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ki-yomii · 1 month

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➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.4k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; fwb, angst w/ a happy ending, teasing, finger fucking, squirting, praise kink, frottage, dirty talk, pet names, commitment issues, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, dom!jk, idiots in love, misunderstandings ➥ summary | after being stood up one too many times, you realize you're in love with jungkook. and that just won't do. ➥ notes | istg i've re-written this more times than i care to count 💀 enjoy!

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cnt make it 2nite

The text is blunt - biting. No explanation offered, and certainly no false platitudes found in the lifeless string of black letters. Rather simple and straight to the point.

As you should have expected from Jungkook. He wasn’t known for his verbosity, and even less so for his love of texting.

But as you chew the fat of your cheek, reading it over and over again in an attempt to glean some hidden meaning that isn’t there, you admit to yourself - at least privately - there’s no more avoiding the truth.

One that’s been hovering over your shoulder for weeks like a shroud; an unwelcome guest you can’t ignore anymore: Jungkook’s been avoiding you.

It shouldn’t be surprising.

Moreover, it shouldn’t hurt.

There shouldn’t be an ache in your chest every time you see his contact or the plummet of your stomach when that inevitable excuse comes through.

In the end, he owes you nothing. The arrangement between you is casual, just a little fun between good friends.

It still fucking sucks though, you think, sucking your teeth.

Night thoroughly ruined before it’s begun, it’s only a matter of deciding how to respond now. In the past you’ve used a plethora of options, but you’re stumped. Unsure how to correlate the level of hurt to the nature of your not-relationship.

Should you be petty, passive-aggressive, indifferent - or worst of all: honest?

Hah, no way. I’d rather die.

Beside you, the bartender politely averts his gaze and busies himself with polishing a stack of pint glasses. It’s a slow night, and that’s saying something as this bar’s a little hole in the wall.

It’s never overly busy, which is one of the reason’s it’s a favorite meeting spot of yours. The floors might be sticky, but the music’s decent, the strobe lights they kick on after 10 PM aren’t offensive enough to induce a migraine, and the drinks are cheap with a heavy pour.

Watching him work is impressive - and almost distracting enough for you to ignore the needle sharp ache taking root beneath your ribs, the churn of your stomach.

Humiliation burns hot, creeps up your neck to settle into the apples of your cheeks as you’re stood up.

Again.

It isn’t the first time - it won’t be the last.

But it cuts deeper than all the rest combined, harder to shake off. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. The growing distance between you throbs like an open wound, as if Jungkook himself plunged a hand into your chest.

Scooped out any tender, soft thing he could find and left you hollowed out. Drained.

Not taking his flakiness personally used to be so easy. And now… well.

Goddamnit. A palm scrubs over your decolletage roughly to soothe the throb of your heart. What the hell did you expect to happen, getting involved with Jeon Jungkook, huh?

Everything from his stupidly pretty eyes to the dangerous curl of his mouth, the thick soles of his boots to the lapels of his leather jacket scream walking red flag.

Never mind the fact his proclivities are an open secret among the group. He’s never tried to hide his distaste for commitment. Finds it too monotonous. Predictable.

An eternally free soul much preferring to flit from one experience to the next, never shackled down for long. The Icarus of myth made flesh.

He runs through women like he runs through shoes, and you witnessed enough of the ensuing heartbreak and tears to be wary.

But knowing and feeling something are two very different things.

The dichotomy throws you off-kilter and finds you abandoned in a bar, once again, to choke on a regret so bitter you swear it’ll burn a hole through your throat.

What’s going on with me, you think, this is nothing new. He does this all the time.

You used to get on so well.

Any initial misgivings faded away in the face of Jungkook’s blinding attention, his unfaltering kindness lurking just beneath that surface of grit and gravel.

Even after you fuck, he never acts any differently, as casual between the sheets as he is lounging on your couch.

It's been great, it's been enough - until now.

Just the thought of going back to your empty apartment, alone, only to wake up and fall back into Jungkook’s orbit tomorrow when he swings by with a half-assed apology on his lips, and your favorite drink in hand is enough to make your skin crawl.

Stomach twisting itself into knots, everything in you rebels against the sudden cold realization: nothing will change - least of all Jungkook.

He’ll continue to take-take-take.

You'll continue to give-give-give.

On and on you'll go; a distant star orbiting a black hole, losing little bits of itself until there's nothing left.

Then he’ll leave your life as quickly as he entered it, a blurry after-image there and gone in the blink of an eye.

Fuck, I - I can’t do this anymore, you think, a shiver rattling down your spine, Because I…

An errant thought gains teeth, sinks them deep. Refuses to budge as an awful truth - one buried so deep you forgot it was there, ever lurking in the shadows - rises to the forefront of your mind.

And then --

Oh.

It’s because I love him - because I’m in love with him.

Suddenly it hurts to breathe, your lungs burning as you drown on the air itself. The steel band cinching around your ribs threatens to crack you open.

Your heart lurches in your chest, despair following swiftly to settle over your shoulders. Moreover, there is no one to blame except yourself.

Even if you want it to, it will never work out because loving Jungkook is to love the ghost of a long-forgotten memory.

