Low-key Wish He Was Real But Thats A Death Sentence For Me So~

Low-key wish he was real but that’s a death sentence for me so~

Hi do you write for Feitan because if so could I ask for Feitan having a young and dumb masochistic sister who is always wears revealing clothes which makes him constantly punish her, which doesn’t really bother her too much since she gets off to it.

If you don’t do Feitan you can replace him for Illumi, Chrollo, or Hisoka I’m not especially picky hehe~ thx.

WARNINGS || nsfw, incest, sex toys, name calling, face slapping, shibari, forced orgasms, begging + dacryphilia

You’re just so dumb. He wonders how you get through life when he’s not around because you’re just a little dimwit who’s only good for a good dicking.

Of course he feels sorry for you. You are his darling sister who he adores more than anyone else in the world but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get angry at you and you seem to enjoy testing his patience before he loses control.

You make sure to wear the tiniest skirts and dresses whenever he brings his friends home and when you have your own friends over, you parade around like some cheap whore and nothing else. He should be embarrassed by your behaviour but he’s too fucking focused on your tits and the way they bounce whenever you move to fast.

He’d asked you not to dress like that when he had guests over, especially since it was important business and now they all seemed discarded by his slutty sister.

So no, he’s not going to give in no matter how much you beg. You look good tied up and helpless and he’s not stupid, he knows you enjoy this shit a little too much so he won’t make it easy.

“Please” You beg, gasping as the rope digs into your skin the more you move. It hurts so good but it’s not enough, it’s never enough.

He hasn’t even touched you yet. He watches from where he’s sitting, your legs shaking from the vibrating sensations inside your pussy. You’ve already cum three times and it’s starting to feel intense and it hurts. You just want him to touch you.

“Slut” He scoffs, walking over to the bed to grab your jaw

“I need you” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as he slaps your cheek

“Whore” He says, glaring at you as he starts turns up the vibrator to a higher setting

You scream, arching as much as you can or rather, as much as the ropes would allow. You’re so sensitive and sore but you know he can go all night, he enjoyed torture and since he would never actually harm you any other way, he took it out on your body and you couldn’t do anything to stop him.

He can’t help but stare down at your face. You were beautiful sure but there was something so special about your crying face since he knew you only ever cried for him. It might have been sick but he liked to make you cry, it got him hard in no time and he would fuck you senseless.

“Fuck” You cry out, trying but failing to get your hands free. You would be in pain the next day for sure but you never really learned your lesson and it would only be a few more days before you did it again.

You couldn’t help but want his attention on you all the time even if it hurt.

★ ⋆ ࣪ CALL 1-800-BOYFRIEND#2 ! an anthology | ˚｡jjk men x female reader ᨀ minors do not interact˓˓ aged up!characters, infidelity, toxic relationships, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampies, degradation, squirting, praise kink, + more content warnings listed before each piece! ˚｡ FEATURING ᨀ fushiguro toji, gojo satoru, getou suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, itadori yuuji. ˚｡ SUMMARY ᨀ whenever you get in the mood, just call boyfriend number two! a collection of smut works inspired by the song boyfriend #2 - pleasure p; ꒰ PLAYLIST ꒱

★ ⋆ 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 ᨀ ࣪exes with benefits, ex boyfriend!gojo, belly bulges, cervix fucking.

you knew that it was wrong to invite him in while your boyfriend is waiting and let him fuck you, but how can you possibly atone for your sins when the closest thing to a god is the one helping you commit them between dirtied sheets?

"you gonna answer that, angel?" satoru taunts over the cheerful chime of your ringing cellphone. five missed calls from your boyfriend piled up in your notification center and he refuses to give up. your heart plummets down at the sound, sitting right next to the pretty bulge of your ex-boyfriend's cock in your lower belly as he fucks you mercilessly.

your tongue may be barbed with insults for him after your break up, but your pussy is still honeyed and sweet as ever to him. making the cutest noises, splitting like a good girl for the delicious stretch of his cock. he's got you embarrassingly fucked out too, ruining you before your date— lipstick smudged, thighs possessed by bruises from his teeth, all the while he's busy fucking his thick load back into your cunt from the first round.

"i recommend answering it, huh? tell him you're all taken care of, angel. don't want him comin' to your rescue when you're about to cum for me, now do we?"

"w-wait, i need to-" you choke, hand scrambling to find the phone somewhere in the soaked sheets— wanting to answer for your boyfriend even as your back curls off the bed when gojo fucks it just right, the fat mushroom tip of his cock bullying your cervix with each bruising thrust. "h-hold on a minute, f-fuck- slow down, my boyfr-"

he rolls his eyes, finding your phone easily and tossing it on top of the lewd bounce of your tits— a sneer on his lips as he fucks into your cunt with nasty, possessive ruts of his hips that sloshes slick and cum out of your abused little hole in a frothy drool that you can feel dripping down the line of your ass. he has no intention of slowing down or stopping so you squeeze your eyes shut, sucking your lower lip into your mouth to stifle your noises and finally, pick up the ringing hotline.

"hnnng h-hello?"

"hey, baby!" your boyfriend of one year greets cheerfully, oblivious and sweet. he upset no balances in the world with his birth and he isn't the strongest of anything— he's just a kind man, attentive and storybook romantic; the kind you dreamt of, but that doesn't stop you from letting satoru fuck you whenever he wants. "takes a while for my pretty girl to get ready, huh? know you're going to look amazing, too, but.. our dinner reservation was at 8. where are you?"

satoru snorts, shifting his hips to drag your attention back to him. your heart clenches at the same time your pussy does, cock catching you on a good fuck that shoots white hot pleasure simmering through your nerves. it's too much— you claw at his arms with one hand while the other shakes against the phone.

"i-i'm on my way soon, baby. sorry, oh my f- h-hah..." your lower lip wobbles as you fight the urge to cry out, dewy tears clinging to your lashes. gojo is relentless, bringing a violent tremble to your thighs as he lowers a hand between your legs, the calloused pads of his fingertips rubbing raw circles over your clit so good you drop the phone onto your chest.

"hello? babe, what's wrong?! are you there?" you can hear your current boyfriend's staticky voice on the other end while your ex leans forward, bracketing your head with his strong arms as he mouths wet kisses along the soft skin at your jaw; sucking the lobe of your ear onto his tongue.

"tell him this pussy is mine, you little slut. see how good 'm fucking you? where else are you gonna get it this good? don’t you want me back? wanna be able to fuck on this dick any time you want?” he growls, sickly sweet into your ear, the yandere tone of his voice rumbling shivers into your skin. "tell him who it belongs to or i will."

"i-i can't- can't do that to him, 'toru-" you blubber, even though you want to. miss the way dating satoru made you feel complete. salty tears spill down your cheeks that gojo sweeps away with his tongue like a lazy cat lapping at his favorite bowl of milk.

his fingers quickly flick and twist overstimulation under the hood of your swollen clit until he feels your pussy squeezes around the stretch of his cock, cackling in response as he gets what he wants. he’s breaking you down, got you on the ropes. "see? this pussy knows what she wants, even if you don't," he groans out too loud, hips stuttering and sloppy now, a rhythm that fucks you open while all you can do is sob and writhe like the wanton little whore you are.

"who the fuck is that- hello? hello? what's going on? are you okay?"

gojo is high off the power trip of your moans and though he knows that rubbing it in is breaking the ultimate code, his free hand's picking up the phone before he knows it—

"'toru- satoru, n-no-" you whine out, but he jerks his hips hard against yours to shut you up, lodging his cock so deep inside your pussy, your mind short circuits.

"yo!" gojo greets into the receiver, voice winded but clear. he's mockingly casual as he tucks the phone between his cheek and shoulder to free up his hands, as if he is discussing the latest gossip with a friend, his fingers digging prints into your hipbones.

"who the fuck is this?" you hear your boyfriend demand in confusion and you lurch forward to take the phone away, but the force of his cock lays you flat.

"i'm sure our girl's told you about me, yeah? the only one who broke her heart, the one who can't settle down, the one you're so much better than. blah blah blech— name's satoru!" he introduces himself and grins wide, glancing down at you. his pretty ex-girlfriend whines against his shoulder, thrashing against the sheets as he fucks that bubble in your lower belly to bursting. fucks you like no one else can. "anyways, cock's- oops, i meant cat's- got her tongue right now so i wanted to let you know that she won't be able to make it to your date tonight... ain't that right, baby?" he hums, holding the phone out to you so your boyfriend on the other line can hear the sweet, traitorous sounds of your moans as you cream on another man's cock. "yep, that's right. she finally decided to come home. where you should go too, man."

gojo doesn't elaborate further, clicking the little red icon to end the call with a winner’s smirk on his lips and then his attention is back to you, on fucking a bellyache into you with his skilled fucking and your boyfriend's name out of you, the lewd sound of your slick gurgling out of your perfect little pussy sounding like sin. gojo's fingers are back on your clit, pinching it hard. "now back to you, angel face. cum for your boyfriend."

★ ⋆ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 ᨀ college!au, professor!nanami, student!reader, blowjobs, desk sex, semi-public sex in a classroom, use of "sensei" to address kento.

kento is the last of your professors you would have expected to keep you company while you cry over your boyfriend who would rather spend drunken nights out at frat parties, but you are quickly finding out that fucking your pretty little body is professor nanami's favorite after school activity.

"keeping yourself busy down there?" nanami has the nerve to inquire while you're on your knees under his desk, putting in real work for the title of his best student.

your expression is dazed and full of wonderment, a cute wrinkle between your brows at the way you are actually able to fit your professor's cock inside your mouth, nose pressed to the tamed patch of sandy hairs at his crotch. it's amazing how it can erase all bad thoughts of your neglectful lover from your mind and you worship it greedily. nanami's thick thighs spread wide, cafe au lait eyes gazing down at you over the top of his round reading glasses while you suckle on his cock like a lollipop. it's heavy against your tongue, weighing it down with the strain and drooling sweet opaque drops of precum down the slope of your throat. he barely makes a sound, but he rewards you with a jolt of his hips each time you swallow a drop of it with a whine.

