content WARNING. bruce wayne × maid!reader, wound healing, mentions of blood, dry humping, +18 MDNI.
It was late, well, past midnight.
Y/N knelt behind him as she worked with the precision. Bruce sat rigid in an armchair, shirtless, his skin full of fresh wounds, jagged cuts and dark bruises that marred his shoulder blades and lower spine. Blood had dried in streaks, but some gashes still oozed. Y/N’s small hands moved with care, a damp cloth in one hand, antiseptic in the other, as she cleaned the injuries with a gentleness that felt almost otherworldly.
Bruce was trying—God, he was trying—not to make a sound. His jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrests, but every so often, a low whine slipped out. Her eyes flicked up at the noise, her lips twitching with concern. She didn’t comment at first, focusing instead on her task, her fingers light as angel wings as they dabbed salve onto a particularly deep cut. The coolness of the ointment soothed the burn, but Bruce’s muscles twitched under her touch, his breath hitching as she pressed a butterfly bandage into place.
“You don’t have to do this,” he muttered as if speaking was a battle in itself. “I’m fine.”
Y/N paused, her hands hovering over his skin, and let out a soft huff. “Mr. Wayne, you’re whining like a stray cat I once patched up. I could hear you from the other side of the manor.” Her tone was gentle but firm, the kind of authority that came from years of coaxing stubborn patients. “You’re not fine, and I’m helping whether you like it or not.”
Bruce’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t argue further.
Her hands resumed their work, stitching up the smaller wounds with adhesive strips, her touch so deft it barely registered as pain. She was meticulous, cleaning every inch of broken skin, ensuring no infection could take hold. Her fingers brushed his spine, cool and steady, and despite himself, Bruce felt the tension in his body ease, if only slightly...
She was securing the last bandage when Bruce moved.
His calloused hands caught her wrists, his grip firm but gentle, and in one fluid motion, he pulled her around the chair and onto his lap. Her eyes went wide, her breath catching as she landed on his strong thighs, her small frame nestled against his broad chest. Her white cotton pyjama dress rode up slightly, exposing the delicate curve of her legs.
She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could process the shift, Bruce’s lips were on hers, stealing her words and her breath.
The kiss was messy, he poured every bit of his need on it.
His mouth moved against hers with desperation, his hands sliding up her arms to cup her face, his thumbs brushing her cheekbones. Her heart pounded, her hands instinctively gripping his shoulders, careful to avoid the fresh bandages. Her mind spun, caught between shock and the heat pooling in her core as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing hers, drawing a soft whimper from her throat. His hands slid to the hem of her dress, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, sending a jolt through her core. He tugged the fabric up, until it bunched around her hips, exposing her white cotton panties, thin, slightly sheer from wear, clinging to the soft mound of her pussy. Her cheeks flushed, but his dark blue eyes locked onto hers, intense and unyielding, anchoring her in the moment.
“You’re too good,” he growled. “Too fucking perfect.”
His hands gripped her hips, guiding her to straddle his left thigh, the muscle hard and unyielding beneath her. He rocked her forward, her clothed pussy pressing against the rough fabric of his thigh. Y/N gasped, her clit pulsing as it rubbed against him, the thin cotton of her underwear already dampening with her arousal. He guided her hips, setting a slow, grinding rhythm, her dress now a crumpled band around her waist, leaving her lower half bare save for the soaked scrap of fabric between her legs. Her pussy slid along his thigh, each movement sending sharp, electric waves of pleasure through her. Her wetness seeped through her panties, slicking his thigh, the damp spot growing with every roll of her hips. Bruce’s fingers dug into her hips, his grip bruising but controlled, urging her to move faster, harder.
“That’s it,” he rasped, his lips brushing her jaw, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
Her hands clutched his chest, her nails raking over his skin as she humped his thigh, her pussy throbbing with need. The wet cotton of her panties clung to her folds, outlining every curve, her clit grinding against the seam of his pants with agonizing precision. Her breaths came in short, desperate pants, her hips bucking as the pressure built, her arousal dripping, soaking his thigh until his skin glistened. Bruce’s kisses were relentless, his lips sucking at the delicate skin of her throat, her collarbone, her freckled cheeks, each one stoking the fire in her core.
“So wet for me,” he murmured. “You’re making a mess, and it’s fucking beautiful.”
Her moans were loud, spilling from her lips in high, needy whimpers that echoed in the room. Her pussy clenched, the friction of her clit against his thigh driving her to the edge, her panties now drenched, the fabric sticking to her slick folds. Bruce’s hands guided her mercilessly, his thigh flexing beneath her.
“Come for me,” he whispered. “Let me hear you.”
Her orgasm hit hard, her pussy spasming against his thigh, her clit pulsing as pleasure tore through her. She cried out, a sharp sound, her hips jerking erratically as her wetness soaked through her panties, leaving a slick trail on his thigh. Her body shook, her moans breaking into soft, breathless gasps as she collapsed against his chest, her face buried in his neck, her pussy still twitching with aftershocks. Bruce held her close, his hands stroking her back, soothing her as she trembled.
He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, and whispered, “Who’s the whiny cat now?”
Every mid-December, the palace comes alive in an entirely novel way with the bustling preparations for the annual winter ball that the king and queen host to celebrate ‘another wonderful year’.
The once quiet and calm castle transforms into something colorful and vivid with the mouthwatering smell of cakes and pastries cooking in the ovens of the royal kitchen, along with maids and other servants whirling around the long hallways as they place intricate decorations and shiny ribbons all over the broad staircases and windows.
She’s grateful she doesn’t have to partake in the hustle and bustle all that much since her primary duties include taking care of the prince and ensuring he has everything and anything he could possibly need.
Although right now, she sort of wishes she could be stringing up polished ornaments or garnishing elegant baked goods because apparently, being the prince’s personal maid sometimes means sitting quietly in his bedchambers (as per his request to keep him company while he’s reading) with her own thoughts and the sounds outside the door her only source of entertainment.
Therefore, she’s elated when he suddenly turns to face her in his armchair— flitting his eyes over to her from the hefty book that seems to have made him exasperated rather than enthralled.
“Will you join me for a walk? All this noise is makin’ m’head hurt.”
There’s enthusiasm in the nod of her head; a yearning to see the fresh layer of snow covering the trees and painting the entire kingdom with its powdery whiteness— the aftermath of last night’s blizzard. She doesn’t think there’s anything more beautiful than the crystalline snowfall glittering under the touch of the afternoon sun— or maybe a certain pair of aquamarine eyes, but that’s beside the point.
“That would be my pleasure, Your Highness,” she easily agrees.
“How many times do I have to tell you how much I despise that name? There’s no need to use it when s’just me,” he scolds her before he’s straightening up and stretching out his arms over his head.
“My apologies, it’s a habit,” she rises to her feet as well; trying her hardest not to let her eyes linger on the sliver of his stomach peeking out from underneath the silky fabric of his shirt.
“I don’t want your apologies, want you to use my name,” he says before stepping closer— standing tall before her and forcing her to blink up at him in order to meet his eyes. “Go on, sweetheart, say it,” he practically orders; eager eyes fixed on her face.
She hesitates under the sudden attention. He’s always seemed so fascinated by her and she doesn’t know why.
“Um…Rafe.”
He lets out a hum of approval. “That’s good. You ready to leave?”
“Y— yes, uh, Rafe.”
“Good job. Not so difficult, is it?” he coos at her almost mockingly— fingertips grazing the skin of her cheek when he tucks a loose tendril of hair back behind her ear.
She merely shakes her head— a warmth dusting over the apples of her cheeks when his touch lingers on the side of her face afterwards. And for a moment, she thinks she’s going to drown in the lagoons of his eyes, but then he clears his throat and offers the palm of his hand for her to take.
And it’s rather unusual for someone of his status to do; a prince who’s bound to wear the crown one day holding his maid’s hand isn’t exactly something that’s written in any book regarding the royal etiquette. However, he’s never been one to allow for dreadful rules and traditions to dictate his behavior, especially not towards her.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Are you looking forward to the winter ball?” she asks when they stop by the stables to check up on his horse, Jupiter.
“You know I hate dancin’,” he mutters out as he watches its teeth grind on the carrot he brought with him.
She smiles because she does know, before letting out a wistful sigh. “I wish I could attend.”
