under the hood.
“ We must be careful. His alliances run high. One wrong move and the whole island could turn on us.”
The room fell quiet for a beat of the distant sound of waves and laughter filtering through the open balcony door. Then Gaz’s smirk returned sharp and mischievous.
“ Alright, enough shop talk. I gotta admit, mate…this mission is kicking my ass in the worst way. All these gorgeous ladies on the beach? They are flirting left and right. One even slipped me her number while I was pretending to check out snorkel gear. It's hard to stay focused when the view’s that good.”
König shot him a flat look. “ We are here for surveillance, Sergeant. Not to flirt with locals or tourists.”
Gaz rolled his eyes dramatically. “ Oh, please. As if you didn’t spot someone while you were ‘blending in.’ I saw the way your eyes went all wide behind that mask when you came back. Dilated like dinner plates. Don’t even try to deny it.”
König shifted uncomfortably, the memory of her rising from the water flashing hot across his mind. The way the black bikini had clung to every curve, the visible peaks of her nipples, and the sway of her hips.
“ I…saw a woman.” He admitted gruffly.
“ At the beach. She came out of the water while wearing a damn bikini.”
Gaz barked out a laugh. “ Go on then. Details, König. Was she fit?”
“ She was beautiful.” König said.
“ Like a goddess walking out of the sea. Her curves…perfect. The way she moved…” He trailed off while clenching his jaw. He could still feel the phantom heat of her gaze meeting his, that small knowing smile.
Kyle was grinning like an idiot now. “ My big masked buddy’s got a crush on a beach girl. Never thought I’d see the day. While you’re here in Hawaii, you should shoot your shot. Pull some moves. Bed her if you can. Release some of that…tension you’re always carrying.”
König shoved Gaz’s shoulder hard enough to make him rock back on the bed, though not enough to actually hurt. “ We are here to end a mission, not fuck random women. Focus, Gaz.”
“ Fucking killjoy.” Gaz laughed while rubbing his shoulder.
“ Lighten up. The cartel leader isn’t going anywhere tonight. I’m gonna head out, breathe some fresh air, and act like a normal person for a bit. You should try it sometime.”
He stood and headed for the door. Just before stepping out, he paused with a wicked grin. “ Oh, and if you’re gonna jerk off thinking about your sea goddess…don’t leave any traces, yeah? I sleep in that bed too.”
“ Kyle!” König snarled while lunging up from the chair. He aimed a half-hearted kick at the sergeant’s legs, but Gaz was quicker. The door slammed shut and the lock clicked just as König reached it.
“ Arschloch!” König cursed while banging a fist against the wood. Gaz’s laughter echoed down the hallway then fading quickly.
Silence settled back over the room. König exhaled slowly, leaning his forehead against the door. He could picture her so clearly like when the water slid down her skin, the thin fabric stretched tight over her breasts, and that eye contact felt like a spark against dry tinder.
He turned away from the door and paced the small room when the floor creaked under his weight. The mission came first. But his mind kept drifting back to her curves, her smile, and the way his body had reacted so violently to a single glance.
“ Scheiße…” He muttered while glancing toward the balcony where the ocean glittered under the setting sun.
He wouldn’t act on Gaz’s stupid advice. He couldn’t, but the image of her refused to leave. And deep down, part of him wondered what would happen if their paths crossed again.
…
The air was warm, thick with salt and distant barbecue smoke. König wandered back down to the beach as evening painted the Hawaiian sky in deep oranges and purples as he told himself it was for reconnaissance. The elegant house on the point needed watching. In truth, his eyes scanned every group of swimmers and sunbathers for one specific figure.
He didn’t have to wait long.
A cluster of kids spotted the seven-foot giant in the mask and floral shirt immediately when they swarmed him like curious gulls.
“ Mister, why are you wearing a mask?” One boy asked.
“ Are you a terrorist?”
“ Do you have an ugly face?” A girl added bluntly.
König scratched the back of his head.
“ It is…a special condition.” He rumbled.
“ If anyone looks at my bare face, they will turn to stone. Like Medusa, ja?”
The children screamed and bolted toward their parents while crying dramatically. König chuckled darkly and waving them off.
“ Run along, little brats.”
“ Nice work.” A warm female voice said behind him.
“ Scaring children on a peaceful beach. Really setting the tourist vibe.”
König stiffened and turned. There she was…she's wearing a light sundress that fluttered in the breeze. The thin straps and low neckline offered a dangerous view of sun-kissed cleavage.
His throat went dry.
“ I did not mean to scare them so badly.” He muttered.
“ They were…persistent.”
Y/n crossed her arms, which only pressed her breasts together more noticeably. “ They’re just kids. Curious. You’re the only guy on the whole island wearing a mask at sunset.”
König shifted on his feet. “ I have a skin condition. Very sensitive. And I do not wish to scare people with how I look underneath.”
Her expression softened. “ Oh. Sorry, that was rude of me.”
She stuck out her hand. “ I’m Y/n L/n. I just moved here from the city. I needed peace and this island…it feels like home now.”
He took her hand carefully when his massive gloved fingers engulfed hers, the contact sent a jolt straight through him.
“ Krueger.” He lied, using the first name that came to mind.
“ I am here to clear my head too. I work as an architect…it can be stressful.”
Y/n’s smile brightened. “ A giant architect in Hawaii? That’s a nice change of pace. I’m glad you’re giving yourself time to breathe.”
Their conversation flowed easily, but König was barely holding it together. Every time she laughed or leaned in when his gaze dropped to the soft swell of her breasts as the dress clung in all the right places. His shorts grew tighter with every word and every glimpse.
He wanted to pull her close, feel those curves against his body, and hear what sounds she’d make—
“ Y/n! Dinner’s ready!” Her friends called from further down the beach.
She glanced back, then turned to him hopefully. “ Want to join us? It’s nothing fancy.”
König shook his head. “ Thank you, but I am fasting. Strict diet.”
Y/n laughed. “ That explains the size. Alright, Krueger. Hope we bump into each other again soon.”
She waved, then jogged toward her friends as the sundress swayed with her hips. The moment she was out of earshot, König let out a long and shaky breath. His cock strained painfully against his shorts when the image of her cleavage so close, her voice, and her scent…it was torture.
“ Status, König.” Price’s voice suddenly cut through the earpiece.
König startled. “ Nothing new, Captain.”
A new voice exploded in his ear. “ You used my fucking name?! Krueger?! To chat up an island girl?!”
Krueger’s outrage made König wince. In the background, Soap was already howling.
“ Ohhh, Krueger…” Soap moaned dramatically in a high-pitched voice.
“ Harder, Krueger! Your big Austrian co—”
“ Shut the fuck up!” Price barked.
“ All of you. This is a mission channel, not a comedy show.”
König’s face burned under the mask. “ You bastards. I needed a cover name. It was the first one I thought of.”
Gaz’s voice joined in. “ Bet she liked it. ‘Krueger’ does sound moanable. König sounds like you’re clearing your throat mid-thrust.”
“ Gaz, I will end you” König growled, pacing the sand.
Soap kept going, undeterred. “ Krueger~ Right there, big guy—”
Price sighed heavily. “ Soap, one more word and I’m pulling you from the op. König, get your head back in the game. Focus on the target house, not the local talent.”
“ Copy.” König muttered, still blushing furiously. He cursed under his breath in German. The ache between his legs hadn’t faded. If anything, the team’s bullshit made the frustration sharper.
This mission was becoming far more complicated than any of them had anticipated.
…
Days had blurred into a tense routine on the island, but tonight the stakes sharpened. König and Gaz lay prone in the thick vegetation of a secluded ridge overlooking the elegant beachfront house when the cartel leader had arrived under cover of darkness.
“ Target confirmed on site.” Gaz reported quietly into the comms with binoculars pressed to his eyes.
“ Multiple guards, but keeping a low profile. He’s out on the patio right now, shaking hands with locals like a damn philanthropist.”
Price’s voice came through steady. “ Good work. The rest of the team will move in once we finalize the extraction or termination plan. Keep feeding us every detail. Do not engage until we give the green light.”
“ Copy.” Both men replied.
König adjusted his position while his massive frame made the bushes rustle slightly. “ He is two-faced. Playing the generous rich man for the locals. Classic tactic.”
“ Yeah.” Gaz muttered.
“ Most criminals do that. Win the hearts and minds first. Then when shit hits the fan, the same people they fooled will defend them instead of running.”
König grunted in agreement. “ Exactly. They get sympathy and control the narrative. When chaos comes, the victims become shields.”
Gaz chuckled darkly. “ I've seen the same shit in governments too. Those bastards use their power, play everyone like puppets, then cry victim when they get caught. The audacity is almost impressive.”
“ Power and money is enough to buy silence and bury the truth.” König replied.
They gathered what they could by guard rotations, vehicle placements, or possible weak points. After nearly an hour, Gaz nudged him. “ We’ve got enough for tonight. Report the rest to Price in the morning. Let’s head back before we get spotted.”
König nodded as they slipped away silently while moving through the shadows toward the hotel path. The warm Hawaiian night wrapped around them, carrying distant music and the scent of ocean air. Gaz suddenly stopped and nudged König hard then handed over the binoculars with a sly grin.
“ Oi, look who’s here. Prime view for you, mate.”
König took the binoculars and scanned the small beach clearing. Y/n sat with her friends around a crackling campfire while roasting s’mores. The firelight danced across her skin, highlighting the easy laugh that tilted her head back.
She wore a loose tank top and shorts, the fabric slipping off one shoulder to reveal the smooth curve of her collarbone and the soft swell of her breasts beneath. Every time she leaned forward to laugh or reach for another marshmallow and the neckline dipped dangerously.
“ Fuck…” König whispered.
Her smile, the way her body moved with natural grace, or the glow on her cheeks; it hit him like a gut punch. A heat flooded his system instantly as his cock twitched and hardened rapidly while pressing insistently against his shorts.
Gaz let out a low whistle. “ Careful with that spying, big guy. You’re veering into creepy pervert territory. And mate…look down at your shorts. The big trunk is pitching a full tent right now.”
König glanced down. The prominent bulge was impossible to miss, straining obscenely against the thin fabric. He cursed under his breath in German, face burning beneath the mask.
Gaz laughed, pulling off the light scarf he’d been wearing and shoving it at König. “ Here. Wrap this around your hips like a sarong or something. Hide the evidence before kids think you’re smuggling a python in your pants.”
“ You are an asshole.” König growled, but he took the scarf and quickly tied it around his waist, adjusting it to conceal the obvious arousal.
Even then, the pressure didn’t ease. Watching Y/n lick melted chocolate from her fingers while smiling at her friends only made it worse. He imagined pulling her away from the fire, those soft curves under his hands, and her voice moaning his real name instead of the fake one.
“ Stop staring like a starving man.” Gaz teased, slapping his shoulder.
“ We need to get back to the hotel. You’ve got something urgent to take care of in the bathroom, yeah? Don’t make it weird with the sheets.”
“ Kyle, I swear I will throw you into the ocean.” König muttered, shoving him forward.
Gaz just grinned wider as they continued toward the hotel. “ What? I’m being helpful. You’ve been wound tighter than a spring since you saw her the first time. Go on, jerk one out to your campfire goddess. Just don’t think about her while we’re sharing the room later.”
König’s fists clenched.
Mission first since the cartel leader was here and the team was closing in. Yet every encounter with Y/n made focus nearly impossible. Her laugh echoed in his mind, the firelight on her skin, and the way her body looked so inviting.
By the time they reached the hotel door, König was still half-hard despite the scarf.
“ Shut up and report to Price.” He grumbled, pushing past Gaz.
But as he stripped off the scarf later in the privacy of the bathroom, her image refused to leave. The mission, the danger, and this maddening woman were colliding in ways that threatened to break his control.
…
The drums thundered when the people danced wildly. In darker corners, couples ground against each other, some already slipping away into the shadows for more. König and Gaz moved through the pulsing beach celebration the next evening, the island alive with music, firelight, and bodies.
“ Target’s here.” Gaz reported quietly.
“ Far end of the main bar area, surrounded by locals and guards pretending to be guests.”
Price’s voice crackled in their ears. “ Stay close but blend in. The troops are moving into position. Any moment now. Disguise as locals…no one notices another drunk tourist tonight. Soap, Horangi, and Krueger are already in the crowd. Ghost’s with me checking escape routes. We trap him if he runs.”
“ Copy.” König muttered.
Gaz smirked. “ Are you joining the party, Cap?”
“ I’m never absent for this kind of operation.” Price replied dryly.
“ Now focus.”
The crowd surged when a group of women immediately latched onto Gaz while pulling him toward the drinks.
“ Come dance with us, handsome!”
They laughed then Gaz shot König a helpless shrug and let himself be dragged away, already laughing with them.
“ Traitor.” König grumbled under his breath.
“ Oi, don’t hate the player.” Gaz’s voice came through the comms, clearly enjoying himself.
“ Mission requires mingling, yeah?”
König pushed through the crowd while scanning for the cartel leader, when he suddenly bumped into a warm and familiar body.
Y/n looked up at him and her face lit up with a bright smile. “ Krueger! I knew a mysterious giant like you would show up. Been waiting to see if you’d appear.”
He froze for a second, heat already stirring at the sight of her. She wore a short, flowing dress that hugged her curves and showed plenty of leg and cleavage.
“ I…got curious.” He admitted.
She laughed, the sound cutting through the music like a hook. “ Then I’ll make sure your curiosity is worth it.”
Before he could protest, she grabbed his massive hand and dragged him toward a small tiki bar.
“ Two of the strongest ones!” She ordered.
“ I should not—” König started.
“ Drink. Celebrate. You overthink too much.” She insisted, pushing the glass into his hand.
He sighed and downed it. The liquor burned straight down, spreading fire through his veins.
She clapped excitedly and ordered another round. “ That’s the strongest on the island. Think you can handle it, German guy?”
“ I am Austrian, not German.” He corrected after the second shot.
Y/n gasped, then burst into giggles.
“ Sorry! Austrian. Even better.” She took her own shot, eyes sparkling.
They talked about mostly her telling stories about city life and why she escaped to the island, König listening, nodding, and trying to keep his eyes off the way her breasts moved when she laughed and the alcohol hit hard. Soon both of them were drunk, the world tilting pleasantly.
“ Come on.” She said, grabbing his wrist.
“ Dance with me.”
“ I cannot dance.” He protested.
“ Nobody gives a fuck if you’re good or bad!” She yanked him into the crowd.
At first he moved stiffly, a towering awkward giant. Then the music shifted to something slower and heavier.
Y/n turned, pressing her back against his front while swaying her hips. The contact was electric as she grew bolder while grinding against him and her ass rolling teasingly into his groin. Her hands reached back, tracing his hard chest through the shirt.
“ You know…” She whispered.
“ When I first saw you on the beach…you were the hottest guy I’d ever seen. Even with the damn mask. You looked so fuckable. If I didn’t have any self-control, I would’ve dragged you somewhere and fucked you right there.”
König stiffened, a low growl escaping him. His cock surged to full hardness instantly and throbbing against her.
“ You are drunk.” He managed.
Y/n chuckled, turning in his arms to face him. Her body molded to his is your soft curves against solid muscle.
“ I’m not drunk. I’m horny…and I want you to fuck me, Krueger.”
She rolled her hips forward, grinding her pelvis directly against his massive erection. One hand slid down boldly and cupped the thick bulge straining in his shorts, squeezing lightly.
“ Damn, you’re so hard already. Feel that? I can tell you want it too.”
König’s breath hitched. His large hands gripped her waist while his fingers dug in as he fought the overwhelming urge to lift her, pin her against the nearest palm tree, and bury himself inside her right there. Her hand stroked him through the fabric, whispering filthy promises about how wet she was, how big he felt, and how she wanted him to stretch her open.
He was seconds from losing control.
In his ear, the comms exploded with chaos.
“ Focus, you two!” Price barked.
“ We’ve got movement on the target.”
Gaz’s amused voice cut in. “ Mate, I can see you from here. That scarf’s not hiding shit now.”
Soap, clearly grinning, moaned dramatically. “ Krueeegeerr~ Harder, big guy—”
“ Shut it!” Krueger’s real voice snapped through the line.
“ Stop using my name for your island booty call!”
König’s face burned crimson under the mask even as Y/n continued grinding against him, her fingers teasing the outline of his cock. The mission, the incoming assault, the cartel leader and all of it clashed violently with the raw, aching need pulsing between them.
He held her tighter with his hips involuntarily rocking once against her hand, a barely suppressed groan rumbling in his chest.
The night was far from over.
…
König’s control snapped the moment Y/n whispered those filthy words against his mouth. Their kiss turned savage, teeth clashing while their tongues fighting for dominance. He devoured her like a starving man, groaning deep in his chest as she ate at his soul right back, fingers clawing into his broad shoulders.
She grabbed his hand and dragged him away from the pulsing crowd, stumbling through the dark toward a small, empty beach cabin far from the party lights.
The door barely clicked shut before he was on her again. König lifted her effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing, and dropped her onto the narrow bed.
“ One second.” He muttered, reaching up to kill his comms link.
“ I do not need their bullshit right now.”
He folded the lower part of his mask up just enough to free his mouth, revealing a strong jaw and scarred lips. His huge hands moved with urgent hunger, yanking her dress down and tossing it aside. The sight of her bare breasts made him groan loudly.
“ Fuck…I have imagined these for days.” He palmed one roughly, squeezing the soft flesh, then latched onto a nipple.
He sucked hard, tongue flicking and teeth grazing while his other hand kneaded the other breast. Y/n moaned, arching into his mouth. He left dark purple hickeys blooming across her tits, marking her possessively.
“ You’re so wild.” She gasped while laughing breathlessly.
“ Like you haven’t fucked anyone in years.”
“ Because I haven’t.” He growled against her skin, sucking another bruise.
“ Not like this.”
König kissed down her stomach, rough and impatient, until he reached her cunt. He shoved her thighs apart and buried his face between them like a man possessed. His tongue licked broad stripes up her slit before focusing on her clit then sucking greedily. Y/n cried out, gripping the edge of his mask hard as her hips bucked.
“ Shit…Krueger!”
He pushed two thick, long fingers inside her without warning, curling them deep. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingering filled the small cabin as he pumped them faster.
“ Call me König.” He ordered, voice dark and rough as he hovered over her and his lips glistening with her arousal.
She blinked through the haze. “ I thought…you said Krueger—”
“ Krueger is my second name.” He lied smoothly, scissoring his fingers deeper.
“ König sounds better when you moan it.”
She tried to talk back but he curled his fingers harder against that perfect spot, turning her words into a broken cry. His pace turned punishing, fingers drilling into her soaked pussy while his free hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes flutter.
“ Look at you…” He snarled.
“ Such a pretty little slut hiding behind that innocent face. Been teasing me for days with these tits and this greedy cunt. You wanted to be fucked like a whore, didn’t you?”
Y/n whimpered, nodding frantically as her walls clenched around his fingers when the pressure built unbearably fast.
“ You’re going to cum like a desperate bitch for me.” He growled, tightening his grip on her throat while his fingers slammed harder.
“ That’s it. Cum on my fingers like the filthy girl you are.”
She shattered with a choked scream, body convulsing. König didn’t stop. He kept drilling his fingers through her orgasm until he suddenly pulled them out then a powerful gush of squirt sprayed across his hand and the sheets.
“ Fuuuck!” He cursed.
He slapped her breast hard while watching it jiggle. “ Dirty bitch. Hiding that innocent smile while you squirt like a slut.”
Still riding the high, Y/n trembled as König dove back down, licking and sucking up every drop of her release with filthy enthusiasm. His tongue pushed inside her twitching hole, prolonging the aftershocks until she was gasping and oversensitive.
He finally pulled back, breathing hard when his massive bulge strained painfully against his shorts. The thick outline was unmistakable. Y/n’s eyes locked onto it with raw hunger, her chest heaving, marked breasts rising and falling.
The comms were off, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew the team was probably losing their minds trying to reach him. Right now, though, none of it mattered. Only her wet cunt, her marked tits, and the desperate need to bury himself inside her existed.
König stood up, towering over the bed as he started undoing his shorts, eyes burning with unrestrained lust.
“ This is only the beginning, schatz.” He rumbled.
“ I am going to ruin you tonight.”
König shoved his shorts down, finally freeing himself. His massive cock sprang up, thick, veiny, and heavy, twitching against his toned stomach. The sheer size made Y/n’s eyes widen.
“ Fuck…” She breathed.
“ You’re huge. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
A low, arrogant chuckle rumbled from his chest. He folded the lower half of his mask higher, watching with dark hunger as she dropped to her knees in front of him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Her small hand wrapped around his thick shaft, barely able to close her fingers around it. König groaned deeply, head falling back as she started pumping him.
“ Scheiße…your hand feels good.”
Y/n smirked up at him, spitting generously on his cock before leaning in. She licked the swollen head like a lollipop, swirling her tongue around the sensitive tip while stroking the rest of his length. His hips jerked forward involuntarily.
“ Stop teasing.” He growled, tangling one huge hand in her hair.
“ Suck it.”
“ So impatient.” She purred, eyes gleaming with mischief. Then she opened her mouth and took him in.
She managed halfway before gagging hard, her throat tightening around his girth. Tears pricked her eyes but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she bobbed her head, sucking noisily while her hands worked the rest of his shaft and fondled his heavy balls.
“ That’s it…good girl.” König praised roughly, gripping her hair tighter.
“ Choke on my cock like the greedy slut you are.”
Y/n moaned around him, the vibration shooting pleasure up his spine. She tried again for deeper, forcing more of his massive length down her throat until she coughed and pulled back, gasping. Strings of spit connected her swollen lips to his glistening cock.
“ It's too big.” She whimpered, but immediately dove back in, sucking harder. Her tongue traced every throbbing vein as she worked him with wet and filthy sounds.
König’s breathing grew ragged. “ Fuck, your mouth is perfect. Taking me so well even though you’re struggling. Look at you…such a dirty little cocksucker.”
She jerked the base fast while sucking the head, tongue flicking relentlessly. His balls tightened in her hand. König’s grip in her hair turned almost painful as his hips started shallow thrusts.
“ I’m close—” He warned with a guttural groan.