"aaa-atta girl, just like that, huh? why don't you do that thing for me?" he drawls out in an appraising tone, lax in his chair.

you obediently draw back, eager to please him. you grip his wet cock gently in your small hold, kitten licks into the sensitive slit before you wedge your tongue under the head, sucking over a fat, forked vein. he is composed, the picture of professionalism during his working hours but you are the only one who is allowed the pleasure of seeing nanami kento with his hair mussed, glasses askew as you suck him wet between the legs. sleeves rolled up as one hand pins his pressed white shirt out of the way while the other rests on your head, petting your soft hair with affection.

"fuck, little darling- that mouth will be death of me," he breathes and you suck him down slow on the pull in, letting the tip of his cock nudge against the fleshy patch of your throat before tears spring into your eyes and you bounce back with a wet gag— bathing in the way that he hisses, in the way that you make him feel. he doesn't regurgitate bad lines from porn like your boyfriend does, but his grunts of pleasure and soft praise shoot like fallen stars across your pussy, making you sneak a hand into your sopping panties, immediately sinking two fingers past your entrance with a whine, the vibration like a hot rubber band around nanami's dick.

"wan’ you to fuck me now, p-please."

"e-easy there. i'll take care of you. stop that and come here," he coos, hooking an arm under your elbow as he drags your mouth away from his cock.

"o-oh-" your professor spins you around, bending you over his desk. he takes care in folding your skirt up, his big hands kneading the globes of your ass cheeks in a gentle circle. you wriggle your hips back desperately until you bump against his damp cock, squirming on the desk over his ungraded papers, takeout flyers, and seminar invitations.

"k-kento-sensei, hurry up, please-" you simper, eyes glazed over and glossy with lust for him already.

"i'm right here, doll," he reminds you and he's in a good mood— he doesn't like impatience or insolence, but he lets you rut your ass against his crotch for friction until he stills your hips with a click of his tongue. "you don't have anywhere to be, after all. that fella of yours is at that party you were crying over, isn't he?"

your lips plump out in a pout, about to scold him for reminding you, but the words shrivel on your tongue as he edges forward to tug your panties down to the middle of your thighs, spreading one ass cheek to the side and exposing your pussy to the air. you're so pretty and wet for him, hole fluttering and glossy with slick.

"how badly do you want it?" kento chuckles under his breath, barely nudging his cockhead into the entrance to your cunt. your professor does not fuck like your boyfriend. he doesn't believe in ten minutes of sloppy, selfish fucking that leaves you unsatisfied. even with the risk of someone walking in, he is a man unhurried. he waits, petting two fingers between your folds. "hmm?"

"want it real bad, real real bad!"

"tch, have i taught you anything? use proper vocabulary when you beg for my cock."

“once upon a midnight dreary, while i pondered, weak and weary, over how your cock would feel fucking me silly,” you smile cheekily into the strewn papers, arching your ass further against his hips in invitation.

“naughty girl, don’t ruin the classics,” the tiniest of smiles quirks his lips at your antics, snuffing out a laugh.

but nanami gives you what you’re begging for. he is discovering that refusing you is becoming increasingly difficult. his fingers curl around your waist, tugging your body down his desk until he impales your little pussy on his cock. the stretch is painstakingly slow, forcing you to feel every fucking inch, every ridge and vein— dragging along your walls in an overwhelming sensation. you scramble to grab purchase into the desk, mouth slacking open with a long grunt as you press your forehead to the desk.

"good girl. look how well you take me, hmm? if only you could listen so well in class, too," he hums in approval, watching the way your pussy expands as he draws out, only to suck him in nice and tight as he plunges back into the warmth of your cunt. you've always been his worst student, combative and mouthy— barely able to sit through the nasally drawl of his lessons with your impatience, so it's no surprise when you drop your head onto his desk, gripping the edge as you bounce yourself back against his hips.

"did i tell you that you could-" but his reprimand is shut off with a sharp grunt, his hips stuttering while you tremble and frantically fuck your cunt on his cock at a quick pace, the pleasure coiling in your lower belly hard and fast. "oh, is that what you wanted? to cum?

"yuh-yes! i-i need t' cum, kento-sensei!"

"cum then, call my name instead of his when you gush all over my cock. go on, love."

★ ⋆ 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 ᨀ age gap (toji is in his 40s, reader is in 20s), babysitter!au, mean!toji, car sex, cowgirl, breeding kink.

toji wasn't a nice man, but he had well-behaved kids and secretly tipped you bonuses on days you wore short dresses or skirts to the house as if you wouldn't notice. it wasn't uncommon for him to give you a ride home whenever it gets too late, even if his dark eyes linger on your thighs the entire time. crawling into his lap like a money hungry little whore and unzipping his jeans in the front seat of his car after he offered you five hundred dollars to see if you could fit his cock inside you was new, though.

toji used a safety pin to tack the wad of fresh green dollars against your tank top with a crooked grin, as if you were a birthday girl. he moves the cash now to pull your tank top aside and expose one of your nipples, the little bud puckered up from the blast of the air conditioner behind you.

"m-mr. fushiguro, i have a boyfriend- mmph!" you whine in protest, a contradiction after you crawled across the center console with a competitive glint sparkling in your eye, the steering wheel of his jeep digging into your lower back.

you don't remember how the conversation started, but it ended with you in his lap and your bank account a half thousand richer. you should be disgusted, toji is sleazy— he'd rather spend time chasing after loose women than raising his children and he stares at your tits mid-conversation, but no. to you, he is the epitome of a dilf, all bulky and rugged lines and dark edges. and that's why you moan for his big, rough hands sliding under your simple tank top, cunt oozing slick for the father of two.

"that so? why're you grindin' all over my lap then, little girl? get off 'n' get outta my car if you're scared," he growls, even though he knows you’re not running anywhere while he's got your skin feverish and sweaty as he tweaks one of your nipples, pinching the perky bud between two fingers. the sly smirk he wears on his scarred lip both irritates you and simmers arousal between your hips. you swear that your hips move on their own accord, bumping into the weighty girth of his cock that you forgot is sitting wedged beneath your ass. "yeah, you ain't going nowhere, are you? like it when nasty old men stare up your skirts and down your shirts, dontcha?"

his filthy words have your folds messy, leaving a damp patch on your cotton shorts. you move before you can stop yourself, reaching nimble fingers between the shadow of your bodies to unbutton his jeans, tugging his cock out with saliva drooling in your mouth. you wish that you could see it, but you can feel it, stomach lurching. the wide, blunt head twitching fat against your palm before toji is manhandling you, jerking your cotton shorts to the side and forcing you to grind your bare cunt along the length of his cock.

"let’s see where all my money is going to, eh?" he grunts at you, each of his huge hands are between your legs now, prying your folds open with his thumbs as you circle your clit against the surface of his cock. "so easy too- don't know if i want a little whore like you around my kids, hah. look at how wet you are for a man you ain't dating," he rasps out in a salty, degrading tone, pinching one of your folds before he wraps fat fingers around his cock to hold it steady.

"y-you're so mean, mr. fushiguro," you sigh out blissfully, not caring in the least bit when his cock rubs against your clit, creating delicious friction.

"yeah, and you're fuckin' slow. sit on my cock already or gimme my money back."

your legs are split over the wide planes of his thighs, so snapping them shut isn't an option when he presses you back against the steering wheel, the horn beeping pathetically, pushing his thick cock into your sopping pussy.

your eyes widen at the overwhelming twinge of intrusion as toji feeds you every inch of his veiny girth— your hips having no choice but to drop into his lap and take his cock. watery tears prickle your eyes because it hurts so fucking good. he's the biggest you've ever had to fuck yourself on, bigger and wider than your boyfriend, twice as fat as he is long. but that doesn't stop you from levelling your weight down, letting your cunt sink and sink and sink, until finally he's so fucking deep that your clit is buried in his pubic hair and your ass is pressed up against his heavy balls.

"what's going on with this tight little pussy, mm? this guy not fuckin' you right, doll face?" he wolf whistles at the feeling of your cunt slobbering around him, desperately trying to accommodate his massive girth. "c'mon, move. don't sit there tremblin' on me like a fuckin' leaf."

"f-fuck, too much it's big- so big, mr. fushiguro-"

"can't take it a cock this grown, doll?"

“i-i don’t know-” you whimper, but you don’t want to lose. hiding your face onto his shoulder, pleasure surges through your veins, dopamine fogging your brain as you lift out of his lap until the tip of his cock pops on your entrance. a devastating, heavy drop of your hips that spears you on his weighty dick, building up a rhythm that has you whining and creaming all over toji's cock. images of the man you've been dating flashes through your mind before your thoughts are clouded by the single father of two fucking you towards an orgasm. your pussy gushes, the bulb of your plump clit rubbing against the hard ridges of his abdomen.

"you want my cum? want me to plug you up all nice and full?" he grunts out the question, his breath fanning hot across your cheeks in the dark shadows of his car.

"yuh-yes! want your cum, want you to plug me up! want you to give me a baby," you chant in a lusted moan, eyes rolling shut as he dips his head to your breasts where they've bounced out of the side of your tank top, suckling one of your nipples onto his tongue with a rough chuckle.

"woah now, who said anything about you havin' one of my rugrats? you like watching 'em that much?" he lifts a thick brow, but he would be lying if he said it didn't make his cock twitch inside of you. if it didn't make him rut his hips up into you with deep, low grunts in the depths of his chest. he bares his teeth, pinching your nipple between his sharp canines in a hard bite, throwing you off the edge—you drop your hips, cunt spreading around the base of his cock and creaming all over him as you cum, squirt dripping on his leather seats.