“You do? Why?” he’s perplexed by her enthusiasm towards something he considers as more tedious than anything— having to plaster on a smile for an entire night and socialize with people he doesn’t necessarily care for in order to humor his father never being something he’s particularly taken delight in.
Especially when Sarah is going to be the one receiving all of their father’s attention anyway. Not that he cares (he does) but he would appreciate it, if for once in his life, his old man would show him even an ounce of the care he seems to so easily shower his sisters in.
“Well, I’d love to wear a ball gown, but mostly for the food,” her feather-light voice brings him back to the moment.
“I’ll make sure to bring you a plate ‘n you can eat it in my room then, yeah?” he promises as he runs his fingers through Jupiter’s black main.
“You would do that?”
“If you promise not to tell the other maids or they’re gonna accuse you of gettin’ special treatment,” his tone is playful.
“They already do that,” she points out. “They think we spend too much time together.”
“And what do you think?” he asks, genuinely curious.
“I don’t mind. I quite enjoy your company,” she answers truthfully. After all, she has grown quite fond of Rafe throughout the years. Sometimes she just wishes he wasn’t so overwhelming, in every sense of the word.
“Yeah?” a smirk pulls at the side of his mouth, seemingly pleased with her answer.
She’s certain he’s well aware of the effect he has on her— the effect he has on everyone. And she thinks that he enjoys it; relishes in toying with her for his own amusement simply because he can. He can practically do anything he wants since his father is oftentimes gone for long periods of time; fulfilling his duties for the kingdom and whatnot.
And she knows Rafe doesn’t particularly mind the fact that his father is rarely home because he’s always been hard on him, much harder than on his sisters because whether he likes it or not, he’s set off to be the new king one day. And his reputation of having female guests over more often than not whenever his father is away doesn’t necessarily help with gaining his approval.
After all, rumor travels fast around the palace.
Rafe once admitted to her that he often felt like a disappointment, and that the pressure of everyone’s expectations sometimes made him wish he was nothing more than a stableman. After all, he does get along with horses better than he ever has with his family— it’s not exactly a secret amongst the royal court.
“Would you wanna go for a ride with me? Think Jupiter’s gettin’ bored,” he suddenly asks.
“Oh, I would love to but I’ve never, um, ridden a horse before,” she timidly admits.
“No? You wanna know how it feels? You could jus’ sit behind me, don’t need to do anythin’, yeah?” he coaxes her to say yes with a seemingly sincere smile; already walking Jupiter out of its stable and leaving her no choice but to follow them outside.
“Really?” the frosty air causes a shiver to crawl up her spine when she eyes him, hesitant.
“Mhm. Promise nothing’s gonna happen, I’ll take care of you. ‘N I know you’ll like it, s’very freeing,” he assures her as he’s already saddling up the horse, seemingly aware that she could never refuse him of anything.
“Okay...if you insist,” she tentatively agrees with a nod that he rewards with a beaming grin; the icy snowflakes sticking to his hair making him look like something straight out of a fairy tale.
Then, he’s lifting her up to straddle the entirely too big of an animal that sort of still scares her— strong hands gripping onto her hips and leaving her momentarily starstruck at how effortlessly he does it; as if she weighs nothing more than the carrot Jupiter was just chewing on.
He follows soon after, settling down in front of her with ease before looking at her over his shoulder. “Need you to hold onto me unless you wanna fall,” he instructs, seemingly reveling in the fact that he gets to be the one teaching her something new.
“Oh, yeah, of course,” she says, gingerly setting her hands on his waist, movements uncertain.
“Gonna need you to hold on tighter, promise I won’t bite,” he huffs out a laugh before he’s grabbing her arms and wrapping them around his middle more firmly— forcing her to fully lean against his back when the sudden clip-clopping of Jupiter’s hooves against the snow-covered cobblestone causes her to let out a surprised shriek.
“Good?” he asks, seemingly amused at the way she’s practically clutching onto him as the cottony snow prances around them.
She manages out a hum, wondering if he can hear her poor heart loudly thumping in her ribcage when he decides to pick up the speed some more, as if she wasn’t already terrified.
“Rafe! Can you slow down?” she squeaks out when Jupiter seems to only accelerate further underneath them.
“Where’s the fun in that?” he lets out a hearty chuckle in response, apparently finding amusement in her utterly frightened state while she wonders why she let herself think for even one second that he had pure intentions.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Y/N? Will you go look for my son? I fear he’s once again escaped his responsibilities to God knows where,” the king requests with an exasperated sigh while she’s crouching down and helping a servant clean up the sharp pieces of a shattered wine glass— the sound of laughter and dancing flourishing around them.
And she could swear she saw Rafe conversing with a guest only a few short moments ago. However, as she looks around in an attempt to locate the missing prince, he’s nowhere to be found.
“Right away, Your Majesty,” she’s quick to answer with a polite smile.
“Thank you,” he nods gratefully, seemingly fed up with his son already.
She ensures that the poor girl who accidentally cut her finger on the broken shards is not going to faint before tiptoeing up the broad flight of stairs in order to reach the higher levels of the palace— the loud music and blooming celebrations echoing around the halls.
“Your Highness? Are you in there?” she knocks softly on the mahogany door leading to his bedroom.
However, she isn’t granted a response.
“Rafe?” she tries once more before pressing her ear against the wood separating her from the muffled sounds she can now hear from the other side— brows furrowing when something akin to a whimper reaches her ears.
It sounds nothing like Rafe; it has a higher pitch, something more feminine than his usual drawl. And as she stands there, contemplating whether something is wrong or if she should just leave, the volume only amplifies.
And in a moment of cloudy judgement, she finds herself pushing down on the handle.
However, she curses her curiosity the moment the door cracks open and she’s faced with the view of some woman’s naked back. Her long, beautiful hair reminds her of lady Lydia (a daughter of one of the dukes invited to the ball) with none other than the prince himself underneath her sweaty form.
The sheets that she changed this morning are crumpled and creased around them and without the barrier of the door, she can now hear Rafe’s low grunts as well— can see how his big hands guide her movements. And they’re both panting heavily, seemingly lost in some haze— maybe the same one that forces her to stay rooted to her spot in the doorway.
With her eyes as wide as saucers and mouth parted, she’s not entirely sure how long she stands there for. Until out of the blue, she notices Rafe’s eyes flickering over to her— a smirk tugging at his mouth when he catches her staring.
She tries to move her legs but they won’t listen; making his lazy grin only grow in tandem with his strained groans that seem to only increase in volume as he locks his eyes with her.
And she can’t breathe; the air clogging her lungs instead of flowing through as her dazed mind tries to get her to do something, anything to get her to leave the room but his heady gaze seems to have hypnotized her— compelled her to stay right where she is.
All at once, a gravelly noise rumbles from his chest— his head dropping against the cushion of his fluffy pillows, seemingly reaching some sort of a peak in his search for pleasure as the woman above him begins to slow down her movements. And that’s when she’s finally able to step away; shutting the door behind her before scurrying down the stairs with bated breaths and heart pounding in her ears.
When she reaches the bottom, she accidentally stumbles into someone holding a golden serving tray— causing it to topple over to the floor with a loud clatter.
“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes before her wobbly legs are scrambling off in an attempt to locate the nearest escape route to the garden.
And once she’s managed to make it outdoors, she feels like she can finally breathe— the crisp December wind granting her heated skin an opportunity to cool down as she sits down on one of the wooden benches with a sigh.
König x maid/housekeeper!Reader who tries to quit or resign because they don’t need the job anymore
It's adorable, really, the way you still think this is about working.
The way you squirm and curl into yourself, trying your best to hide your body from his grasp - like he would ever just let you escape. Konig pushes his lips up, kissing away all the angry tears that you let flow down your face as you were whimpering something incoherent, something about finally quitting and leaving his sorry ass. You're adorably stupid, and he grabs a handful of your hair to tug you closer, pressing his tongue between your lips. Suck on your lower lip, lap at your mouth like the hungry old dog he is - zero technique, but still very passionate, doing it solely for the love of the game.
He won't take kindly to you trying to get away from him - to you acting like you have free will and the ability to do things on your own. It's adorable, really, but he still doesn't believe you're actually going to leave. He is paying you, far more than what you're worth - he doesn't care if you don't need the job anymore or if you want to start a new life somewhere. He is already got you your own room at his house, prepared tons of little gifts for Christmas, and got a two weeks to leave, so he could drag you to whatever warm country doesn't give him flashbacks, so he could enjoy fucking his favorite girl on an expensive sandy beach and give the two of you a little vacation.