Y/n pulled back just enough to pump him furiously with both hands, mouth open and tongue out. With a deep, broken moan, König came hard. Thick ropes of cum painted her tongue and lips. She whimpered at the taste, keeping her eyes locked on his as she showed him the mess before swallowing it all.
“ Mmm…you taste so sweet.” She said huskily, licking her lips.
“ I want more.”
König cursed in German while chest heaving. His cock was still rock-hard, twitching for another round. He was about to pull her up and bend her over when his earpiece suddenly crackled back to life, but he must have bumped the comms when he undressed.
“ König, you bastard! Where the fuck are you?!” Price roared.
Gaz’s voice followed while laughing. “ We heard moaning. Actual moaning. Tell me you’re not—”
“ Krueger’s getting his dick sucked while we’re about to raid the cartel leader!” Soap howled.
“ Unbelievable!”
Krueger’s real voice cut in. “ Stop using my name for your fuck session, you giant Austrian prick!”
König’s face burned under the mask even as Y/n giggled and licked another drop of cum from his tip. His cock jumped at the sensation.
“ Shut up, all of you.” He snarled quietly, trying to sound authoritative while Y/n stroked him lazily.
“ I turned comms off for a reason.”
“ Clearly.” Price said dryly.
“ Mission is to live at ten. Finish whatever the hell you’re doing and get your ass back here.”
Y/n looked up at him with wicked eyes, still on her knees, cum-glossed lips parted. “ Are you going to fuck me now, König? Or are you going to let your friends keep listening?”
He gripped her jaw, thumb brushing her lower lip.
“ I am going to ruin this pretty cunt until you can’t walk.” He promised.
“ And you’re going to scream my real name while I do it.”
Outside, the distant party continued. Inside the cabin, König flipped Y/n onto the bed, spreading her legs wide as his thick cock nudged against her soaked entrance.
…
König didn’t waste another second as he lined up his massive cock and shoved in with one brutal thrust, stretching her tight cunt around his girth. Y/n cried out sharply, nails digging into his shoulders as he bottomed out.
“ Fuck…too big!” She gasped, but her legs instantly wrapped around his waist and pulling him deeper.
“ You can take it.” He growled.
“ This greedy little pussy is sucking me in like it was made for me.” He started pounding her hard, hips slamming forward, the fat head of his cock hitting her deepest spot with every thrust. The wet, filthy sound of skin slapping skin filled the cabin.
His huge hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes roll. He fucked her like a fleshlight, raw and relentless, spanking her tits until they bounced red under his palm.
“ Look at these slutty tits turning red for me. You love being used, don’t you?”
Y/n moaned louder, nodding frantically. He grabbed her legs, folding her in half, ankles on his broad shoulders as he drove even deeper. Balls-deep and merciless, he snarled degrading words right against her ear.
“ Such a pathetic little whore. Teasing me for days with that body, now you’re getting exactly what you begged for.”
He suddenly flipped her over, shoving her face into the mattress and yanking her hips up. From behind, he slammed back in, using her hair like reins to pull her onto his cock.
Y/n screamed in pleasure, seeing stars with every punishing thrust. Then he slowed down cruelly, edging her. A long and deep strokes while biting her shoulder hard enough to leave marks.
“ Not yet.” He whispered darkly.
“ You don’t cum until I say so, you desperate slut.”
She whimpered, biting the bedsheet, hips trying to push back for more friction. He kept the torturously slow pace, whispering filth until she was shaking. Then he snapped back to brutal speed, pressing her body flat into the bed and railing her like the world was ending.
Without warning, he pulled out, lifted her into the air, and held her legs spread wide as he fucked up into her. Y/n moaned loudly at the new depth, helpless in his grip. He carried her to the wall, pressed her against it in a standing fuck, pounding relentlessly while squeezing and slapping her breasts.
“ König…please—” She begged.
He felt her getting close again and slowed once more, edging her mercilessly.
“ Beg louder, bitch. Tell me how badly this slutty cunt needs to cum.” He spanked her ass hard, turning it red while keeping her right on the edge.
“ Please! Let me cum…I can’t…König!”
He laughed darkly, pulling her waist higher and choking her again as he fucked her with savage force. “ Cum then. Cum all over my cock like the dirty whore you are.”
One final, heavy thrust sent them both over. Y/n shook violently, squirting around his cock as her orgasm crashed through her. König groaned loud and deep, burying himself to the hilt as he pumped thick ropes of cum deep inside her, hips jerking with every pulse.
They stayed locked together, trembling in the aftershocks, lost in pure ecstasy. König carried her back to the small bed and pulled her against his broad chest, still buried inside her.
His voice softened slightly. “ You okay, schatz?”
Y/n swatted his chest weakly, breathless and glowing. “ I didn’t expect you to be such a monster in bed…I almost lost my mind.”
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “ I have been craving you since the first second I saw you on that beach. I haven’t had sex in a very long time. I poured all of it on you.”
Before she could reply, his comms crackled back to life loudly.
“ Finally finished, you horny bastard?!” Price barked.
“ We’ve been trying to reach you for twenty bloody minutes! The target is on the move!”
Gaz laughed through the line. “ We heard everything. The choking, the spanking, the ‘you dirty slut’ bit. Mate, you’ve got range.”
Soap moaned dramatically again. “ König~ Harder, big guy~ Fuck me like your little island whore—”
“ Shut the fuck up!” König snarled, face burning under the mask while still holding Y/n close.
Y/n giggled against his chest while tracing lazy circles on his abs. “ Your friends sound fun.”
“ They are assholes.” He muttered, pressing a kiss to her hair despite the chaos in his ear. His cock twitched inside her again, still hard.
König groaned in embarrassment while Y/n laughed softly, grinding her hips once teasingly against him. The mission waited outside, but the unresolved heat between them promised this night was far from over.
…
König’s head snapped toward the distant crack of gunshots echoing across the island. His body tensed instantly.
“ Scheiße…the operation started.”
He lunged for his clothes, but Y/n was faster. She grabbed his thick wrist and yanked him back onto the bed with surprising strength.
“ What are you doing?” He growled.
“ My comrades need me right now.”
“ This night isn’t over.” She purred, pushing him down.
Her hand wrapped around his still-hard cock, stroking slowly. “ Look at you…still so fucking hard. You’d rather run off to play soldier than fuck me properly?”
König groaned, hips twitching into her fist. “ I want to stay and ruin you all night, but I have a mission—”
She brushed her thumb over his sensitive tip, smearing the leaking precum. “ One round wasn’t enough. Not for either of us.”
Her voice dropped into a filthy whisper. “ I’m still dripping for you, König. Feel how wet I am?”
She straddled his thigh and ground her soaked pussy against him. He hissed, head falling back. “ You’re going to get me killed…”
Y/n pouted playfully, continuing to tease his cockhead while whispering dirty promises. Then she shoved his chest hard, forcing him flat on his back. She hovered over him, trapping the massive man beneath her smaller frame, and sank down onto his thick length in one smooth motion.
“ Fuck—” König’s eyes rolled as she took every inch.
She started riding him with torturous slowness, rolling her hips in deep, grinding circles.
“ I knew you weren’t some stressed architect on vacation.” She murmured, hands braced on his broad chest.
“ You’re here to spy on the cartel leader.”
His eyes widened. Before he could respond, she tightened her pussy around him and slammed down harder.
“ You thought I was stupid enough to believe your lies?” She laughed darkly and riding him faster.
“ While you were staring at my tits on the beach, I was watching you.”
König groaned, hands gripping her hips. “ What…what are you—”
“ What are your friends going to do to our leader?” She asked sweetly while bouncing on his cock while her walls clenched around him.
He tried to think through the pleasure. “ I don’t—”
She laughed again, a wicked sound that went straight to his balls. “ You fell right into my trap, big boy. You fucked the wrong girl.”
She slammed down harder while taking him to the hilt. “ I’m one of his people. A spy. And right now…you’re my captive.”
Y/n rode him like she owned him, edging him mercilessly. Every time his cock throbbed and his abs tensed, she slowed down or lifted off completely and left him gasping.
“ You lost your fucking mind because of a little cleavage.” She taunted, slapping his face hard.
“ Pervert. A manbitch with a big dick and a tiny brain.” She pinched his nipples then twisted them cruelly.
“ I'm disappointed in you, König. All that size and you’re this easy to break.”
He thrust up desperately, but she pinned him down. “ I’m in charge now.”
The comms suddenly exploded in his ear.
“ König! Report!” Price shouted.
Gaz was laughing hysterically. “ Is that…moaning again? Mate, are you getting dominated?!”
Soap joined in with a high-pitched whine. “ Yes König~ Ride me harder, you big slut~”
“ Shut the fuck up!” König snarled, voice breaking into a moan as Y/n bounced faster.
She leaned down, choking him lightly while grinding deep. “ Beg me to let you cum, you pathetic whore.”
He was losing himself. She edged him again and again then bringing him right to the brink only to stop and slapping his face and degrading him until he was shaking.
“ Please…fuck, I’m so close…let me cum inside you—”
“ Not yet.” She hissed, pinching his nipples harder.
“ You don’t deserve it.”
She rode him through two more brutal edges until he was openly begging and his voice hoarse. Only then did she finally relent.
“ Cum for me, you useless slut.”
König groaned loudly as he exploded and pumped thick ropes of cum deep into her. His massive body shuddered violently. But Y/n didn’t stop. She kept rolling her hips, using his oversensitive cock.
“ Why are you still moving?” He gasped.
“ Because I didn’t say we were done.”
She rode him through the overstimulation, edging him again, and degrading him with every filthy word until he was whimpering beneath her. She brought them both to a third shattering orgasm, her own moans mixing with his as she came hard around his pulsing cock.
Finally spent, she collapsed onto his broad chest, both of them panting in the sweaty aftermath. Outside, distant gunshots and shouts filled the night.
König’s voice was rough. “ Why are you doing this?”
Y/n traced a finger down his chest. “ I want to escape this island once your mission is over.”
She smiled against his skin. “ And before you panic…I’m not actually with the cartel anymore. Haven’t been for a long time. All of this was a stunt. I wanted to make the big, scary masked soldier submit completely.”
König blinked, processing through the post-orgasm haze. “ You…manipulated me?”
“ It worked, didn’t it?” She kissed his jaw.
“ I’m your ally, König. Now…are you going to tell your angry little friends that you just got ridden and used by the enemy?”
The comms erupted again.
Price sounded exhausted. “ König, if you’re not dead, I’m going to kill you myself.”
Gaz: “ We heard the slapping. And the begging. Legendary.”
Soap: “ Our König’s a bottom! I’m telling everyone!”
Krueger: “ Stop moaning my name while she pegs your soul, you traitor!”
Price sighed. “ Get your clothes on and get back out here. We move in five. And König?”
“ Yes, Captain?”
“ Next time you disappear to fuck a civilian, at least mute the damn channel properly.”
König groaned, covering his masked face with one hand while his other arm wrapped possessively around Y/n’s waist. His cock was still buried inside her while twitching with renewed interest despite everything.
The mission outside had turned into chaos.
Inside the cabin, he flipped her beneath him suddenly and pinning her wrists above her head.
“ You’re going to explain everything properly.” He growled.
“ After I fuck the attitude out of you one more time.”
Y/n laughed breathlessly and legs wrapped around him again. “ Yes, sir.”
Author's Note:
Hello, it's been a while since my last upload here. I was just busy on the days when I was inactive, and I wasn't feeling well (mentally), so I needed to take a long break from everything.
Michael was excited today. He made sure to make his room as filthy as possible. Leaving candy wrappers and his dirty laundry all over the floor of his room. The reason why he's doing this? Is because he won the bet on who's better at Chica's Pizza Toss arcade game with you. And unfortunately, you lost.
He's going to enjoy seeing you cleaning his room going on your hands and knees. He will reward you after with a good fuck.
Only if you did a good job though.
This was going to be his day, as his father should be working till closing. Giving him and Y/n all the privacy he needs. William was being a bitch to him for the past week.
Yelling and cursing at him to clean his room. Maybe he will fuck you on his dad's bed just to get back at him.
The doorbell was heard interrupting his thoughts. When he opened the door, you were wearing a huge coat. When Michael questioned it, you quickly scurried inside to take it off. It was very hot outside for you to be wearing such a coat. But what you revealed underneath. Oh, and what a surprise you gave to Michael. You were wearing such a cute maid outfit and the cute headband. He can't wait to get his hands all over you.
Michael kept pawing at your waist, and you kept smacking his hands off so that you could work.
"What happened here? I don't remember your room being this filthy."
"I have to make sure you weren't slacking off." Michael gave you a smug look. You huffed as you began to work. It took a while as you cleaned all the garbage Michael purposefully threw. While you were on your hands and knees scrubbing the floor, Michael was taking pictures of you, making sure he got all the right angles.
He was enjoying this a lot while you were pouting and frustrated by the amount of work you had to do. You couldn't slack off either, as Michael would tease you and give you a light spanking on your bottom.
You were thankful when Michael went out to get some food, but realized he was getting it for himself and not for you. Appereantly he wants you to beg for him to give you a single fry. This was going to be a bad day.
William had just gotten back from work. He left much sooner as he just needed a break from the chaos. His suit was ruffled, and his tie was hanging on his neck for dear life. His cigarette crumbled on the pavement. He was thankful that Henry was here to take care of the restaurant. He was hoping his pathetic son would finally clean his fucking room.
Michael kept saying he was going to clean his room this week, but never did. The spoiled brat. He was intentionally making it messier, too. For what purpose? William hasn't had the foggiest idea, and it looked like he was slacking off again as his car wasn't in the driveway. William entered the kitchen as he took a swig of whisky and a new cigarette. He puffed out the smoke as he let out a relaxed sigh.
"Michael, do you know where I should put this?"
There wasn't supposed to be anyone here but William. But William knew that voice. It was his favourite little bunny. Oh, and how you showed up at the kitchen wearing... A maid outfit? You froze at the entrance, not expecting William to be here. Your doe eyes are blown wide from the unexpected guest at the house.
William was drinking you up. Eyeing you up and down. You shuffled nervously and gave a small greeting to the older Afton.
"Uh, hi William. I wasn't expecting you here." You nervously spoke as your face quickly flushed from the embarrassing situation.
He quickly stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and went prowling towards you.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" William, let's out a little mmm. You stiffened as he started rubbing his hands on your hips and burying his nose in the crook of your neck. Intaking your scent.
"You're going to treat me, bunny?" He asked in a hushed tone. His voice getting deeper and more hungry.
"N-no, im cleaning Michael's room." You nervoursly stuttered as his hands was heavily petting your body.
"Ah, so that's why he kept it in such filth. Maybe I should follow my son's example." He started trailing kisses up and down your neck.
"N-no, I just. I just lost a bet." You stiffened as he kept kissing your jaw.
"Is this why you're wearing a maid outfit?" William gently tugged on the bow that adorned the outfit.
"No, I just wanted to wear it. I thought I would look cute when I clean." You shuffled nervously. William stopped with the tender kisses and raised his head, eyeing you again before picking you up. You let out a yelp as he carried you bridal style to his room.
"What are you doing?" You wrap your arms around his neck for additional support.
"I'm having you clean up in my room." He said to your dismay. You already have enough work with cleaning Michael's room, now William wants you to clean his?
"My services aren't cheap you know." You said in a teasing business manner.
"Oh, how much do you charge?" William raised his eyebrow, letting out a small smirk.
"Mmm, " You pretended to ponder with a finger on your chin while you gazed at the ceiling. "50 dollars an hour."
"Oh, do you really think your services cost that much. I think I have to challenge the price." He finally reached his bedroom and easily opened the door while carrying you in his arms.
"Fine, I'll give you a 5% discount." William pecked your lips.
"Make it ten." He kissed you again and dropped you un-ceremoniously on the bed while he towered over you.
"You cheapskate." He chuckles against your lips as he presses more open kisses.
"How about I pay you $20, and I take you out to dinner?"
"It better be fine dining and not your pizzeria." William pretended to look offended.
"Are you saying my establishment is too poor for you, princess?" He continued kissing as his hands roam your clothed body.
"I don't want to eat cheap pizza as a reward for my hard work." You spoke in between kisses. Your body was getting warm, and your head was feeling fuzzy.
"Such a spoiled little princess. But I will make do." His kisses became rougher.
"My." He spoke in between kisses.
"Spoiled." 'Mwuah '
"Princess," He kissed one final time before pulling away.
"Deal." You finally took a breath from all the intense kissing. William started sucking on your neck, leaving noticeable hickeys behind as he unbuttoned your uniform. You quickly stopped it. Pressing your hands against his and quickly getting out of the plush bed.
"I -I still need to clean Michael's room." You adjusted your uniform and smoothed down your apron. While you may be feeling lustful, you can't be distracted from the fact that you have a job to do
"Fuck Michael, I'm the master of this house." He quickly pulled you back to bed, rolling you around till he was on top of you again.
"I'm going to fuck you in your uniform." Your face flushed even more, but you were in a panic after he said those words.
"Wait, no, I paid so much for this outfit." It was true, the maid outfits were not cheap, using half of your paycheque to buy this one. You didn't want to use the uniform in a sexual manner like most people. You just wanted to feel like a pretty maid while you cleaned the house
"I'll pay you back for the damages." William continued pawing at your uniform as he yet made another hickey on your neck.
"Will I'm serious, I paid a lot for this, and I don't want it to get damaged." William sighs in anooyed manner. He stops nipping at your neck.
"How much?"
"The dress was $150 and included all the accessories.. $450 to $500."
"$500!!" William repeated the number in shock.
"It was probably cheaper, but the delivery fee wasn't cheap. at all."
"Jesus, doll." William stared at you in disbelief as he gazed at your maid outfit. It was high-quality material. But don't worry, William is a rich man. He will take care of his princess.
"Wait." He wouldn't stop as he kept kissing and pawing at you.
"Hmm. Let me take a picture of you." He quickly got off of you and pulled a small camera from the drawer of his nightstand. He made you perform in all kinds of poses. You were flustered by the poses you have to make by spreading your legs. The next is for you to suck his thumb like the good girl you are.
He had taken his clothes off and wanted you to clean him with his mouth. You were into it at first, sucking his neck down to his chest and to his nipples. But you quickly got embarrassed.
"No, no, sweetheart, you're doing so good for Daddy. Don't be shy, my little princess. You're doing such a good job."
He gently coaxed you. praising him for cleaning him so well. You were still new to being intimate, so of course, you were still shy. After a few more encouraging words and sweet talk. You were coaxed into continuing to kiss and suck his bare torso.
"That's it, good girl, such a good girl for your master." William let out breathy moans as you continued worshiping his body. He needed this. With the stress he had with work, this was the best way to unwind.
With you sucking his cock dry. Trying your best, trying to fit his huge length in your small mouth was a challenge. He made sure to praise you for doing such a good job. He felt himself about to cum and pulled your mouth off his cock.
William stroked it until cum coated your face was coated with the white sticky substance. It resulted in another picture to add to his collection. Of course, you have to wipe your face, getting the sticky cum off. William immediately lifted you up and had you position on all fours on the bed. He teased you with his fingers, gently stroking your clothed pussy. He can see the wet spot on your cute panties. He made sure to press the wet spot against your core.
You let out a shudder and a small whine as he continued to tease you. William would've dragged this out for longer, but with how pent up he is and the stress, he couldn't be patient today. Immediately tear your panties off. He will save them for later when he is at the office.
He lifted you once more and placed your bare pussy on his face. You let out the cutest whines and moans as he ate you out from below. Your maid skirt covering his head, making it more delicious as he suffocated on your sweet nectar. It also helped to trap your scent as he continues to suck and lick your greedy clit. You quickly cummed as you clenched around his tongue, and you let out such a cute moan.
And he wasnt done with you yet. It was only the beginning.
Michael cursed as he slammed the car door closed. Grabbing takeout food proved more challenging than he ever thought. There was a traffic jam that took over an hour to get to the fast-food place. There was a huge line inside the restaurant, and he had to wait even longer for them to prepare the burgers because they somehow ran out.
Michael raced home, going over the speed limit just to see you. It proved futile, as he was pulled over by the cops, to his luck. He finally managed to get home. And what's this?
A purple car?... OH NO.
Michael quickly got out and raced home. He'd better be in his workshop Micheal had hoped. But to his dismay, he saw his Father exit his bedroom, only wearing a pair of boxers revealing his scarred skin from the spring lock's failure. A cigarette dangled from his fingers as he took a puff.
"Took you long enough. Had to entertain your maid while you were gone." He snarked at Michael. Of course, you were lying in HIS BED and sleeping comfortably with your back exposed, showing the fresh marks or love bites and hickies. Your maid's outfit was tossed on the floor, as well as his father's clothes.
William took one more drag as he huffed it out.
"Make sure you clean your room tonight, or I'll have you kicked out before 12."
The recent hire. “_____” Female. 22 years old. Young. Pretty. Hard-working— the next upcoming employee of the month. And most of all, the favourite of the two bosses of Fazbear’s Pizzeria. Henry’s, and William’s favourite. There is no denying that, and it’s clear as day. As much as your colleagues appreciate you taking their shifts, willing to stay overtime, willing to take the closing hours; it’s been widely known that there is clear favouritism when it comes to you.
Williams clear attention on you, which many find it rare for him to even listen to them at times, Henry’s effort to help you with carrying items, which many find it rare for him to do as he barely gets out of the workshop- Williams smiles, Henry’s lack of distance: you were the clear winner of their praise and attention, which of course gave you looks from your fellow coworkers.
But it would be a lie to say you didn’t like the attention. Sure, it violates many codes, and if this was in another workplace- you would’ve called HR.
However, Fazbear and Friends was never a company of ethics and honesty. Considering the fact that some of the designs are ripped off of another man's passion project- or the fact that the pizza is probably composed of different older ones- you knew this company was never for safety, or for lawful ideas. Anyways, having the spotlight from the two older men isn’t all creepy (not minding Williams stares), it can carry benefits. Like, having Mr. Afton not yell at you at all, or not having to do any dirt work with the mechanics of the animatronics with Mr. Emily. It’s a win win situation as you believe- and maybe they’ll raise your wage for this thankless job.