And there are too many hurts to soothe, too many disappointments to name.

I can’t believe I actually -- shit. You swipe a shaky hand over your forehead. When you swallow, a sour taste clings to the back of your tongue. Should’ve known better.

You glance at your phone, the cursor blinking back at you mockingly. Should’ve done a lot of things, I guess.

Now, you're in too deep.

Waiting without ever realizing you began to do so in the first place; a life on pause, surviving off scraps of half-measures and maybe's, what-ifs, and if only's.

Now, it's clear the only way out is through.

The time to let go is here.

You need to muster up some semblance of self, and work to untangle the threads of connection binding you together. You need space to rediscover the pieces of your heart you left with him.

How to live without the taste of his kiss, the clench of his muscles, the thrust of his cock.

A new life sans Jungkook which begins with a simple reply in place of everything you really want to say: ok.

Then you wave the bartender over.

He does you a kindness once more, pretending not to notice the tears brimming along your lower lash line. “You ready to order?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah - sorry, I was…”

His mouth twitches. You waver.

Then the screen of your phone lights up with a notification.

Refusing to look lest you cave, emotions too fresh - scraped raw and tender, you switch on DND and turn it face down where it will remain until you go home.

You're far too fragile (and sober) to think about reading Jungkook’s reply, let alone engage with him in any meaningful way.

“I’ll take a double vodka cranberry.”

Maybe if you get drunk enough, you'll forget about the home he carved in your bones.

Bottoms up, bitch.

w8 nvm guys cnt make it

y/n?

i cn b ovr in 10

???

gn ttyt

hey, sorry. called it early.

wyd?

nothing much. you?

nm running some mtchs

cool, cool. you able to swing by today?

yeh b there in 30 :)

In hindsight, trying to have this conversation with Jungkook face to face isn’t the brightest idea. But if anything, last night showed you every choice you’ve made lately is a disaster waiting to happen.

Your life’s already a mess - and you’re hopelessly in love with a man that’ll never love you back - so what’s another mistake added to a long string of misfortune.

So what if your hands tremble and your stomach churns as you unlock the door to let him in.

So what if he leans in for a kiss and you duck to the side, his lips brushing the slope of your cheek.

So what if he pauses and gives you a long, searching look before toeing off his shoes and offering you the drink he picked up on the way.

It can’t get any worse, right?

Only the hungry, molten mixture of rage and rebellion fueling you thus far fizzles away the minute you see him head towards your bedroom with a wink.

Anguish and despair follows in its wake, nipping at your heels.

This is all you’ll ever be to him, you remind yourself as you step into the room. A fun time. Nothing serious. You have to break it off.

You shoot him a tight smile. “Did you have a good night?”

Jungkook shrugs, glancing around at the decorations littering your dresser. “Nah, not really.” His gaze slides to you, traveling from your head to your bare toes in a slow once over. “I definitely would’ve had a better time with you.”

Swallowing roughly, you rub your hands over your arms and suddenly feel far too naked - exposed in your light summer dress. “Hah,” you intone without humor, awkward and stilted. “Probably not. I was out by 11:30.”

“Mm, that’s not like you.” Jungkook hums, moving forward until he’s right in front of you. His hands reach for you, grabbing your wrists gently. His thumb strokes over your pulse point. “You’re acting weird. Is there something you want to talk about, baby?”

Of course he’d notice.

It would be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing. Jungkook always pays attention to the details, makes leaps of logic based on little more than quiet observations.

You stitch together a chuckle. “Nothing gets past you, huh?”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins, his lip ring dimpling the swell of his bottom lip. Your chests brush with every inhale, sharing space and breath.

“Nothing,” he agrees.

It’s torture. It’s too intimate.

The glow of your overhead lamp highlights the sweep of his cheekbones, the curl of his lashes as he blinks slow and happy. The barely there impression of his body is too much.

You shrink back, clearing your throat.

“No, don’t do that. Where are you going?”

His eyes, shimmering with warmth, plead with you to stay, his shoulders curving towards you. A large palm settles over your shoulder, sparks igniting wherever he touches.

“Stop hiding. You can talk to me about anything. Come on, I want to know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Steeling your resolve, you inhale and exhale with a shudder. His expression is open, soft. You know it won’t last, and take a few seconds to commit how he looks in this moment to memory.

For all you know, this will be one of the last times you’ll be this close to him again. At least until you can beat your feelings into submission.

And then you can’t put it off anymore, unable to take the ginger strokes of his fingers. The calming caresses as if he thinks you’re something precious. Quick like ripping off a band-aid, otherwise the words will never get past the bend of your throat.

“I want to stop.”

You catch the way his eyes darken, sharpen in the dim overhead light. He knows exactly what you’re talking about, but his half-smile never falters.

Of course, he refuses to make this easy on you. To acknowledge this is happening. He’s always been a greedy man; wants what he can’t have, and destroys what he does.

“Stop what?” Jungkook says. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, baby.”

“Kook,” you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “You know what I mean. I just - I can’t do,” your voice cracks, a hand motioning to the space between you, “this anymore.”

A vein throbs on the side of his neck, his jaw working in response. Muscles tense and release with every grit of his teeth. He asks, “You gonna tell me why, huh? Or are you just going to ditch me and act like it didn’t mean something?”