"fuck, oh fuck. you’re so tight, ain’t ya? you want my runts so bad, take every fuckin' drop of my cum, little slut, ‘n’ don’t complain about it,” his abdomen tightens at the feeling of your cunt spasming around him, his cock jerking as he heat washes over his body, shooting thick, wet ropes of seed into your cunt.

★ ⋆𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 ᨀ stranger!suguru, hookups, bathroom sex, cunnilingus, panty sniffing, tongue piercings.

he was dark and alluring, ensnaring your attention like a siren calling across the dance floor. you should have declined his offer to buy you a drink and he should have bid you goodnight when you told him you were taken, so how did you end up here?

"aren't you precious?" the stranger purrs breathily into the drum of your ear, breath the scent of cigs and mint as he advances on you, crowding you up against the cool sink. thankfully, the bathroom is clean and there is a lock on the door, hiding you away from your friends and their judgmental eyes. "you couldn't resist following me here, even though your friends are worried and there is someone waiting at home for you. i'll make your betrayal worthwhile, don't worry."

your breaths wheeze out in a fog, his accusation burning hot but the handsome stranger is reaching under the hem of your mini dress to soothe the sting of his words, slipping your panties down your thighs. there's a cheshire smirk on his thin lips, rows of perfect teeth gleaming in delight to find you dripping for him already— the fabric clinging to your folds, connected by sticky strings of slick.

"these are a nice pair- i hope you'll forgive me, pretty," he hums, inspecting the lace before gathering the damp panties in his hand and bundling them against his nose, an audible sniff snorting through the quiet that warms your cheeks in embarrassment. "you smell fucking divine, too. it's a shame that boyfriend of yours won't be able to take them off at the end of tonight."

they're your favorite set, navy blue fenty lace that you wore to boost your confidence. that you planned to seduce your beau into ripping off of you when you stumble in from the club. instead, here you are, heart beating behind your ribs in the dark corner of a bathroom as a complete stranger tucks your panties into the pocket of his black jeans.

"d-don't talk about him like that- and give those back! i don't even know your name," you hiss, irritation twisting your face at the nerve of this infuriatingly attractive no-name, but the raven-haired man looks unimpressed with your fervor as he circles his spindly hands around your hips and hoists you onto the sink, adjusting your thighs until one of your feet are propped up on the surface of the counter, spreading you wide for him.

"you'll know my name soon, don't worry," he promises, the rolling drawl of his lilt making you shiver. the cold air breezes relief against your bare, feverish cunt as he presses close to you, settling in between the space of your open legs. he trails hot kisses over the pulse point at your neck, where your perfume is sweetest. your head lolls to the side with a lustful sigh, eyes butterflying closed as his teeth nip against the skin of your collarbone.

you gasp when you feel his fingers slip between your legs to shift through your drooling slit, your leg accidentally jolting off of the counter as he draws teasing figure eights into your clit. arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, your fingertips caress the long inky ponytail waving down his back, accidentally untying the leather strip holding it together.

"o-oh, your fingers-" you gargle, a soft moan spitting from your lips. he draws the digit down your slit, pushing the long appendage into your pussy, curling it up on the slow drag out, combing along your walls.

"call a new name tonight, precious. suguru. say it and i'll give you whatever you need."

"s-suguru-" his name whines off your tongue so prettily as he fucks his finger into you languidly; your hips angle down, trying to suck it in deep and trapping his hand against the counter, but it's not enough— clamping down on it, but greedy for more. for a thicker stretch, for the cock you felt pressed up against you on the dance floor. you reach for the zipper of his jeans, but suguru angles his hips away with a tut. "i thought you said-"

"i promised i would give you what you need, pretty. not what you want," he says, and then he's dropping to his knees. he's so tall that his head is level with your pussy up on the counter. he hooks his hands under the seat of your ass and scoots you to the edge of the counter, until you're on the edge of his own personal dinner table. his dark, crescent eyes trained directly on the juices webbing your folds together and the sight of your hole, unstretched and eager for him. "let me open you up first."

his tongue swipes out, wetting his lips and you catch a glimpse of a silver jewel embedded in the pink flesh. glinting in the dim light of the bathroom— his tongue piercing and oh god, the sight of it has your cunt clenching around emptiness in want. he tilts his head forward, dark waves of hair falling like a smokescreen over his shoulders.

he spits on your pussy, a thick, bubbly glob of it trailing down your slit before he licks it up. long laps up your folds, the hard ball of his piercing making you squirm and gasp out, fingers sinking into his soft hair before you slip down to his ears, pressing your fingertips to the black gauges hooked in the lobes— causing him to suck in a sharp breath. suguru's lips are warm and wet, skilled as he secures a soft suck around your clit that draws your vision to a cross.

"oh my-"

"you like that, do you?" he smiles, eyes shaping to moons in glee— burying his head between your legs. he massages his piercing against your clit. hot stimulation and wet kisses over your cunt as the bass of club music thrums behind the bathroom door, stiffening his tongue for a harder lick. he swipes a few times against your clit until it swells, sweeping his tongue to your hole, curling his tongue inside to taste where you're leaking the most.

"i-i like it so much, sugu-" you moan and the shortened sound of his name on your tongue makes him snarl, roping his arms around your thighs and hooking you open for him. renewed in the way he slurps up the clear slick drooling out of your cunt before fucking it back in, the squish of his tongue flicking against your walls turning you limp— flaming your sensitive nerves with each heavy swipe. the sharp line of his perfect nose bumps your clit, sweet friction that has you drooping back against the sink mirror, widening your legs shamelessly.

"can't believe you're letting a stranger eat out a pussy this sweet- wonder if you'll let me fuck it too," you feel like sobbing at the thought of being filled with his cock. your cunt squeezes his tongue desperately and he draws back, up to your clit where you're most sensitive at. putty in his grasp as he pulls the swollen nub onto his tongue, suctioning you in deep until you feel an orgasm tingling in your lower belly.

"i'm going to cum, suguru-" you whistle out breathlessly, clawing at his scalp. he grunts and pries your cunt apart with three wide fingers.

"what are you waiting for, pretty? cum for me." it's not the cock you wanted, but his fingers are experienced— curling out and prodding in deep, switching and spreading until they push right against that sweet spot inside of you.

"o-oh-" gut lurching, your orgasm bubbles up fast as suguru fucks that spot until you cum, cunt pulsing rapidly. you sink, nerves raw and thighs shaking.

you're still tingling when he stands to his feet, his chin and nose covered in your slick. the handsome stranger rubs his fingers along your lips until you part them and suck them onto your tongue, eyes fluttering closed as you taste yourself on his skin. suguru unlinks his belt and your heart dips in lust at the sound of it.

"clean me up and i'll give you my cock up next, pretty girl."

★ ⋆ 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢 + 𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢 𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐣𝐢 ᨀ best friend!au, no cheating, threesome, spitroasting, cum eating.

"you ever wondered what it would be like if we fucked each other?" yuuji joked, and though you and megumi swatted at him and berated his bad humor, you never expected a normal saturday night with your best friends to end up like this. with yuuji's tongue down your throat and megumi's lips on your breasts while the two of them fucked into each other's hands.

megumi knows that he should say something— he should say that what the three of you are doing is wrong. you're all best friends, empty red solo cups litter the floor of itadori's funky bedroom, but his mind is too full of cotton and cheap booze and he is entranced.

there is no way he can tear those jadestone green eyes away from the way you're begging for both of their cocks, from the way you writhe and whine on the bed as megumi and yuuji both play with your puffy clit, their fingers bumping against each other's clumsily while they fuck you.

you feel overwhelmed, overstimulated on both ends. the plump peach of your ass jiggles against fushiguro's tapered hips as he humps his cock into your pussy from behind, your breasts bouncing lewdly underneath your arched body as you suck yuuji's cock up front.

"'gumi, yuu- please! c-can't take it anymore!" you feel like crying, but the sound chokes off into a needy gasp as megumi's long cock drags through your walls at the right angle, his cockhead fucking against that gummy patch deep inside of you. you need them to cum— to give you a break. you never expected your sweet friends to fuck you like this.

megumi huffs, sweat beading down his neck as his fingers pet and rub quick against your swollen, sore clit. almost sobbing when your soft walls clamp down on him so tight that he fights to pull out.

"i'm gonna cum soon, but f-fuck- stop fucking clenching around me like that, stop-" megumi's raspy whine is guttural, yanking his cock out suddenly to stave off the burning orgasm at the base, watching the way your cunt pulses around emptiness, stretched and pretty, before he feeds it back in.

"fushiguro's cock feeling good down there, babe? hitting all the right spots?" your strawberry-haired friend groans out, neck blotchy with blush and shuddering as you flick your tongue over the seam of his balls. his heavy cock bumps against your cheek, smearing precum all over your foundation before you slack your jaw and suck him back into your mouth. you grasp his hipbones desperately to fuck his cock deeper down your throat. yuuji is painfully thick, stretching a dirty twinge in your jaw while megumi is long, spearing your puffy walls until your cunt aches with pleasure, nerves flipped inside out with each rolling thrust of their cocks.

neither of them expect you to answer the question the way that you do— reaching between your wet thighs, fingers bumping megumi's cock where it squelches in and out of your hole, you scoop sticky cream onto two fingers and show the drizzle proudly to the two boys drilling you. their groans reverberate on each end of you as they fuck you harder.

if you didn't feel overwhelmed with the white hot licks of sensation scorching a trail through your body, you would be embarrassed letting your two best friends see you like this— creaming and drooling all over them.

"i-itadori, don't do that-" megumi suddenly hisses, hips stuttering as his cock thickens out. his fingernails cut bruises into the soft flesh of your ass as he watches yuuji bring your hand to his lips, wrapping them around your fingers to shamelessly suck the combined mixture of you and megumi's cum from the digits.