Thus, you continue your hard work. You scrub at the table a little harder, making sure the grease from the pizza residue is off. You allow yourself to be yelled at by children, who demand you to give them a toy from the prize counter. You are willing to be the mediator, or the ‘temporary’ leader when something wrong happens in the kitchen. You were always there to fix, to solve, to negotiate- to the point that one of your coworkers, Nick, commented on how.. “Obedient’ you were to the two bosses. If you weren’t so caught up in the duties of your job, you swore you would punch that shit-eating grin off his face.
In spite of that, William still would pat your shoulder, crooning to you that nothing is amiss. Like he is doing right now, while you tell your worries as you rub the party area with a cloth. “Mr. Afton.. do you think I’m doing something wrong?” You hesitantly asked, as you put your attention to wiping the tables while putting effort into conversation.
“You? Doing something wrong? Love, out of all employees… you would be the least of my worries. I tell you this, without you- nobody in their mind would know what they’re doing.” He says, the last words carrying a bitter poisonous edge.
A pause of silence presumes after, you then look back at him with an awkward gaze. “I..I mean. I know.. that,” a sigh escapes your mouth “I just keep hearing whispers, from the staff. Like I’m the reason why nothing is going right. Or that I’m such a doormat...”
He snorted, laughing as he shook his head. You stare at the older man in the purple suit, a little surprised to see such a reaction. “They’re silly. You’re special. That’s all. Don’t worry about your pretty little head.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his calloused knuckles caressing the side of your cheek. “Jealous. They are… It breaks my heart to see my sweet thing to feel so… humiliated.” He coos, his hand now fully palming your cheek— and you felt the pull to push your head in, to feed from this man’s hand, even if you know it wasn’t professional at all-
“William.” Your eyes darted to the other man who spoke, stern yet soft, while the other man’s hand immediately fell down from your cheek. Henry stood before you two, with a furrowed suspicious eyebrow. He crosses his arms, pressing against his orange flannel long-sleeved shirt. “Let the poor girl work.”
The other man contorted his subtle annoyance, to a full-blown grin. “Oh, but I am, Henry. Can’t you see? She can multitask.” He points at the cloth you were holding, as well, putting attention to how your body bends a little over the flat surface. Henry immediately cleared his throat, pulling his collar a bit. “Y..yes. I could see that, but still.. Hovering over her might not be the best move.”
William's smile falters, his eyes rolling a little. “Don’t be prissy. She’s a grown woman. She can handle it, can’t you darling?” The man in the purple suit gives you a glare- almost forcing you to agree with him, to allow him to have a little leverage over his business partner. You gave a nervous laugh, and nodded your head rapidly- to which, gained William’s approval. “To this day Henry, ever since college.. You don’t know how to loosen up. I swear.” A growl leaving his lips, although hiding it with a sarcastic smirk.
Henry tightens up, his shoulder stiffens a little. “Maybe it's because I’m the only moral one in this partnership.”
Immediately, William darts his eyes back to him, he lets out a laugh, a bit strained and forced at most. “Oh, bringing up the higher ground- will you? I swear, Henry, you-” And before he could say anything, a beep interrupted his words.
The work clock-out machine makes a ringing noise- cutting through the tension. You turn your head, looking at the time-punch appliance, and you announce to the two other men. “I believe It’s my time to clock out.. I don’t want to miss the bus after all.” A small, but relieved chuckle escapes your mouth. You punch your time in, and quickly put your silly work hat away to the side of the table, but before you could leave, you look to your bosses’ who seem to settle down after they were snapped out of their ‘disagreement.’
You look down to the floor, awkward and a bit shy- however still holding your ground. “Uhm.. well have a good night, Mr. Afton.. Mr. Emily. I’m really grateful that you guys are my higher-ups.” Soon your eyes reach to both of them, the two older men staring right back at you. “I couldn’t ask for better bosses.”
You took your small bag and gave them a little wave as you exited through the door. Leaving both of them behind while they look out at the window- seeing you wait for the bus. As if holding his breath, Henry lets out a large sigh, palming his face and rubbing it.
“Lord help me.. I truly need it.” To which, William amusingly scoffs at, yet picking a cigarette from his pocket- and giving it to Henry. The bearded man grudgingly accepts- because well, nothing is going right, and you were tempting- so tempting; that he feels shame bubbling in his guts. However, his fellow colleague shrugs, as if having temptation wasn’t new to him.
“Well, my friend, I think she’ll need the help more."
----------------------------
Another day of clocking in again, but this time- almost everyone can smell the taste of sadness and bitterness rubbing off you. And no one knows why. Yes, you would still help your colleagues if they needed, yes, you would come to the beck and call of your bosses. However, you won’t be doing it with a polite smile, or a wave of humble dismissal, nope- today, you do it with a nod and a look of resignation. Which, admittedly, freaked everyone out. Even Emily took notice of it. Even Afton wondered about it.
Well.. William can make a small deduction about it. On one of the closing shifts where you worked- you mentioned meeting this boy your age next to the store besides Fredbears. Funny, gangly, a little silly- but overall a man you presumed to be dating material (which he largely disagrees with.) Afton can assume, or largely picture the idea that the young man did something wrong. (which he did, by stealing you away from him and Emily.) But William wouldn’t say he was surprised, no- he expected it, and he would even call it a blessing.
Really, It was almost offensive, clearly you had two men who were much smarter, richer, experienced than you- and here you are, playing with punks. If William didn’t worry about your poor heart, he may have killed that boy just to hurt your brain. But William loves to play favourites, and he isn’t willing to show that side of him. Yet.
He even talked about it with Henry. While at the workshop, the sanctuary filled with smoke and oil grease, he brought the topic up to discussion.
“She’s.. seeing a guy.” William sneers, with a smile holding anger. Henry peeks up from looking at the blueprints, his glasses falling on his nose. “..So?”
If William wasn’t tired from his brats at home, and at his business- he swore he’d break those glass frames into two. But he doesn’t, opting for a laugh instead. “So? Are you serious, Henry? I see the way you look at her. And I know, it must grind your gears seeing her talk to the boy. It does for me.”
Only the sound of Henry turning the bolts with a screwdriver could be heard. Afton almost thought the other man would ignore his comment, brushing it off.
Yet, the purple suited man found himself surprised, as Henry looked up once more- acknowledging with a cough clearing from his throat. “It does. But who am I to do anything about it? She’s our… employee. Sweet girl doesn't deserve the likes of us-“
“Oh please.” William scoffs, putting his cigarette out on the table. “Henry, are you still a Mormon or some bloody fucking sort? You preach about goodness, about what’s wrong or not..” The man darts his eyes to his fellow business partner, “But how are you, to judge? We profit over stolen ideas..”
The two men fall to silence.. The admission of their deed echoing across the room, with only Henry feeling the guilt, the shame of it all. The ginger-haired man sighed, almost letting out a groan. “Don’t, push me to do another fucked up thing, William. I don’t want to hurt her! Goodness. I’m telling you, we’re both divorced, and probably need to get laid- hell, let’s go find a prostitute instead of-“ William puts his hand up, stopping more of what his friend could speak.
“We never know.. Maybe an opportunity will fall to our hands, hmm? And.. well. Henry, I think you’re so stuck in the workshop, that you don’t hear her oh-so dirty thoughts about you, and me. Whispering it to her fellow coworkers, gaining the laughter of them. Slutty, isn’t it?”
Henry drops his screwdriver, his eyes widened behind his glasses and his cheeks blushing. “C-christ, really?” Which gains a nod from his sly companion, the man informing with a knowing cocky smirk. “Mhm. The silly girl doesn't notice her surroundings, to the point she’s unaware that I’ve been hearing her flimsy school-girl crush on us. Cute, no?”
Henry didn’t answer that. But as he does at moments of nervousness, he tugs his collar. Hoping to relieve the choking sensation of.. want.
----------------------------
And here was the opportunity of a lifetime. William, coming to the rescue- as he puts his hand on your shoulder; which makes you look up at him. Round eyes, a little puffy- you’ve been crying, haven’t you? Afton knows he’s an evil calloused man, but there is never a moment in time where he isn’t perceptive. “Care to tell me what’s wrong, love?”
You turn your head to the side, a little embarrassed. “Oh, it’s nothing for you to even worry about, Mr. Afton-“ He tightens his hold on your shoulder and shakes his head. “No. I wish to know. You’re my favourite star employee. You deserve my attention.” His words make you raise an eyebrow, a little heated from such validation- you can’t help but resign to his words.
“Ok, uhm, fine. So that guy I mentioned? You remember?” He nods, listening. “Well.. That jerk was also talking to like.. two other girls. And he would say the same shit to them- making them feel special, like he did with me,” your voice gives out, trembling with anger and betrayal.
“Fuck him, really! I mean really, fuck that guy-“ you ranted, but soon enough you quickly cover your mouth with your hand, realizing the foul language you displayed in front of your own boss. William didn’t seem shocked though, actually, he held an amused smile. He then cupped your cheek and looked at you, holding you like a fragile thing.
“Oh.. he’s stupid. So stupid. Why on earth, would he see other girls? If you’re available.. No, he doesn't appreciate you. Not like how I do” He bends his knees a little, to look at you straight eye to eye; however your vision looks to the side, almost a bit nervous to see him directly. He then tsked, “Look at me.” Which immediately gains your attention. “You do not deserve him. You don’t deserve his attention. I would even say, nobody deserves you, but.. me. Of course.” He laughs, “oh, and maybe Emily.”
“But love, I mean it. I’ll give you everything that a silly young boy would never do.” You giggle, flustered, and you shake your head. Knowing this isn’t right, knowing that this bends the rules- a taboo that surrounds this temptation. “Mr. Afton, I appreciate your words b-but-“
You barely could get a word out. He presses his lips against you, and your knees buckle. Thank god, you take closing shifts. Because although your conscience lets out a cry, you can’t help but put your arms around his neck, tipping on your toes to taste his tongue while out in the open of the empty lounge area.
He tastes like cigarettes, and that whiskey he keeps in his office. He tastes like bitter black coffee, to which your sweetness contrasts. And his large palms move down your uniform, to have a handful of your behind. If you weren’t so dizzy with sensation, you would’ve been able to notice the growing hard-on the man seems to be having. You would’ve reached down, maybe unbuckle his belt- but he moved faster. He moved down to his knees.
You look down to him, a blush arises from your face- seeing the older man down on you, tugging the hem of that unflattering skirt of yours. Like he was starving. Hungry. Famished. “You don’t know how much.. I think of this.” He breathes out, your skirt falling down to the tiled ground- which exposed your panties. It wasn’t the most exciting piece of fabric, but he could see the dampness seeking through- and that was enough to push his hooked nose against your clothed clit. Just licking a strip against your mound— teasing you while you grip a bright tablecloth. As he takes a taste of your core, he quickly decides to just rip it off. He can buy you new ones, anyways- and it was getting in the way of what he truly needed.
“Mr.. Afton. I-I, shit!” He laughs, not caring of your yelps or protests- which didn’t come from true fear or undesire. It was the embarrassment of it all- your bum pressed against the table, the fact that it was in an open large space, the fact that your boss was on his knees- diving in and licking your folds. At any moment now, some onlooker can peek in and look at your own demise, or even worse, Henry coming into the scene, seeing your legs spread out like a bitch in heat—
“William.?” Fuck.
You meet eyes with the bearded man. His freckled face blushing, a red against his cheekbones. The papers in his hands long forgotten, now slipped onto the tiles of the floor. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but nothing comes out- and Afton, snapped out of his pussy-drunk stupor; looks to his friend with a smug grin. “Oh.. don’t worry. Just cheering our favourite employee up.” He excuses, as if the act of eating out his pretty little employee is nothing wrong, just an act of ‘help’. Emily looked to the two of you, knowing he should immediately stop this act, to shame Afton for abusing his power- but all of that ethical code comes crumbling down, when you look at him, blushing and panting, gripping your fingers against the table.
“Shouldn’t we make our sweetheart happy? Wouldn’t you wanna help out?” The suited man taunts, his words a temptation that his fellow friend wishes to deny. “I..I-I William, this isn’t-“
“Please.?” You whimpered out. Giving into the pleasure. This was absolutely against guidelines and everything you stood for- but with William drinking in your juices and lapping you up- your head dizzy and totally forgetting about that boy you were seeing, you might as well allow yourself to lose yourself. And besides.. you talked and giggled about the idea of this, didn’t you? This opportunity is nothing but a win for you, and you can admit to that. So with your flustered face, you mustered up the courage to look at Henry— and pleaded. “Please, please Mr. Emily.. please help me- I.. I want you to help me.”
And as if those words had broken a dam, Henry’s legs moved forward before he could think. Taking in the sight of you, and his business partner licking all over your cunt, he takes a deep breath. His hand cups your face, their warmer, much kinder than William’s— however, he smashes his lips, as if he was dying for a taste. Which then you let out a yelp, your bum fully sitting against the table as your thighs close around Afton, and he grunts. “That’s it.. What a good slut. Squeeze around me, make a mess.”
You nodded your head, eagerly and obediently, “Y-yes— I-i’ll, mmph!” mumbling beneath the lips of Henry, which he breathes in your scent when hearing your begging, desperate wanting cries. “You’re so cute, honey. Doing such a good job.. god- you’re so pretty.” And as if he can’t help himself, Emily dips his head down to your neck, peppering worshipping kisses, a red and purple mark blooming under his touch. He grabs a handful of your tits, and you can’t help but squirm.
“Christ, Henry you’re making her move too much.” William snarled out, however, going back to performing his duties- ensuring his tongue touches the bud of your core; his friend can’t help but talk back. “Can’t help it. She’s driving me mad.”
“Well, hold her down- will you?” And so Henry did, his hands grabbing your waist, making you stay still while he explores your mouth in every corner and crevice. You can’t help but whine— the dual stimulation makes your skin feel like it’s on fire, as if your voice can only let out moans and whimpers.
“Taste so fucking good.” Afton pulls out of the area between your thighs. Strands of your wetness were connected to his mouth, which he licked it up with the help of his tongue. He taps his friend, which did help Henry snap out of devouring your mouth- “Say.. Hen. Don’t you want a taste?” His friend looks down to the sight, your mound wet and glistening with clear liquid- silent to Afton's words, but clearly showing interest in doing so.
“I.. fuck. Y-yeah.” Emily looks at you, brushing your hair to the side of your ear. “Will you let me, honey?” You bit your lip, nodding. He shudders, thanking you repeatedly, as he helps you down to get on one of the chairs- so he can kneel down and fully eat you out. While you’re fully seated- William taps your cheek, reminding you that you don’t have just one boss at your disposal, but two.
“You’re my best worker, right, love? So..” He unzips his slacks, the bulge clear to the eye- and uses his hand to get his shaft out. “I know you can multitask, no? Be a dear, and help me out.” Afton grunts out, his hand stroking down and up- his tip seeping with pre-cum. As much as you gulp at his size, its length makes you hesitate, you push down your fear. You are his best worker, their best worker- so if it means having to get eaten out and perform a blowjob; so be it.
Immediately as you lock eyes with Afton, he taps your cheek with his cock, a large grin forming. And you obeyed- your lips wrapping around the tip, then down and down you go. William grunts, for the first time, losing his composure- “Fuck, that’s, that’s right.. Oh darling, what can you not do?” You hum from his praise, and also from Emily on his knees sucking you up- now adding his fingers to the mix.
“Pretty pussy. Such a pretty pussy- everything is so pretty about you, baby.” Henry breathes out, kissing your cunt- he then presses his finger in, which your hole sucks in the digits. “Take it in, you can do it.” His two fingers knuckle deep, hitting your spongy walls with slow deep strokes.
“Yeah.. Whatever Henry said. Take it.” Afton says, which he then takes the initiative to make you gag- hitting his cock to the back of your throat. You choke, spit and saliva spilling out of your mouth- and Henry looks at you with concern. “Will.. you’re not being too- rough, are you?”
“No, no, certainly not. You know why?” William pulls out a bit, only his tip being sucked on, “Because, she fucking likes it.” He then thrusts back in again, hitting the walls and caressing your tongue, and on cue- your pussy clenches around Emily’s fingers. Making Henry gasp out in surprise.
“She’s a slut, clear and thorough.” Afton breathed out, his eyes fluttering from the stimulation. He could feel your tongue wrapping around, licking his undershaft as he fucks your face. “A really sweet slut, though.” Henry adds softly, however even with his gentle words- the way he was scissoring your cunt with his two fingers was not gentle.
Soon enough they were in rhythm with each other, when William pushed his cock into your mouth, making sure you spill and drool around it; Henry pulls his fingers out a little, and brings it back to the hilt to rub that spot in your walls. In and out, out and in- and god, you were going to cum. Wailing to them, alerting your arrival, you yelp around the shaft invading your mouth. “Oh, is that pretty little slut gonna cum?” William hums, and Henry grunts. “She is.. Fuck. Oh honey, you can do it, you can do it—“
“That’s right love- shit- I’ll be cumming around soon. You’ll be a darling and drink it up, will you?” You nod, eyes welling up with tears, but you know you can take it, you need to take it. And soon enough, with Afton's last push, he hits your throat- his cum spilling out in your warm mouth. All the while, your cunt clenched and creams, your orgasm all muffled. But Henry shudders at the sight, licking up at any of the honey you poured out. William- for the first time giving you mercy, pulls out of your mouth, for the sake to hear your cute moans.
“Mr. E-emilyyy!! A-awhh.!! C..cumming.” Henry growls, he can’t help but to put his non-busy hand around your shaking ones, all the while he makes sure the last drop ends up on his tongue. “Goooood girl.” The man says, his beard a bit wet, but pussy drunk and obsessed with how his favourite worker came around his fingers and tongue.
Although you were all jelly, somehow you knew you weren’t done. It’s as if from this first ‘task’, you proved how much you can truly do. And both men were inching to use up your body, make sure their cum was inside and out, to taste you, to keep you in their hold. Afton kisses you, a chaste kiss that made him taste his own doing, and he looks you straight, eye to eye. “Such a good slut. Now.. Can you take more? I’m sure Henry wants relief.”
Emily coughs, he clears his throat “Ah.. no, no it’s not a big deal, we shouldn’t make her do it anymore-“ William chuckles, “Oh. Yeah. As if your hard-on isn’t visible at all.”
“And didn’t you say that you dreamed of her using your mouth on you?” Henry blushes, flustered at his old friend calling him out. The man then looks to you, to make sure that you were okay with it- and you respond with a dazed out smile, which signals; that you didn’t mind, no, you didn’t at all.
To the point, that your hand slowly gently cups his crotch, which you received an inhale from Mr. Emily. William chuckles at the sight, “Ah.. see Hen? I knew you would come around. Besides, it will be just like our time in college.”
Afton comes around to your behind, his palm rubbing against your ass. While you unzipped his business partner’s pants, you felt a familiar sensation against your weeping cunt. His cock, pressing against your slit, teasing your hole side from side— you whine, however trying to pay attention to the other hard cock underneath your face. As your hand pulls out from the man’s boxers, Henry’s shaft quickly comes into sight, its length lesser than William’s, but girth..
“H-how am I gonna fit this?” You admitted, Emily chuckles- giving you a wry smile. “Just try your best, sweetie.”
Hearing his encouragement, you nodded and took a tentative lick at his underside- which he responded with a loud groan and pant. “F-fuck.” Almost amused with his sensitivity, you give a coy smile: which leads you to gulfing half of his dick. You sputter, but it was worth it to hear Emily’s whine. As well- William shuffles closer to you, making you position away from the chair, your hands and knees going against the (hopefully) clean floor. Afton exhales, unraveling his tie around his neck, and taking off his purple suit jacket- which is thrown over the table. He rolls his sleeves, and soon he pushes his chest against your back, making you feel the expensive fabric of his shirt. “You be a good girl and help my old friend out. While i’ll- fuck- I’ll slide my cock right up into you, and you take it. Ok, sweetheart?”
You nod, and your whimpering consent is muffled due to your mouth being busy. Willam groans in approval, “Atta girl.” His cock now sliding up inside you, and your eyes well up.
“Oh. Fuckin’ hell. She’s tight as a fist, Henry.” Williams breaths out, his eyes darting towards his friends fluttering ones, and Henry lets out a strangled sigh. “Her mouth too.. Fuuuck.. God I could just cum. B-but I gotta.. gotta hold it.” They talk about you as if you’re not there- only commenting about the feeling of your holes and the warm insides, yet somehow this makes you drip even more.
William finally is thrusting into you, and you couldn’t help but allow your mouth to pop from Henry’s tip to let out a loud whimper.. “A—awh!! F..fuh, fuck! Soo muchhh.”
Henry can’t help but to share his sympathy, his hand holding your cheek and shushing. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You can do it baby, I know you can.”
William snorts, “You better do, darling. I’m counting on you to take our cocks like the whore you are. ‘Ohh no, it’s so much!’- come on, are you gonna be pathetic or just take it?” Afton mocks, and pushes his cock deep, deep, into you, and as you whimper- you go back to work. Henry lets out a sharp breath, his glasses fogging up. “Oh baby, thank you, thank you! Feels so fuckin’ good.” His words babbling, a strand of pleading as if he’s worshipping your mouth. The pleasure getting to him so much, his soft hands grip your hair, making you take him deeper— to the point it hits his base.
“Shit, Henry. If you do that she tightens up. Go fucking harder.” William growls, his hand grabbing onto your ass, certainly going to leave fingerprint bruises. Henry would’ve disapproved at the thought, but hearing your whimpers, your choking slurps— he couldn’t help it. And he abides, listening to his close friends order, which allows the men to be in sync. The pleasure almost numbs your mind.
Afton makes a large smile, “Great job, Hen.” The cock in your mouth pulses, and Williams breathes out, “See, sweetheart? Look how good you’re doing. Good at being a slut for two men that could be your father, good at being a fucktoy for your two bosses.’ He sneers.
He pounds into you harder, making you grip the floor tiles, mascara running down your face. “Say.. maybe this should be your new job.” He slaps your ass, which causes you to choke on Henry’s cock- the other man letting out a grunt. “Being the personal toy for your two bosses. The CEO’s slut,” Afton hovers more over you, as his tip grinds against your cervix- he nips your ear.