“Kook…”

There’s a certain grief that can’t be spoken, gnarled roots burrowing deep in your chest. A sense of loss so keenly felt it almost steals your breath.

You wish this wasn’t happening, you wish you could take it all back but this pantomime of a relationship isn’t fair to you. Not anymore. And you knew this conversation wouldn’t be fun, but Jungkook’s staunch denial still manages to surprise you.

“It didn’t mean anything though,” you say.

At least, not to you, you think. To me, it meant the world.

-- And that’s the problem.

You need to stop whatever this is between you from building. He’s already shown he doesn’t share your desire for more in a multitude of ways. He’s been avoiding you for a reason, whether he was consciously aware of your feelings or not.

Undoubtedly, you trust him with your life but not your heart.

As sweet as he is, has been, he won’t treat it gently. Not through any intentional ill-will but because he can’t contain his own commitment issues let alone make room for yours.

It’s better this way.

Let what you have - had - stay a memory unmarred by the ugliness of your hurt feelings and bitter disappointments.

Jungkook’s shoulders draw up towards his ears, his gaze glacial as his hands slide away from you. “Is there a reason you’re done with me now?”

Shadows lurk in the depths of his eyes, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. Everything about him looks weighted down.

“Well, is there? I mean, shit, I think I’ve earned an answer after all the time we spent together.”

Your heart breaks for him, everything in you calling out to close the gap and offer him comfort. But you can’t. You don’t trust yourself to touch him without wanting more than your heart can bear.

“I’m not done with you,” you say. “I would never do that to you, Kook. I just - I can’t be with you like that anymore, that’s all. I need space but I’ll still be around, I promise.”

The glare he shoots your way freezes the blood in your veins. “Cut the bullshit,” he snarls. “Tell.me.why.”

You avert your gaze, arms wrapping around your chest. “Why does that - I -”

You only had one rule at the very beginning of this mess: if there’s someone you’re serious about, you stop fucking. It comes as a handy lie - a believable excuse that’ll stop any further questioning.

You don’t think you have the fortitude if Jungkook keeps pressing you, cracking under the weight of your grief and the anger in his eyes like fine china.

“I think I - I think I want to start looking for a boyfriend again.”

An expression flashes across his face, there and gone in the blink of an eye. But there’s no doubt he recognizes it for the goodbye it’s supposed to be.

This is it, you think.

You can put what you had to rest and move on, a memory on a shelf you’ll dust off years down the line when the hurt isn’t so prevalent. And hopefully, with time, you can relearn how to be friends.

Though the strange gleam to his eyes sends a prickle of apprehension down your spine, and then you find yourself being manhandled as he snaps forward like a snake coiled to strike.

Air flees your lungs as Jungkook shoves you with a firm palm, your feet stumbling over themselves as you trip backwards into your bed frame.

Wood knocks into the backs of your knees, and you fold like a stack of cards. The sheets puff out around you, the scent of your laundry detergent tickling your nose.

You blink at the textured ceiling, mouth agape as you try to process what happened.

The empty space above you doesn’t stay vacant, Jungkook quickly crowding you into the mattress with his weight as he settles over top of your body.

He molds himself to your front, his firm hips slotting themselves between your thighs. Broad palms, warm and calloused, skim your sides and ruck up the skirt of your dress as he reaches under you to grip the soft globes of your ass.

He yanks you into him, your pelvises slotting together. You whine before you can stop yourself, eyes fluttering shut at the heat of his body.

Teeth scrape along the delicate skin of your neck, the sharp pricks of pleasure-pain coaxing a shiver down your spine.

Lips brush the shell of your ear, his minty breath puffing against the side of your face as he speaks, low and husky, “So that’s it, huh?”

“What--!”

Teeth nip your earlobe, and you wince.

“My girl thinks she’s going to leave me for someone else?” Jungkook snorts. “Like I’d ever let that fucking happen.”

“I’m not your girl.”

You squirm, a bolt of awareness slicing through you as your body responds to his proximity, the weight of him over you electrifying. Liquid desire blooms behind your navel, uncomfortable and unwelcome.

“I never was.”

Blunt nails dig into the fat of your ass, and a cruel mouth latches onto the corner of your jaw. “Ah, is that right?” Jungkook asks, the rumble of his voice vibrating through your torso, your nipples tightening as they drag over the plains of his chest. “You’re not my girl?”

You swallow, and ignore the throb of your clit as the line of his cock ruts into you. “I’m not your girl, Jungkook.”

“If you’re not my girl,” he grinds into the cradle of your hips, teasing - taunting, “then why the fuck are you so wet?”

Keening, you twitch, involuntarily rocking up into the firm pressure of his shaft. The angle’s just right, spreading your folds beneath the thin cotton of your panties and giving your neglected clit the perfect stimulation.

Exposing your soaked core to the chill of your room as your body warms with mortification.

Jungkook hums in approval, giving the side of your neck a sloppy kiss followed by a stinging nip. “You think some nobody can fuck you better than me?”

“That’s not what I - ffuck!”

Heat pools low in your belly, blood pumping fast. You’re steadily losing control, the aborted rolls of your hips increasing in frequency.