"fuuuuck, f-fuck! why d'you two taste so-" yuuji cries in a mumble around your fingers, tongue lapping against your fingertips for more. it's not your pretty little mouth caving his stomach inward with the way you suck his cock, but the bittersweet taste of his two best friends' cum bursting over his tastebuds that sends yuuji over the edge first— ropes of warm cum shooting into your mouth without warning, kicking a pained grunt out of the male's chest. you choke, drawing back to suckle the tip greedily as he feeds you his cum. "fuck, babe-"

“itadori, move.”

yuuji is barely on the comedown before megumi's fisting a hand into your hair and tearing your mouth away from his friend's flagging cock, chasing the burning deep in his own gut as he suddenly flips you onto your back. he presses your legs to your torso, feet brushing his shoulders until you're folded in half beneath him and your creamy cunt is open wide for him, a pitiful wheeze squeaking out of your mouth—

"m-megumi-"

the male wraps his fingers around the base, fumbling with it because it's drenched and slippery in your juices as he lines his cock back up with your pussy, fucking in so quick that you cough and scrabble to grab for yuuji, as if he can save you from the force of megumi's fucking. but your other friend is no help, stretching out on the bed next to you and shifting through the wetness between your folds to rub your clit.

"b-boys, i'm so close! please please please! wan'... wan' you both to make me cum!" you beg, thighs trembling violently against your chest and expression twisted in full bliss as yuuji pats wetly at your squishy clit while megumi fucks you out so good that tears spill hotly, blurring your vision as you cum, gushing so wet that you soak the bed. clawing at their arms and screaming their names so loud it makes megumi clamp a hand over your mouth. the latter is only two thrusts behind you, painting your insides with thick globs of seed that oozes out of you embarrassingly when he pulls out.

"i-i'll get a towel," megumi breathes, sitting back on his haunches. his cheeks turn a rosy shade as he surveys the wreckage of his two best friends in the afterglow. it’s disgusting to megumi how the two of you are able to rest on top of soaked sheets, yuuji’s cock flagged and megumi’s cum funneling out of your used cunt. but neither of you are letting him run, your and yuuji’s fingers wrapping around each of his wrists and pulling him on the other side of you.

"or you could come cuddle me instead?"

yuuji did not need any convincing, but both boys can’t find it in themselves to move an inch when your breasts are the softest pillows their heads have ever touched.

꒰ @shadowsorceress ⋆ @izu-fi ⋆ @fushisslut ⋆ @atsumeii ⋆ @yuujispinkhair ꒱

I’m not dead. This is an incredibly niche market, I know, and not what’s typical for this blog, but it’s here and it’s here to stay. L honestly deserves more x reader stuff and if I’m the one who has to encourage it I’ll be the one to do it.

Am I Invited?

Your boyfriend was an odd man.

You were quite fond of him, but the fact that he was far from normal was emphasized by anyone and everyone he was willing to meet in person. Even if those who had seen him had decided to hold their tongues, you would have known how odd he was. When you had met him, you had understood that much; you had been a highschool senior, he a year younger, and the only reason you had met him at all was because he and who you assumed was his father had come to the coffee shop in which you worked. He had worn a mask obscuring his mouth– his father had claimed that it was due to a cold– and he had not spoken a word to you, instead studying you silently as you filled the order for them. Despite disheveled black hair and dark circles, he was pretty in a quiet, Victorian way, and you had a desire to speak to him in part because of how little he seemed to get out.

He was there, apparently, to study. He had been ordered a cup of coffee with ten or so spoonfuls of sugar– you had decided his father seemed not to be the type to make that sort of joke, and so you had made it as asked. When you brought him his drink, you decided to make a move.

“Here’s your sugar with coffee,” you had teased, placing the cup and a parcel in front of him.

He had stared at you a moment, scrutinizing you, before averting his eyes.

Awkward, you had cleared your throat. “Hey, man, I’m hardly one to talk.” You had smiled. “I can barely handle coffee without a mountain of add-ons. I’m a pussy; I drink tea.” Clearing your throat, you gestured to the paper bag. “That’s on the house, by the by. I hope you aren’t allergic; those cookies are the best thing we sell.”

On your word, he pulled the pastry from the bag: a simple peanut butter cookie by all accounts. Wordlessly, he broke off a piece and handed it to you.

It took you a second to understand what he was doing. “Oh, no, I couldn't possibly.” You put your hand up in protest. “It’s yours.”

He did not remove his hand.

You glanced around, awkward before taking the piece and popping it into your mouth. You were hardly opposed to cookies. Your smile grew meak. “What,” you laughed, “think I’d give you a bad cookie?” You tried to regain your confidence. “You wound me”

You were startled by how clear his voice was. “No, that’s not it.” He pulled down the mask, taking a bite out of the confectionery, swallowing quickly, and pulling his mask back up. “I was just checking something.”

“Oh.” You nodded, confused.

He took another bite of the cookie, uncomfortably nonchalant. “This is quite a good cookie. Is it made here?”

Your eyes shift to the side, any assuredness you had gone. He was studying you. “They’re made on-site, yeah.” You resisted the urge to slide your hands into your pockets. “The recipe’s ours, too.”

“Is it old?”

“The recipe? Yeah.”

There was silence.

It dawned on you how oddly he sat. He was not so much sitting, in fact, as he was crouched on the chair, feet flat against the seat. If it was a struggle to balance in such an unnatural position, he did a good job of hiding any difficulties he had maintaining it.

You slid into the chair across from him. It was a slow day anyhow. “This is a small town,” you pointed out. “We don’t get many new faces.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“How so?” You rested your head on your hand, quietly satisfied at his letting you sit.

He shrugged. “I would assume it would be bad for business.”

“People like the atmosphere.”

“Sure,” he pointed out, “but I would imagine that you would want to have as many customers as possible.”

“Not necessarily.” You smiled. “If the atmosphere changed the people who come in would probably stop or complain if they didn’t have personal ties to the place itself. That’s not good for business either.”

“I suppose.”

Talking to him was a bit like pulling teeth. You took it he was not approached like this often. “Are you going to school nearby?”

“Why do you ask?”

You gesture to the folders stacked next to him. “I assumed that was for a project.”

He considered what you said for a moment too long. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Journalistic writing would count, I suppose.”

“Sounds like a blast. What on?”

He took a sip from his coffee. “Homicide case.”

Your smile widened. “So I was right. Which one?”

“You wouldn’t have heard of it.” He reached over seemingly absentmindedly, finger peeling at a corner of the topmost folder and letting it spring back into place. “It’s recent.”

“Try me.”

He stared at you for a moment, sizing you up. “Why do you want to know about it?”

“I dunno.” You shrank a bit under his gaze. “I want you to keep talking, I guess.”

He blinked, his head cocking to the side ever so slightly. “Why?” His voice was softer than before.

“I like it.” You forced confidence forward. “You have a nice voice, and I think you’re attractive, and you seem interesting.”

That was how you got his number.

The only time he ate decently was when you saw him. You knew this because he had lost weight; whenever he lost weight, it was because he had not eaten well enough or was stressed over his work or the news. He was doing both, you were sure, and though you had little time with him before he would fly back off to who knows where you were hardly about to let him leave on an empty stomach.

You saw him less than when you were younger. You never saw him much before– not as much as you had the first month you two had “been together”-- but weekends turned into single days, and once a week turned into twice a month. You never said anything. You doubted he was getting on with someone else; he did not seem the type, despite what your friends had to say on the matter. What did they know? They had hardly spoken a dozen words with him. You did not even mind much. You could survive without him comfortably enough.

He would not stop staring at the television screen. You were sure his eyes would roll out of his head from how long he paid attention to it. International news. Not that he did not know any of what was being said anyhow— he always seemed to know exactly what was going on in the world at a given moment— but he never wanted it off. Even as you set a bowl of stew in front of him, he barely glanced over at you long enough to register it.

You sat down next to him, tapping him on the side of the head as you dug into your own bowl. “Soup’s up,” you tell him, turning down the television. “You’ll waste away if you don’t eat.”

“Will I?”

You smiled, taking the bait. “You will. Your body will shut down and go into cardiac arrest and I’ll have to call the ambulance to come to drag you off.”

He did not smile much these days, but something like it tugged at his lips. “Oh, you don’t say?”

“I do.” You took another bite of your stew. “And with how much work you do it’ll kill you, and I can’t afford to help chip in much for the funeral, so it’ll be a shitty little thing and you’ll be made fun of it for it by the other dead people.”

He balanced a chunk of meat from his stew, watching so it would not fall. “Oh, so there are more dead people now.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you wave him off. “Of course, there are more dead people.”

“Of course.” The spoon was slid into his mouth.

“Of course.”

The spoon came out clean. With a quiet hum of satisfaction, he began to eat. “‘Ts good,” he said around his food.”

“It’s beef.”

“I’m a fan.”

You nodded. “Good. You’ve gotten uncharacteristically thin.”

“Rapid weight loss is often a symptom of high anxiety.” He swallowed. “That’s probably why.”

You took another bite of stew. “Work?”

“Work,” he confirmed.

“What is it now?”

He paused. “How to put it…” He swallowed another spoonful. “An issue’s come up and neither I nor anyone in my department quite understands what it is. It is unlike anything we have ever had to deal with in the past, and despite how many resources are being put into solving the problem, we are no closer to a solution.”

“What sort of problem?”

“That’s the question.”

You blinked. “So is it a problem or not?”

He smiled dryly. “It’s certainly causing trouble, but it’s difficult to define, seeing as I hardly know exactly what it is outside of the fact that it has seemingly infiltrated every corner of the company.”

You take another bite of stew. “You really should quit,” you swallowed. “Your job, I mean. It’s bad for you.”

He considered it. “It would probably be better on my health, but I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Because it is one of the very few things that give my life meaning.” He picked up the bowl, tipping his head back and drinking the rest of its contents. “I have no other skills outside of my job, you understand; I would be essentially nothing without it.”