“You’ll be good at it for sure..” Henry admits, his hands trembling as he holds your hair, making you lick and swirl your tongue, your throat working its way.. “I wouldn’t mind.. no. F-fuck. I know it's so bad, but honey you’re just too good..”
Henry pushes you down harder. “Can’t help it sweetie. I’m so sorry. So sorry— fuck!”
“Yes.. You do feel too good.” William adds, and his silver eyes look down at you, degrading yet almost obsessive. “Too.” He pulls his cock, “Fucking,” and continue to thrust deep inside, “Good.”
Your legs almost give out, eyes rolling back to your head. You could feel yourself going dizzy, your head shooting blanks- unable to think except the feeling of having two cocks inside you. That warm feeling in your stomach arises, and you make a loud muffle. Alerting the two men. Henry pants, “I-I think she’s gonna cum. S-shit.. God! I’m gonna blow my load into you, honey.”
William lets out an exasperated laugh, shaking his head at the sight of both of you, however, still clearly affected by the feeling of your body. The slick sounds of skin and gurgles echoing in the large space, Afton's peppered hair sticking against the sweat of his head- William could admit, he had never been so fucking hard in his life.
“Christ. We should’ve done this earlier, Henry..” He complains, “Better late than never though.” He laughs, but soon he gets back to business- allowing his hand to slightly slap your face, “Darling, listen to me.”
William commands you, his eyes demanding your straight attention. “Me and Henry are gonna count to five. And when that countdown- ugh fuck… - goes down.. You better fucking take our cum. Got it?” And as you heard your final order, you immediately nodded.
“F-five. Oh honey.” You gagged around Henry. The drool dripped to the floor.
“Four.. That’s it, what a good fucking slut.” Afton growls out, his hand gripping your hips.
“Three,” Henry lets out with a strained voice, “Two.” William sneers. “One.” Both of the men said, and soon you could feel your body fully giving out.
“Sh-shit..! Oh baby, I love you.” Henry cries out, his cums going down your throat- which you had to swallow down, making sure no drop goes against the floor.
“Fuckin hell.” William breathed out, kissing the back of your neck, as his cock pulses inside your cunt, some of the liquid seeps out of your pussy. The two men slowly pull out, and your body gives out. Limbs now splayed against the cold ground, as your eyes flutter dumbly. Your two bosses look down at you, Henry with tenderness and William with subtle amusement, however they were, oh, so proud of you.
------------------------------
You were left against the couch of the office. The two let you sleep, while they take a smoke and drink break, sitting next to your body that’s cuddled against him. Henry wraps your arm around you and peppers kisses against your tired face, all the while William rubs your ass, as if repenting for all the spanking and gripping he did.
William exhales a puff of a cloud, and he looks to Henry, his friend stiffening as if he knew his buddy will say something outrageous. “That boy.. Yeah he didn’t talk to other girls. I just framed and bribed him to stay away from her.” Afton casually says, and Henry blinks.
“What the fuck..?” He sighs, but Henry forms a smirk. “You know what.. I don't mind. We have something we can finally agree on. Our star employee.”
Summary: Your brother, Captain John Price, is required to leave due to his deployment to combat the terrorists. However, he has assigned Simon (Ghost) to look after you while he is not present to protect you from the enemies. Price just wants to make sure his little sister is safe, and he trusts Simon to take care of you.
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, NSFW, AGE-GAP, AU, HEAVY SMUT, suggestive tone, explicit content, mature language, sexual innuendo, slight violence, erotic, possessive, obsession, enemies to fucking, jealousy, forbidden desire, mention of jerking off, dry humping, mutual pining, heavy tension, angry sex, ownership, lots of teasing, manhandling, petname, dirty talk, edging, rough, degradation, oral activities, unprotected, PiV, squirting, spanking, fingering, blowjob, overstimulation, breeding, markings, rough sex, older man x younger woman, brat!reader x brat tamer!Simon
You’ve always known your brother’s house as a revolving door for his Task Force friends. Captain John Price’s place smells perpetually of cigar smoke, strong tea, and gun oil, with boots thudding across the hardwood at all hours.
Soap, Horangi, König, and Kyle or Gaz to everyone.
They treat you like the annoying little sister they never had.
They tease you relentlessly: hiding your phone, calling you “wee lass” or “kiddo” even though you’re well into your twenties, and ruffling your hair until you swat at them like an angry cat.
It always ends the same way.
You storm upstairs in a huff, sticking your tongue out behind their backs.
They whine to Price like schoolboys, and he just barks at them to leave his sister alone while voice gravelly with exasperation.
But there’s one who never joins the chaos.
Ghost.
Simon “Ghost” Riley is a shadow in the corner of every room. He sits silently, arms crossed, skull mask hiding whatever expression lurks beneath.
König is quiet too. He is shy while massive frame hunched like he’s trying to take up less space, but at least he’ll nod or mutter a greeting.
Ghost? Nothing. Just those dark eyes tracking you across the room, steady and unblinking, until the weight of his stare forces you to look away first.
It’s infuriating. Intimidating. And, if you’re honest with yourself, it sends a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with fear.
Today, the dining table is covered in blueprints for tomorrow’s raid on a terrorist hideout. The air hums with tension.
Price stands at the head, pointing out entry points, breach zones, exfil routes. Soap and Horangi argue over flanking positions in rapid-fire military jargon you only half-understand.
“ Alpha team stacks left, Bravo suppresses—” Kyle chimes in with contingencies.
König just grunts agreement from his chair that creaks under his bulk.
Ghost leans against the wall, silent as ever.
You hover near the edge of the group, arms crossed, trying to follow along.
John lets you listen as he trusts you enough for that, at least.
The codes fly over your head in grid references, call signs, and ROE, but the stakes are clear in their voices.
People could die tomorrow.
You shift backward to get a better view of the blueprints, not realizing how close you’ve drifted to the wall.
A solid wall of muscle stops you cold. You yelp, spinning around, and crane your neck up (way up) to meet Ghost’s masked face.
He looms over you, broad shoulders blocking the light, making you feel impossibly small. Those piercing eyes bore into yours, and unreadable behind the skull paint.
“ Watch where you’re goin’.” He rumbles, voice low and rough like gravel under boots.
You swallow, heat rushing to your cheeks. “ Sorry. Didn’t see you there.”
Soap snorts from the table. “ Aye, love, that’s ‘cause he’s built like a bloody tank. Careful, or he’ll flatten ya.”
You roll your eyes at Soap, earning a grin from Horangi and a chuckle from Kyle.
“ Focus on the mission first, MacTavish.” Kyle says, shooting Soap a warning look, “before you make her mad again.”
You flash Soap a triumphant smile and because you can’t resist, you stick your tongue out at him. He huffs dramatically, turning back to the blueprints with exaggerated offense.
Price clears his throat. “ Ghost. Change of plans. You’re sittin’ this one out.”
Ghost tilts his head, the only sign of surprise. “ Sir?”
“ You’ll stay here. Babysit my little sister while we’re gone.”
You gasp, whirling on your brother. “ John! I’m not a child. I can take care of myself.”
He arches a brow, sarcastic as hell. “ Last time I ‘trusted’ you, you came home pissed drunk, carried over your mates’ shoulders like a sack of potatoes.”
Your face burns.
The room goes dead silent except for Soap’s barely-stifled snort.
You pout, crossing your arms. “ That was one time. I promise I’ll behave.”
Price shakes his head, unwavering. “ Not negotiatin’, love.”
He turns back to Ghost. “ You good with that, Lieutenant?”
Ghost’s gaze slides to you slowly and deliberately. It lingers, heavy enough that your pulse stutters.
“ I’ll accept.” He says, voice dropping even lower.
“ Make sure nothin’ happens to Price’s little sister.”
The words hang in the air, laced with something darker than simple duty.
A promise.
A threat.
Or maybe both.
Your stomach flips as his eyes hold yours a beat too long, the tension crackling like static before a storm.
Price nods, satisfied, and dives back into the plan. “ Any suggestions?”
König shakes his hooded head, massive frame still as stone.
Kyle shrugs. “ No comments, Cap.”
Soap raises a finger eagerly. “ Actually, I—”
Ghost cuts him off with a single sharp glance. Price slams the blueprints shut. “ The meeting was adjourned.”
Soap groans. “ That’s unfair! He didn’t even let me—”
“ Out.” Price orders, and the others file toward the door, bickering lightly as they go.
You linger, heart pounding, acutely aware of the one man who hasn’t moved.
Ghost stays by the wall and watching you.
Alone now with him tasked to guard you. To keep you safe, and to keep you in line.
The house suddenly feels too small.
Tomorrow they raid a terrorist nest.
Tonight, you’re stuck here with the most dangerous man you know. And something in the way he’s looking at you says this slow-burning tension between you is about to ignite.
…
The morning of the deployment is cold and gray, the kind of December day that seeps into your bones. You’re standing in the kitchen in one of John’s old hoodies while nursing a mug of tea when he finds you.
“ Remember…” He says, slinging his kit bag over his shoulder.
“ Behave. Ghost is here to do a job, not play referee.”
You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “ I’m not twelve, John. I don’t need a babysitter.”
He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ You’re my little sister. I’m a soldier with a very public kill list. Enemies love opportunities like this…an empty house, a vulnerable family member. I’m not risking you.”
“ So send Soap.” You mutter into your tea.
“ At least he talks.”
Price snorts. “ I need Soap on the ground. The man’s annoying as hell, but those two surviving brain cells of his keep him alive in a firefight. Can’t spare him.”
You can’t help the laugh that escapes. “ Two brain cells? That’s generous.”
“ One’s for breathing, the other’s for explosives.” He deadpans.
Then his expression softens, just a fraction. “ Look, love…you said you’re scared of Ghost.”
Heat crawls up your neck. You hadn’t meant for that to slip out last night. “ He’s…intense. Quiet. Those eyes—”
“ Simon isn’t scary.” John interrupts gently.
“ Intimidating? Absolutely. But he’s a soft gentleman underneath all that. You just haven’t seen it because his aura makes you bolt like a spooked deer.”
You huff, crossing your arms. “ Easy for you to say. You’re not the one stuck alone with him.”
Price smirks, fishing his wallet from his pocket.
“ Tell you what. I’ll bet you a hundred dollars you’ll see his soft side before we’re back. If you don’t, I’ll pay up the second I walk through that door.”
Your eyes light up.
Money is money.
“ Deal.” You stick out your hand, grinning.
“ Start saving those notes, big brother. I’m collecting the moment you get home.”
He rolls his eyes, but there’s fondness in it. Then he steps forward and wraps you in one of his bear hugs in warm, crushing, and smelling of cigar smoke and the same aftershave he’s worn since you were small.
You press your face into his chest, breathing him in.
“ Come back alive, big bro.” You mumble against his shirt.
“ Always do.” He says, voice rough.
He ruffles your hair like you’re ten again. “ Be a good girl. Don’t give Simon too many headaches, yeah?”
You nod, throat tight. He kisses your forehead, lingering a second longer than usual, then shoulders his bag and heads for the door.
Outside, the military truck idles in the driveway, exhaust curling into the frosty air. Soap’s face appears in the open window, grinning like an idiot.
He flips you off with both hands. You laugh and return the gesture until someone inside yanks him backward by the mohawk. His indignant “Ow…Gaz, ya bastard!” makes you snort.
The others climb in.
Kyle offering a calm two-finger salute, König ducking his massive frame with a shy wave, Horangi flashing a quick peace sign. John pauses at the door, and looks back at you one last time, and then he’s gone.
The truck rumbles away, leaving only tire tracks in the thin layer of snow.
You stand on the porch until the sound fades completely, arms wrapped around yourself against the chill.
The house feels too quiet now.
Too big.
Somewhere inside, you know Ghost is already moving through the rooms. He's checking the windows, sight lines, and dead bolts.
Silent.
Watching.
You sigh, breath fogging in front of you.
Two days or maybe three alone with Simon Riley.
You can do this. You can survive the skull mask and the silence and the way his stare makes your skin prickle in ways you definitely shouldn’t think about.
And when John comes home, you’re going to be one hundred dollars richer.
You square your shoulders, head back inside, and close the door against the cold.
Game on, Lieutenant.
…
The first night settles over the house like a heavy blanket. It's too quiet and too still. John’s absence is a gaping hole, and the only thing filling it is the man across from you on the couch.
Ghost sits with his legs spread wide, boots planted like he owns the floor, thick arms crossed over his chest.
The skull mask catches the lamplight, turning the empty eye sockets into voids. He hasn’t said a word since the truck disappeared down the road.
He just…stares.
Unblinking. Intense enough that your skin prickles and your heartbeat keeps skipping.
You stare back, chin lifted in stubborn defiance, because you refuse to be the one who breaks first. Minutes crawl by.
The clock ticks louder than it has any right to.
Finally, you huff, loud and dramatic. “ For God’s sake, enough with the silent treatment. My mouth’s gone dry from not talking for hours. I’m starting to forget what my own voice sounds like.”
He leans forward slowly, elbows resting on his knees, the movement deliberate.
“ I was waitin’ for you to speak, love.” He rumbles, voice low and rough.
“ Thought maybe you’d lost the ability.”
The casual endearment hits you like a slap. It's unexpected, warm, and dangerous.
You shoot to your feet, cheeks burning. “ Whatever. Are you hungry?”
“ No."
You throw your hands up. “ Great. Fantastic.”
As you stalk toward the kitchen, you mutter under your breath. “ I’d rather talk to a bloody dog.”
His voice cuts across the room like a blade. “ Say that again.”
You freeze mid-step, turn back with the sheepiest grin you can muster. “ I said…I’d rather talk to you than anyone else?”
He doesn’t reply, just tilts his head in that way that says he knows you’re full of shit.
You escape into the kitchen before he can call you on it. You yank open the fridge, pulling out eggs, bacon, whatever’s quick and edible. The pan clatters louder than necessary.
Of course, when you glance over your shoulder, there he is…leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed again, watching you like you’re the most fascinating or infuriating thing he’s seen all day.
You plant a hand on your hip. “ Do you do anything besides follow me around like a damn shadow?”
“ It's part of the job.” He says flatly.
“ I'm lookin’ out for you.”
“ I’m not going to get lost in my own house, Ghost.”
He doesn’t answer. Just keep staring, deadly still, until the silence feels like it’s pressing on your chest. You turn back to the stove, cheeks hot, and focus very hard on not burning the bacon.
Twenty minutes later, you set two plates on the dining table. A scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, toast. Simple, but it smells like home.
You jerk your chin at the empty chair opposite you. “ Eat.”
He sits without a word. You scoop food onto your own plate first, hyper-aware of his gaze tracking every movement. When you’re done, he still hasn’t touched his fork.
You arch a brow. “ Problem?”
He mirrors the gesture and somehow even under the mask. “ You starin’ like you’ve never seen a man eat before.”
“ I’m curious.” You admit, folding your arms.
“ How do you eat with that thing on?”
Ghost exhales through his nose. It's almost a laugh, and almost a sigh. “ Stupid question.”
Your mouth drops open. “ Excuse me?”
He reaches up, fingers hooking under the edge of the mask. Your breath catches as he lifts it, just enough to expose his mouth and jaw.
It's strong, stubbled, scarred at one corner. The rest stays hidden. He picks up the fork, scoops eggs, and eats with slow, deliberate bites.
No rush. No explanation.
You groan, dropping your forehead to the table with a dramatic thud. “ You’re impossible.”
He makes a low sound that is definitely an amusement this time. “ Eat your food, princess. Can’t have Price comin’ home to a starved sister.”
The nickname sends heat curling low in your stomach, equal parts irritation and something you refuse to name.
You stab at your eggs harder than necessary, refusing to look at the strip of skin he’s revealed.
Refusing to notice how his lips close around the fork, how his throat works when he swallows.
The silence stretches again, but it’s different now. It's charged and humming. You sneak a glance and he’s already watching you, dark eyes unreadable above the pulled-up mask.
You swallow hard and focus on your plate, heart thudding against your ribs.
One night down. A few more to go. And that hundred dollars is starting to feel further away than ever.
…
A thunderous bang on your bedroom door rips you out of sleep. You groan into your pillow, voice muffled and hoarse.
“ Shut it! It’s too bloody early!”
Another bang, harder. Then that low, gravel-rough voice filters through the wood. “ Get your arse downstairs. Breakfast’s ready.”
You freeze. The fog of sleep clears in an instant, and reality slams into you like a cold wave: you’re not alone in the house.
Ghost is here.
Twenty-four-bloody-seven.
“ Dammit.” You mutter, stretching with a full-body groan that pops your spine.
You kick off the covers, make the bed with angry efficiency, and yank the door open.
And immediately regret it.
Ghost is right there, filling the entire doorway, arms crossed, staring down at you like a bloody statue. The morning light from the hallway window cuts across the skull mask, making the black eye sockets look endless.
You yelp. “ Why the hell are you lurking right outside my door? Go wait downstairs like a normal person!”
“ I was two seconds from kickin’ it in and draggin’ you down myself.” He says, voice calm, and almost bored.
Your mouth opens for a retort, but then you notice his gaze dip slowly and deliberately down your body. You’re wearing the thinnest old tank top you own, the kind that’s practically see-through in the morning chill.
Your nipples are standing at full, traitorous attention.
Heat explodes across your face as you follow his line of sight. You slap your arms over your chest. “ Pervert!”
His eyes snap back up to yours, unflinching. “ I swear I was lookin’ at your face the whole time.”
“ Bullshit! I literally caught you staring at my nipples!”
He lets out a low chuckle in dark, rough, and the kind that vibrates straight through your ribs.
“ And what’re you gonna do if I was, hm? They’re quite distractin’.”
Your jaw clenches so hard it aches. Fury and something hotter surge together. You raise your hand to slap him, hard, across that stupid masked cheek.
He leans in closer instead of pulling away, towering over you, voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. “ Go on. Slap me if it’ll make you happy, love.”
The air between you crackles. Your palm hovers an inch from the mask. You can feel the heat radiating off him, smell faint gun oil and something unmistakably male.
For one wild second you imagine the sting of your hand on his skin, the way he might react.
Instead, you shove at his chest. He's solid as a brick wall and you storm past him while stomping down the stairs like a toddler in a tantrum.
In the kitchen, you yank out a chair so hard it screeches across the tile, then drop into it with a huff. He follows at a leisurely pace, sliding into the seat opposite you like nothing happened.
Plates are already set: perfectly cooked eggs, toast soldiers, bacon crisp enough to snap. Smells infuriatingly good.
You both eat in total silence, but the tension is thick enough to choke on. Your fork stabs the eggs with unnecessary violence.
He eats methodically, mask lifted just enough again to show that scarred mouth while his eyes never leaving you.
He’s enjoying this. You can tell.
The bastard likes watching you bristle.
You glare at him over your coffee mug. “ I cannot wait for John to get back so I never have to see your stupid face again.”
He pauses mid-bite, then resumes chewing slowly. “ Feelin’s mutual, princess.”
You groan loud enough to rattle the windows, shoveling eggs into your mouth just to have something to do with the frustrated energy buzzing under your skin.
Every swallow feels like swallowing sparks.
He watches you the entire time, dark eyes unreadable, that faint curve at the corner of his exposed mouth suggesting the ghost (ha) of a smirk.
You stab another piece of bacon so aggressively the plate skitters.
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t speak. He just keeps watching, like he’s memorising every furious flush on your cheeks, every irritated huff.
The silence stretches, heavy and electric.
You’re mad. So, so mad, but underneath it, something else coils tighter and tighter.
Something that makes your thighs press together under the table and your pulse thud in places it definitely shouldn’t.
You shove the thought down, glare harder, and attack your toast like it personally offended you.
Day two, and you’re already losing your mind.
That hundred dollars feels further away than the moon.
…
You slam the last plate into the drying rack harder than necessary, water splashing onto the counter.
The morning’s breakfast still simmers in your veins.
His smug chuckle, that scarred mouth, and the way he’d called you out so casually.
You’re furious at how easily he winds you up, and how he turns every interaction into a battlefield you didn’t sign up for.
Ghost disappeared upstairs twenty minutes ago, muttering something about a shower.
Good. He gives you space to breathe without feeling his stare boring holes through your skull.
You dry your hands, flop onto the living room couch, and pull out your phone. A flood of messages from your group chat lights up the screen.
Best mate: OI, birthday drinks tonight at The Red Lion! You in or what??
Best mate: Don’t you dare bail, we’ve booked the back booth!
Best mate: Shots are on the birthday girl if you show up looking fit 🔥
You gasp, thumb freezing mid-scroll.
Shit. It’s Liv’s birthday today. You completely forgot, too busy seething over the six-foot shadow haunting your house.
You fire off a quick reply.
You: Absolutely I’m there!! 9pm sharp, save me a seat xx
You’re grinning, already planning the outfit that’ll make you forget the last twenty-four hours, when heavy bootsteps descend the stairs.
Your heart does an annoying little flip.
Ghost appears in the doorway, fresh from the shower. His black compression shirt clings to every ridiculous muscle.
The broad chest, thick arms, and the kind of bulk that screams hours of brutal training. Dark hair dusts his forearms, disappearing under rolled sleeves.
Water still beads at the ends of his short-cropped hair, one droplet sliding down his thick neck before soaking into the fabric.
Bloody hell. You hate that your type is apparently “built like a brick shithouse with a side of danger.” And you really hate that you’re staring.
He stops at the bottom of the stairs, noticing immediately. “ Problem, princess? You’re gawkin’ like I’ve grown a second head.”
He crosses his arms.
The shirt strains and his biceps bulging.
Your mouth goes dry. Without thinking, your tongue darts across your lower lip.
His eyes track the motion.
“ Stop gnawin’ at me like I’m on the menu.” He growls, but there’s dark amusement in it.
“ You get mad when I look at your nipples for half a second. Fair’s fair…don’t eye-fuck me like you’re plannin’ to take a bite.”
Heat floods your face.
You surge to your feet. “ Your body’s disgusting anyway. Wouldn’t stare if you paid me.”
He chuckles, low and rough. “ Liar.”
“ I’m telling the truth!”
He steps closer, towering, mask in place but those dark eyes gleaming. He leans down until you can feel the warmth radiating off him.
“ I'm not mad at you for starin’.” He murmurs, voice like smoke.