“Answer me.”

A sharp burst of copper floods your mouth, your skin splitting open with how hard you’re chewing on it. Blood clings to the swell of your bottom lip, a ruby red bead you lick away with a nervous tongue.

Sweat dappled your brow, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the molten desire curdling your stomach.

The softness of your body knows the hardness of his, every curve has a matching divot. The heady, pleasant scent of his cologne floods your lungs with every stuttered inhale.

Your senses are overwhelmed as he surrounds you.

“Shit, Kook, please,” you plead, hands tangling in the sheets by your head.

You’re not sure what you’re asking for but at the same time, you’re not sure how you ended up here. Again.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

This was supposed to be an amenable end to a dubious affair. It’s anything but.

“I want you to tell me who your cunt belongs to.”

Fingers inch down to tease along the soft flesh of your inner thighs, and play with the elastic of your panties.

You tremble, gooseflesh dimpling the exposed skin of your arms as knuckles brush over the length of your soaked pussy.

Your clit pulses, the pressure enough to tease.

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook coaxes, working his way beneath the fabric clinging to your core, “tell me you’re my girl.”

His cock nestles into the crook of your hip, hot and heavy through his jeans as a darkened patch blooms across the denim crotch. The sticky wetness of his pre-cum smearing into your skin as arousal swells, crashing over you.

Leaving you a whimpering, trembling mess in the cage of his arms.

“You just have to say it - say you’re my girl and I’ll be so, so good to you.” His breath warms the shell of your ear. “All you have to do is say it, and I’ll make you cum so hard you see stars.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to cobble together a response, sliding a thick finger through your sticky folds and into your needy pussy just as your lips part.

All words leave you, your mind wiped clean as a low, broken cry echoes out into the room. Swallowed up by the sounds of city life outside your apartment as he works to stretch you open.

You clamp down at the sudden fullness, walls tight and fluttering around his finger like they would be around his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You always feel so soft and wet.”

Whining in agreement, you give up any pretense of resistance, letting primal desire chase away the despair, the guilt that threatens to choke you. Wiping your mind clean of any thoughts until the only thing that remains is the thrust of his fingers and the ache in your cunt.

Your hands slip, scrambling for purchase with sweaty palms. “J-Jungkook!”

Your knees tremble where they dig into his sides, air rushing from you in heavy pants as the space between your bodies heats up. You know you won’t last long, already hanging on the edge.

Never in a million years did you expect to be so turned on by Jungkook’s rough behavior. He usually treats you like something delicate.

Though he holds no such compunction now, raw in his desperate desire to make you cum.

Jungkook peppers kisses onto whatever skin he can reach, spreading your thighs wider with his torso. His knuckles strain against the fabric of your panties, stretching out the cotton and ruining them forevermore as he slips another finger into you.

Then his dark head bows, catching your gaze, and he says, “Hold on.”

Barely seconds after you anchor yourself to his shoulders, he starts finger fucking you to within an inch of your life. His forearm ripples with strength, the movements of his fingers pressing and rubbing against all the right spots. Curling up to massage at your g-spot until you’re shaking beneath him with hitched breaths.

“Shit, shit,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as your toes flex against his side, “Kook, baby, please don’t stop.”

He huffs a laugh, dark and amused. “Wouldn’t ever do that to you, baby.”

“S’good - I - I’m close.”

You sob, tears brimming along your lash line. The sloppy sounds of him fucking your pussy ring in your ears, as embarrassing as it is arousing. He’s making you gush, slick wetting your inner thighs, dribbling down your ass to stain the sheets.

“So close, gonna - hnnng - gonna cum.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Just like that, baby. Give me that squirt.”

You shake your head. “I can’t - I can’t!”

If you could, you’d suspend time so this moment never ends. The finality of your arrangement hovering just on the other side of pleasure.

In the back of your mind, you know Jungkook’s only behaving this way because he’s jealous. Angry. He doesn’t mean it, and this is a mistake.

It’ll only hurt you in the long run but you’ll take what you can get.

After all, this is the last time you’ll be together like this.

“No,” he shushes, dropping a kiss to your sweaty brow, “No, don’t lie. I know you can. I’ll make you.”

There’s no escape.

He refuses to let you escape, using his weight to keep you pinned as he spreads his fingers open inside you, twisting and fucking so deep you feel a twinge behind your navel.

And then you’re right there, crashing over the edge as the bubble of pleasure bursts, crackling through your limbs.

You cum harder than you ever have before. Nails sinking into his shoulders with a hiss as a wounded, broken wail scrapes its way out of your throat.

Your pussy throbs, gummy walls sucking him deeper as a rush of cum gushes from you in spurts. Your ears ring with white noise, and you’re vaguely aware of the fact your hands have gone numb.

For several long moments, you float with a head full of cotton, only rejoining the atmosphere when warmth dribbles down your ass in sticky rivulets of squirt.

Jungkook’s arm is curled around your waist, holding you close as his nose nuzzles into the side of your head. Tender lips dust kisses over your crown. His cock is still a heavy weight digging into your hip but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to relieve himself.