Oh, what's this? You really don't want to be with him anymore? Well, that's just too bad, isn't it? He is going to be a bit angry, a little disappointed, but it's not like he is actually going to care all that much. There isn't a problem that can't be solved by breaking your pretty legs and forcing his cock in your wet pussy until he fucked away all of your silly desire to leave. He is a master in persuasion, after all. Even if said persuasion tactics would mean fucking you in his basement and locking you up like a piece of precious cargo, until you're fully committed to being his dumb pretty wife.
Warnings/tags: established relationship, past smut, angst
A/N: soo we all saw bits and pieces of those leaks right? @angsty-april
You wake with a start, the soft rustling at your window pulling you from sleep. The room is dark, the only light coming from the pale moon filtering through the curtains. You blink, heart racing, and thats when you see them.
His eyes. Bright, red flames dancing in the dark. The same eyes that watch you from across the throne room while you clean. The same eyes that hover above you as he stuffed you full.
Zuko says nothing, just watches you as if he’s reading your sleep-addled brain.
You sit up, confusion and fear mixing in your chest. “Zuko?” Your voice is barely a whisper, as if saying his name out loud will make him disappear.
He doesn’t move at first, scanning the room like he’s making sure it’s safe to stay. His movements to you are slow, and when he kneels at your bedside, his knees hit the floor hard. He doesn’t wince.
“Why are you here?” you ask, voice trembling, more fear than surprise in your tone.
Zuko’s gaze flickers toward the window, toward the distant mountains, and something in his eyes shifts; pain, guilt, and a whole lot of regret. “I’m being banished,” he says, the words almost flat, like he’s said them a thousand times in his head but never aloud to anyone else. “Again.”
You blink, your chest tightening. “Banished?” you repeat softly, almost disbelieving. “But… why? You’re the goddamn Firelord. They can’t just-“
He looks away, jaw tightening. “It’s not up to me. The Fire Nation has spoken. I’ve done too much… failed too many times. This is the price. It was a unanimous vote.”
You watch him closely, his words sinking in like stones in your stomach. His shoulders are slumped, the fire in his eyes dimmer than you’ve ever seen it. You want to ask him how long he’s known this was coming, how long he’s been carrying this on his own, but the words feel too heavy, too final.
“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, your voice breaking slightly, a lump forming in your throat. “I wish I could help.”
His eyes meet yours, his hand trembling slightly as it hovers near your fingers, like he’s unsure if he should touch you.
“I never wanted this,” he murmurs, the regret and sorrow so thick in his voice it nearly cracks. He raises his hand, his fingers brush against your cheek, a soft, fleeting touch. “I only wanted you.”
He stands, steps back slightly as if to put some distance between you. You lean forward, grasping the sleeve on his arm and you shake your head.
“You’ll come back,” You whisper. “You always do.”
“Will I?”
The knot in your throat is so large you find it hard to swallow, to speak, so you simply nod. His brows knit and he hinges at the waist, his movements slow before his lips gently brush the corner of your mouth in a kiss so light, so careful, that you almost don’t believe it happened at all.
The tenderness of it hits you harder than any words could and you freeze, your heart pounding, your breath hitching as you stare at him in shock. But Zuko doesn’t give you time to speak, doesn’t give you time to process.
“I’ll never forget you,” he says, his voice low and broken, like he’s saying goodbye to more than just you. “Take care of yourself.”
He turns away, his footsteps quiet but purposeful as he fades into the shadows, leaving you alone with the aching emptiness of his absence, a kiss still lingering on your skin, and a heart shattered by the one thing you couldn’t stop; loving him.
Summary: After finally getting the meal he deserves, Panems president finds himself with an opportunity from a mistake.
Part: ← iii →
Warnings: coercion/dub-con, oral (f and m), smut, p in v, unprotected sex, Snows interesting internal monologue, dumbification, spanking, fingering, hair pulling, back scratching (all that good shit), misogyny, premeditated murderous intentions, domestic violence/abuse, slapping, punching, mentions of bruising, mentions of blood, mentions of broken bones.
A/N: DDDNE, please don’t read if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable. Your internet consumption is not my responsibility.
When Coriolanus pulled away from your lips they were red and swollen, his eyes glazed with a dangerous mixture of lust and greed. He had kissed you, you had let him kiss you. This changed everything, because now he was aware that you wanted him too. The air in his office now felt thick, your dress was all that much tighter, your lips that much more plump. You were a tease, put on the earth to test his patience - a test he failed. Without another word he scooped you up and set you down on his desk, his grip on your waist was tight, and his gaze was predatory.
“So fucking beautiful, so pretty” The young president grumbled as he captured your lips again. Coriolanus’ hands traveled down and under your skirt. He hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties and tugged them down “hips up” he commanded as he pulled them down your legs. He broke the kiss and looked down, smirking at the obvious damp mark in your panties “oh pretty baby, so needy” he cooed and brought your panties up to his nose. The smell of your arousal almost made him cum, he’d done that, fuck he made you wet, Coriolanus balled up the fabric and shoved it in his pocket before gently pushing you onto your back and hiking up your little maid uniform.
“What.. what are you doing Coriolanus?” Your tone was almost cute, so endearing, so innocent
Young Snow looked at you like you were his death row meal. “What I should’ve done weeks ago” he growled and leaned over you “and if you don’t like it-“ he started kissing up your thighs “-you can get the fuck out of my office.” His icy blues were blown black as he met your gaze. A beat of silence went by, which he took as consent. “Oh you do want it? I should’ve known, such a patriotic whore.” He teased and kissed all around your aching pussy “so beautiful, all for me my precious dove..” he murmured as he used two fingers to spread open your folds.
The sight in front of him was almost too arousing for his already too-tight pants and rock hard length. Strings of your arousal all so pretty and ready for him to use, your swollen clit that peaked out from your pink folds, such a beautiful cunt he was about to savor. Coriolanus licked a fat stripe up from the bottom to the top of your slit, gently placing teasing kisses on your sensitive bud. One of his large fingers teased your entrance as he applied kitten licks to your clit.
“Coriolanus — oh! Mm.. oh my gods oh!” His ears soaked in the sounds of your moans, each shaky breath, every gasp and groan, all of it because of him. He used his free hand to explore up and down your bottom half, the other was prodding your desperate whole, eventually pushing in while he simultaneously sucked on your little pink bundle of nerves.
Coriolanus would never get over your taste, you were oh so sweet, a nectar of the highest quality, he thanked whatever god there was for the privilege to savor you. Every swipe of his muscle made you sticky and beautiful, as your cunt became deliciously glossy he become more insatiable. He lifted his head periodically, only to coo or groan. “Fuck me baby, taste so fucking good — feels good doesn’t it my little dove? Yes it does” he murmured as we dropped his head back down.
“Gods! Oh I’m gonna come Coriolanus!” You cried out, back arching off the sleek mahogany of his desk, nails hooked around the edge and head thrown back. This was ecstasy you could only dream of, no past boyfriend or stupid hookup could compete with the skilled tongue of Panems’ president. His fingers thrusted in and out of you, first one, then two, then three of his large and veiny fingers stretching out your little pussy and curling to hit that sponges spot inside you so deliciously.
The corners of his mouth curled up in a beautiful smirk. “C’mon, come for me, show me how much you love your president—mmmhh, patriotic slut, have you no shame? Having your pussy stretched on the presidents desk. Tsk tsk tsk” he half teased, half degraded. He slurped and sucked like you were an oasis in a desert, the words of degradation hit your ears like a pornographic tsunami, they snapped the tight coil in your abdomen, almost involuntarily making you buck your hips as you rode out your orgasm.
Coriolanus helped you through your intense pleasure, gently pulling his fingers out of your hole and using the three of them to rub soft circles against your clit. When your body had calmed, he took his fingers and gently sucked the cum off of them, groaning at the delicious taste of your release. “So sweet baby, so good” he praises and gently cupped your face in one of his hands. “But I haven’t had my fill yet..” he grumbles as he kissed and sucked on your hip bone, using both his hands to hold your thighs.
Making his way down to your sensitive cunt, he licked and kissed your throbbing clit. You whined something about being sensitive and while trying to push his head away, an action that pissed him off. He rose and caged you under him on his desk. “I decide when you’re done, I decide when you’ve come enough, and if you try to keep what’s mine away from me I’ll turn you over my lap and spank you raw.” He growled, eyes dark.