“ Actually I like havin’ your attention. Finally somethin’ useful comin’ out of that pretty mouth.”
Your brain short-circuits.
Pretty? From him?
You shove at his chest. “ Back off.”
He laughs, the sound rumbling through you. You spin to storm away (again), but a large hand snaps around your wrist, yanking you back.
You collide with his chest with a soft thud, palms flattening against hard muscle.
A startled yelp escapes before you can stop it.
You try to pull away, but his grip tightens, not painful, just inescapable. His other hand braces at your lower back, holding you there.
You’re trapped against him, and hyper-aware of every inch of contact.
The steady thump of his heart under your palms, the heat seeping through his shirt, the faint scent of clean soap and something unmistakably him.
His eyes bore into yours, deadly serious now.
“ Stop bein’ a brat.” He warns, voice low and gravel-rough.
“ Or you won’t like the consequences.”
You tip your chin up defiantly, pulse racing. “ You’re not my father. Or my brother. You don’t get to threaten me.”
His fingers flex on your wrist.
“ No.” He agrees, leaning closer until his mask brushes your hair.
“ But I’m in charge of keepin’ you safe while Price is gone. Means you follow my rules. Means you don’t get to stomp around actin’ like a spoiled little thing without pushback.”
Your breath hitches. The word spoiled lands like a spark on dry tinder.
It's infuriating and hot all at once.
You glare up at him, trapped between wanting to knee him in the balls and wanting to know exactly what those consequences might feel like.
“ Fine.” You hiss.
“ Let me go.”
For a second, he doesn’t. His thumb strokes once, barely, across the inside of your wrist, a whisper of contact that shoots straight between your legs. Then he releases you, stepping back with infuriating calm.
You rub your wrist, skin tingling, and try to ignore the way your body is suddenly wide awake in all the wrong places.
He watches you, arms crossed again. “ Goin’ somewhere tonight?”
Your eyes narrow. Of course he saw the phone. “ None of your business.”
“ Wrong answer.” He says mildly.
“ Try again.”
You groan, dragging a hand through your hair.
This is going to be a long few days. And that hundred dollars? It's starting to feel like the least of your problems.
…
You stand in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom while smoothing the black dress over your hips.
It’s the one you save for nights when you want to feel dangerous.
It's tight enough to show every curve, and low enough in the back to make you shiver when the air hits skin.
You turn sideways, admiring the way it hugs your waist, the hem riding just high enough to promise trouble.
A slow, wicked smile spreads across your face.
“ Worth every second of the lecture I’m going to get.” You mutter to your reflection.
Purse in hand, heels dangling from your fingers so they don’t click on the hardwood, and you ease your bedroom door shut with the precision of a burglar.
You creep to the top of the stairs and peer down.
The couch is empty.
Perfect.
Ghost is probably prowling some other corner of the house like the overpaid guard dog he is.
You don’t care where as long as he’s not here. You descend the stairs on silent stocking feet, heart hammering with gleeful rebellion.
Every creak of the old wood makes you freeze, but nothing stirs. You reach the front door, turn the knob millimetre by millimetre, and slip outside into the cold December night.
The air bites your bare shoulders, but freedom tastes sweeter. You whisper-shout toward the street. “ Jake! Over here!”
Headlights flick once.
Your mate Jake rolls up on his big black motorcycle, helmet under one arm, and grinning like an idiot when he sees you. “ Bloody hell, are you trying to cause accidents tonight?”
“ Only the fun kind.” You laugh, swinging a leg over the back seat.
You tug the spare helmet on, wrap your arms around his waist, and thump his shoulder. “ Go, before the warden notices.”
The engine roars to life. You whoop as he pulls away, wind whipping your hair, dress riding higher on your thighs.
For the first time in two days, you feel light.
Free.
Untouchable.
You don’t see the dark SUV parked half a block down, engine idling silently.
Ghost sits behind the wheel, gloved hands strangling the leather in a white-knuckled grip.
He watched you come down the stairs.
He watched every careful step, every smug little glance around.
He could have stopped you at the door. He could have blocked it with one arm and ended the game before it started.
But no.
You want to be a brat? Fine. Let you think you’ve won.
Then his jaw damn near cracks when you step into the porch light.
That dress. Fuck. Black silk clinging to every curve he’s been pretending not to notice for forty-eight hours. Back dipped low enough to show the delicate line of your spine.
Hem short enough that any sudden move would—
And now you’re climbing onto a motorcycle behind some pretty-boy civilian who’s already looking at you like he’s planning dessert.
Ghost’s foot slams the accelerator before the bike even clears the corner. He hangs back two cars, headlights off, following the growl of the engine through quiet streets.
Every time the bike leans into a turn and your arms tighten around the rider’s waist, something dark and possessive coils tighter in his gut.
“ Little fuckin’ brat.” He growls at the empty car.
“ You thought you could sneak out in that dress and wrap yourself around some prick who doesn’t know what’s good for him.”
He clenches his teeth hard enough to ache.
You want to play runaway? Fine.
He’ll let you get to the bar.
Let you have one drink, maybe two.
Let you think you’ve pulled it off.
Then he’s dragging you out. Over his shoulder if he has to and bringing you straight home.
And when he gets you there?
You’re going to learn exactly what happens when you push him too far.
He’ll make damn sure you never look at another man’s bike. You will never even think about climbing behind one without remembering the consequences.
Ghost’s lips curve in a slow, dangerous smile under the mask.
Enjoy your little rebellion, princess.
It ends tonight.
…
The bass thumps through the floor of The Red Lion like a second heartbeat, coloured lights strobing across sweaty faces and spilled drinks.
You push through the crowd with Jake’s hand at the small of your back, and the black dress riding higher with every step.
Mia spots you first and screams your name over the music, pulling you into a crushing hug that smells like vodka and vanilla perfume.
“ Finally!” She yells.
“ We thought your brother locked you in a tower!”
The rest of your mates swarm around, teasing and laughing.
“ Been ages since you’ve come out, love!”
“ Price on a mission again?”
You sigh, nodding. “ Yeah. Overprotective mode activated. Had to practically escape Alcatraz tonight.”
Someone, probably Liv, shouts. “ Then let the party begin!”
The group erupts in cheers, dragging you all deeper into the club.
Shots appear. More shots appear. The dance floor swallows you whole.
You and Jake end up in the middle of it, bodies moving to the heavy beat. The liquor burns sweet down your throat, loosening your limbs, making everything feel lighter.
You sway your hips against him, laughing when he spins you.
He’s fun. His big smile and an easy flirt. His hands settle on your waist, guiding you closer until your back meets his chest.
You feel his breath on your neck, warm and tequila-scented, then the graze of his teeth as he nibbles just below your ear.
“ Fuck, you’re beautiful tonight.” He murmurs, lips brushing skin.
His palms slide lower, pressing you tighter against him. You can feel how much he wants you, hard and obvious against the curve of your arse.
“ Let’s get out of here. Find somewhere private. Make the rest of the night properly fun.”
The words land with a dull thud. You’re used to flirting, to heat and teasing, but actual follow-through?
Not tonight.
Not with him.
You laugh it off lightly, turning in his arms to create a few inches of space.
“ Let’s just dance, yeah? It’s Liv’s birthday. Plenty of time to celebrate later.”
His eyes darken, hungry. He leans in again, voice rough against your ear. “ I want you. Been wanting you all night in that dress.”
You swallow, smile faltering. “ Jake…I’m not ready for that.”
He doesn’t push, yet, but the disappointment is written all over his face. You both keep dancing, keep drinking, and pretending the moment didn’t sour the air between you.
Across the club, a path parts like the Red Sea.
Ghost stalks through the crowd, all black tactical gear and skull mask, radiating pure menace. People instinctively step aside, drinking sloshing as they stumble out of his way.
His jaw is clenched so tight it aches, eyes scanning until they lock on you, on the way you’re grinding back against that same motorcycle prick, on the hands roaming your hips, and on the dress that’s riding dangerously high.
He moves fast.
One second you’re laughing at something Jake whispers; the next, a massive hand clamps onto Jake’s shoulder and yanks him backward.
You stumble, spinning around, and your stomach drops.
Ghost towers there, eyes burning into you with fury you can feel across the strobing lights.
Jake recovers quickly. “ What the fuck is your problem, mate?”
Ghost ignores him completely. His gloved hand wraps around your wrist. It's firm, unyielding, and he starts pulling you toward the exit.
“ We’re going home. Now.”
You dig your heels in, heart pounding. “ I’m having fun!”
“ You can have fun inside the bloody house.”
You yank against his grip, but it’s like trying to move a mountain. “ Let go of me!”
Jake steps forward, bravado fueled by liquor. “ Hey…she said let go.”
Big mistake.
Jake swings a wild punch. Ghost dodges without looking, catches the wrist mid-air, and twists. There’s a sickening pop of joints.
Jake yelps, dropping to his knees. Ghost shoves him down hard, and face-first into the sticky floor. Screams ripple outward as people scatter.
Before you can protest, Ghost hauls you through the crowd and out into the freezing night air. You stumble in your heels, cursing.
“ Stop acting like a possessive boyfriend!”
He doesn’t slow.
“ I'm not your boyfriend.” He growls.
“ I'm just the poor bastard tasked with keepin’ you alive while your brother’s riskin’ his neck. You’re under my fuckin’ watch.”
“ I want to have fun!”
“ You want to have fun?” He spins you suddenly, backing you against the brick wall outside the club.
The skull mask looms inches away, voice dangerously low.
“ Then stay in the fuckin’ house where I can see you. Not out here wearin’ that—”
His gaze flicks down your body, lingering on every exposed inch. “...and lettin’ that motorcycle cunt grind on you like he’s got any right.”
You bristle, heat flashing through anger and something far more dangerous. “ You don’t get to dictate what I wear. Or who I dance with.”
His hand slams against the wall beside your head, caging you in. “ Don’t I?”
The words are quiet, lethal.
“ You have no idea how he was lookin’ at you. Like he wanted to bend you over his bike and—”
“ And you shouldn’t care!” You snap, shoving at his chest. It doesn’t move him an inch.
Ghost exhales sharply through his nose, grabs your arm again, and marches you to the waiting SUV. He yanks open the passenger door, practically lifts you inside, then slams it shut.
The locks click immediately.
You rattle the handle anyway. “ Open this bloody door!”
He slides into the driver’s seat, starts the engine, and pulls away without a word.
The silence is thick, suffocating. Streetlights strobe across the mask, across clenched fists on the wheel.
You cross your arms, fuming, thighs pressed tightly together against the traitorous pulse between them.
This isn’t over.
Not even close.
…
You storm into the house like a hurricane, slamming the front door so hard the windows rattle. The locks click behind you.
Too late you realize he’s already inside, but you’re too livid to care.
“ You absolute fucking wanker!” You scream into the empty hallway, kicking off your heels so they clatter against the wall.
“ You ruined my night! You embarrassed me in front of everyone! Dragged me out like some caveman…Jake’s probably got a broken wrist because of you, you psychotic, overbearing—”
Words dissolve into furious, incoherent noise as you pace the living room, and hands fisting in your hair.
You don’t hear the soft thud of his boots, don’t notice the shadow detaching from the wall until the door to the outside world is locked with a deliberate click.
You whirl around.
Ghost stands there, arms loose at his sides, watching you with that unreadable stare. The skull mask catches the dim lamplight, making him look every inch the predator.
You don’t think. You charge.
“ You!”
Poke.
“ Fucking!”
Poke.
“ Arsehole!”
Each word is punctuated by a sharp jab of your finger into the centre of his chest. The muscle under the black shirt doesn’t even give.
“ Most annoying, controlling, insufferable man I’ve ever—”
Your rant falters when you catch the direction of his gaze.
Down. Fixed. Unashamed.
Straight into the deep plunge of your dress, where your breasts are heaving with every furious breath.
Heat floods your face.
You shove him and both palms this time. “ Pervert!”
Ghost doesn’t move an inch. His voice is low, rough, almost amused.
“ Your tits are fuckin’ distractin’, love. I could let you scream at me all night if it keeps ‘em bouncin’ like that.”
You choke on outrage. “ You—!”
Your hand flies up to slap him.
He catches your wrist mid-air without looking, fingers like steel.
Before you can yank away, his other hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back. Then his masked mouth crashes against yours.
It's hard, unyielding fabric over lips, but the pressure is brutal, and possessive.
A growl rumbles from his chest as he forces the kiss deeper, and the hard ridge of the mask scraping your lips.
You moan despite yourself, the sound shocking you both. You claw at his shoulders, trying to push, but he only presses harder then walking you backward until your spine hits the wall.
Then, in one effortless move, he releases your hair, bands an arm under your arse, and hoists you over his massive shoulder.
The world flips. Blood rushes to your head; the dress rides up dangerously.
“ Put me down, you bastard—!”
A sharp, stinging slap lands on your exposed arse. You yelp, the heat blooming instantly.
“ Quiet.” He grunts, striding up the stairs two at a time.
He throws you onto your bed like you weigh nothing. You bounce once, scrambling to sit up, but he’s already on you. His knees bracketing your thighs, massive body caging you in.
The mattress dips under his weight.
“ I’m telling John.” You hiss, chest heaving.
“ Everything.”
Ghost leans down, mask inches from your face.
“ Go ahead. I don’t give a fuck.” His gloved hand slides up your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress higher.
“ I just wanna teach you a lesson, you spoiled little brat. Bad girls need tamin’.”
You buck against him. “ Then stop babysitting me and you won’t have headaches.”
He huffs a dark laugh, breath hot through the mask against your ear.
“ You’ve got no idea what you do to me, do you? Struttin’ around in this fuckin’ dress all night, tits spilln’ out, arse on display for every cunt in that club.”
“ I've been hard since you walked down those stairs. Wanna rip this off and see you naked…properly naked. Only for me.”
You open your mouth to snap back, but he rolls his hips slowly and deliberately.
The thick, rigid length of him drags against your inner thigh, pressing right where you’re already wet and aching.
A broken moan tears out of you.
Ghost groans, low and filthy.
“ There it is. I've been sufferin’ blue balls for days because of you, princess. Every time you stomp around in those tiny shorts, every time you bend over…fuck. Tonight was the last straw. Saw you grindin’ on that prick and nearly lost it.”
His hips grind again, harder.
You feel every inch of him.
He's huge, heavy, and straining against his trousers.
“ I wanted you for too fuckin’ long.” He rasps.
“ But I couldn’t make a move with the lads watchin’. Especially your brother who is always sniffin’ around. But now?” He nips the shell of your ear through the mask.
“ Now I’m gonna fuck you. Gonna show you how hungry I am. Gonna make you feel how hard you get me without even tryin’.”
“ How many times I’ve jerked my cock raw thinkin’ about this smart little mouth wrapped around me, about bendin’ you over and stuffin’ you full till you can’t walk straight.”
Another slow grind, the friction dragging a whimper from your throat.
“ I'm gonna ruin you for anyone else.” He promises, voice black with lust.
“ By the time Price gets back, you’ll be beggin’ for my cock instead of sneakin’ out to tease other men. Understand, brat?”
Your hands fist in his shirt, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away. Your thighs clench around his hips involuntarily.
His eyes is dark, and blown wide with desire that lock onto yours through the mask.
“ Say you want it.” He growls.
“ Or I’ll stop right now and leave you aching.”
You hate him.
You want him.
The line has never been thinner.
…
You shove at his wrists, nails digging into the thick veins there, trying to pry his hands away like that’ll somehow restore the last shred of control you’re clinging to.
“ I don’t want you.” You hiss, the words sharp and desperate.
You are more to convince yourself than him.
“ Get off me. This is assault.”
Ghost’s dark chuckle vibrates against your throat.
He doesn’t move an inch.
Instead, one thick finger drags deliberately up the damp seam of your knickers, pressing the soaked fabric between your folds.
Your back arches off the bed involuntarily, a soft, traitorous moan slipping out before you can trap it.
“ Assault?” He rasps, voice low and filthy.
“ Then why are your pretty legs wrapped around my waist like you’re beggin’ me to split you open, hm? Little brat’s cunt is droolin’ for me already.”
The degradation hits like gasoline on a fire. Heat floods your cheeks, your core, everywhere.
You hate him.
You hate how right he is.
He pulls his hand away just long enough to rip off his gloves with his teeth, tossing them aside.
“ I want to feel these walls clench around me raw.” He mutters.
Then he’s back in bare, calloused fingers sliding under the hem of your dress, and tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs until you’re trembling.
Your hands have abandoned their fight. Instead, they fist at the back of his masked head, dragging him closer, pressing that skull fabric harder against your neck.
He growls in deep, animal and inhales sharply, like he’s trying to breathe you in.
“ Fuckin’ greedy little thing.” He whispers against your pulse.
“ All that mouth earlier, and now you’re pullin’ me in like a desperate slut.”
His palm forces your thighs wider. One brutal tug, and your knickers tear like paper.
Cool air hits slick, swollen flesh.
You whimper as he spreads you open with his thumbs, gathering your wetness, coating two thick fingers until they glisten. Then he circles your clit slowly.
Your hips jerk up to chase more friction.
“ Look at me.” He orders.
You force your eyes open. His stare is black with lust, pupils blown wide behind the mask.
“ Tell me you want my cock inside you right now.” He says, voice gravel and smoke.
“ But once you say yes, that’s it. No other man touches this cunt. Ever. Only me. Understand?”
You bite your lip hard enough to taste copper, refusing to answer. He teases your entrance.
It's dipping just the tip of one finger in, then retreating.
Again. Again.
“ Say it…” He growls, pressing deeper but still not enough.
You break.
“ Yes…fuck…just you, Simon. Only you.”
“ Good girl.” He praises, the words dripping with dark satisfaction.
Finally, he sinks one thick finger inside you in a single, slow push. The stretch burns. You cry out, back bowing, and tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
He’s huge. It's only one finger and you already feel impossibly full.
He stills.
“ You haven’t been touched down here?” He asks, voice suddenly rougher, almost disbelieving.
You shake your head weakly, cheeks flaming. “ N-no.”
Ghost curses under his breath in long, filthy, and reverent. “ Fuckin’ hell.”
He buries his masked face in your neck, inhaling deep as he starts to move. Slow at first, letting you adjust, then deeper, curling just right.
Your nails rake down his back, clawing at the fabric of his shirt like you’re trying to tear it off.
“ Tightest little virgin cunt.” He groans against your skin.
“ Takin’ my finger like you were made for it. Gonna ruin you so good, princess. Gonna stretch this pretty hole until it only remembers me.”
He adds a second finger. The burn flares hotter, but pleasure coils tighter with every thrust. Your legs lock around his hips, heels digging into his lower back, urging him deeper.
Something builds in fast, overwhelming, and terrifying.
“ Ghost…something’s—” You gasp, voice breaking.
“ I know, baby.” He rasps.
“ That’s your first orgasm. Lucky girl…gettin’ it from a real man instead of some fumblin’ boy.”
He speeds up, fingers drilling into you relentlessly, thumb grinding your clit.
“ Come on. Cum for me. Let it explode. Soak my hand like the needy little slut you are.”
You shatter.
The orgasm slams through you. It's arder than anything you’ve ever felt. Your walls clamp down around his fingers, thighs trembling violently as waves of pleasure rip you apart.
You cry out his name or something close to it that clinging to him like he’s the only solid thing left in the world.
He works you through it, murmuring dark praise against your throat. “ That’s it…good fuckin’ girl…milkin’ my fingers so pretty…”
When the aftershocks fade, he slowly withdraws. You whimper at the loss then freeze when he brings his glistening fingers to your lips.
A faint smear of red mixes with your slick.
Your virginity. On his hand.
He groans, low and wrecked, as you obediently part your lips and suck him clean.
It's salty, metallic, and you.
“ Fuck…” He mutters, voice hoarse.
“ You’re gonna be the death of me.”
And you know, with absolute certainty, that you’ve just handed yourself over completely to the man you swore was your mortal enemy.
…
You lie there panting, body still humming from the aftershocks, convinced it’s finally over. Your thighs tremble, slick and sensitive, chest heaving under the ruined dress.
Then the mattress shifts.
Ghost climbs off the bed slowly, deliberately. He reaches behind his head and drags his black shirt up and off in one smooth motion.
The fabric hits the floor with a soft thud, revealing miles of hard, scarred muscle, broad shoulders, thick chest dusted with dark hair, and abs carved like they were chiselled from stone.
Old knife wounds and bullet grazes map his skin like a violent history you suddenly want to trace with your tongue.
Your mouth goes dry.
You hate how much you want him.
How much you always have, if you’re honest.
He notices your stare. Of course he does.
“ Like what you see, princess?” He rumbles, voice thick with smug satisfaction.
His hands drop to his belt. Metal clinks. He pulls it free in one sharp tug, then snaps it through the air.
The crack echoes like a whip. Your thighs clench involuntarily, a fresh rush of heat flooding your core.
He tosses the belt aside and crawls back over you, caging you in again. Massive hands grip the neckline of your dress and yank downward.
Fabric tears.
The cool air hits your bare breasts; your nipples pebble instantly under his gaze.
“ Fuckin’ hell.” He breathes, reverent and filthy all at once.
His huge palms cup both breasts, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. Thumbs flick over your nipples, pinching, rolling, teasing until you’re arching into his touch with a needy whine.
“ I've been dreamin’ about these tits for longer than I’ll admit.” He growls.
“ Thought about ‘em when you’d storm past me in those tiny tops, bouncin’ like a tease. Now they’re mine. Real. Perfect.”
He slaps one breast. It's sharp and stinging. The pain blooms hot and sweet that made you cry out while your back si bowing.
“ Sensitive little things.” He mocks.
“ Look at you whinin’ already.”
The sound of his zipper is loud in the quiet room. Your eyes drop just as he frees himself.
He's thick. His heavy length springing out, flushed dark and leaking at the tip like it’s been tortured for hours.
Which, if his earlier confessions are true, it has.
He fists himself roughly, milking another fat bead of pre-cum from the slit. Then he leans forward and smears it across your breast, painting your nipple glossy. You shudder.
“ Squeeze ‘em together.” He orders, voice gravel-rough.