“Jungkook,” you sigh, a wave of fatigue crashing over you. Your eyes sting when you close them, a lump building in your throat. You ache all over pleasantly, satisfaction settling deep into your bones. In spite of that, a rift opens in your heart. “Jungkook, I--”

He kisses your shoulder, shushing you. “Don’t ruin it. Just let me hold you for a little while longer… please.”

The tears are almost impossible to stop. “It’s already hard enough, don’t make me -- I can’t just…”

Jungkook squeezes you gently. “I love you,” he says, “but I swear to god you can be so stupid sometimes.”

You jolt, eyes swinging up to meet his, wide and disbelieving. “What did you just - I - I don’t. ..Jungkook?”

“How could I not feel the same?” he asks, tone resigned and wary. “Honestly scared the shit out of me when I realized because, well, y’know I don’t have the best track record.” He averts his gaze, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I almost fucked everything up too, but Namjoonie-hyung helped me get my head on straight.”

Something unfurls in your chest, and you feel as light as air. Ridiculously buoyant with happiness. Hope.

Oh, how stupid.

“We’re kind of idiots, aren’t we?” you ask, sniffling as you shoot him a watery smile. “Like… the biggest.”

Jungkook hums in agreement, a boyish gleam to his eyes. “I mean, you said it. Not me.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fic #bts jungkook

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picrewdealer · 1 year

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1+1 is 2 Maker by 膝栗毛

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sweet-as-an-angel · 2 months

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MW Reaction to You Leading Them On

Warnings: 18+, Implied Smut, Dark! Modern Warfare, Horny! Modern Warfare, Possessive Behaviour, Territorial Behaviour, Entitled Behaviour, Threatening Behaviour, Incel-Coded! Modern Warfare, Dub-Con Themes, Implied Age Gap (Price), Physical Restraining, Kidnapping, Breaking and Entering, Reader Being Held Hostage, Abuse of Physical Power, Slut Shaming, Pet Names, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

Ghost

You’d only just noticed that Ghost stood at the front door of his apartment as if he were guarding it. Perhaps from your attempts at leaving.

You’d tried apologising to him for ‘stringing him along’ as long as you had, but you genuinely believed the two of you were just being friendly, bantering. Nothing more to it.

Obviously, Simon hadn’t seen it that way. You know that now as you watch his hand slip down the front of his sweatpants, palming his erection through them.

“Why don’cha come and show me how sorry you are with that pretty little mouth of yours.” He’s so monotone when he says it that you think he’s joking. His face tells you otherwise.

Of course, you’re speechless. But Simon cares little for your bewilderment. He looks down at you, his eyes narrowing. When you don’t come to him, he steps towards you.

“You know,” he says, coming closer. You step back. “Y’hear about pretty little things like you wandering into a man’s trap. Gettin’ ravaged.”

He’s before you, now, all but chest-to-chest. His eyes are black. Gone is the man you’ve been playfully flirting with these last few months; who you’d tried to push over the edge with your accidental grazes, your unintentional whines, the batting of your eyelashes.

None of that will save you now. His voice carries the weight of a dark star.

“How do you know this isn’t exactly where I want you.”

König

König was eerily silent upon your rejection.

You both stood in his kitchen where, after watching you cook, his heart swelling beyond reason and fathom, König had blurted out that he liked you. A lot.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t return those feelings, only viewing König as a good friend at most.

And now, he stands sentinel over a reaction you can’t possibly predict. Especially as his eyes, usually crinkled with a smile and laughter, seem lighter than usual, as if drained of all their warmth.

“I see,” is all König says. He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. He leans back against the kitchen counter, one hand gripping its rounded edge while the other remains free.

“I suppose I only have one option, then.”

König stands to his full height, approaching you, invading your personal space. He’s almost chest-to-chest with you, the bulk of his frame, the size of his biceps becoming glaringly obvious to you now as his shirt struggles to contain him, pulled taut over his musculature.

“I’ll just have to destroy you for any other man you try to whore around with.”

The way in which he says it suggests indifference; as if this is something he’s done or thought about a million times before. He presses you into the counter, hands coming to rest either side of you. He bears down on you, jaw clenched and teeth gritted behind straight lips.

“Then you’ll have no choice but to come limping back to me.”

Soap

“Oh aye, Bonnie? You’re gonna drop me, just like that?”

The look Johnny gives you is one of incredulous disbelief. Yet, in some way, you feel that he already knew you weren’t dedicated to the idea of a relationship with him. Even after all the time you’d spent together, the many nights you’d enjoyed sleeping over at his apartment, the many treats you’d baked for him; these were all things one could easily mistake for friendship.

You’d considered that perhaps tonight hadn’t been the best time to let him down, regardless of how gently you did it, considering it was your weekly movie night and it was his turn to host.

You wish you’d listened to your inner self. Especially now as Johnny watches you, his eyes silver and sharp like a wolf’s. Without warning, he pounces on you, taking your wrists and planting them into the sofa cushions.

He lies atop you, heavy. Unmoving. Struggling only makes him grunt, a spark flashing in his eye.

“Tell you what,” he proposes. “If y’can still remember yer name by the time I’m through with you,” he presses his hips against yours. You gasp at the feeling of something heavy and pointed catching you.