You should’ve been terrified, you should’ve got up and ran, yet something about his controlling made you even more wet. With a nod and a quiet “yes sir..” you submitted to his will. You couldn’t help but crave the danger, a fly willingly landing on a spiders web, a lamb lying on their back for a wolf. He eagerly started on your sensitive and wet pussy, drinking up every drop of you. The tenderness of your last orgasm made your next one wash over quickly, and despite your almost painful bouts of labored breaths, he didn’t stop. Coriolanus didn’t stop until it was unclear whether the thick sheen coating your thighs was your come or his spit, he didn’t stop until you were spasming in your hips and felt like your legs would fall off.
Coriolanus lifted his head once more, viscous drops that fell from his chin and a string of saliva connected to your cunt. He placed one last kiss on your puffy clit before using two fingers to scoop the wet mixture off his face. The young president then used his free arm to lift you back to a sitting position on his desk. The sight of your fucked out face with puffy lips and glossy eyes was indescribably satisfying.
He pushed his clean hand to play with your bottom lip. “Did that feel good dove? That was your treat for all your hard work, for being one of the few women I can tolerate” he cooed, almost mockingly. A small nod from you made him smile, you were so easy to please weren’t you? “On your knees now baby, I’m no where near done with you.” He urged gently. Coriolanus then carefully used his arm to help you on your knees, once again using his clean hand to tilt up your chin as he sat down in his chair, peering down at you. “Open your mouth.” He gently commanded again and he placed his slimy fingers on your tongue.
You eagerly sucked his fingers, letting out a said “mmm..” and swirling them around with your tongue, savoring the taste like it was the best lollipop on the market. Coriolanus groaned and held the back of your head with his other hand, raking your fingers through your soft hair. He let his fingers out with a *pop* and licked his lips. Such a good girl you were, following his rules so obediently, so pretty and perfect for him.
“Alright sweet girl, ready for my cock?” He cooed and tangled his hands in your hair, gently forcing you down onto his leaking shaft. You took it upon yourself to lick up the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, one hand gently fondling his balls and the other wrapped around the base. Coriolanus could have came on the spot from how good it felt to finally have someone who knew how to properly please a man, a woman who knew her place. As you took as much of him as you could, he started to really take control, giving you a few moments to adjust before he started to fuck your face. What a gentleman!
“Been dreaming about fucking those lips, you’ve got a throat made for bruising” he huffed, head thrown back and hand moving while he used you like a fleshlight. The sounds of you choking on him made him feel powerful, and the tears that pricked your big eyes aroused him impossibly more. The feeling of his fat tip bullying your throat should’ve raised red flags, but every choke, every gag, you felt yourself fallen deeper and deeper into his palm. The soft grunts of “fuck.. so.. good- ah; good fucking girl-“ drove you do take him deeper, faster, be better than Livia, though that was easy.
There was something so indescribably cathartic about coming down your throat he decided, sure he’d fucked his fist, came in an old rag, even fucked another woman all in attempt to relieve the ache that sat in his heavy dick. Finally having the real thing? Nothing compared, and nothing would compare to when he’d finally be all in the deep, wet, warm pussy. “Swallow it all baby, wouldn’t want it to go to waste now would you?” He teased and wiped up a bit of the salty dribble from the side of your mouth, forcing his tongue on your mouth and making sure you swallowed all of his cum.
Part of him, a deep, closed off part of Coriolanus almost felt guilty. You deserved soft and gentle, In a bed, as his fiancée, not as the other woman.. no, Livia was the other woman, every touch, every kiss, every look he shared with her felt like he was cheating on you, how was he supposed to touch the wretched woman after this? How are you supposed to go back to rotten fruit after being given nectar from the heavens? The more he looked down at your gorgeous face, the longer something unfriendly tugged at his chest. Love? No, he didn’t love you. He swore he’d never love another, love was a weakness. He did care about you, yes, he cared. He cared about you more than he’d ever cared about Livia, he looked forward to seeing you, you deserved to be Mrs Snow.
In a moment of weakness perhaps, Coriolanus gently lifted you up into his arms bridal style, laying you down on an adjoining sofa with a warm, crackling fire. “So beautiful..” he whispered in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, looking at you like some sort of irreparable treasure. Coriolanus sat down and started to slide his hands up your thighs, taking you by the waist so you were straddling him as he sat. “You’re gonna take me..” he started “and you’re gonna like it okay? I’ll stuff you full of my cum and then you’ll have to keep doing your job little dove” he mumbled as he slid down and gently nipped at your throat. “Words baby, I need words.” He softly commanded.
“Yes sir.. yes” you nodded shakily, your own cum still dripping down your thighs and now ruining the Presidents dress pants. You let out a soft groan as he bit and nipped at your jugular, tasting the saltiness of your delicate skin.
A satisfied smile crosses Coriolanus’ lips. “Such a good girl, I’ll make sure you get rewards for how well you listen to me.” He chuckled and gestured for you to kneel up “gonna help you ride me, don’t forget who’s in charge my little dove.” He drawled, voice laced with warning. As Coriolanus aligned his newly hard cock with your still dripping fold, he mentally shuddered. As you lowered down and the tip slid in, he growled with desire. Every inch more you took of his thick shaft was another piece of his resistance being chipped away. He fully growled out when you bottomed out, the little yelp sound was enough for him to finish right then and there. Coriolanus really had every intention of being soft, but a predator is still a predator. And what kind of lion would he be if he refused the soft underbelly of such a willing lamb? With little (no) warning, he snapped his hips up and started to fuck you hard.
“Oh! Ah! Too much! Coryo.. it’s—!” You yelped and he snickered under his breath. It would’ve taken a tranquilizer dart and a barrack of peacekeepers to pull him out of you, your warm, wet cunt. His cock buried in you was the solution to all the problems he could think of as of that very moment. Coriolanus had really never felt more peace than when he was guiding your body on and off his cock. If lust was truly a deadly sin then send him to the 2nd circle of hell, if there was a heaven then it paled in comparison to you. And if all else; this was the moment that he decided that you would take Livias place, even if it meant bloodshed.
The wet squelches and loud moans merged together in a symphony of desperate pleasure. Coriolanus shut you up with a sloppy, albeit slightly romantic, kiss full of tongues and teeth. Your nails raked down his back, so hard that if he wasn’t wearing a shirt it would’ve drawn blood, and his hands had your waist in a rib-crushing hold. His long shaft and pillowy tip hit that spongy spot inside you so deliciously, eliciting a harmony of moans from both of you. Your bodies fit together perfectly, though the scene was less romance and more sexual desperation, built up desire from over a month of unresolved sexual tension that finally got let go.
The pleasure was so good that you devolved into a thoughtless puddle of a woman, jaw hung open and head thrown back, only soft whimpers escaped your throat as you reached your climax. Coriolanus was grunting and groaning like an animal in heat. He would never get tired of this pussy, so wet and tight, all for him. Coriolanus’ climax came too soon, he wanted to spend eternity buried in your cunt, but he couldn’t deny how badly he needed to paint your insides with his seed. Deep moans turned into soft pants as Coriolanus drew closer “gonna fill you up you slut, you beautiful, sweet little slut.. gonna make you mine— have you dripping..” he croaked and landed a harsh spank to your butt, the action making you cum and squeeze around him. Feeling you grip him was what made the blonde lose it, bucking his hips as he shit ropes of his pearly cum into your eager cunt, making sure to ride out until he was satisfied.
Coriolanus felt your head on his shoulder as you both cooled down, labored breaths and the smell of sex filling the confines of his office. As much as he hated to let you go; any onlookers to this scene would mean bad press, so he gently laid you down on the couch and kissed the side of your lips. A small grumble leafy his chest as he murmured “you have to go back to work dove, and so do I..” he whispered.
“Then I’ll need my underwear back..” you mumbled and he almost growled. There was absolutely no way in any dimension that he’d give you back a pair of your soiled panties, not when they smelled so delicious. The president sighed and looked over you “I’ll go get some from Livia, don’t move from here.” He commanded while getting up and shoving his softening dick back into his boxers and, now ruined, dress pants. Coriolanus walked into his room and then closet, getting a new pair of pants and stealing a pair of Livias panties. He quickly changed and went back down to his office.