It was odd how he described what he did. He never told you what it was, exactly, but he always talked as though whatever it was was an integral part of himself, like it was more than just a job. You knew enough not to ask; he had always been secretive in this regard, and you knew it would do you little good to pry. “That’s not fair.”

“It is.”

“That’s not true.” You smiled. “Personally, with or without your job, I think you’re pretty great. And if it’s as big as you make it out to be, I’m sure someone else would hire you if that was what you wanted.”

He pursed his lips. “I’m not sure that’s even something I would want,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “Again, it is essentially my whole life, what I do.”

“But it doesn’t have to be is my point.” You let your head rest on the back of the couch. “You can do whatever. You’re still pretty young; the world’s your oyster.”

“Shakespeare.”

“Hm?”

“That idiom. It’s Shakespeare.”

“What, really?” You smiled. “See? You could go into etymology if you wanted.”

He chuckled. “I think I may go insane if I did that.”

“Oh come on,” you push him gently. “It’s not that boring.”

“I would disagree.”

You give him a look. “Then how come you know where it comes from, wise guy?”

“I had to read Merry Wives of Windsor.”

“Oh.”

He watched you curiously. “Why are you making a face?”

Your cheeks heated up. “I’m not making a face!”

“You are, as a matter of fact.”

“It’s just like why?”

“Oh, it was hardly by choice.” He shrugged. “My caretakers insisted. Personally, I’ve never been much a fan, but it would hardly make sense if I did not pick up on at least some of it.”

“Bastards.” You stuck your hands in your pockets, settling in. “What else did they make you read?”

He thought for a moment. “Well, all of Shakespeare–”

“The fuck you mean all of Shakespeare?”

He blinked. “What do you mean what do I mean?”

“How many things has Shakespeare written?”

“Surprisingly few.” He very quickly seemed to tally on his hands. “Thirty-seven is the generally accepted number, I believe.”

“That’s a lot!”

“I’m well aware. I didn’t enjoy it much at the time.” He settled in next to you, leaning his body against yours. “But apparently an extensive knowledge of English literature was vital to my education.”

You draped an arm across his shoulders. “Your caretakers are just the lives of the party, aren’t they?”

“I don’t believe they’ve ever attended one.”

“Look at you, being snarky.” You leaned into him. “I’m so proud.”

He reached over, pulling you into his lap. “I can be snarky.”

“So has been demonstrated.”

“I can be snarky generally too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You learned very early on that when dating your odd boyfriend you were best to not ask too many questions. Not about work, not about his personal life outside of you, not even about where he stayed when he was not with you. You had never been to his place, never seen it. He went away a lot for his job, and the two of you talked a lot on the phone, but you had learned from how little he volunteered information to not ask him to divulge too much to you. In exchange, as a way of keeping things fair, he never asked too many questions about your life, never commented on your home or your loved ones unless asked, and gifted you hush money—which he never called hush money but always felt like it for how much of it you received— and offered you an unusual amount of legal expertise.

Your conclusion: your boyfriend was some sort of government worker/spy/lawyer.

“You know I’m using you, right?”

You looked up from your phone. The night of that conversation— the last conversation you have had with him, about two months ago— was on the last night of his week-long stay at your place. You had gone out of your way to make him good food before he went back to his diet of carbs and nothing else. He had been quiet all day, fidgeting more than usual, clingier than what was typical. You had asked him about it throughout the day, but he always brushed it off. “Hm?”

He had that look in his eyes that he did when you first met, that cold, calculating stare that made you feel like a patient on an operating table. He repeated the question.

You set the device face down on the table. “Use how?”

“Emotionally. Physically. Psychologically.”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “I wouldn’t say using—“

“You should if you don’t. It’s the appropriate word.”

You leaned against your hand, elbow on the table. “What’s your definition of use?”

“Any, really.” His shrug, a mirror of your own, was stiff. “For our purposes, let’s define the term as ‘to exploit one for one’s own advantage.’”

You could play this game. You laced your fingers together, leaning forward. “And how would you define exploiting, love?”

“‘To use in an unfair and selfish way.’”

“You would consider yourself selfish?”

“Impossibly so.” He never looked away from you, then. “Incredibly so. Our relationship is largely one-sided.”

You swallowed. You knew he noticed. “How so?”

He considered the question, eyes lowering ever so briefly before meeting yours again. “Well, it’s fair to say that you’re a caring partner. You’ve provided for my every emotional need for the past five years, you’ve let me stay in your home, you’ve cooked for me, cared to remind me of my humanity.” He folded his arms on top of his knees. “And in return for your unflinching hospitality I’ve largely neglected you; I’ve refused to tell you anything meaningful about my upbringing or my work or even who I associate with. I’m not traditionally attractive— I understand,” he cut off your protest, “that beauty is subjective but for our purposes, I’m not objectively beautiful— and I haven’t so much as let you stay with me. I only spend time with you for a week every two months or so, which is ridiculous considering how long we’ve known each other. Any reasonable person would be right to leave.”

You shifted in your chair, eyes focused on your fork.

“Why are we still in a relationship?”

“I like you.” You shrugged, picking up the plastic utensil and turning it over in your fingers. “I’m allowed to like you, aren’t I?”

He exhaled, a poor imitation of a chuckle. “I can’t imagine it goes much farther than a skewed cost-benefit analysis.”

“So what if it doesn’t?”

“That’s incredibly foolish of you.”

“So what if it is?”

“Don’t you find an issue in that?”

“So what if I don’t?”

He opened his mouth, sighed, looked down. He mumbled something.

“Pardon?”

“You don’t even know my name.”

You stopped your fiddling. “You’ve never offered it.”

“That’s my point.”

You inhaled slowly, trying not to get yourself riled up. “Are you trying to break up with me?”

“No.” The response was immediate.

“Why are you telling me all this, then?”

He paused.

“That’s what it sounds like.”

“Do you have any idea what I do?”

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. “I mean,” you sighed, “I have something like an idea.”

His eyes are not cold like they were before. Dull, maybe, but that was nothing new. “Take a guess.”

“I dunno.” You buzzed your lips. “Spy? Government worker? Assassin?”

His lips twitched upwards. “Assassin?”

“Hey, you asked!”

He smiled. “Let’s go with that.”

“What, you're an assassin?”

“Sure.” He leaned forward. “I’ve been asked to kill someone very important.”

You blinked. “I got it right?”

“No, but the comparison is somewhat apt.” He chewed on his thumb nail absently. “I’ve been tasked to kill someone very important. Because I’m killing someone very important, I’m going to be in a lot of danger.”

“Are they a dick at least?”

“I’m being serious.”

You crossed your arms behind your head, trying to relax. “If you’re an assassin, aren’t you always in danger?”

“This particular person is unusually dangerous.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“And because I’m going to be in a lot of danger, I may never see you again.” He broke eye contact. “I’m unable to get out of this, and this person has to die.”

You swallow. “Sure.”

“If I don’t get in contact with you for a month, I want you to assume that I’ve broken up with you.”

“And if I don’t agree?”

He sighed. “I can’t exactly force you to, can I? But you will be setting yourself up for disappointment.”

You looked up at the ceiling. “Am I invited to the funeral, at least?”

He considered the question. “Yes.”

You swallow again, hating the taste in your mouth. “Okay.”

He looked at you again. “Would you mind too terribly if I came over there?”

You said nothing. Your voice would crack if you did.

He took your silence as a no, standing from his awkward posture and kneeling at your feet. He placed his head on your lap, looking up at you. “May I have your hand?”

You let one of your arms down.

His hand was shaking as the fingers interlaced with yours. “I highly doubt that anything will happen. It never has before.”

Your eyes slid shut. You did not want to cry.

“I just want you to be prepared if something does.”

You never saw him again after that night.

Previous Works

Honestly a Catboy Feitan is not something I knew I needed but now I just want more~

His Obedient Pet

A Catboy Feitan x Reader

Warnings: Dubcon, Hybrid Feitan, Cruel treatment of the reader.

Description: Your hybrid proves once again just how unruly he can be.

All you really wanted to do was collapse into your fluffy black bed covers and take a blissful nap. Work had a way of draining every last drop of energy you had in your body, leaving no room for your own hobbies or activities. Asking for shorter hours wasn’t really an option, as you needed all the money you got from your job and raises were far and few between. Your life had shrunk in a massive way ever since moving out of your parents house with you quickly realizing just how much you had really relied on them. They lived too far away to really help you out with anything you needed and you refused to call them just to ask for money. You were alone in the world now or at least almost alone.

You entered your small shitty apartment, tossing your bag that contained your work clothes onto the floor near the front entrance that leads into the kitchen. The apartment was tiny with only three rooms, a bathroom, a bedroom, and the kitchen. The kitchen and bedroom were barely separated by a curtain you had placed over the doorway to make it feel a little more closed off.

Exhaustion didn't even begin to describe how you were feeling, but you knew better than to think you could just call it a day and hop into bed. You were the owner of a sweet little cat after all, and you would have to make up for being away all day.

“Fei!” You called out into your small apartment, slowly pulling off your jacket to hang it up onto the wall. You felt bad leaving him here every day with nothing to do and you promised him that things would get better, but he didn’t care for your excuses. He showed you just how annoyed he was by knocking your things over while you were gone and tearing at your curtain, but he had never been a nice cat.

You remember when your mother got him for you when you were young, growing up with him was like having a personal bully following you around. Especially when he was young, he would mock and bother you, pulling at your hair and taking your things. Even as a kitten, he was stronger than you and when you tried to get a trainer, he flipped out, not wanting to be near other people. He only got worse as the two of you grew up, while you could manage your hormones to the best of your abilities, cat hybrids were not able to cope so well with their coming of age. That’s when he began to destroy stuff out of stress and anger, stealing your clothing and hiding it from you, only to find it ripped up and stuffed in some hidden corner of the house. Your mother had brought up sending him away to a training school while he finished growing and as much as that idea hurt you, you knew it was for the best. Both you and Feitan were suffering due to his lack of control and it would only be a matter of time till something bad happened if he wasn’t taken away for a while.