“We’ll see how willing y’are to try’n lead me astray.”

Valeria

“I see how it is,” she sighs, arms crossed over her front. She has you tied to a chair in her office, mouth gagged as you try to plead with her through your tears, your eyes. “You thought you could have your cake and eat it too. Thought you could have me while trying to fuck every other bitch that crosses your path.”

You’d dared to try and break things off with Valeria – ‘things’ referring to the one-sided pursual of your love by a certain cartel mommy. But alas, your efforts to repel her had only strengthened her resolve – her need – to have you.

“I’ve dealt with your type before,” she says, bringing her face down to your level. You swear her eyes are black, devoid of the slivers of humanity she still possesses – somewhere. The wrinkle in her nose forecasts disgust, an emotion you know first-hand does not bode well with Valeria.

“I thought you were different. Thought you’d know to shut up and take what’s handed to you – especially when you’ve worked yourself so hard to get it.” Valeria’s hand comes down between your legs, her fingers wrapping around the meat of your thigh. Gripping. Tight.

“Maybe the you I’m looking for is buried in there somewhere.” You can taste the venom in her voice as her scrutinising gaze roves over your bound form. She brings her mouth to your ear, intentional and without haste.

“And all I need to do is fuck it out of you.”

Price

You considered for a moment that John hadn’t actually heard you. What, with his lax demeanour and total lack of acknowledgement of your rejection.

Of course, you were glad he wasn't reacting poorly, but to see him not reacting at all worried you.

“I could have you hidden away somewhere–” Price starts, lighting his cigar and not even looking at you, “–where you’d be for my eyes only.”

The fact that he says it so casually almost has you believing that you’ve misheard him. You blink, wait for him to prove you wrong

Much to your shock, he does nothing to quell your growing anxiety.

“Bet you’d like that – having the attention of an older man. ‘Specially since you’ve worked so hard to get it.”

Now, he looks at you, with eyes hard and sharp as diamond, half-lidded, a glare that could cut glass.

“Sitting on my lap, wearing those tight little shorts around me. Bet you wanted this to happen, didn’t’ya.”

When you don’t respond, too shocked to even conjure a response that could cover even a fraction of what John had said, he spoke for you.

“Well, Love, got anything to say for yourself?”

He didn’t give you time to answer. He took his legs off his desk and stood, staring at you.

“Better say it now since y’won’t be able to say much by the time I’m done with you.”

Horangi

“I just can’t believe you thought this would end well for you.” Hong-Jin paces before you as you sit on the edge of your bed, a hostage in your own home. Clearly, your rejection of his proposal to become his partner hadn’t ended well, hence the lock on your front door now lay broken, your security system disarmed.

“Especially after all I’ve spent on you, after all I’ve done to you – for you.”

His eyes never left you, staring you down. You tried not to shake, tried not to make a run for the door that, while open and tantalising in its beckoning for your escape, a steel model of a man patrolled it, patrolled you. Had you prisoner.

He stops before you, stands just inches from where your knees are jittering. His hands come down to grip them, giving them a squeeze. If it’s meant to be comforting, his intentions are lost in translation.

“Maybe I wasn’t clear enough with you,” he says. Offers you an out. “Maybe I’ve given you too much freedom.”

At that, he sinks to his knees before you and, without warning, parts your legs. You yelp, trying to pull away, but he keeps you tethered to the spot. His hands shoot to the top of your thighs and you can feel his fingers hooking over the sides of your bed shorts.

You try to reason with him, try to tell him you’ll do whatever he wants, so long as he doesn’t hurt you.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Only want to show you–” he pulls the sides of your shorts down– “what you’re missing.”

Alejandro

The instigator of such a cold reception from Alejandro had been your refusal of a date with him. One which, unbeknownst to you, he’d been planning and psyching himself up for for the past week.

“I see.” Alejandro’s face was stern, thunder clouds rolling over him, making his features dark and pointed. The onset of a storm.

You didn’t know what to say, what to do, as Alejandro stood by your front door, dressed as if he was prepared to take you out right now.

You could see his jaw clench, his eye twitch.

“Is there someone else?” he asks.

You know that getting rejected solely because someone favours another over you is bad, but being rejected without competition is worse. You swallow, unsure of which option will infuriate Alejandro more. When you fail to answer, he sighs.

“You know, I always thought you were smarter than this, (Y/N).” His voice is low and intentional, like a plane flying too close to the ground. You look up, only to find him staring down at you, taking up all the space of your doorway with his hand perched on top of it like it’s nothing.

“But maybe I just have to teach you.”

You try to speak up for yourself, try to ask Alejandro what he’s playing at, but he shushes you. Steps into your home.

“I’ll have you crawling back to me by the night’s end, Cariño.” His words carry a weight that roots you in place. “I promise you that.”

Rodolfo

“Oh, I know,” he says with all the certainty in the world. You’re in his apartment, coming to break the news to him that you can’t accept his boyfriend proposal; the one he’d sent you in a five-page-long love letter.

You blink, befuddled. “You…you know?” Your brow raises. “You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”

Rudy gives a hum, a smiling one. He puts his hands in his pockets, leans against the wall behind him.