Like the good girl you were, you hadn’t moved a bit. Young Snow smiled and walked over to you, “such a good girl, didn’t love a muscle. Hips up” he commanded and slid the panties on, making sure to keep as much of his cum as possible inside your pussy. “So good, now give me a kiss and get back to work.” The words were both soft and authoritative, as you got up and stretched your muscles, he delivered a hard smack to your ass and chuckled “so good, always so good for me.”
——
As always, Coriolanus watched out his big window as you spent your lunch break in the presidential gardens. He leaned forward with brows furrowed as he watched you whiny pick up an animal by a patch of berries, he could tell by the saddened expression that crossed your face that the animal was dead. It looked to be a little white rabbit, feeding off what looked like the gardens blueberry plant. Coriolanus chuckled gently to himself, of course you’d be compassionate enough to care for an animal that served you no purpose. The young president knew that you’d run in after your lunch break and tell him how the bunny died, you always had a knack for telling him all about your day, no detail too minuet.
Just as anticipated, when you walked in with his tray of afternoon tea, you started immediately with the story. “I found a dead bunny in the gardens at lunch. Poor thing.” You shook your head solemnly while fixing up his tea “the gardener thinks it’s the berries. He grew a patch of nightshade berries and I think he accidentally planted poison nightshade instead.” Your story made him almost smile, it was very plausible, though he made a mental note to talk to the gardener to see if it was truly an accident. “And then..” you continued, setting the tea on a saucer and handing it to him “I found flowering hemlock weeds in the bed of the berries. He swore he weeded it all out last fall but he probably left some roots. So we’re both pretty sure they grew into each other and made some super poisonous deadly nightshade hemlock berries.” You rambled on.
“Super poisonous deadly nightshade hemlock berries? Well I’m glad you two caught it before we picked them. My smart little dove” He chuckled while sipping his tea “come, sit on my lap.” He patted his thigh and you complied, sitting down in his leg so he could wrap an arm around you. His large hand played with your hair absentmindedly. “I’m sure we’ll find some use for them, like a repellent to get rid of unwanted animals and keep them away from the garden plants..” he murmured. Something about that statement flickered a light in his mind. Keep away unwanted animals? Super poisonous and unassuming berries? This was perfect, almost too perfect. He looked down at you and was clearly lost in thought “What were you saying a few days ago about that flower? Baby’s breath?” He murmured at you.
“Gypsophila? It’s toxic and sometimes lethal for consumption?” You murmured back and leaned into him petting your hair “kinda reminds me of these weird hybrid berries” your smile was so cute, so innocent. How adorable. “Why do you ask?” You mumble as your face gently rests in the junction between his neck and shoulder.
What was he supposed to say to that? ‘Oh to kill my fiancée so I can marry you instead’? Though he was sure you reciprocated his feeling of lust and care, you had to. And what woman would say no to being his wife? He softly cupped your chin and kissed you softly “I refuse to spend the rest of my life with Livia.” He simply drawled between your lips. The words hung heavy with implication, he’s going to kill Livia. Coriolanus’ hand slipped down and patted your still cum filled pussy, reminding you of the days earlier activities. “I never intended for our rendezvous to be a one time thing. I don’t think you understand how deeply you’ve sunk your claws into me, my little dove. You’re mine now, but for that to happen I have to get rid of Livia.” He grumbled against your lips, looking down at you with both need and care.
Your eyes widened at his words, head lifting up to so you can look him in the face. “So.. wait. You- want.. me? To take her place? As your Fiancée?” You mumble, uncertainty painting your words. A small shiver ran down your spine, were you dreaming? This was a scenario you hadn’t dared to even humor, you could live with being his mistress, but wife? Your mouth hung open with shock.
“Yes. I do. You deserve the life of luxury she takes for granted. You’re a worker, and I care for you more than I’ve ever cared about her.” He said smoothly, hand starting to rub over your clothed cunt. “I can’t just break up with her, she’d spread some bullshit rumor about me. She has to go, and when she does I’ll make you the First Lady that Panem deserves.” His words were smooth and clear. Coriolanus’ middle and ring finger ghosted softly over your clothed pussy, making sure to get you wet and squirming again “I’d advise keeping this between us. I’d hate for you to meet the same fate I have planned for her.” He threatens as I kisses you softly, a walking contradiction with the voice of a siren. “Now get up, finish your work for the day and tell Marcus to pick the nightshade hemlock berries. Grab some hemlock flowers and babies breath too, tea and pastries with jam always pair nicely.” He leans back and continues on his work.
There was maybe 10 minutes of peace (impressive for the state of tension in the mansion) before the sound of broken glass and the screams he could only deduce were from Livia. A few quick strides and Coriolanus was met with one of his many hosting rooms, a bar area complete with his betrothed sobbing and screaming while you were sweeping up a broken champagne flute. “She.. she threw it at me! She hates me!” Livia sobbed, though any sane person recognized her crocodile tears. A quick once over confirmed that you were unharmed, which meant that 1. You had thrown the glass at her, which he wouldn’t blame you if you had. Or 2. She threw it at you and missed so she’s blaming you. Coriolanus was very much betting on the latter.
“Yes. I’m sure our presidential palaces maid threw a champagne flute at you for no reason. That sounds like something she’d do” He rolled his eyes “get up off the floor. You’re a grown woman who’s acting like a toddler.” The president scoffs and tilts your chin up to look at him “once you finish cleaning this mess just go home. You deserve it.” He mumbled gently before looking down at Livia and turning on his heel.
“You don’t believe me? Coriolanus! She attacked me!” Livia gets up and pulls at his jacket “please, fire her! She’s been nothing but rude to me since she got here!” She whines and pleads. Quite frankly, Coriolanus had been toeing the edge of insanity because of Livias lies and attitude. In a spur of the moment flash of anger, he grabbed Livia by her shirt collar and backhanded her harshly, his rings leaving an imprint and the mark already red.
“Know your place and shut the fuck up.” Coriolanus growls as he lets go and she drops to the floor, cradling her hurt cheek. He leaves before he can see your wide eyes, or before he can hear her soft cries of pain and confusion.
——
The bullshit started just as Coriolanus set out to go to bed. He shrugged off his jacket and shirt, setting his pin on a little dish and unbuckling his belt. He made sure to hide your used panties in the pocket of a different suit jacket for later, his boxers pooled as his ankles and he slipped on a robe for getting unready. Coriolanus didn’t like to be shirtless in front of his fiancee, he didn’t like having to remember that he was stabbed saving someone who would end up at the noose anyway, too vulnerable, too much. He swears he could hear her wretched voice from across the mansion as she made her presence known “Coriolanus!” She whined as he finished washing his face.
“I’m still not happy with you.” He grumbles and dries off with a towel. “Shes been nothing but kind to you and you’ve been a bitch.” He scoffs out at her pleading puppy eyes. How pathetic was she?
“I know, but I thought I could make up for it..?” She pulled the string of her robe to reveal a lingerie set. Livias eyes, full of lust and want, trailed up and down his body, yet Coriolanus felt nothing but disgust as he looked at his fiancées body. His dick, which was already semi hard the whole day due to your activities, became harder as he remembered how you looked with your uniform hiked up. His erection sat heavily on his thigh, barely visible through his robe.
“Put some clothes on. I don’t want pity sex, or sex at all for that matter.” He grumbled and pushed her out of the way, moving to their closet as he filed through potential sleepwear.
But Livia was dedicated if nothing else, coming up to him and trying to strike a sexy pose against the wall “but I can see that you’re hard, please? Let me make it up to you..” she smiled and tried to reach out and touch his hard cock.
Coriolanus rolled his eyes, scoffed, and smacked her hand away. “No. And that’s not because of you. I can’t control my dick 24/7, I’m not sleeping with you. Now get half decent and stop being a pain in my ass.” He scowled, putting on some boxers before shedding his robe.
“This is about her isn’t! She’s poisoning you against me!” Livia pouts out her bottom lip, immediately blaming you for her shortcomings, though she wasn’t completely off. “You don’t understand! When you’re away.. she— well she just hates me!” She starts her crocodile tears again. “And I’m not a pain in the ass! Shes a skank! She’s trying to make herself look good and make me look bad! She’s trying to take you away from me!” Livia cries out, acting like she hadn’t hurt you for no reason on multiple occasions, including multiple bruises and several scars.