A few years went past and on your nineteenth birthday, your parents brought up the idea of having Feitan come back home to be with you again. There was the small worry that he would still be a bit chaotic since he didn’t get the same amount of time in the training center as usual cat hybrids did, but he was almost fully grown by now and really at his age, should have been home with his family. You were ecstatic at the idea of having Fei come back home to you, it had been so long since you had seen him, but you were worried he wouldn't remember you or would hold a grudge. Turns out, you were right about that.

Feitan’s return was nothing like you had hoped for. The first thing you noticed about him was his demeanor, it hadn’t gotten much better from when he was younger, still brooding and dark as always. While he didn’t seem upset to be home, it wasn't much of a celebration and Feitan made it clear that he wasn’t some well trained hybrid now that you had sent him off to training school. In fact, all he had learned was now that he was free he didn’t have to hold back his urges anymore. He quickly became aggressive and pushy with you, following you around and muttering under his breath as he did so. He would stalk you as you made your way to your room after college classes and shove you down into your comforter, filling you up as many times as he pleased while spitting toxicity into your ear about how you had left him and how you better not leave him again. Heats were the worst due to how vicious and needy Feitan would become, demanding your body and attention whenever he wanted it.

You had many friends who had hybrids and this type of behavior was nowhere near normal, you were sure of that. It was the lack of training from a young age that had allowed sweet little Fei to become the menace he is now. Your parents had worried for you when you told them you were moving out and bringing Feitan with you, they knew how horrendous he could be and having him all alone in your apartment would be miserable for both of you, but you knew leaving Feitan again would be a disaster. Just like every time you tried to take a vacation for more than one night and you came back to a mess to clean up. Even after everything he had done, you couldn't bring yourself to hate him, it wasn’t his fault.

Shuffling was audible from your bedroom and after a moment the curtain was pushed aside and Feitan stood in the doorway, ears flicking in irritation.

“Did you bring food?” His cat-like eyes narrowed in on you as you sighed and turned towards him. It wasn’t often that the first thing Feitan said to you when you got home wasn’t asking you for something. He was awfully needy for how quiet and independent he was, always expecting something from you.

“No, Fei…we don’t have that type of money. I will make us some ramen, okay?” You soothed slightly, flinching when the cat hybrid scoffed in your direction, his ears twitching.

“Gross.”

He turned back around and disappeared back into the small bedroom, leaving you alone once again.

You then shuffled around the kitchen for the next twenty minutes, heating up water and putting the noodles into the pot to cook. Food choices were few and far between and you felt guilty for making him eat the same food every day, but you really couldn’t afford anything else at the moment. If only he would agree to stay with your parents while you looked for a better job. He would never agree to that. One of these days you would skip lunch at work and buy some cheap salmon to make for him, maybe that would brighten his mood up a little bit. You finished cooking the noodles and poured the chicken powder into the pot to mix with it, stirring it before pouring it into two separate bowls.

“Fei! Dinners ready.” You called out, sitting at the tiny little table you managed to squeeze into your apartment and setting the two bowls down on separate sides of the table. Dinner was silent like usual, with Feitan finishing his bowl quickly and leaving the kitchen again, returning to the bedroom. It was depressing to say the least, knowing he probably spent all his time inside your bedroom reading or doing god knows what. You were just hoping that when you went in there today, there wouldn’t be a mess for you to clean up.

Finishing your noodles, you cleaned the two bowls and put them in the sink for the next day, you were sure you’d get around to cleaning them tomorrow. Shuffling towards your bedroom and pushing the curtain open, you were met with a decently clean room, almost the same as you had left it that morning, except for one thing. The drawers to your dresser had been pulled open and left that way, a few pairs of panties tossed to the side and left a stray on the floor. Sighing and making your way over to the dresser, you began to put the clothes back in their place and push all the drawers closed until you noticed a shadow beginning to loom over you. You turned your head to see Feitan standing over your, lip raised in annoyance and tailing swishing around in aggravation.

“What are you doing?” His tone was condescending and cruel, as if you were doing something offensive somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. You were used to Feitan's foul or harsh behavior, but this kind of aggression was usually saved for when he was really upset or wanted you for something.

“I’m just cleaning up the mess..”.

You prayed that he would just back up and leave you be, but you knew better than that.

Feitan’s eyes narrowed in on your crouched form and he reached down, grabbing your upper arm and pulling you up.

“You always forget. So neglectful.” He was mocking you even if his tone was close to monotone, he knew how hard you tried to make life better for the two of you and it wasn’t like he wasn’t grateful, he just preferred you guilty and ashamed. His grip was very strong despite his short stature and he pulled you towards the bed without much care for the way you were stumbling and pulling at his hand.

“Fei- I’m tired..”, You pleaded with the cat hybrid, pulling at his fingers that were gripped around your arm, leaving red imprints in your skin. Feitan ignored your begging and tossed you sideways onto the bed before climbing on top of you, arms caging you in on either side. One of his knees found its way between your legs, forcing them open while the other leg pressed against your hip. Sometimes you wondered if sending him off to the training center had only made him worse, because now he felt that he had something to hold over your head and he had an excuse for his behavior.

“Don’t care, just lay there then.” He muttered and brought his hands to the bottom of your shirt, peeling it upwards. You begrudgingly lift your arms up for him, allowing the shirt to be pulled up and over your head. Feitan hated bras, he made that clear to you time and time again when he struggled to unclip them, getting more and more impatient as time went on. This time was no different as he visibly looked annoyed by the existence of the garment.

“ Take it off or I’m going to rip it.” He instructed you, way too short tempered to even attempt to remove it himself.

“You said I would just have to lay here..”

Feitan’s knee pressed up against your crotch and made squirm, slowly sitting up to unclip the back of your bra for him. The moment you pulled the last strap off your arm, he pushed your back down onto the bedding and attached his lips to one of your buds. His sharp teeth grazed the sensitive skin slightly before he began to suck on it, tongue pressing flat against your hardening nipple. You knew there was no escaping Feitan when he was in heat, so you slowly combed your hand into his black hair, gripping it between your fingers. One of his hands moved from beside you to grab your other breast, squeezing and massaging whatever he could in his hand before rubbing the nipple with his thumb. He continued to suck on your other nipple while he used his thumb and pointer finger to take your nipple between them and give it a harsh tug. Your grip in his hair tightens quickly, whines jumping from your lips in response to the harsh treatment.

He switched sides, taking the stinging nipple in his mouth and soothing it with his tongue, while massaging your other tit. The assault on your chest ends with another harsh tug on your nipple and him running his tongue along your other one one more time before pulling away and beginning to work at the buttons of your pants.

“Tomorrow, wear a skirt. It’ll be easier for me.”

You can’t deny him and you know that, he will remember telling you to wear a skirt and if you don’t follow his instructions he will make things much rougher for you. Even with his short temper, he was being rather calm with you right now, even taking his time on you.

He tugs your pants off and away from your legs, moving around to get them completely off you. He’s about to go for your panties when you reach up and grab his shirt, stopping him in his tracks and earning a glare from him.

“Wait- take this off…”.

Feitan rolls his eyes slightly but bends to your will anyways and pulls off his t-shirt, revealing his toned chest to you. He’s quick to get back to what he was doing before, this time being a bit slower. He peels your panties off your body and grips your thighs, spreading your legs apart before moving down to become level with your pussy. Feitan isn’t always this into any kind of foreplay and it's a bit shocking just how much self control he is practicing.

His lips meet the inside of one of your thighs and he softly peppers it with kisses before sliding his tongue up towards your heat. He pulls away before reaching your crotch and positions his face right in front of your wet hole, chuckling softly at the way you're already completely soaked by just the small amount of foreplay. Pressing his tongue to the bottom of your cunt, he drags it through your soaked slit, collecting as much of your juices as he can before flicking your clit with his tongue. Your whines only egg him on and he quickly dives back in for more, this time choosing to simply devour your cunt instead of teasing you.

He eats you out as if you're the only thing he's tasted in days, sucking harshly on your clit and hole. He adores the way you arch your back and he forces your legs down, stopping you from closing your legs around his head. Your stomach is tightening in response to his tongue pushing itself into your and flicking at your bud. You're whimpering his name and he knows your orgasm is close. It comes crashing over you in a wave, drenching his face and mouth in juices.

The way he lifts his head up to look at you, licking as much of the cum around his mouth makes your stomach drop. He uses his shirt to wipe his face before smirking at your tired and fucked out expression, you always look so stupid and cute after you’ve cum.

“Mine.”

He comments slyly, slapping your clit suddenly and making you gasp out. His possessive streak always comes out during sex at some point. The dark hair hybrid stops and looks down at your heaving chest in thought, ears flicking slightly. You wonder exactly what he's thinking about, but it doesn’t take much time for him to let you know.

“Both legs on my shoulders, now.” He scoots closer between your legs, grabbing your calves and bringing them up to his shoulders, eyes narrowing in on your face.

“Keep them there.”

With that, he begins to unzip his pants, freeing his cock from his boxers. It's already dripping with precum and he leans forward, rubbing the tip against your pussy. Your breath hitches. He brings one hand up to grip one of your legs while the other grabs your hips to steady you.

“Keep your leg on my shoulder, or I’ll hold you upside down.”

He reaches over to your other leg and tugs it tight against his shoulder before switching back to hold the other one. In seconds, he's bottomed into you, pulling a loud cry from your lips. He's chosen the position he thinks he can get as deep as possible with and he finds success with the way tears begin to run down your flushed face. Triumph combined with the initial pleasure flows over him and his grip on your hip tightens. He leans down towards you.

“Who owns you?”

“Y-You do..Feitan..”

He makes a snapping sound with his tongue as he pulls away from you, satisfied with your answer. His cock is pulled all the way out of you again, only the tip resting in your hole before it's slammed back inside of you. The pace he sets is brutal and relentless and you do your best to tighten your legs around his shoulders.