“That’s because I know you don’t mean it.” He gives you little time to contemplate his statement before he’s descending upon you like a solar eclipse. “I just needed an excuse to get you somewhere we wouldn’t be…” He searches for the right word. “Disturbed.”

Strange, considering how he was disturbing you right now. He went on.

“I mean, how else was I going to get you here? If I’d just text you, you could shoot me down without coming anywhere near me. But now,” he’s close enough that his hands rest on your arms when he reaches for you, pulling him closer to him. You stumble on uncertain legs.

His grip is soft but you feel trapped, even if Rudy is one of the few people you’d feel comfortable being trapped with.

“Now,” he says, voice low. He pulls you into his chest, hard with years of training.

“I can show you how well I can please you.”

Graves

Graves is far more used to being the player, not the played. So when he discovered that you were, in fact, engaging in what could be construed as promiscuous behaviour with him without the intention of falling for his charms, he went silent. His stare hardened.

He’d never admit it, but he’d actually grown to like you in the time you’d been together. A lot.

“So that’s it?” he says. His voice, usually rounded with his southern charm and honeyed words, strikes you like an arrow, ice and sharp. “We have a good thing goin’ and you’re just gonna throw it all away?”

You’d tried to explain to him that no, that wasn’t what you meant when you’d suggested some time apart. You just wanted to explore other options, is all.

He gives a whiplash, humourless laugh.

“Can tell you’re lyin’ from a mile away. I know you want me, need me.”

When you roll your eyes, ready to back out of the conversation altogether, he’s on you, closing the gap between you and gripping you by your shoulders. He presses you against the wall.

“Fight it all you want, but we both know you’re just gonna come crawlin’ back, so why don’t I make this easy for ya.” His breath is hot against your cheeks, a bull on the prowl. His fingers dig into your shoulders and he gives you an impish smile. One that seems to substitute something much more insidious.

“I’ll have you begging me to fuck you by the end of the night,” he promises. “One way or another, whether you like it or not, m’gonna make you all mine.”

Gaz

Gaz has played the nice guy for far too long. This, he realises as he watches someone try to chat you up from across the bar, only to make the fatal mistake he himself had made: leaving you unattended.

Gaz wasted no time. He slithered through the crowded bar to you, taking your wrist in his hand on his way. He dragged you to a small room, dark and out of the way. He locked the door behind him.

“What was all that about, then.”

He faces away from you, but even through the dim light of the one, flickering light bulb above you, you could see his shoulders heaving, his hands clenched into fists as he awaits your response.

A friend, just some guy – it doesn’t matter. Gaz turns and bears down on you, backing you against the wall. Your hands fly up to his chest to try and quell him, to put some distance between the two of you. His heart pounds and so does yours, albeit for different reasons.

“You’re mine,” he says. He pens you in, his form broad and sculpted by horrors unknown. A hand comes to take your chin between its fingers, jerking your gaze to meet his. “Have I not worked hard enough to be able to have you yet.”

His voice cracks, though he shows no signs of crying. No, Instead he presses his front to yours. Something catches your thigh and you gasp.

“Maybe you just need reminding,” he tells you, “of how much I’ve done for you.” He rolls his hips against you, his hands coming to bolt themselves on the wall behind you, caging you.

“How much I can do.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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pupkashi · 9 months

Text

the last person you expect to patch you up is gojo satoru, so why are you knocking on his door?

a/n: hi friends! i hope you enjoy this :] im not sure if i like it very much but I’ll let u guys pick it apart and decide if i should be run off the app or not :P please let me know what u guys think !!

wordcount: 1,376

masterlist

you’re hesitant to knock on the door you’re facing, one arm squeezing your middle and the other holding you up against the wall. you’re sure you looked like we’re about to die, but still you could help but feel like death was a better option than knocking on gojo satoru’s door at 2 in the morning.

the stinging in your side leaves you no choice, lifting your hand and knocking three times. every passing second seems eternal and you almost want to just walk away and head to campus, hoping you make it until morning.

the door swings open, satoru looks at you with wide eyes and messy hair. he looks so normal, you think, taking in his appearance of sweatpants and a t shirt he must’ve thrown on seconds before.

“what the fuck happened to you?” he breathes out, not hesitating to pick you up, carrying you to his restroom and flicking the light on. if you were any more lucid you might’ve caught the genuine concern in his voice and the pounding heart in his chest.

“think the higher ups hate me” you manage to chuckle out, sucking in a sharp breathe when you try to sit up on your own.

satoru is quick to help you up, large hands gently handling you. his brows are furrowed as he looks at the state you’re in.

“why didn’t you call up shoko or go to campus or- literally anything else?!” he scold you, his voice is a higher pitch than you’re used to, he’s running his hands through his hair, tugging slightly before sighing deeply and calming himself down.

“didn’t wanna bother ‘em” you say, voice small. gojo knows in his mind you of all people could never be a bother, especially when shoko absolutely loves you.

“can i take this off?” he asks softly, tugging at your uniform top. you nod weakly, letting him work the fabric off you gently, sucking his teeth when he sees the gash on your side.