Your hands obey before your brain catches up, pushing your breasts together to create a tight valley. He groans deeply, wrecked and slides his cock between them, hot velvet over steel.
The head pokes your chin with every upward thrust.
“ Good fuckin’ girl.” He grits out, hips rolling slow and filthy.
“ Made for this, weren’t you? Pretty tits wrapped around my cock like a desperate little slut.” He picks up speed, fucking your breasts harder, pre-cum slicking the way.
Each drag sends sparks through you.
Each time the tip bumps your lips you have to fight the urge to open and taste him.
“ Look at you…” He sneers.
“ Mouth waterin’ for it already. Bet you’d let me use every hole tonight if I wanted.”
You moan, ashamed and turned on in equal measure. But he suddenly stops, pulls out, and drops to the mattress beside you, chest heaving.
“ I want that smart mouth on me now.” He says, voice strained.
“ Get between my thighs.”
You scramble up on shaky limbs, positioning yourself between his spread legs.
His cock stands proud against his stomach, twitching, angry red, veins pulsing.
You wrap both hands around him, still not enough to circle fully and he hisses through his teeth.
“ Fuck…too big for your tiny hands, isn’t it?” He taunts.
“ Go on. Open up.”
You part your lips.
He doesn’t wait.
One large hand fists your hair, guiding then shoving to your head down. The thick head breaches your mouth, stretching your jaw wide.
He doesn’t pause, just pushes deeper until you’re choking, tears springing to your eyes as he hits the back of your throat.
“ Fuck, that’s it…” He groans.
“ Hot, wet little mouth takin’ me like a proper cockslut.”
He holds your head steady and starts fucking your face.
It's short, and brutal thrusts that make obscene wet sounds. Saliva drips down your chin, and onto his balls.
Your hands grip his thick thighs for balance while nails digging in.
“ I've been wankin’ to this exact picture for years.” He grits out.
“ You on your knees, chokin’ on me while you look up all teary and ruined. Fuck…take it deeper.”
You gag, throat fluttering around him. He curses vividly, hips snapping faster.
“ I'm gonna cum down this pretty throat.” He warns.
“ You’ll swallow every drop like a good girl, won’t you?”
You can’t answer.
It's just the only tap frantically at his thigh as he buries himself to the hilt and holds. Hot pulses flood your throat, thick and salty.
He groans long and low, fingers tightening in your hair.
“ Hold it…fuck…hold it—”
Only when he’s spent does he ease out slowly.
A thick string of spit connects your swollen lips to his softening, but still impressive cock.
He grips the base and slaps it against your cheek once, twice, while it's still wet and heavy.
“ Look at you…” He says, voice hoarse with satisfaction and dark amusement.
“ Covered in my cum, dress ripped, tits marked up. Proper mess.”
You collapse against his thigh, wheezing, jaw aching, body thrumming with unspent need. He strokes your hair almost gently as a stark contrast to everything else then chuckles.
“ We’re just gettin’ started, princess.”
…
Simon flips you onto your back like you weigh nothing, the world tilting in a rush of muscle and heat.
Before you can scramble away, he snatches the belt from the floor and loops it around your wrists in one practised motion.
Leather bites into skin as he yanks your arms above your head, securing them to the headboard with a tug that leaves no room for argument.
“ Stay.” He growls, the single word dripping with possession.
Your ruined dress is still bunched around your waist.
He grips the torn neckline and rips downward.
Fabric shreds like tissue. The cool air hits every newly exposed inch of skin until you’re completely bare beneath him.
You're vulnerable, shaking, and aching.
He shoves his trousers and boxers down in one impatient push. His cock springs free again, thicker than before, flushed dark and slick with remnants of your mouth.
The blunt, swollen head nudges your entrance, sliding through wet folds, teasing but not entering.
You gasp when he spits in crude, deliberate and directly onto your cunt.
The warmth lands hot and shocking. He drags the broad tip through it, coating himself, gliding up to circle your clit until your hips jerk helplessly.
“ Look at you…” He mutters, voice rough with hunger.
“ Spread open like a desperate little whore, already soaked for the man you swore you hated.”
He lifts the bottom of his mask, just enough to bare his mouth. Then he crashes down, claiming yours in a bruising, filthy kiss.
Tongues clash, teeth scrape, years of bickering and tension exploding into raw, angry lust.
You taste yourself on him, taste the faint copper of your own virginity, and it makes you moan into his mouth like a confession.
He breaks the kiss only to line himself up again. The blunt head presses against your entrance is insistent and unyielding.
“ Relax, princess.” He murmurs against your lips.
“ I'm gonna take care of you.”
You whimper as he starts to push in. The stretch is immediate, overwhelming. “ It hurts—”
“ Pain won’t last.” He promises, voice low and steady despite the strain in his jaw.
“ Breathe.”
“ You’re tearing me apart.” You sob, back arching.
He smirks, dark and wicked. “ Good. That’s the fuckin’ goal…tear this tight little virgin cunt open and make you addicted to my cock. You’ll be beggin’ for it every night after this.”
He works in slowly. Iinch by agonising inch while bis eyes locked on yours, watching every twitch, every tear. Halfway in, he pulls back slightly.
When he glances down and sees fresh blood coating his shaft, he curses under his breath, something almost reverent.
“ Fuck…still so new.”
He pushes forward again, careful this time, letting your body adjust. Your bound hands strain against the belt.
You want to claw at him, grip something, anything, to anchor yourself. Instead you’re helpless, and forced to take every thick inch while he watches you fall apart.
His mouth finds your breast again, sucking hard on one nipple, then the other, teeth grazing just enough to make you cry out.
The dual sensation is pain below, sharp pleasure above that scrambles your brain.
“ Ready?” He asks, voice rough.
Before you can answer, he snaps his hips forward in one brutal thrust.
You scream.
A raw mix of pain and shock as he bottoms out, buried to the hilt. Your walls flutter wildly around him, stretched beyond imagining.
He stills completely, letting you adjust. You’re sobbing openly now, tears streaking your temples.
“ Shh, I’ve got you…” He whispers, surprisingly gentle.
He pecks soft kisses along your jaw, your lips. “ It’ll feel good soon. Trust me.”
You nod shakily.
He intertwines his fingers with your bound ones, squeezing reassuringly. Then he starts to move. Slow, deep rolls of his hips at first.
Each drag pulls a whimper from your throat.
The pain is still there, sharp and bright, but underneath it something else coils.
It's warm and electric.
He kisses you again, swallowing every sound, thrusting deeper on each stroke until the broad head kisses your cervix.
Your legs wrap around his waist without permission, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him closer.
“ Good girl.” He breathes against your neck, then latches on, sucking dark, claiming bruises into your skin.
“ Takin’ me so well. My perfect little cockslut.”
He pulls back suddenly, hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise.
The new angle lets him drive into you harder. Your breasts bounce with every slam of his hips; his eyes drop to watch, hungry.
“ Fuck…look at that.” He groans, one palm splaying over the faint bulge in your lower belly each time he bottoms out.
“ So full of me you’re seein’ stars, aren’t you?”
His hand slides up, wrapping loosely around your throat.
Not squeezing, just holding, and owning.
“ You don’t meet that motorcycle prick again.” He says, voice deadly calm.
“ If I ever see him near you, I’ll smash his skull into the fuckin’ wall. Understand?”
You nod frantically.
“ Words, princess.”
“ Yes…yes, Simon. I understand—”
“ Good girl.” His fingers tighten just enough to make your head swim.
“ Now tell me who this cunt belongs to.”
You shake your head stubbornly, even as your body betrays you, clenching around him.
He growls, pace turning punishing.
The headboard thumps against the wall with every brutal thrust as your head nearly knocks into it.
“ Say it.”
You break.
“ You!” you scream, voice cracking.
“ I belong to you, Simon…fuck…only you—”
“ That’s it.” He praises, dark and satisfied.
His free hand rains sharp slaps across your breasts, making them sting and bounce. Then he shoves two thick fingers into your mouth.
You choke, drool spilling, but suck obediently.
He pulls them out with a wet pop and smears the mess across your cheek.
“ Filthy little thing.”
His rhythm turns relentless. It's hard, fast, and claiming. That coil in your belly tightens impossibly, and ready to snap. His cock twitches inside you and thickening even more.
“ I'm gonna fill you up.” He snarls against your lips, biting the lower one hard enough to draw blood.
“ I'm gonna pump this pretty womb full of me until you’re drippin’ for days. Cum on my cock, brat…now.”
One final, savage thrust and you shatter.
The orgasm rips through you violently. It's tronger than the first, and blinding. Your walls clamp down, milking him as you sob his name.
He follows with a guttural growl, hips stuttering as he floods you is hot, thick ropes of cum painting your insides, and marking you from the inside out.
He grinds deep, staying buried, forcing every drop deeper. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged.
“ Fuckin’ perfect.” He whispers, voice wrecked.
“ You took me like you were made for it.”
He steals lazy, possessive kisses.
It's soft now and almost tender before collapsing onto your neck, spent and heavy. Your bound wrists ache, your body throbs, and you’re full of him in every possible way.
For the first time in days, the house feels utterly, dangerously quiet.
…
The weeks after that night blur into a haze of sweat, bruises, and the kind of filth that would make a sailor blush.
Simon Riley turns your brother’s house into his personal playground, and you into his favourite toy.
Seven days a week, without fail.
Morning quickies against the kitchen counter before coffee’s even brewed.
Afternoon hate-fucks in the shower that leave the tiles cracked from your grip.
Late-night marathons in your bed where he folds you in half and rails you until you’re sobbing his name, seeing actual stars behind your eyelids.
He’s relentless. He's rough, dominant, and degrading in the most delicious way.
Every time he growls “mine” while pounding you into the mattress, you come harder than the last.
You tell yourself it’s just stress relief.
Casual.
A convenient outlet for all the tension that’s been building for months.
But the truth is you’re addicted.
You hooked on the way he stretches you, ruins you, puts you back together just to break you again.
When he asks, voice rough and smug.
“ Admit it…you’re hooked on my cock, aren’t you?”
You always snap back “Never” even as your body betrays you, clenching greedily around him. He just laughs, dark and low, and fucks you harder until you’re screaming the opposite.
Then, one grey January afternoon, the front door slams open with the force of a breaching charge.
“ Oi! Family’s home!” John’s voice booms through the house, followed by the thunder of multiple bootsteps.
You’re upstairs, sprawled naked across your bed, thighs trembling, Simon’s hand still buried between your legs as his two thick fingers lazily stroking your oversensitive clit while he kisses a fresh hickey into your collarbone.
The sudden intrusion makes you jolt upright with a startled yelp.
“ Shit—” You hiss, shoving at his chest.
Simon withdraws his hand with deliberate slowness, sucking your slick off his fingers right in front of you, and eyes locked on yours.
“ Better get dressed, princess. Captain’s home.”
You scramble for clothes while he calmly pulls on jeans and a black hoodie, mask already in place like nothing happened.
You’re still hobbling in your inner thighs sore, cunt aching in the best and worst way when John’s voice echoes again.
“ Where the bloody hell are you two?”
You hobble downstairs as fast as dignity allows, plastering on a bright smile.
John stands in the hallway surrounded by his usual circus.
Soap bouncing on his heels, Horangi smirking behind his tiger mask, König looming like a quiet monolith, and Gaz shaking his head fondly.
The second you appear, John opens his arms. You launch yourself at him, ignoring the sharp twinge between your legs, and hug him tight.
“ Missed you, kid.” He mutters into your hair, squeezing hard enough to lift you off your feet.
“ Missed you more.” You mumble into his chest, voice muffled.
Soap cups his hands around his mouth. “ Aww, look at the family reunion! Touchin’, innit?”
Gaz stomps on his foot. Soap howls dramatically, hopping on one leg.
John sets you down, scanning the room. “ Where’s Simon?”
You stiffen. “ Uh…he’s…probably—”
A low, familiar rumble comes from the top of the stairs.
“ Here, sir.”
Everyone turns. Simon descends like he owns the place. His hoodie zipped, mask perfect, hands in pockets, and looking completely normal if you ignore the faint red scratches peeking above his collar (your nail marks from twenty minutes ago).
Price claps him on the shoulder. “ Good to see you, Riley.”
“ Captain.” Simon nods, then greets the others with quiet fist bumps.
Soap squints at him. “ Damn, Ghost, you’re bloody glowin’. Babysittin’ agreed with ya, eh?”
Gaz elbows him. “ Shut up for once in your life.”
Soap mutters something Scottish and filthy under his breath.
Price turns to you both. “ So…was she a complete pain in the arse the whole time?”
Simon’s eyes flick to you. It's dark, amused, and full of filthy memories. You feel heat rush straight between your legs again.
“ She was…good.” He says, voice perfectly even.
A beat.
“ Very good.”
Your thighs clench involuntarily.
You pray no one notices.
Price nods, oblivious. “ Thanks for lookin’ after her, mate. And for puttin’ up with her attitude.”
Simon’s gaze lingers on you. “ My pleasure, sir. Enjoyed it. Even when it got…stressful.”
Soap and Horangi exchange a look. Horangi’s eyes crinkle behind his mask. Soap bites his lip like he’s holding in the world’s dirtiest laugh.
Price digs into his pocket, pulls out a crisp hundred-pound note, and slaps it into your palm. “ As promised. For survivin’ Simon’s babysittin’.”
Your face burns crimson. “ Th-thanks.”
Soap can’t hold it anymore. He leans toward Horangi, stage-whispering loud enough for everyone to hear.
“ Bet she survived plenty. Multiple times a day, if I had to guess.”
Horangi snorts so hard his mask shifts.
Gaz frowns. “ What are you two on about?”
“ Nothin’.” Soap says innocently, eyes watering with suppressed laughter.
“ Just think Ghost gave her a real...thorough lookin’-after.”
Simon’s shoulders shake once, a silent chuckle only you notice.
The bastard is proud.
Price pinches the bridge of his nose. “ For fuck’s sake, behave yourselves.”
But Soap and Horangi are already losing it. Soap actually drops to the floor in a dramatic heap, pounding the hardwood with his fist while Horangi braces against the wall, wheezing.
You stand there, cheeks on fire, hundred-pound note crumpled in your fist, and thighs sticky with the evidence of exactly how “stressful” the last few weeks were.
Simon catches your eye across the hallway. Even through the mask, you can feel the smirk.
Welcome home, Captain.
The house is whole again.
And absolutely none of them have a clue it’s been thoroughly christened in every room.
Summary: You get teased by your friends for being inexperienced, so Puma lends you her book to help you understand the basics of “how to make yourself happy.” But right in the middle of your little experiment, your big soldier neighbor barges in and catches you red-handed—worse still, instead of screaming in shock, you let out a moan.
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, NSFW, AGE-GAP, AU, HEAVY SMUT, suggestive tone, explicit content, mature language, sexual innuendo, erotic, possessive, obsession, mention of jerking off, mutual pining, erotic, assurance, gentle, slightly rough, desire, heavy tension, ownership, lots of teasing, manhandling, petname, dirty talk, degradation, oral activities, unprotected, PiV, squirting, spanking, fingering, deflowering, blowjob, overstimulation, breeding, markings, older man x younger woman, obsess neighbor! König x inexperienced! Reader
The carpet in Puma’s living room is soft under your crossed legs, fairy lights strung along the ceiling casting a warm glow over the circle of you and your girls. Bottles of soju and tequila sit in the center like a small, dangerous altar.
Everyone’s in oversized tees and shorts, hair messy, makeup half-gone from laughing. It starts easy. About work drama, new jobs, who’s dating who, and the usual updates.
You sip your drink, nodding along while letting the alcohol loosen the knots in your shoulders.
Then the second bottle empties, and the vibe shifts.
The stories get bolder. Fantasies spill out first about someone wanting to be tied up, another admits she’s into choking.
Laughter turns sharper, breathier. Someone recounts a terrible date that ended with the guy asking if she “usually queefs.”
The room howls.
Puma goes next, voice low and annoyed.
“ This guy from the club a few weeks ago…he's a cute and decent dancer. We go back to his place, clothes off, and literally three minutes in he’s done. Rolls over, snoring. I’m lying there like…hello?” She mimics his pathetic grunt.
“ So I lock myself in his bathroom, finish the job myself, wash my hands, and leave while he’s still passed out. Never again.”
Next is Lila, eyes wide, already giggling in disbelief at her own memory.
“ Okay, but listen. This guy I hooked up with last month…when he pulled it out, I almost ran. I swear it touched his belly button standing up. He laid it on my stomach to ‘measure’ and the tip reached my chest. My actual chest.”
She throws her head back. “ I was terrified. I walked funny for two days. Never. Again.”
The stories keep coming about positions, sizes, disasters, and triumphs.
You stay quiet, cheeks warm from more than just the liquor, nursing your cup while the room fills with their confidence and history.
Then it stops.
Four pairs of eyes turn to you at once.
“ Soooo…” Puma draws out, smirking.
“ You’ve been awfully quiet. Spill. What’s the wildest thing you’ve done?”
Your throat tightens. “ I…uh—”
Lila leans forward. “ Come on. You’re always so mysterious. Bet you’ve got stories that’d make us blush.”
Heat floods your face. “ No, really, it’s not—”
Puma gasps dramatically. “ Wait. You’re hiding the best ones, aren’t you? You’ve probably done way more than us.”
You shake your head too fast. “ It’s…not that.”
Silence stretches.
You wish the floor would open up.
Finally, you mumble into your cup. “ I haven’t…done it. Ever.”
Four jaws drop.
The room goes perfectly still.
Lila blinks. “ Wait. You’re joking.”
You shake your head again, cheeks burning hotter.
Puma actually gasps. “ Girl! You’re twenty-six!”
“ I know.” You mutter, staring at the carpet fibers like they’re fascinating.
“ I’m waiting. For someone…worth it.”
They groan in unison, fond and exasperated.
“ Traditional queen.” Lila teases gently.
“ We can’t even be mad.”
Then Puma tilts her head. “ Okay, but…you’ve at least, you know, taken care of yourself, right? When you’re ovulating and feral?”
Your voice is tiny. “ I tried once. Just…my finger. It hurt. And there was blood, so I freaked out and never tried again.”
They all soften at once.
Puma scoots closer, rubbing your knee.
“ Sweetie, that’s normal. First time stretching anything down there, a little blood can happen especially if you were nervous and not relaxed. It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.”
Lila nods. “ You just need to go slow, use lube, breathe. It’s supposed to feel good, not scary.”
You nod, embarrassed but grateful.
Puma suddenly stands, wobbles a little from the drinks, and disappears into her bedroom. She comes back with a slim paperback and drops it in your lap.
You frown at the cover. “ What’s this?”
“ Educational material.” She says proudly.
“ Everything you need to know about pleasure…solo and with someone else. Diagrams, tips, the works. When you’re ready.”
You flip it open and immediately gasp at a very explicit illustration of an orgasm cycle.
You snap it shut, face on fire.
They laugh, but it’s kind.
You hug the book to your chest anyway, voice small.
“ Thanks, but…no guy’s ever gonna want me. Look at me. I’m not like you guys. I’ve got fat thighs, belly rolls because men want skinny, sexy girls. They’d be turned off the second they saw me.”
The room erupts.
“ Excuse me?” Puma says, offended on your behalf.
“ You’re gorgeous.”
Lila points aggressively. “ Any man who’d be ‘turned off’ by your body is a walking red flag and doesn’t deserve you naked.”
“ Real men…” Puma adds firmly.
“ Want real bodies. Curves, softness, all of it. The ones who only want some airbrushed fantasy are shallow and boring in bed anyway.”
“ You are beautiful.” Lila says, softer.
“ And anyone who can’t see that is blind. We all have flaws…stretch marks, uneven boobs, whatever. Embracing them is what makes us sexy.”
You look down at your lap, eyes stinging a little.
Puma reaches over, squeezes your hand. “ When the right person comes along, they’ll worship every inch of you. Promise.”
The room settles into a warm quiet, the teasing gone, replaced by something protective and fierce. You clutch the book tighter, heart thudding with a mix of nerves and something dangerously close to hope.
Maybe, someday, you’ll be ready.
…
You sit cross-legged on your bed for three nights straight, the book from Puma open in your lap like it’s a textbook for the most important exam of your life.
You highlight passages, mutter anatomical terms under your breath, and feel your face burn every time you turn a page with a particularly vivid illustration.
The girls’ words echo in your head about going slow, relaxing, and breathing, but the memory of that one painful, and bloody attempt years ago still makes your stomach knot.
Finally, on a quiet Saturday evening, and you can’t ignore the ache anymore. The house is empty, the street outside silent.
You sigh heavily, close the book, and whisper to yourself, “ Nothing bad will happen if you just…follow the instructions.”
First things first: privacy. You triple-check the front door (locked), every window (curtained), and your bedroom door (locked twice).
You even wedge a chair under the knob for good measure.
No one is catching you this time.
The embarrassment would kill you faster than anything else. You stand in front of the full-length mirror, slowly peeling off your clothes.
The soft light from your lamp doesn’t hide anything. Thick thighs that touch, the gentle swell of your belly, and stretch marks like silver lightning on your hips. You wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly small.
“ No one would want this.” You think, the old voice loud in your head.
But the warmth low in your stomach pushes back harder.
You want to feel good.
Just once.
For you.
You climb onto the bed, heart hammering, and lie back against the pillows. Knees up, legs apart exactly like the diagram on page forty-seven.
The book rests open beside you. You take a shaky breath and let your fingers trail down, tentative, barely there.
The first touch is electric.
A soft gasp escapes before you can stop it.
You circle slowly, just like the instructions say about gentle pressure, no rushing. Warmth spreads fast as you feel yourself getting slick, and the realization makes you bite your lip hard.
It doesn’t hurt. It feels…good. Really good.
Your hips shift without permission. You glance at the book again about encouragement to keep going, to explore what feels best.
Your eyes flutter shut.
The room fills with soft, wet sounds and your own uneven breathing.
Downstairs, König stands on your porch, shifting his weight.
He knocks once, twice.
No answer.
He tries the knob and it's unlocked, as usual. You always forget. He mutters under his breath in German and steps inside.
“ Liebling?” He calls quietly. Nothing.
He only came for the cordless drill you borrowed last month. He needs it tonight for a rush job.