Feitan never moans out, instead his pleasure comes out in restrained grunts. He prefers to listen to your whimpers and moans that echo through the small apartment, mixed with the sound of skin slapping against each other. He’s slamming into your g-spot with every thrust and it's impossible for you to keep your cries silent, the overwhelming sensation repeating itself every second. Your stomach is already tightening again due to the impending orgasm and with how Feitan’s gritting his teeth, you know he's close as well.

You cum first, all over his v-line and thighs. He continues his pace, chasing his high before releasing his seed inside of you, filling you with his warmth. You finally allow your leg to drop off his shoulder and he releases the other one, catching his breath quietly while watching his cum drip out of your cunt onto the bed sheets. It's satisfying to him and he could watch it hundreds of times without being bored.

“Ironic.”

He reaches down and runs the pad of his finger through your pussy. You quiver in return.

“Who’s really the pet here?”

a reminder

sometimes the first of the fauti harbingers, the director, need to remind those that are below him in rank who is really in charge, who holds all the cards, and who fucks their favorite little attendant the best. as a reminder.

contents: pierro x reader, childe x reader, fauti agent!reader who is afab and gender neutral, Dubcon, Power Imbalance (Reader cannot say no to their boss/leader/almost religious figure but is enjoying themselves), fingering, oral (reader to character), rough sex, biting, marking, reader is referred to as a 'beautiful' and a 'toy', reader is described as smaller than Pierro but no other terms are used, Childe Gets Cucked(tm)

a/n: this took me a really long time and has made me super anxious but fuck it. we ball. i hope you enjoy it, i'm pleased that i managed to keep going with it when my brain told me to quit.

Tartaglia, the youngest harbinger, sometimes should be brought in line. He is never egregious in his actions nor is his loyalty ever doubted but all must be reminded of their place.

That is what Pierro, the first and leader of the harbingers, believes and it is what spurred him into action this evening.

Of course he noticed how Tartagila chased you, hunting you down at any moment to tease and torment you. It was no secret to anyone else either, that you were the favored attendant of the 11th harbinger, that he touched you whenever he pleased, tugged at your clothes to catch a glimpse of you, pulled on your hair, and always had his eyes set on you the moment you appeared in the room. You were his distraction and it was becoming something of a nuisance- especially when Tartagila would pout if you were assigned somewhere else for too long or when he was denied permission to take you abroad.  

It wasn’t as clear if you returned those affections either, because even if you didn’t there isn’t a possibility you’d ever deny one of the harbingers something they wanted. When Tartaglia touches you too much or asks you a risque question, you light up red and stammer out a placating response. Pierro wondered if Childe had ever coerced you to his bed and claimed you yet– for surely if he wanted to he could have you. You had no right to say no, to him or to any of the Harbingers. 

Which is how you ended up in this predicament, standing before him. Your expression partially was hidden with the mask you wore, as all of your station did, but your lip trembled. You would never refuse Pierro, the first Harbinger and the one all answer to. When he first addressed you and ordered you to his office, to say you were terrified would be putting it lightly. The fearful and worried glances that your co-workers cast at you. The atmosphere chilled you more than any ice in the Tsarita’s realm but like a good, loyal member of the Fauti you nodded and replied with a quiet “Yes, My lord.”

What were his intentions with you in the beginning? He had wanted to punish Tartagila for getting too loud, too cocky, a reminder of the low rank he placed. To get rid of you, to harm you, or give you away as a reminder of his place in the pecking order.

But there is something to you, Pierro notes. Perhaps he can find himself agreeing with Childe’s infatuation with you, as he examines the nervousness in your form and the curve of your body even in the uniform.

His intentions change drastically the moment you stepped into his office and the door had shut close. 

Despite the nervous energy you exude, you keep your posture strict and your head lowered. Pierro sees the way your throat bobs when you nervously swallow and await what he has to say. 

He lets out a huff of air as he resigns himself to his decision and removes his elaborate cloak, draping it over his desk chair. It feels far too intimate for someone like you to witness; yet you cannot help but take in the way his clothes frame his broad shoulders and form. You would never deny that you believe him to quite handsome, and your heart beat quickens at the thought. 

He settles behind his desk, hands clasped over one another, and his visible eye not covered by the mask is as cold as the never melting snow. 

“You are trembling, like a petrified rabbit.” 

You swallow a yelp that threatened to escape and came out only as the smallest of squeaks that undoubtedly he picked up on– indeed you were like prey. “I am sorry, Lord Harbinger.” You manage out and he is slightly impressed by your ability to keep your voice as even as you did.

“No need,” He takes in your form and you shiver, feeling the way he studies you, thinking him to be scowling and not imagining what he wants to do to you first. “You are right to fear me. It shows you know your place.”

“Thank you, Lord Harbinger.” You wince at how fast the words tumbled out of your mouth. 

“There are others who would be… in need of a reminder.”

You blink, confused before he beckons to you with a flick of his hand. “Come here.”

You are breathing hard as you approach his desk, closer to him than you or any of your comrades have ever been to the director. Your steps are tentative and cautious, and you stop just before his desk but he beckons you again, a harsher, irritated, gesture that makes fear crawl through every nerve and you stumble forward. 

He is satisfied when you are standing right in front of him and his chair. Your posture is straight as possible and it feels like your heart is threatening to burst. Despite that you stand over him, the aura that surrounds him makes you feel impossibly small. 

“Tartaglia. You are often assigned to him, correct?”

There is a slight tilt to his lips as he watches you stiffen, watches you react as you panic. You believed you were to be punished for fraternization (albeit unwillingly, you are simply a loyal and dutiful attendant to the younger harbinger)

“I-”

“The Childe is so easily distracted by you,” Pierro says and while you dare not make eye contact with him, his gaze is starting to make you feel heat in a way that you should not in this frozen land, not in front of the first of the harbingers. “I believe… I understand why, now.” 

Your mind can’t process the words he just spoke, all fog and heavy until you feel a large, warm hand slide over the fabric of your uniform. You feel like you’re falling off the tallest peak, You think it’s a trick of your mind until you look to see his hand around your hip, sliding along your curves.

“You will not deny me.” He speaks it as a question but every aspect of him tells you it’s a demand. You nod your head vigorously.

“Of course, Lord Harbinger. I would never.”

He hums in agreement, a deep sound from his chest, and he’s tugging you closer to move you to him until you’re touching his knees. He manipulates you with ease, positioning you until you are sitting across his lap. You don’t dare to touch him so your hands sit idly before he pulls them to his shoulders. 

You are not sure if anyone has ever been this close to Pierro and lived to speak of it. You’re not sure if you will live to speak of it. 

Where you are unsure and timid, Pierro is confident in what he wants. His hand cups at your hips to pull you closer onto his lap and his other hand grips your chin so that you look at him.

“I do not desire a mere object, so do give me your best efforts.” His hand then moves to slip the mask off your face, showing him your nervous eyes and flushed cheeks. 

For a moment, you worry if your bare face is not to his liking; insecurity flaring up inside you. But then he pulls your chin in and presses his lips against yours. You stall but only for a moment, remembering his words and parting your lips to let his tongue inside, to let him kiss you as he pleases.

You would never think that you would be in the lap of the First of the harbingers, kissing him and tasting his tongue; which you found to taste sweet and you leaned into him to have more. You had thought if he was going to use you as Tartaglia does, he would simply have you over his desk or against the wall and would not care to caress or kiss you. But instead, he is sensual with his touches and seems more interested in making you melt under him. 

You fear you are a participant in some sort of punishment but the way he handles you is more of a reward than anything else. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt and you whimper into his mouth when he angles your head to the side to have more access to you.

When he pulls away, you are flushed and heaving; your lips swollen and wet. His expression is dark with desire as they watch how helpless you become. 

You try to form words, to say something, but all that comes out is panting. His hand slides down your chest, fingers methodically working at the buttons and clasps of your uniform’s shirt. The moment there is enough give for him too, he slides his hand into your shirt, easily slips under your undergarments, and cups at your breast. Although gloved, the mixture of the chill air and the heat from his hand makes your back arch and thighs squeeze together for just a bit of relief. 

His thumb rubs gentle circles over your nipple that sends heat throughout your body before he is opening more of your shirt until your chest is bare to him. The cold air and stimulation have your nipples hard and he returns to toying with them just a bit longer before he removes his hand.

Pierro holds his hand up to you. “Take them off,” he orders and you obey with a quick nod for you do not think you could make any words come from your throat right now. You slide the glove off his hand and before you even know what to do with it,  his thumb is pressing down at your lip to make you open, and then his fingers are in your mouth.

His gaze on you is intense and he is mesmerized by the way your spit coats his thick fingers. You make a mental note of his pleased hum and lick and suck on the digits in a deliberate way to show him just how well you would take care of other parts of him. 

And, clearly, this was a correct move because his lips part ever so slightly and his fingers push deeper into your hot mouth. You tighten your lips around them and suck, fluttering eyelashes as you dare to look up at him. A Squeeze on your waist and the throb of pressure beneath you tells you it is to his liking. 

To know that he desires you makes you feel hot all over, makes you ache. You would never believe yourself to be worthy– and still, you do not– but you do not wish to disappoint him.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, spittle following in a trail from your lips. His hand that had been holding your waist moves up your back, causing you to lean back and he is soon pulling at the buttons of your pants. He is far less careful and slow than he was with your shirt and you can feel the thick pressure that is pressing hard against your ass with every movement you make. 

As soon as he is granted access, you find yourself gasping out a plea, for his large hand engulfs your cunt and is harshly palming and rubbing at you over your undergarments. He watches your expression so intently, as you gasp and writhe and squirm on his lap. You feel your hand that is around his shoulder get tangled in his hair, and you babble out an apology that comes out not nearly coherent enough– especially when his thick finger curls and presses so easily against you over the thin fabric that is soaked with your slick.