Coriolanus was at his breaking point. “Yeah? And you’re just a saint aren’t you? God you’ve been a pain in my ass since this whole proposal deal! She’s just cleaning the manor!” He scathes while shoving Livia against the wall. “You’re trying to frame her, she’s done nothing wrong. Stop being a bitch or I’ll correct your attitude.” He growls and lets go of Livias shirt. She opens her mouth to protest and he physically can’t stop himself, he punches his fiancee right in the face. Not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that her nose starts bleeding.
“Doesn’t feel good does it? Being pushed around. Next time I’ll crack your fucking nose. You tell anyone and I’ll ruin you.” He seethes out, momentarily remembering that he had plans to kill her on the days following. “Now get the fuck out of my room. Go sleep somewhere else. I don’t want to see your fucking face.” The young blonde let her fall to the floor and tuned out her sobs.
After she got up and left the room, blood dripping form her cupped hand and tears streaming down her face, Coriolanus shut and locked the door. He went to the closet and pulled out your used panties, god how good they smelled.. Putting them up to his nose, he breathed in and moaned. President snow sat down on the bed, pulled off his boxers, and immediately wrapped his fist around his erection. “Fuck.. mphff.. oh fuck..” he groaned out as he started to work up and down his angry cock, the tip red and oozing pre. Coriolanus took a large breath in of your panties, imagining in was your cunt sat on his large nose. It didn’t take long before her was bucking up his hips and holding your underwear against his face as he came all on his hand. Usually he would be ashamed of masturbation, but this marked a new beginning, a reality that he would no longer have to deal with Livia. And as he washed off his hand and abs, he almost let out a sigh of relief. Coriolanus had never slept better than when he knew your panties were under his pillow.
“Hello. You booked maid services, requesting a deep clean? Is that correct?”
“Yes,” Severus looked you up and down before heading towards the couch.
“Where would you like me to start?”
“Anywhere is fine, I will be staying in this evening so if I am in the way just tell me and I will move.”
“Okay, thank you,” you placed your supplies on the ground and dug through them. You gave the living room a dust. Severus watched you closely over his book, your skirt just barely covered your bum.
“And why is a pretty girl such as yourself working on Valentine’s Day?” Severus asked, breaking the silence.
“I need the money,” you stood up and gave him a small smile. “And why is a man as handsome as yourself all alone on Valentine’s Day,” you teased and your cheeks began to flush as you took in his appearance. He was simple yet strong and alluring, a kind of attractiveness that was very rare to find.
“I am not alone, you are here,” he said simply.
“I am not an escort,” your voice was sharp. Severus let his book fall on his lap and raised his arms to plead his innocence.
“I never thought you were, I was not implying that I am paying for your time for sexual pleasure, I am just bringing up the mere fact that you are here, as am I, so we are spending it together. Why else would I book you on such a day if not to keep myself from being alone.”
“Well, I-”
“I know you are not a whore, I would never say you were, you are far too beautiful, if you wanted to spend the night and enjoy each other's bodies I would be more than happy to, but the money I pay you is just for your time to be in this home cleaning or whatnot so I can avoid one more day of being alone. Is that alright with you?”
“Y-Yes,” you began to feel nervous, embarrassed at your stupid assumptions.
“Thank you, can I offer you anything? You do not have to clean you are more than welcome to join me on the couch.”
“Maybe some wine please,” you placed your rag in the basket and made your way towards him.
“Red or white?”
“Red, please, thank you,” your heart was racing, you knew you needed a little bit of wine to take the edge off.
“I will be right back,” Snape got up to go fetch your drinks.
“Wait-”
“Hm?”
“Would you like me to get it? Since you’re paying and all.”
“Never. Sit and relax, enjoy yourself,” he had a playful smirk as he left. You did as told, making yourself comfortable in the spot right next to his on the sofa. You could not help but feel turned on, he was effortlessly sexy, his home darker but in a suggestive way, you could only imagine how many women he has fucked on this very sofa.
Severus returned with a heavy glass of red wine for you and a scotch for himself. He handed it to you before sitting, you nodded in a thankful manner. You sipped your wine and looked around the room, Snape’s eyes followed you.
“Something the matter?” Severus asked after taking another sip of his scotch.
“You have lots of books,” you studied the shelves.
“I do, would you like one?”
“No that is okay, thank you,” you blushed and drank your wine, your body instantly relaxing and warming. Wine always made your clit throb.
“I cannot believe they make you wear those uniforms,” he smiled teasingly. He was beyond charming.
“Sorry. Do I look bad?”
“No, I think it would be impossible for you to ever look bad,” he finished his glass and you moved closer to him. He raised his eyebrows from your gesture. “Yes?”
“I want you, you don’t have to pay me for the night, but I want you,” you blushed deeply, a slight sweat beading on your forehead from the wine and his roaring fire. A smirk spread across his face and he pulled you onto his lap before pulling you into a kiss. You straddled him, your skirt riding up your thighs. Severus’s hands gripped your thighs as you deepened the kiss. Your panties were soaked.
“Oh Severus,” you moaned into the kiss, rocking your hips on his. Severus’s cock began to twitch in his trousers against you. The sensation only made your desire grow.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said against your lips as he laid you down across the sofa before appearing on top of you.
“Please don’t stop, please fuck me,” you whimpered and slipped your hands under his shirt.
“Your wish is my command,” he smirked and flipped your skirt up before ridding you of your soaked panties. “Look how wet you are, did you come here like this or is this all for me?”
“You, I have never met a man quite as attractive as yourself,” you smiled sheepishly.
“Oh you flatter me,” he teased and tossed your panties to the side. “You will clean that later,” he joked before kissing you again. You eagerly grasped his face and deepened the kiss. Severus did not skip a beat as he undid his trousers and freed his length, pumping himself in his hands a few times, pulling his foreskin all the way back and teasing his tip before reaching for the baby oil in the drawer of the table by the side. He lathered himself in the oil before slipping inside your slick cunt with ease.
“Oh fuck,” you moaned and winced at the stretch from his impressive size. “You are so big.”
“Mmhm,” he smirked into the kiss and grasped your hips to keep you close. His pace was slow but he carried much force with each thrust, hitting your cervix each time.
“Oh fucking hell,” you cried out as he trailed his kisses to your jaw, nibbling up to your earlobe before kissing down your neck. You trembled under his touch, no man has ever made you feel so good.
“You take me so well, maybe you are a whore,” Severus teased, smirking against your skin sending goosebumps over every inch of your skin.
“Just for you,” you moaned whilst your hips bucked to meet his with each heavy thrust.
“Christ,” he growled, you had an effect on him like no other. He sent a hand to rub rough circles on your clit.
“Oh god!” You cried out as your toes curled. Your thighs began to shake around him, you were so close.
“How does that feel, beautiful?” Severus looked up to watch your face as he worked to make you finish around him.
“S-So good,” you moaned and he began to rub faster circles. His free hand slid under your shirt and massaged your tits roughly sending you over the edge. “Oh, Jesus fuck!” Your entire body shook as you came around him. Your walls tightened to such a degree that you sent his hot seed shooting into you instantly.
“Motherfucker,” he cried out from his unexpected orgasm as he did his best to rock his hips allowing you to both finish. Your tight walls milked his cock, every last drop filled up right against your cervix. Severus leaned against the armrest as you lay panting. He covered the two of you with a blanket as you caught your breath. You dozed off not waking until the next morning. Severus had made sure to sneak your pay in your pocket the night before along with a note.
Thank you for tidying my home, if you would like to meet again for a proper dinner my telephone number is attached below. Thank you for last night, I hope you enjoyed your Valentine’s Day as much as I did.
I hope we meet again,
Severus Snape xx
You clutched the letter and couldn’t help but smile to yourself. What a night.
Warnings: angst, power imbalance, dub-con (just in case) cuddling/sharing a bed, master-servant relationship, the reader was an orphan, mentions of physical abuse against the reader (childhood/implied), inappropriate behavior
Mr. Holmes’ maid (1)
Mr. Holmes’ maid masterlist
Four months after Sherlock came to your room for the first time, one of his former classmates came for a visit.
Everything was normal. You prepared tea and biscuits. While you followed the strict codes of conduct and were not allowed to speak to Sherlock’s guest, he wouldn't stop asking you questions you didn't want to answer. The man didn’t want to take the hint that you were uncomfortable around him.
His hand brushed against your bottom more than once, and he shamelessly stared at your chest.