He’ll grab it from the kitchen counter and leave.
That’s the plan.
Then he hears it.
A faint, breathy sound from upstairs.
His head tilts. Another soft noise, higher this time. His instinct kicks in soldier mode. Quiet footsteps on the stairs, hand hovering near the knife he always carries.
If someone’s hurting you…
He reaches your door. The sounds are unmistakable now in small whimpers and rhythmic. His brain short-circuits for half a second before protective panic surges again.
He doesn’t knock.
He kicks.
The door flies open with a bang.
You’re sprawled on the bed, fingers buried between your thighs, back arched, eyes squeezed shut at the perfect, overwhelming moment—
Your orgasm crashes over you just as the door hits the wall.
Instead of a scream of terror, what rips out of you is a long, broken moan in loud, helpless, and mortifying.
Your eyes snap open. König fills the doorway, massive and frozen, blue eyes wide beneath the black mask he always wears.
His gaze locks on you.
You're naked, flushed, and trembling through the aftershocks.
Realization hits a second later. You shriek, scrambling for the blanket, and yanking it over yourself like it’ll erase the last ten seconds.
“ What the fuck, König?!” Your voice cracks, half fury, half pure humiliation.
He stands there, stunned, chest rising fast. You see the exact moment his brain reboots as his gloved hand twitches, then clenches at his side.
His pants are…noticeably tighter.
He clears his throat, the sound rough.
“ I—Scheiße…I came for the drill.” He stammers in that deep, accented voice.
“ You borrowed it. I knocked. The door was open. I thought—” He gestures vaguely, as if danger still lingers in the air.
“ I thought someone was hurting you.”
“ Get out!” You yell, clutching the blanket to your chin.
“ Let me get dressed, then we’ll talk…downstairs!”
He nods jerkily, backs out, and pulls the broken door closed as best he can. You hear his heavy steps retreat down the hall.
Outside your room, König leans against the wall, head thudding back.
“ Verdammt nochmal.” He curses under his breath.
His cock throbs painfully against his thigh, fully hard from one single image burned into his mind.
You, cumming apart, moaning his name…
No, not his name, but still, because of your own touch, legs spread, beautiful and unguarded.
He’s wanted you for months. It's quietly, desperately, and every time you smile at him over the fence or bring him baked goods “just because.”
He jerked off to thoughts of you more times than he’ll ever admit, always feeling like a creep after.
Now he’s seen the real thing.
And you came right as he walked in.
He palms himself once through his pants, hissing.
“ Beruhig dich, verdammt.” He mutters, willing the erection down.
It doesn’t listen.
Downstairs, he waits, heart pounding, mind racing.
This obsession just got a thousand times worse and he’s not sure he wants it any other way.
…
You hide in your room for a full twenty minutes, face buried in a pillow, replaying the disaster on loop. Your skin still tingles from the orgasm, traitorous body refusing to forget that the peak happened right as König’s massive frame filled the doorway.
Eventually you force yourself to dress in loose sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, armor against the world, and trudge downstairs.
He’s sitting on the edge of your couch, elbows on his knees, looking comically large in the small space.
The moment he spots you, he shoots to his feet like he’s been caught stealing.
“ Entschuldigung.” He starts, voice low and rough.
“ I am so sorry. I should not have barged in like that. You were…busy. Private.”
Your cheeks flame again. “ Yeah, private is the word. Just…forget you saw anything, okay? Pretend it never happened.”
He nods quickly, the black mask shifting with the motion. “ Ja, of course. Next time I will knock. Loudly. Many times.”
A pause.
“ I heard noises. Strange noises. I thought someone was hurting you. My training…it took over.”
You soften despite yourself. “ I get it. You were worried. It’s fine. Really.”
You grab the cordless drill from the kitchen counter and hold it out. “ Here. Sorry I kept it so long.”
His gloved hand closes over yours as he takes it. A big, warm, and calloused fingers brushing your smaller ones.
A jolt shoots straight up your arm, pooling hot and low in your belly.
You both freeze for half a second too long.
“ Danke.” He murmurs.
Then, clearing his throat. “ I should go. Before I embarrass you more.”
“ You better.” You mutter, face burning again, but there’s a tiny smile you can’t quite hide.
He turns, shoulders stiff, and strides to the door. You watch the broad line of his back disappear outside, then slam the deadbolt and slide down the door until you’re sitting on the floor, knees to chest.
A mortified groan escapes. You thump your head gently against the wood.
How are you ever going to look at him again?
Across the hedge, König shoulders into his own house, tosses the drill onto the couch without a glance, and takes the stairs two at a time.
He drops onto his bed, back hitting the mattress hard. The erection that started in your bedroom hasn’t flagged once.
It’s worse now, straining painfully against his zipper, leaking steadily.
“ Scheiße, verdammt.” He growls, yanking the zipper down.
His cock springs free, thick and flushed, already slick at the tip. He hisses at the cool air, wraps a big fist around himself, and starts stroking roughly, fastly, and with no finesse.
In his mind it’s you.
Your legs spread on that bed, fingers buried in your wet cunt, moaning so prettily as you came.
He imagines replacing your hand with his own, then his tongue, then his cock is stretching you open, making you take every inch until you’re sobbing his name.
“ Du kleine Schlampe.” He whispers harshly to the empty room, hips bucking into his fist.
“ So desperate you fuck yourself where anyone could walk in. Should’ve been my cock ruining that pretty hole. Should’ve been me making you scream.”
The fantasy sharpens in your soft thighs wrapped around his waist, your nails digging into his back, your voice begging please, König, more.
He pumps faster, grip bruising, breath ragged under the mask he hasn’t bothered to remove.
It hits him like a freight train.
Three minutes or maybe less and he’s coming hard, thick ropes spilling over his fist, splattering his shirt and the front of his pants.
He groans long and low, hips jerking through it, milking every pulse.
When it’s over he’s panting, chest heaving. He stares at the mess, dazed. Then he looks down and he is still hard.
It's twitching, angry red, and demanding more like it didn’t just empty itself.
“ Un-fucking-believable.” He mutters and grabs yesterday’s workout shirt from the floor to wipe his hand and stomach.
The fabric comes away sticky. He forces his sensitive length back into his pants, wincing at the friction, and sits up.
He drags a hand over his masked face.
The want is worse now in sharper and vicious.
He doesn’t just want to fuck you anymore.
He wants to own you.
He wants to pin you down and sink into that soft, untouched body until the only thought in your head is how perfectly you’re filled with him.
He wants to ruin you for anyone else, ever.
König exhales slowly, steadying himself.
He’s a patient man.
He can wait.
But not forever.
…
The next afternoon, you’re crammed into your usual corner booth at the café, iced lattes sweating rings onto the table. The girls are already halfway through their drinks when you finally blurt it out.
“ So…yesterday. After I went home. I, uh…tried it. Like, really tried. Following the book.”
Four heads snap up. Puma chokes on her straw.
“ You finally got yourself off?” Lila squeals.
You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “ Yes. And no. Because right as I…right at the good part, my neighbor kicked the door in.”
Dead silence. Then the collective gasping so loud the barista looks over.
“ HE WHAT?” Puma shrieks.
“ Kicked. The. Door. In.” You repeat miserably.
“ He thought someone was attacking me because of the…noises. I was literally coming when he barged in. Instead of screaming in terror, I moaned. Loudly. In front of him.”
The table erupts. Lila slaps the table so hard her coffee sloshes. Gina wheezes into her sleeve.
“ I’m sorry, babe.” Puma says, wiping tears.
“ But that is the most tragic comedy I’ve heard all year. Your first real orgasm was ruined by a home invasion.”
“ It’s not funny!” You wail.
“ Every time I try to touch myself, the universe sends a disaster. First blood and pain, now a six-foot-five Austrian commando getting a front-row seat. Clearly I’m cursed.”
They’re still howling when Lila catches her breath enough to ask. “ Wait, wait…who is this neighbor?”
You mumble into your cup. “ König.”
Four blank stares.
“ King?” Puma translates, eyebrow raised.
“ That’s his actual name?”
“ Code name, maybe.” You shrug.
“ He’s literally special forces. Always in tactical pants and that black sniper mask thing.”
The mood shifts from hysterical to hungry in a heartbeat.
Puma leans forward. “ Hold up. Big scary soldier guy? European accent? Wears a mask?”
You nod reluctantly.
“ Oh my Gosh.” Lila whispers.
“ Those guys are animals in bed. Like…they are aggressive and focused with zero-chill animals. I hooked up with a Marine once and he rearranged my organs.”
“ Lila!” You hiss, face on fire.
“ What? It’s true! And this König guy, bet he’s stupid hot under that mask. Strong jaw, blue eyes, the whole brooding package.”
Gina nod vigorously.
“ Definitely.” Puma agrees.
“ You can’t hide a face like that forever. He’s probably gorgeous and just socially awkward.”
“ Or hiding scars.” Gina offers.
“ Which is even hotter.”
You sink lower in your seat. “ Can we not objectify my neighbor who’s seen me naked?”
“ Too late.” Lila grins, already pulling out her phone.
“ Does he have Insta? TikTok? Anything? We need visual evidence for science.”
“ I don’t know!” You protest.
“ I don’t stalk his socials. We just say hi over the fence and borrow tools.”
They all cackle again.
“ Borrow tools.” Puma repeats, waggling her eyebrows.
“ That’s foreplay, sweetie.”
“ Stop!”
“ No, seriously.” Gina added.
“ You realize he’s replaying that scene in 4K right now, right? Man walked in on you mid-orgasm. That’s burned into his brain forever. He’s probably jerking off to it as we speak.”
“ Gina!"
“ What? Soldiers have needs. And stamina. And big—”
You throw a napkin at her head. “ I hate all of you.”
Puma dodges the napkin and leans in conspiratorially.
“ Real talk, though. You better lock your windows. One day that man’s gonna snap, climb through your bedroom, and devour you whole. Mask and all.”
The table loses it again. You bury your face in your arms on the table, groaning dramatically.
“ He’s not gonna devour me.” You mutter.
“ He was mortified. Apologized like crazy and practically ran away.”
“ Uh-huh…” Puma says knowingly.
“ That’s restraint. Give it a week. You’ll be watering plants in booty shorts and he’ll be over the fence like a heat-seeking missile.”
“ I do not own booty shorts!”
“ You should!” They chorus.
You flip them off, but you can’t stop the tiny, traitorous flutter in your stomach.
Because now every time you picture König in tall, broad, quiet, and those pale eyes flicking away politely yesterday.
You remember the way he’d frozen in the doorway.
The way his shoulders had tensed.
The subtle shift in how he’d held the drill when he left.
The girls keep teasing, voices overlapping in delighted chaos, but you’re only half-listening.
Because maybe, they’re not entirely wrong. And that thought terrifies and thrills you in equal measure.
…
Days blur into a week, then two. You turn into a professional avoider.
Groceries? Only after dark, when his truck isn’t in the driveway.
Trash day? You wait until you hear his garage door close.
When he rings your bell, once with a plate of homemade schnitzel, another time to borrow sugar as you freeze like a deer, heart hammering, and pretend you’re not home.
You even crawl on the floor to peek through the curtains before cracking the door to snatch whatever he left on the porch.
Immature? Absolutely. But the memory of his huge frame in your doorway while you were mid-orgasm is a permanent resident in your brain, rent-free and screaming.
You keep waiting for him to be repulsed.
Men don’t like desperate women, right? Women who can’t control themselves?
He should be keeping his distance, maybe nodding politely from across the street and never making eye contact again.
Instead, he still waves when he mows the lawn. He still leaves little notes on the food containers.
“Hope you like it – K.”
It makes no sense.
It makes your stomach flip in ways you refuse to examine.
Then the universe laughs in your face.
You’re washing dishes when the pipe under the sink gives a death rattle and explodes. Water gushes everywhere in the cold, relentlessly, and soaking your socks.
You yelp, grab every towel you own, and stuff them around the flood while frantically googling emergency plumbers.
Every company is booked solid or closed for the weekend.
You stand in your soggy kitchen, water dripping from the cabinets, stress climbing your throat.
There’s only one option left.
You pull on shoes, take the deepest breath of your life, and march next door.
You knock in three sharp raps.
No answer.
You knock harder, then call out. “ König? It’s me. From next door. I need help!”
A loud thump upstairs, like someone tripped over furniture. Heavy footsteps thunder down the stairs.
The door yanks open.
König stands there in a tight black tank top clinging to damp skin, chest heaving, and hair messy under the edges of his mask.
A faint sheen of sweat glistens on the exposed strip of his neck.
He clearly wasn’t expecting company.
His pale eyes widened behind the mask.
“ You…” He says, voice rough and a little breathless.
“ What are you doing here?”
Heat floods your face.
Of course you interrupted something.
Probably push-ups.
Or…something else that makes a man sweaty and panting.
“ I...I’m sorry. I clearly disturbed you. I’ll just—” You spin to flee.
A massive hand closes gently but firmly around your wrist, stopping you cold.
“ Nein, wait.” His thumb brushes your pulse point without meaning to.
“ I’m not mad. Sorry if I sounded rude. I was…surprised. You’ve been avoiding me for days."
You swallow hard, staring at his fingers on your skin.
“ Yeah. About that. Um. My kitchen sink pipe burst. Water everywhere. Plumbers are all busy. I thought maybe… since you’re a guy and in the military. You might know how to fix pipes?”
The words tumble out, higher and faster than you want.
He huffs a low laugh that rumbles through his chest. “ I’m not a plumber, Liebling. I’m a soldier.”
Your cheeks burn hotter. “ Right. Stupid. Obviously. I’ll just call someone else—”
You try to pull away again.
This time his grip tightens just enough to tug you forward then off balance. You collide gently with the solid wall of his chest.
One of his arms steadies you instinctively, palm splayed across your lower back.
He’s warm.
Hard.
Everywhere.
You freeze, breath catching.
He smells like clean sweat and something faintly metallic in gun oil, maybe. His heart thuds fast under your cheek.
His voice drops, low and gravelly. “ I don’t mind fixing your pipes.”
The sentence hangs heavy in the air, dripping with unintended suggestion. Your brain short-circuits.
Pipes.
He said pipes. But the way it rolled off his tongue, rough and deliberate…
He seems to realize it the same second you do.
His grip loosens, and he clears his throat awkwardly. “ The water pipes. In your kitchen. I meant those.”
You jump back like you’ve been shocked, smoothing your shirt even though it’s already soaked at the hem. “ Right! Yes. Kitchen pipes. Thank you. That’s…really kind.”
He rubs the back of his neck, the movement making his bicep flex impressively.
“ I’ll try to be a good neighbor. If I can’t fix it, I have a friend who owes me a favor. Real plumber.” He pauses, blue eyes searching your face.
“ Give me two minutes to grab tools. I’ll follow you over.”
You nod, probably too eagerly. “ Okay. Great. I’ll…wait outside.”
You back down his porch steps, heart racing faster than when the pipe burst. Behind you, the door clicks shut.
Inside his house, König leans against it for a second, exhaling hard. The run he’d been doing upstairs to burn off the near-constant ache since ‘That Night’ had done nothing.
And now you are soft, flustered, finally talking to him again, and smell like vanilla and panic and something he wants to bottle.
He adjusts himself in his sweatpants with a muttered curse, grabs his toolbox, and heads out.
Slow, she’s skittish. But Gott, those pipes aren’t the only thing he wouldn’t mind fixing.
…
Minutes drag into what feels like hours. You pace the living-room carpet until you wear a groove in it, then finally give in and tiptoe back to the kitchen.
The leak has slowed to a pathetic drip, but König is still on the job, half his massive body wedged under the sink.
You stop in the doorway and immediately regret it.
He’s flat on his back, tank top riding up just enough to reveal a strip of hard, ridged abs glistening with effort.
One thick arm is braced overhead, muscles flexing as he twists a wrench. His tactical pants are pulled tight across powerful thighs, and lower, a prominent bulge strains against the fabric.
Your eyes snap away, but the image is seared in. Heat floods your belly, traitorous and sudden.
“ Is everything okay down there?” You ask, voice higher than intended.
“ Ja, almost.” He grunts.
“ One more turn and it’s fixed.”
“ Thank you again. Seriously.”
A pause. Then, “ Actually…could use your help. It’s dark under here. Can’t see the small fittings.”
You grab the flashlight from the junk drawer and kneel beside him, aiming the beam into the cabinet.
He squints, turning his masked face away. “ Too bright. It blinds me. Try the other side.”
You shuffle around his head to the opposite side.
He groans. “ Still bad.”
“ It’s literally right on the pipe.” You say, exasperation creeping in.
“ I can’t see the threads.” He mutters.
You huff. “ Fine. Scoot over…no, wait. I’ll just…”
You sigh dramatically. “ I’m going to sit on your chest so the light’s directly above. Okay?”
A low string of German rumbles out about something that sounds suspiciously like a curse and a prayer at once, but he answers.
“ Ja. Good idea.”
Careful not to knee him in the face, you swing a leg over and lower yourself onto his broad chest. The heat of him seeps through your thin leggings instantly.
He’s solid, warm, rising and falling a little faster than before.
Another mutter in German, softer this time.
You lean forward, flashlight steady. “ Better?”
“ Perfekt.” He rasps.
You stay bent over him, thighs framing his ribs, trying to ignore how intimate this feels.
Then he shifts.
“ Little farther back, bitte.”
You slide down an inch, then another until you’re straddling the lower part of his chest, almost on his stomach.
Still not quite right.
You wriggle, searching for balance.
A low groan vibrates under you.
“ You okay?” You ask, concerned.
“ Fine.” He says, voice noticeably deeper.
“ Close now.”
You nod, adjusting the position again and freeze.
Something hard presses firmly against your lower stomach.
You assume it’s his phone in his pocket.
Makes sense.
Big guy, big pockets.
But then you rock slightly to steady the flashlight, and the pressure feels…different.
Long, thick, unmistakable.
Heat surges between your legs. You bite your lip to stifle a gasp. Unintentionally or maybe not, you roll your hips again, and chase the friction.
It feels good.
Too good.
A small, helpless sound escapes before you can stop it. König’s hands, which had been working overhead, suddenly still.
You don’t notice at first as you’re too busy trying not to grind down again then the drip stops entirely.
The pipe is fixed.
You glance down and find both of his large, gloved hands now resting on your hips. His chest rises sharply beneath you.
When your eyes meet his, the pale blue is almost swallowed by blown-wide pupils.
You jolt, trying to scramble off. “ Sorry, it’s fixed, I’ll—”
His grip tightens, not painful but immovable. “ Stay.”
One word, low and rough, laced with command and something dangerously close to pleading.
The kitchen goes perfectly silent except for your shared breathing. You’re straddling his thighs now, bent forward, flashlight forgotten in your slack hand.
The hard length beneath you twitches unmistakably against your core, and this time there’s no pretending it’s a phone.
Your heart hammers so loud you’re sure he can feel it. His thumbs stroke slow circles on your hips, almost absentminded, like he’s testing whether you’re real.
“ König…” You whisper, not sure if it’s a protest or a question.
His gaze drops to your mouth, then lower, tracing the way your body curves over his. The mask hides everything except those eyes hungry, restrained, and burning.
Another small shift of his hips, deliberate this time, pressing up just enough to make you gasp softly. Your hands land on his chest for balance, and fingers curling into the damp fabric of his tank top.
The tension coils tight and electric between you, thick enough to taste.
One wrong move, one tiny rock forward, one squeeze of his hands, and the thin thread of control will snap.
Neither of you moves.
Not yet.
…
The air between you snaps like a frayed wire. One second you’re frozen, straddling his thighs, feeling the thick, and the unmistakable ridge of him pressed against you.
Next, König moves in fast, decisive, and pure soldier efficiency. Massive hands grip your hips, spin you, and suddenly the world flips.
Your back hits the kitchen floor with a soft thud, all the breath whooshing out of you as his enormous frame cages you in.
He hovers above, and forearms braced on either side of your head, chest heaving, blue eyes wild and dark. Your fingers clutch his soaked tank top like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to earth.
“ W-what is this?” You stammer, voice small and trembling.
König growls, low and guttural, the sound vibrating straight to your core. “ I can’t take it anymore, Liebling. Too much. I’m too fucking hard right now.”
To prove it, he rolls his hips slowly and deliberately.
The rigid length of him drags against your clothed folds, and a loud, involuntary gasp tears from your throat. The heat floods you, shame and want to twisting together.
“ You have no idea…” He rasps, voice gravel-rough.
“ How you climbed on me earlier…squirming, grinding that sweet little cunt against me and nearly made me cum in my pants like a fucking teenager.”
Your eyes go wide.
He leans closer, mask brushing your temple.
“ Every night since I walked in on you…” He continues, words dark and filthy.
“ I see you on that bed, fingers buried deep, moaning so pretty as you cum. I’ve jerked my cock raw thinking about it. I cum so many times it still isn’t enough. Still wake up aching for you.”
He rocks again, harder, and you whimper.
“ I wanted to fuck you that night.” He confesses against your ear.
“ I wanted to pin you down and stuff you full right then. But I held back. Restraint.”
A bitter laugh.
“ Then you straddle me today, rubbing that wet pussy all over me like you need it…I’m done holding back. I need to take you. Right. Fucking. Now.”
You open your mouth to protest, but before a single word escapes, his arms band around you like steel. He stands effortlessly, hauling you up and slinging you over one broad shoulder.
You squeak, legs kicking uselessly.
“ König…put me down! This is a bad idea!”
He’s already moving, long strides carrying you out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
“ Bad idea?” He laughs, dark and dangerous, one huge hand splayed possessively over your ass.
“ You want it just as much, kleine Schlampe. Don’t lie. I can smell how soaked you are my favorite fucking scent.”
You pound a fist against his back, mortified and throbbing. “ You’re insane!”
“ Ja.” He agrees easily.
“ Insane for you.”
He shoulders open your bedroom door. The same one he kicked in weeks ago and tosses you onto the bed like you weigh nothing.
You bounce once, hair fanning across the pillows, before he’s on you again. Knees bracket your thighs, one massive hand gathering both your wrists and pinning them above your head.
His weight settles over you, overwhelming, and perfect. German spills from him, low and filthy.
The degrading words you don’t understand but feel in your bones.