“So wet,” he comments, tone low and husky as he watches how you pant. “Aren’t you chilly?” You have no idea how you could be when he is making you feel this hot all over. “Spread your legs.”

You do as you are told and are rewarded by him slipping under the fabric that covers you and teasing your entrance with his middle finger. You whine, you roll your hips against his hand shamefully but he does not seem to mind. Instead, the hand supporting you move to the back of your head, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back. His mouth captures your cries so hungrily as he sinks his thick finger inside your heat. 

The wet sound of his finger thrusting in and out of you is so, so loud to you– despite your loud panting and whines and the sound of Pierro working against your mouth. He bites and sucks at your lower lip and you’re lost in the sensations he gives you with each deep thrust of his finger. 

“What a good little thing you are.” He murmurs against your lips and a lewd moan escapes you, the loudest noise you’ve made. And he is so entertained by your reaction to his praise, another slight curve to his lips, and more so when he slides a second finger in and the sting brings tears to your eyes.

“Does Tartgalia bring you this much pleasure?” He asks, his pace increasing until he is thrusting in and out of you at an unbelievable pace, palm occasionally pressing down on your swollen clit that pulses pleasure through you. “Has he ever made you feel this good?”

“N-no, no–” You gasp for air, lungs empty and your heart race as you find yourself hurtling towards your peak. “No, never– Not like you, My Lord-” One hard press of his hand has you breaking apart and he watches with rapt interest the way your moans escape and your eyes shut and your head falls back— the expressions you make are wonderful indeed, he thinks. His fingers slow their thrusting as you ride your high out, clenching so tight around him and coating his hand and thighs with your arousal. But he doesn’t seem the slightest put off by this, pleased with how you fall apart in his grasp and the control he has over you. 

Although it seems so… wrong to you. You are panting, feeling the aftermath of such an intense orgasm, and are being held by a man so high in power it’s dizzying. You can feel how hard he is and the first emotion to rise is guilt. Shame. 

“My… my Lord Harbinger-“ you are so breathless, the words are hard to form. “May I please submit a request?”

Pierro lets out a chuckle, a deep rumbling noise, at your professionalism despite your state. He leans into you, casting hot breath over your lips when he asks; “What is it?”

“Let me bring you pleasure,” Your hand grips his shirt, such a bold move from you but you need to steady yourself. “W-with my mouth- on my knees. Please.” It wasn’t right, you think, he should be using you and you should be pleasing him.

“So eager.” He said before kissing your lips once more, his palm rubbing between your legs just a bit more before he releases you. “Granted.”

You feel unsteady and your legs wobble as soon as you stand and the way his hands stabilize you by holding onto you makes you yearn for him- year to please him. So you are quick to kneel down to him and make your way between his legs.

He leans back in his chair and is pleased at the sight of you working at his pants— on your knees, desperate to have him in your mouth, to please him and worship him. Pierro is not one to display his desire so blatantly, but still he groans when he feels your hands touch his aching cock, hard and wanting.

You note how large he is, how thick he is. Dread creeps up in you as you imagine if he intends to take you with it. It would split you open and you can't tell if the thought of it arouses you or terrifies you— with determination you set out to make him cum with your mouth so that you may escape such a fate.

Your hands grip his thighs, feeling the hardness of his muscles, as you lean in and give him a tentative lick on the head– and you hear the slightest sigh from him and feel a hand find its place on the top of your head. He doesn’t grip your hair or force you down, he simply rests his palm as you slowly lick and kiss his cock.

It’s shameful how much this makes you ache, even after you were so generously given pleasure from him, but to know that he is hard after kissing you— that he wants you and is having you… It makes you feel like nothing else in the world and you channel that in determination to please him the best you could.

One hand wraps around his shaft as you wrap your lips around the tip and you look up with half-lidded eyes to watch his expression. He is watching you but you can see the flush forming on his face, the way his eyes are so dark with need. The salty taste of his precum fills your mouth as you suck on him, taking in more and more of his cock.

It is so big and far too thick, your jaw aches with how much you open for him and drool mixed with cum drips down your chin. Your eyes shut tightly as you feel tears start to form but you do not give up your efforts, taking in as much as you can. When he hits the back of your throat and you try your best not to gag, you whimper around him and a louder groan escape him and his fingers curl in your hair– you know you are doing good. 

Only the best for your Harbinger.

Sliding back until his cock releases from your mouth with a slick pop, your hand glides over his cock with ease thanks to the fluid that coats it. A long lick to the thicker vein along his cock and you take him back in your mouth, as far as you can, and his hips cant up into you. 

Another glance up to him and his head is lolled back against the chair, his eyes shut, and he is taking shallow breaths, and oh you want to reach down between your thighs, where you are aching so desperately, at the sight of it. But you have already been selfish, you think, you must serve him more.

You quicken your pace, even as your jaw stings and aches, bobbing your head up and down faster and faster, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, suck, and suck; to bring him to his peak so that when–

He yanks you by your hair and you are pulled off his cock, and you cannot prevent the cry of pain and shock you give out. You see his chest is heaving now and he is staring at you and his cock twitches and throbs- flushed red and glistening, denied its release.  

Had you thought wrong? Did you not please him as well? You attempt to apologize, but your voice comes out as a rasp and your throat is sore. You feel fear crawl into you at the thought before he releases his grip on your hair and motions you to stand.

“Strip.” He commands. While breathless, he does not lack for his dominating presence and you are removing what is left of your clothes faster than you ever have before. 

Your body shakes and you’re not sure if it’s fear or the chilly air or both, but you are obedient and await his next command. He rises from his chair and in a flash, his hands take your shoulders and you are spun around until his chest is warming you and you’re being bent over his desk. 

You shudder, anticipation mixed with fear, and your hands grip at the edge of his desk as you brace yourself for what is to come. Hands– now both bare– roam up and down your body, your breasts to your stomach and hips. Squeezing and feeling every inch of you.

“You are,” You feel the tip of him press against you, so thick and already too much, and you whimper. “Captivating.” 

He splits you open, slow and shallow thrusts as you take him in bit by bit. His girth is far more than anything you have ever experienced and shameful cries escape you. You bite at your hand in an attempt to silence yourself but he bends over you, his body much larger until you feel his hair tickle the back of your neck. His hands planted firmly on the desk next to your shoulders.

“You need not silence your cries, I find them to be quite pleasing.” And he thrusts harder, too much of him going in, and you jolt again the desk and cry out. Every cry and sob that comes from you makes his cock twitch inside of you, and when he bottoms out in you you don't think you've ever felt this level of fullness. 

He slides out, then again thrusts back into— harsh and with a resounding slap against— and soon he is fucking into you hard. Every hard thrust makes you jolt and your thighs sting from being slammed into the edge of the desk over and over. He is panting and grunting from atop you, the way you cry out and your cunt clenches around him makes him almost lose himself in you. He bites and kisses your skin, leaving mark after mark. Hands dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. He aches to spill himself inside you, to fuck you full, to feel you cum on his cock.

But then there is knocking at his door. You freeze under him in terror but he is expecting this, he does not relent. Instead his thrusts become less deep, slowing to grind against you instead, and he straightens and stands while you’re still wrapped around him. 

“Enter.” 

You are chilled to the bone, terrified and embarrassed as the door swings open, and whoever is will see you in such a state–

You are met with the wide-eyed, shocked expression that decorates Childe’s face.

“Tartaglia,” Pierro greets without stopping his thrusts, using his grip on your hips to slam you back against him- to make you cry out and watch as Childe winces. “You’re late.”

The door shuts behind Childe, whose eyes do not leave your trembling, fucked out face. His eyes reflect no light and bare no emotion but you can still see how he winces at every small whimper that escapes you. 

“Apologies, Director.” His voice has the slightest quake to it and you can’t bare to keep looking at him, not with the way Pierro’s cock in you feels and hits at a spot inside you that makes you cry out and drop your head down. “I was caught up.”

You cannot silence your moans even as they talk to each other; the sound of wet sound of him fucking you and the smell of your arousal cannot be ignored. Pierro once again yanks your head up by your hair, forcing you to face Childe once more. A rough thumb circles your clit and you cry out. 

“Our attendent is quite wonderful, Tartglia. I believe I’ve come to share your fixation.” Pierro states as if appraising the way your cunt squeezes him. “So beautiful, and so very obedient.” 

You blink away the tears in your eyes and see Childe’s strained face, the jaw his jaw is set tight and his fists are clenching, and– oh, the beginning of the bulge in his pants. 

“My dear little one,” you whimper at the pet name, “Who fucks you best?”

You can’t even begin to think, your mind is lost, and you cry out “You, my lord Harbinger- You, the Director- You, Pierro- You.”

“That’s right.” And you are rewarded with more strokes to your clit, a harsher thrust until you are flush against him, and you break once more. Pierro shuts his eyes tight as you cum against him, cunt sucking him in and the fluid that gushes out of you, and he does not stop the rocking of his hips. “I hope,” His voice is hoarse, breathless. “Our Childe will learn that, of Who comes before him. The one who is in control.”

Childe watches as you come apart on Pierro’s cock, as you grip at the desk and wail and make expressions he’s never seen. Watches you writhe in pleasure from someone who isn’t him and isn’t someone who he would dare go against. 

He sucks in a harsh breath. “I understand, Director.”

“Good. I’ll be generous and let you have your toy,” Pierro grips your jaw to pull you back up and sucks a kiss on your neck, loud and wet and leaving another, darker mark, and looks back to Childe. “Just remember who owns it. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

You’re fucked out, your mind is gone, drool and tears coat your face and you simply nod weakly in his hand. That curve to his lips is there again, and there is agony painted on Childe’s face as you respond.

“Of course,” Your voice is reduced to nothing but a sob, breathless and weak. “My Lord Harbinger.” 

I-Ilumi~

Illumi