“I wondered why Sherlock had a maid all for himself. Now I know,” he grinned and patted his lap. “Why don’t you give me the same treatment you give your master.”
“I-“ you didn’t know how to react. This man was just awful, but you weren’t able to fight him. You were only a maid, and he was your master’s friend.
“What’s going on here?” Sherlock came just in time to save you. He cocked his head and watched you whimper in distress. You never acted like that. Not in front of him, or his brother.
“I only offered your maid to sit on my lap, my friend,” the man patted his big tummy. “Maybe she likes me more than you. You’re always so…strict.”
“We are rather acquaintances, than friends. I haven’t heard from you for years,” Sherlock stepped toward you to stand by your side. “Maid, please retreat. We have to discuss manners you wouldn’t understand.”
“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” you never felt more relieved than in that moment. The man scared you in more than one way.
You curtsied and left the room, walking as fast as your feet would carry you.
All you wanted was to be away from this man and his demands.
Your loyalty belongs only to your master, Sherlock Holmes.
“This person,” Sherlock angrily entered your room. He cursed under his breath, using words you never thought belonged to his vocabulary. Your master was angry. Why, you didn’t know. “How dare he come here believing he can offer me money to get my maid.”
“What?” You sat up on the bed, suddenly wide awake. “I don’t understand.”
“He called me rude and unreasonable because I didn’t want to hand my maid over to him,” Sherlock pushed his locks out of his face. “I haven’t heard of him for years, and he comes here to steal my maid.”
You didn’t understand. Why would a man you never saw before come to Sherlock to get you? Your lips wobbled and you felt like a cold hand gripped your heart.
“Do not fret, my dear,” Sherlock said. “I sent him home, not without giving him what he deserved.”
You glanced at Sherlock, shocked at the sight of his split knuckles.
“Mr. Holmes,” you got up from the bed to take care of his hands. “We need to clean the wounds. Let me help you.”
“I cleaned the split skin,” he said, and gently ran his index finger over your cheek. He hummed and watched your shoulders relax. “He will never bother us again. We should rest now.”
“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” you murmured, already used to sleeping in one bed with your master. “I changed the sheets and got you another blanket. It’s getting colder, and you are not used to the cold.”
“So sweet,” he cupped your chin with his index finger and thumb. “I wonder if your lips taste sweet too.” Sherlock leaned closer. His lips almost touched yours when he dropped his hand and stepped away from you. “I-I should…no…I need to reread a few papers. Have a good night.”
Sherlock left your chamber and didn’t return that night. It was the first night you spent alone, and you felt cold and lonely.
“Mr. Holmes, there is a letter for you,” you shyly glanced at Sherlock. He was engrossed in reading another letter. “I have finished my chores for today. I’ll retreat to my chamber to knit.”
“Wait—” He suddenly got up. “I need your opinion on something.” Sherlock walked out of his office to get a blanket. “I got it for the winter. You said it’s cold in your chamber and I thought of you.”
Sherlock pushed the blanket into your hands and turned his attention toward the letter without waiting for your answer. Your heart fluttered. He got a warm and soft blanket for you, and it meant the world to you.
“Have a good night, Mr. Holmes.”
You woke like any other night with Sherlock’s arms locked around your body like anchors holding you to him.
“You’re awake,” Sherlock murmured your name. “Why?”
“There is no reason,” you whispered, afraid to tell him the truth. You woke because of a bad dream – or rather a memory from the past. This happens once in a while if you allow yourself to think of the past too much.
“Do not lie to me, maid,” he sounded angry, and you flinched. “You were crying in your sleep and tried to get away from me.”
Forced to tell him the truth you took a deep breath. “I had a bad dream,” you sniffled. “I dreamed of the orphanage I spent my childhood at. The children called me names, and the nuns hit me with a ruler.”
“You never told me that you grew up in an orphanage,” he sounded surprised, and his tone softened. “Why did you never tell me?”
“I’m here to serve, not for chatter. That’s what I've been told all my life. I didn’t think it was important,” you murmured. Sherlock never asked questions about your childhood. He only cared about your reputation and your cleaning skills.
He inhaled sharply. A habit when something angers him.
“I need to know every detail. Details are important,” he said. “I want you to tell me everything about your past. Now!”
“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” you hoped he’d lose interest and forget about your nightmare in the morning. “I was all alone, and the other children didn’t like me. No one ever told me why they didn’t like me. I tried anything but…” You wiped your eyes. “No one ever wanted me.”
“You’re here now,” Sherlock whispered in your ear. “Safe and sound.”
The night was shorter than usual. Someone yelled Sherlock’s name and harshly knocked at the door. You woke, startled by the man screaming your master’s name.
“Open the door!” the man yelled even louder. “You dishonored my wife!”
“Y/N, I want you to stay here and try to get more sleep. Let me handle this,” Sherlock slipped out of bed and grabbed his robe. He threw it on and left your room.
You couldn’t go back to sleep. His warmth left your body, and your teeth chattered. Scared you listened closely as the man calmed and repeatedly apologized to your master.
“People these days,” Sherlock reentered your room, closing the door with a loud thud. “He dared to come to my home and scare my—” He looked at you, unsure what you are to him. “Never mind. He came to the wrong house.”
You nodded and lifted the covers. “Are you alright, Mr. Holmes.”
“Of course, Y/N,” he took his robe off and joined you in your bed again. “We will sleep a little bit. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”
“Mr. Holmes, what a pleasure to see you,” the owner of the boutique spluttered, obviously excited that the infamous and wealthy detective came to his boutique again. “What brings me the pleasure of your presence.”
The man smiled widely and almost drooled all over your master. You got ignored, like most of the time. Well, your simple dress and appearance don’t catch the eye of many people. In the end, you’re only a peasant, not a person to most of the people you meet.
“I need a new wardrobe for my—,” Sherlock cleared his throat when you didn’t react, “maid. Y/N, come here.”
“Mr. Holmes,” you were surprised he told the man that the dresses and winter coat he ordered weren’t for Enola, his sister, and ward. “Do you want me to have a look at the dresses for your sister?”
He sighed, exasperated. If Sherlock hated one thing, it was waiting time. “The dresses are for you. I need you to try one on. I don’t want to waste my money on dresses not suiting you.”
“I-“Confused you look at the owner of the boutique. He looked as shocked as you.
“I need her to represent the household, Holmes. I cannot let her run around in a torn dress,” Sherlock touched the back of your dress, gripping it tightly until you heard a ripping sound. “See, the material is the worst. I have a reputation to protect.”
“Mr. Holmes,” the man nodded eagerly. He called for his wife to help you try on one of the dresses. “Of course.”
Sherlock hummed and looked around the boutique. He wasn’t interested in buying another vest or coat. Your master tried to distract himself to not follow you and watch you redress. He was a gentleman after all…
“Oh, look at you,” the boutique owner’s wife cooed. She told you to look in the mirror. The woman in the mirror staring back at you wasn’t you. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
The biscuit and rose-colored silk bustle dress with lace trimmings fitted you like it was made for you. “It’s beautiful,” you replied, but didn’t know what else to say. You've never worn a dress like this before. In lack of words, you remained silent.
“Let me get Mr. Holmes,” she finally said and left you alone with your racing heart. Why would he buy you a dress like this? Maybe it was another test. He’d buy it for his sister, or some other woman and wanted to remind you of your place.
“What do you think, Mr. Holmes?” She came back with your master by her side.
Sherlock looked you up and down in the new dress. He hummed and clasped both hands behind his back while going around you.
“It’s well done,” he said. “I’m satisfied with your handiwork. Let’s try on the others,” Sherlock stopped right in front of you to watch you drop your gaze. “Shall we?”
“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” you murmured, unsure how to react to his behavior. “What do you want me to try on next?”
He cocked his head to glance at the dresses. “The red one. I liked it the most.” Sherlock followed you. Hand brushing over your back. “I hope you like it as much as I do. You will look beautiful in it.” He whispers the last part.
Your heart was beating out of your chest. Sherlock’s hand on your back felt warm and soothing, still, it was inappropriate. He openly showed affection toward a peasant.
could I please request a smut fic where charles blackwood develops a (borderline obsessive) crush on his cousins housemaid and he ends up fucking her in the shower or bath?
[ik it’s out there but I just rewatched we have always lived in the castle and just seeing seb in a fancy bathtub did things to me…ik it’s weird but still…🫶]
Cute Little Maid » Charles Blackwood
Pairings: Charles Blackwood x Maid!Reader
Summary: Charles has a crush on his cousin’s maid.