“ Du kleine, geile Hure…so nass für mich…treibst mich in den Wahnsinn…” (You little, horny whore...so wet for me...you're driving me crazy...)
He switches to English, eyes locked on yours, pupils blown wide. “ I’ve been obsessed with you for months."
" Since the day you moved in. Those soft curves, that shy smile…it caught me like a fucking trap. I tried to hide it. Be a good neighbor.”
His free hand trails down your side, thumb brushing the swell of your belly. “ Then I saw you that night, spread open, desperate. Everything snapped.”
You shake your head, old insecurities rising. “ I’m not…attractive like that. My body…men don’t want—”
A growl rips out of him. His hand moves lightning-fast, wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, and claiming.
The pressure steals your breath and sends sparks down your spine.
“ I don’t give a fuck what other men want.” He snarls.
“ I’m not them.” His grip tightens a fraction, eyes blazing.
“ Everything about you is perfect. These thighs—” He wedges a knee between them, spreading you roughly.
“ This belly—” His palm slides under your damp shirt, splaying possessively over the soft flesh.
“ These gorgeous rolls I want to bite. I’m starving for all of it. Starving for you.”
You whimper, hips arching without permission.
“ No more agreeing to stay away.” He says, voice dropping to something feral.
“ Tonight, I own you. Every inch. Every moan. You’re mine now, Liebling. And I’m going to ruin you so beautifully you’ll never want another man again.”
His thumb strokes your pulse point, gentle despite the threat in his words.
The contradiction is tender and brutal that makes you dizzy. You’re trembling beneath him, soaked, aching, terrified and exhilarated in equal measure.
And still, he waits in one heartbeat or two, watching your face, and giving you one last chance to say no.
But the word won’t come.
Because you don’t want it to.
…
König’s grip on your throat tightens is not enough to hurt, and just enough to remind you who’s in control. His thumb presses against your racing pulse.
“ Why did you touch yourself that night, hm?” He growls, voice dark and demanding.
“ Tell me, kleine Schlampe.”
You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.
Shame and heat battle in your chest.
He doesn’t wait. With a sharp tug, he rips your shirt clean down the middle. Fabric tears like paper. Cool air hits your bare chest as your breasts spill free.
Instinctively, you move to cover yourself.
His free hand snaps up, catching both wrists and pinning them back above your head.
“ Don’t you fucking dare hide from me.” He snarls.
“ I’ve waited too long to see all of you.”
Your cheeks burn.
He leans closer, mask brushing your cheek. “ Answer me. Why were you fucking that pretty little cunt with your fingers?”
You swallow, voice barely a whisper.
“ I…I’d never had an orgasm before. My friends kept talking about it and how good it feels. I got curious. That’s all.”
He groans low in his throat, eyes darkening further. “ So you sat there with that little book, studying how to cum like it was a fucking exam?”
You nod, mortified.
A dark chuckle rumbles out of him.
“ Adorable.” He shifts his weight, and the hard line of his cock pressing insistently against your thigh.
“ I’m going to do better than that book, Liebling. I’m going to give you pleasure from a real man…one who’s been obsessed with you for months. One who dreams about ruining you every night.”
He releases your throat, hand sliding down to cup your jaw. “ Do you want that? Say yes.”
You hesitate, breath hitching.
He doesn’t like the silence.
His fingers find your nipple, pinching sharply and perfect pain that shoots straight between your legs.
You whine, back arching.
“ Say it.” He repeats, voice dangerous.
“ Yes.” You gasp.
“ König, please…yes.”
A feral growl tears from him. He yanks his mask up just enough to expose his mouth. It's scarred, stubbled, hungry, and crashes it against yours.
The kiss is brutal at first, all teeth and claiming. You freeze, unsure. He feels it, nips your lower lip hard enough to sting.
“ Open for me.” He mutters against your mouth.
“ Follow me.”
He slows, coaxing as his tongue slides along your lips, and teaches rhythm. You try, clumsy and eager. He hums approval when you finally match him, soft tongue meeting his, tentative then bolder.
Wet and filthy sounds fill the room.
“ Good girl.” He breathes, then dives back in deeper, slower, different angles, and different pressures.
“ So many kinds of kisses, ja? We’ll try them all.”
He moves lower, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking hard enough to bruise. You cling to his shoulders, nails digging into muscle as he marks you in the collarbone, throat, and the swell of each breast.
By the time he reaches your nipples you’re writhing.
He takes one into his mouth, hot and wet, tongue swirling, teeth grazing. His huge hand torments the other is rolling, tugging, and pinching until you’re sobbing his name.
He switches sides, relentless, until both peaks are swollen and shining with his spit.
Then lower.
He nips at the soft skin of your belly, growling appreciatively. Both hands seize your waist, fingers sinking into the plush flesh.
“ This…” He rasps, squeezing hard.
“ Drives me fucking insane. So soft. So much to grab.”
You whimper as he bites gently, then harder, leaving little crescents.
“ Schöne Fette.” He mutters in German, voice thick with lust. (Beautiful fats)
“ All mine.”
Your pants are gone before you register the motion and ripped away like everything else. He spreads your thighs wide, groaning at the sight of your soaked panties.
“ Look at you. Drenched for me.” He presses his face between your legs, inhaling deeply.
“ Best fucking smell in the world.”
The vibration of his words makes you jerk. Then he tears the last scrap of fabric away. Cool air, then hot mouth as he drags his tongue up your slit in one long and filthy lick.
You cry out, hips bucking.
He pins you down easily, tongue plunging inside, fucking you slow and deep. You fist the fabric of his mask, anchoring yourself as he devours you.
He's lapping, sucking, and teasing your clit until your legs shake. One thick finger circles your entrance, gathering slickness.
“ Relax, Liebling.” He murmurs against you.
“ Let me in.”
He pushes in slowly and carefully. Even one finger feels enormous, stretching you deliciously.
You moan, walls fluttering around him.
“ So tight.” He praises roughly.
“ Perfect little virgin cunt.”
He crooks his finger, finds that spot that makes you see stars. He added a second is a burning stretch and perfect fullness.
You arch hard, keening.
He crawls back up your body, fingers still buried deep, thrusting steadily. His mouth finds yours again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Between the kisses, he mutters in German filth, dirty and degrading, reverent.
“ Du kleine Hure…taking my fingers so greedily…made for this cock…”
His thumb circles your clit. Pace quickens. Knuckles deep, relentless, hitting that spot over and over.
“ I know you’re close.” He whispers, biting your earlobe.
“ I feel you squeezing me. Cum on my fingers, baby. Show me how you fall apart.”
The command undoes you. Pleasure coils tight, snaps as your orgasm crashes through you harder than anything you’ve ever felt.
You scream into his shoulder, legs trembling violently, walls pulsing around his fingers. He works you through it, slowing only when you sag, boneless and gasping.
Finally he pulls out gently and brings his glistening fingers to his mouth. He licks them clean, eyes locked on yours, groaning deep in his chest.
“ Verdammt nochmal.” He rasps.
“ You taste like heaven, you filthy little thing.”
He collapses half on top of you, still fully clothed, cock throbbing against your hip.
The storm has passed and for now, but the hunger in his eyes promises this is only the beginning.
…
König’s eyes are still glazed with satisfaction as he licks his lips, tasting you on them. But the hunger hasn’t dimmed.
If anything, it’s sharper now.
He slides back down your body without warning, massive hands clamping onto your thighs and spreading them wide, almost painfully wide until you’re completely open to him again.
“ König…wait, I’m still—” You gasp, oversensitive and trembling from the last orgasm.
He doesn’t wait. His mouth seals over your soaked folds, tongue plunging deep, fucking into you with slow, deliberate strokes.
The wet sounds are obscene in the quiet room.
You curse loudly, back bowing off the bed, fingers twisting in the sheets.
“ It's too much…fuck—”
He groans against you, the vibration making your hips jerk. “ Give me another, Liebling. I want you dripping down my chin.”
His tongue curls, ruthless, lapping and thrusting until your thighs quake uncontrollably. When you come again, it’s explosive as your whole body seizes, a shocked cry tearing from your throat as you squirt, hot and helpless.
König growls like an animal, drinking every drop, nipping your swollen clit once, twice, before finally pulling away.
He rises slowly, face and mask soaked, and wipes his mouth with the back of his forearm like a satisfied predator.
“ Now…” He rasps, voice gravel-rough.
“ It’s your turn to please me.”
You blink up at him, chest heaving. “ I…I don’t know how.”
A dark chuckle rumbles out of him. He pinches your chin playfully between thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up.
“ That’s why I’m here, kleine Schlampe. I’ll teach you exactly how to worship a cock.”
He shifts off you, climbing properly onto the bed. In one smooth motion he peels off the tank top, revealing miles of scarred, muscled torso. Then the pants and boxer briefs follow, kicked somewhere into the corner.
Your breath catches hard.
His cock slaps heavily against his abs. It's thick, veiny, and angrily red at the tip, already leaking steadily.
It twitches like it’s alive and too heavy to stand fully upright.
You’ve never seen anything so intimidating in real life.
He settles back against the headboard, legs spread, and crooks a finger. “ Come here. Straddle me.”
You crawl over on shaky limbs, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. Up close it looks even bigger.
“ It’s not gonna fit in my mouth.” You blurt, half-panicked.
He laughs softly, brushing your messy hair back from your face. “ I'm not asking you to deepthroat me yet, baby. This is training day. I’ll be gentle.”
His hand wraps around yours, guiding it to his shaft. The heat of him makes you gasp. He’s velvet over steel and pulsing in your grip.
He groans deep in his chest, head falling back against the headboard. “ Just like that. Up and down. Slow at first.”
You stroke him tentatively. His hips twitch and pre-cum beads at the slit and smears over your fingers.
“ Your other hand too.” He orders, voice strained.
“ You need both to cover me.”
You obey, wrapping your second hand above the first. Now both fists work him in tandem, barely meeting around his girth.
He hisses, abs flexing.
“ Good girl…faster now. Twist a little at the top.”
You find a rhythm, guided by the small thrusts of his hips and the filthy praise spilling from his mouth in two languages.
“ Ja, genau so…look at you, jerking my cock like a greedy little slut. Made for this, weren’t you?”
His big hand fists gently in your hair, not pushing, just holding. “ Time to taste me. Open that pretty mouth.”
You lean down, nervous.
He guides the fat head past your lips.
“ Teeth back…suck like it’s a lollipop. Swirl your tongue.”
You do your best, cheeks hollowing, tongue tracing the ridge. Salty precome coats your mouth. He groans long and low, hips rocking carefully.
“ Scheiße…solche eine geile, kleine Hure…taking my cock so well for your first time.”
You bob faster, sloppy and eager, drool escaping the corners of your mouth. You only manage half his length, lips stretched wide, but the sounds he makes.
The grunts, curses, and your name broken on his tongue that spur you on.
“ I'm close…” He warns suddenly, voice ragged.
“ I'm gonna cum Can I finish in your mouth, baby? I want you to swallow every drop.”
You pull off with a wet pop, gasping. “ Yes…please.”
He guides you back down instantly. You suck harder, hands twisting in sync, until his thighs tense under you.
With a guttural, loud grunt he holds your head steady and erupts.
The thick and hot pulses are flooding your mouth. There’s so much you almost choke, swallowing frantically as he keeps coming, hips jerking through it.
Finally spent, he eases you off gently. A stray drop clings to your lower lip as he wipes it with his thumb and pushes it back into your mouth.
“ Swallow.” He murmurs.
You do, throat working.
He exhales shakily, muttering more German in half degradation and half worship then pulls you up against his sweat-slick chest.
His mouth finds yours, kissing deep and filthy, tasting himself on your tongue. When you break apart, both breathless, he smirks against your lips.
“ That was just the starter, Liebling. We’ve got all night.”
His cock that is still half-hard and twitches against your thigh like it’s already impatient for round two.
…
König shifts, rolling you beneath him again with effortless strength. Your legs are trembling, but he doesn’t give you time to recover.
Large hands hook under your knees and pull until your thighs wrap around his hips, ankles locking at the small of his back.
The position opens you completely, and the blunt head of his cock slides teasingly through your soaked folds.
You whimper while he hisses through clenched teeth.
“ Look at you…” He murmurs, voice low and rough.
He drags his length upward, laying the heavy shaft along your soft belly. The tip reaches past your navel is farther than should be possible.
“ Tell me, Liebling…think this will fit inside your tight little cunt?”
You shake your head frantically, eyes wide. “ No way…”
He laughs, dark and fond, the sound vibrating against your skin. “ Trust me. Trust my cock.”
He tucks a strand of sweat-damp hair behind your ear, thumb stroking your cheek. “ You were made for me. Every inch of you was built to take me. I’ll prove it.”
He wraps a fist around himself, stroking lazily, eyes never leaving yours. The fat head dips lower, sliding through your slickness, nudging your entrance.
It's poking, retreating then poking again until you’re squirming and whining.
“ Stay calm, baby.” He soothes, leaning down until his forehead almost touches yours.
“ Tell me something…” His tongue flicks out, tracing your lower lip.
“ Did you ever fantasize about this? About being fucked properly?”
You hesitate. He grips your chin, forcing your gaze to his.
“ Be honest.”
“ Y-yes.” You admit in a broken whisper.
“ But…I never thought it would be you.”
A slow, wicked grin spreads beneath the mask.
“ I’m honored to be the only man who gets to ruin you.” He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth and is almost tender then lines himself up again.
The blunt tip breaches you slowly, stretching, burning. You hiss sharply, fingers digging into his shoulders.
“ Breathe.” He whispers, kissing you deep and slow to distract you.
“ It hurts at first. I know. But I promise, but soon you’ll be addicted to this feeling. Addicted to me.”
One sharp, controlled thrust and he sinks halfway in. The stretch is overwhelming and tears prick your eyes as something inside gives way.
You cry out, half pain and half shock.
“ Shh, shh…” He hushes immediately, stilling, buried deep.
His arms wrap around you, holding you close. “ Good girl. So fucking good. Taking me so well already.”
He buries his face in your neck, lips brushing the marks he left earlier. “ I’ve got you.”
He doesn’t move, letting your body adjust around the impossible girth. You cling to him, breathing ragged, feeling every throb of his cock inside you.
Minutes pass, two or maybe three until the burn fades into a heavy, aching fullness.
Your nails scrape lightly down his back, a tentative signal.
He lifts his head, searching your face. “ Ready?”
You nod, biting your lip.
He groans like a dying man and starts to move slowly and deliberately drags that make you feel every ridge and vein. Your walls flutter around him, gripping so tightly he curses under his breath.
“ Scheiße…so verdammt eng. Sucking me in like you never want me to leave.”
His pace builds gradually, thrusts deepening until he’s seated fully on every stroke. You cling harder, moaning into his shoulder as pleasure finally overtakes the pain.
Suddenly he pulls out completely.
You gasp at the emptiness, hips chasing him instinctively.
“ Turn over.” He orders, voice rough.
“ Ass up for me.”
You roll onto your stomach, face pressed to the sheets. He strokes himself once, twice, then lands sharp slaps across your ass and thighs.
It's stinging, and possessive marks that make you yelp and arch. Before the sting fades, he’s pushing back in from behind.
The new angle takes him deeper and impossibly deep. You cry out, muffled by the mattress, as he bottoms out against your cervix.
“ Fuck…yes.” He growls, collapsing over your back, one arm banding across your chest.
“ Feel that? That’s me owning you.”
He fucks you hard and steady, hips snapping, skin slapping skin.
Every thrust punches the air from your lungs.
You moan helplessly, fingers clawing the sheets. He shifts again then suddenly, strong arms are flipping you both until he’s sitting against the headboard and you’re straddling him once more.
“ Your turn…” He says, eyes blazing.
“ Fuck yourself on my cock. Show me how much you want it.”
You whimper, but his hands guide your hips. You grip his shaft that is still slick with you and sink down slowly.
The position drives him even deeper as the head kisses your womb. You collapse forward onto his chest with a broken cry.
“ That’s it.” He praises, voice strained.
“ Ride me.”
You start moving. It's awkward at first, then bolder by rolling your hips, and grinding down. His huge hands seize your ass, kneading roughly, then spanking until your skin burns with handprints.
“ Good girl…faster…ja, just like that—”
Pleasure coils tight again. You’re so close when he suddenly stills you.
“ Enough.” He snarls.
“ Let me finish this.”
His arms wrap around your waist like iron bands, hugging you tight to his chest. Then he takes over in brutal, and upward thrusts that drill into you relentlessly.
The headboard bangs against the wall.
“ Cum with me.” He demands between gritted teeth.
“ Milk my cock…let me feel you fall apart.”
One final, deep thrust and you shatter.
The orgasm is ripping through you harder than any before. Your legs quake uncontrollably, walls clamping down in waves. König roars your name, hips jerking erratically as he cums in hot, thick pulses flooding you, and marking you inside just like he promised.
You feel every spurt while his cock throbbing deep.
Finally spent, you collapse fully onto his chest, both of you panting, sweat-slick and trembling. After a long moment, a soft, incredulous laugh rumbles from him.
He strokes your back gently, almost reverently.
“ I can’t believe it.” He murmurs against your temple.
“ I finally got to own you. Thought you’d stay a fantasy forever.” His lips brush your skin.
“ Thank God for that night I walked in on you. It gave me the push I needed to claim what’s mine.”
You’re too boneless to answer, but you press closer, feeling his heartbeat thunder under your cheek.
He holds you tighter, possessive and content.
Mine as the embrace says.
And for the first time, you don’t want to argue.
…
The fairy lights are back on at Puma’s, bottles scattered across the carpet like always. The girls are deep in their usual chaos.
They recapping bad dates, mediocre hookups, and one disastrous attempt at anal that has everyone howling.
You sit tucked into the corner of the sectional, knees drawn up, sipping your drink slowly.
You're quiet. Too quiet.
Your body still remembers yesterday in aching detail.
The stretch, the burn, and the way König filled you so completely you saw stars.
Every time you shift, a dull throb between your legs reminds you exactly how big he is. You’re sore in places you didn’t know could be sore.
And yet…you can’t stop the tiny, secret smile that keeps tugging at your lips.
Lila stops mid-sentence, eyes narrowing. “ Hold up. Why are you glowing like you swallowed a ring light?”
Puma leans forward, smirking. “ And why are you sitting like you rode a horse for twelve hours straight?”
Heat floods your face. “ It’s just…natural glow. Good skincare.”
Four sets of eyes roll in perfect synchronization.
“ Girl, we know post-dick glow when we see it.” Puma says flatly.
“ That’s not La Mer. That’s laid.”
You hide behind your cup, mumbling, “ Fine. I…finally did it. The other day.”
The room explodes.
“ YES!” Lila throws both hands up like her team just scored.
“ About damn time!” Gina cheers.
“ Details!” Puma demands, crawling closer.
“ Who? When? How many times? Spill!”
You bite your lip, cheeks burning hotter. “ It was…König.”
Silence. Then four jaws drop in unison.
“ Your scary-hot soldier neighbor?” Lila squeaks.
“ THE NEIGHBOR?!”
“ MASK GUY?!”
“ SPECIAL FORCES HULK?!”
“ The one who kicked in your door during solo orgasm hour?” Puma adds.
You nod miserably.
“ How the hell did that happen?” Someone demands.
You exhale, defeated. “ My kitchen sink pipe burst. Plumbers were booked. I went next door…asked if he could fix it.”
The room goes dead quiet for half a second then erupts again.
“ Oh my God, he fixed your pipe.” Puma cackles, falling sideways into Lila.
“ He really fixed it well, huh?”
You groan, covering your face. “ Stop.”
“ No, no, continue.” Lila says, wiping tears.
“ What happened next?”
You peek through your fingers. “ He came over. Got under the sink. I tried to help with the flashlight. Ended up…straddling his chest to get the angle right.”
They lose it again.
“ Then?” Puma prompts, eyes gleaming.
“ Then he kind of…lost control. Carried me upstairs. And…” You trail off, gesturing vaguely.
“ And?” They chorus.
You drop your voice to a whisper. “ He was…huge. Like…scary huge. I didn’t think it would fit. He had to go really slow at first. But then…”
You blow out a breath. “ It was intense. He was intense. Aggressive but careful. Kept calling me filthy things in German. Marked me everywhere. Made me come so many times I lost count.”
Puma fans herself dramatically. “ Soldiers, man. Built like tanks, fuck like they’re storming a beach.”
Lila leans in. “ Scale of one to ten?”
You hesitate. “...Twenty.”
They scream.
“ Details on the size.” Puma demands.
“ We need visuals.”
You hold your hands apart like an embarrassing distance.
Their eyes widened.
“ No fucking way.” Someone breathes.
“ He reached here…” You admit, pressing a palm low on your belly.
“ Every time. I felt him for hours after.”
Lila pretends to faint.
“ And the stamina?” Puma asks.
You laugh, shy and giddy at once. “ We went until I literally couldn’t move. He carried me to the bathroom after because my legs were jelly.”
The teasing comes fast and relentless.
“ Guess he really did come running when he heard you needed your pipes cleaned.”
“ Bet he used all his special forces training and precision insertion.”
“ Careful, babe, you keep limping like that and he’s gonna come fix round two.”
“ Look at you…” Puma teases.
“ Walking around bow-legged because your soldier neighbor rearranged your guts. Bet you can still feel him when you sit down.”
You groan, hiding your face in a pillow, but you’re smiling. “ Shut up.”
“ No chance, girl.” Lila laughs.
“ This is prime teasing material for life. You went from virgin queen to getting absolutely wrecked by Captain Austria in one afternoon.”
“ Bet he ruined you for normal-sized men forever.” Someone else chimes in.
You don’t deny it.
You can’t.
Because every time you close your eyes, you feel him.
König stretching you open, growling your name, and filling you so completely the world narrowed to just the two of you.
You throw a pillow at them, face on fire, but you’re laughing too.
Because yeah, in every ache, every mark, and every sore muscle feels like a badge.
Puma raises her glass. “ To our girl who is finally properly railed by the masked mountain next door.”
Glasses clink. You duck your head, smiling into your drink. And between your thighs, the delicious throb echoes.
Mine.
You’re not sure you’ll ever walk normally again.
You’re not sure you want to.
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