A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵 the bathtub scene did things to me too🤭
Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.
Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier
GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found these on Pinterest.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞
“Constance, I- oh, I’m sorry.” You apologized walking in the living and seen the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. “I didn’t know you were having company today.” You say.
“It’s ok.” Constance smiles. “Y/N, this is my cousin Charles. Charles, this our maid Y/N.” She introduces you two.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Blackwood.” You smiled, shaking his hand.
“You too.” Charles smiles. “Call me Charles.” He says, shamelessly checking you out.
That was a few weeks ago. Now, Charles can’t seem to keep himself away from you. He’s developed a huge crush on you. Every time you need to go to the store, he gives you a ride. He follows you around the house and watches you clean without you noticing. He would try to get as close as he possibly could to you. He also can’t help but imagine what he wants to do to you sexually.
Charles is whistling to himself as he was walking down the hallway to his bedroom. His whistling stops when he heard a noise in his room and seen the door open. He opened the door to see you putting his neatly folded clothes in his dresser. He walked further in the room and stood a couple feet behind you, waiting for you to turn around. You jumped when you turned around, not expecting Charles to be standing behind you.
“Oh Mr. Blackwood…” You put your hand on your chest where your heart is. “You scared me.” You giggled. “Did you need something?” You asked.
“Yes, you.” Charles thinks to himself.
“I would like some extra towels please.” He says politely.
“I’ll get them right now.” You say.
You walked past him to get him extra towels while Charles went in the bathroom to take a shower. He turned the shower on and stripped himself of his clothes. You walked in the bathroom at the same time he was taking his boxers off. You gasped and closed your eyes, making Charles turn around and smirk.
“I am so sorry.” You apologized for walking in on him naked. “Here’s your extra towels.” You say, holding the towels out for him.
Charles took the towels from your hands and put them on the sink counter. You heard him close the bathroom door. Your heart started pounding when you felt his presence. Your eyes fluttered open. You tried so hard not to look down at his dick. Charles walked closer to you. You walked backwards till your back hit the door. Your breathing quickened when his face was inches away from yours. One of his hands disappeared under your dress, finding its way to your wet panties. A desperate whimper fell from your lips when his fingers rubbed your pussy through your panties. He pulled your panties down your legs and dropped them on the floor. His fingers rubbed from your clit to your entrance. He slid two fingers in your pussy, moving them at a decent pace.
“Mr. Blackwood…” You moaned softly. “This is-” The words died on your tongue before you could finish your sentence.
“This is what, sweetheart?” Charles asks, smirking.
You opened your mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was a moan. There was nothing in your mind, except the thought of your boss’s cousin fucking you with his fingers.
Your head fell back against the door, enjoying the feeling of his fingers in your pussy. Your nails dug into the wood of the door when his fingers went impossibly deeper. Charles leaned in closer to you, kissing just below your ear, making you moan.
“I wonder what your pussy will feel like wrapped around my cock.” Charles whispers in your ear.
A whimper fell from your lips at the thought of him fucking you. His thumb found its way to your clit, applying pressure to it and rubbing it in circles. His fingers curled inside of you, hitting your sweet spot.
“Right there!” You moaned.
Charles smirks to himself, happy that he found your sweet spot. His fingers continued to hit your sweet spot every time he curled his fingers against it. This man knew what he was doing, because he was about to make you cum sooner than you expected. You pussy clenched around his fingers. Charles knew you were about to cum. He thrusted his fingers faster, wanting your orgasm to build up faster. Your mouth fell open, a moan of his name fell from your lips as you came hard on his fingers. His thumb gave your clit a particularly rough rub before he took his fingers out of your pussy.
You looked at him, trying to catch your breath. Charles’s eyes were filled with lust. He pulled your dress over your head and dropped it on the floor. His hand disappeared behind your back and expertly unclasped your bra, letting it fall from your chest. He grabbed your arm and pulled you inside of the shower with him. He pinned you against the shower wall, kissing you hungrily. You moaned against his lips.
“I’ve wanted this since the day we met.” Charles admits breathlessly against your lips.
“Oh yea?” You say.
Charles turns your body around, pushing the front of your body against the shower wall. He kisses along your shoulders, up to your neck. His teeth bit down hard enough to mark you up. You gasped when you felt his hard cock against your ass cheek. His precum smeared against your skin.
“You feel what you do to me, darling?” His voice is husky. “You make my cock so hard.” He says in almost a whisper, grinding his cock against your ass for some relief.
He wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping it a couple times before rubbing it against your pussy, his tip bumping your clit, making you moan.
“Tell me you want me to fuck you and I will.” He says huskily.
“I- oh!” You paused when his tip circled your entrance. “I want you to fuck me, Charles.” You tell him. “Make me feel so good.” You say.
“I’ll make you feel so fucking good, princess.” He says.
A gasp left your lips when Charles thrusted his whole cock in your pussy. You didn’t realize he was this big. The stretch of his cock entering your pussy hurt a little, but it also felt good. You braced yourself by putting your hands flat on the shower wall as he started thrusting. His thrusts were hard and fast, but also loving. Charles’s hands were on your hips, bringing you back with his thrusts. He looked down, watching his cock thrust in and out of your pussy, covered in your slick.
“Fuck…” Charles moans at the sight.
Your moans were like music to his ears. He wrapped one of his arms around your waist and pulled you against him, your back against the front of his body. Your head fell back against his shoulder, letting the pleasure take over your body.
“I’ve wanted this for so long.” He admits.
“Mmm yea?” You hummed, your eyes fluttering shut.
“I’ve been watching you for a while.” He tells you. “You walking around the house in cute little dress. The way you bend over the kitchen table when you’re wiping it down after breakfast.” He lists off. “You make the littlest things innocent and dirty.” He breathes huskily against your skin.
You didn’t even care that he just admitted that he’s basically stalking you. Frankly, you couldn’t care less that he’s been watching you. To be honest, you like the attention he’s been giving you lately. It’s the most attention you’ve gotten in a while.
“I bet you’re enjoying this as much as me, aren’t you, honey?” He whispers huskily in your ear. “My cock deep in your pussy.” He says, kissing just below your ear.
You opened your mouth to say something, but a moan came out instead. Your mind was invaded by the dirtiest thoughts of what Charles could do to you. Pleasure taken over your body.
Charles’s free hand snaked up the front of your body, wrapping his hand around your throat, but not choking you. You let out a moan, loving the feeling of his hand on your throat. It turned you on even more. His other hand found its way to your clit, applying pressure and began rubbing it. Your pussy clenched around his cock, feeling his fingers on your clit.
“Oh fuck!” You moaned more in a whimper. “Charles…” You say breathlessly.
“Yes, sweetheart? Tell me what you want.” Charles says in almost a whisper.
“I-” You weren’t sure what you were even begging for, but all you know is that you wanted more. “More!” You finally said.
“You want more, darling?” His voice is a little raspy. “I’ll give you more.” He says.
His fingers applied more pressure to your clit as he rubbed it faster. Your clit was beginning to feel sensitive, but you didn’t really care at the moment. You just wanted to enjoy the feeling of his fingers rubbing your clit. He also sped up his thrusts. You could feel every vein of his cock rubbing along your walls.
Your legs started to shake a little due to the amount of pleasure you were receiving. You pressed your hands firmer against the shower wall to keep yourself from falling. Charles’s hand left your throat to wrap around your waist as soon as your knees buckled. His cock found your sweet spot with ease, hitting it repeatedly. That caused your orgasm to build up.
“Charles, I- mmm fuck! I’m going to cum!” You tell him. “Please let me cum!” You begged.
“Cum for me, sweetheart.” He says huskily.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your toes curled against the shower floor as you came on his cock. Charles fucked you through your orgasm and gave your clit one last rub before focusing on his own orgasm.
“Good girl.” Charles praises breathlessly. “Such a good girl for me.” He praises again.
He almost lost rhythm with his thrusts, but quickly regained it. A curse word left his lips as he came inside of you. His thrusts came to a slow stop. His cock stayed inside of you as the two of you caught your breath. His arm remained around your waist to hold you up. You leaned your forehead against the shower wall, enjoying the cool feeling of it against your heated skin.
“Looks like I got myself a cute little maid all to myself now.” Charles says, breaking the silence as he kissed along the skin of your shoulder.