“that bad huh?” you laugh, there’s a beat of silence that you find unbearable. your eyes are heavy and the only way you can muster staying awake is by talking, words leaving your mouth without even thinking, “not gonna tell me ‘I’ve had worse’ or ‘this is nothing’ ?”

satoru only brings himself to snicker, “you’re about to pass out and you still wanna bicker with me.”

“to be fair it’s always you starting shit” you chuckle, hissing when he starts cleaning your wound. satoru mumbles a small ‘sorry’ before continuing.

you weren’t completely wrong, satoru always loved seeing you riled up. he loved watching the way the fire ignited behind your eyes when you shot something back at satoru, he loved watching your nose scrunch up when he said something stupid, he loved how you’d fight back smiles when he disrespected some asshole higher up.

“yeah, yeah, you're always saying that” he smiles, finishing up whatever he could on your side before moving to the cuts on your face.

you were still as he gently dabbed the wipes on your face, the slight stinging feeling was the last thing on your mind. the smell of his body wash was muddling your thoughts, the way his fingertips brushed against your skin gave you goosebumps.

“who sent you on the mission?” his voice was no longer playful and light. there was an edge to his voice as he spoke, and you couldn’t stop the chills that ran down your spine.

the only thing you could muster was a small shrug of your shoulders.

“it was the higher ups from last time, wasn’t it? the one you stood up to?” his voice is threatening and low, blue eyes boring into you as you tried to avoid eye contact.

“y/n, look at me” the stern tone left no room for protest, looking at him and gulping. you nodded your head, whispering a small ‘yeah.’ satoru mumbled something you couldn’t hear, his jaw clenched and hands shaking slightly.

“I’m going to kill them” he spat, taking a step back before look at you again, the sight filling him with even more rage.

“didn’t you say that wouldn’t change anything?” you stated, sitting up as best you could, trying your best to hide the pain you felt from the sudden movement.

satoru ignored your words, already making a move to head out of the bathroom door, but your voice stopped him.

“don’t- i don’t wanna be alone” you whispered, eyes watering a bit as the reality of the situation hit you all at once. “i just- nevermind” you laughed dryly, hissing as you pushed yourself off the countertop and stood.

satoru was immediately at your side holding you up, “what are you-” your words cut him off before he could finish.

“I’m gonna go home, don’t wanna bother you more than i have” you smiled, eyes still a bit teary. you’re brain doesn’t process what’s happening fast enough, only realizing what’s happening a couple seconds later when satoru’s arms are wrapped around your body.

“you aren’t going anywhere” he mumbles against the top of your head, squeezing you gently.

the warmth of his body is enough to comfort you, muscles relaxing and letting your tears spill against his chest.

“why?” you whisper, the question causing satoru to tense up against you. “why do you care so much?”

his thoughts stop for a second, the only thing on his mind is you. the way you’re looking at him in a way you never have before, with an emotion he can’t place. he can only think of one thing.

“isn’t it obvious?” he replies, voice soft, his cheeks heating up and ears burning. he’s trying to hide the slight tremble of his hands as he caressed your cheek softly, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“only obvious thing about you is your ego” you smile, laughing a bit between sniffles as satoru gasps at you.

“and you say i start things?” he giggles, picking you up softly before leading you to his bedroom. the two of you in a comfortable silence as he looks through his drawers, handing you one of his shirts and shorts for you to change into.

“you can drop me off at home-” you begin but satoru is quick to speak over you.

“I’ll sleep on the couch, there’s some toothbrushes in the top drawer under the sink,” he says, continuing to list off any other items you’d need and where to find them.

it’s ten minutes later and you’re laying in the large bed, staring at the ceiling when you find the energy to walk into the hallway, peeking around the corner and into the living room.

satoru smiled at you, the bright tv lights illuminating his figure, “cant sleep?” he asks. you nod your head, slowly making your way towards him. “c’mere” he says softly, gently moving you when you sit on the couch, letting you cuddle into his side until you were comfortable.

between the exhaustion and the comfort of satoru’s fingers running along your arm you were sound asleep in a matter of minutes (10, satoru was counting). he placed a feathery kiss to the top of you head, shifting to pick you up, carrying you to his bed and tucking you in, slipping besides you before facing the opposite direction.

you stirred a bit, mumbling something and causing satoru to turn, “y/n?” he whispered. you seemed to gravitate towards him, one of your arms finding him and tugging his shirt, making him come closer to you. still asleep, you nuzzled yourself against him, sighing softly before stilling again.

satoru draped his arm around you, keeping you close before letting his eyes shut. for tonight, he won’t think about the thing he’ll say and do to the higher ups who sent you on that mission as punishment.

instead he’ll hold you close, keeping you safe and making sure you’re well enough to argue on any and every thing possible. he’ll make you breakfast tomorrow and ask if you feel the same for him. he’ll rush you to shoko so he can kiss you with as much passion and fervor as he’s imagined since the time you almost beat him in an argument.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @luna0713hunter @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags

#not proofread we did like men as always #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru drabble #gojo x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru one shot #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fanfic #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo Drabble #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen imagine #satoru gojo x reader fluff #gojou satoru x reader

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flametrashiraarchive · 9 months

Note

Muzan x non violent demon reader with prompt "One more time! Please!"? The reader keeps wanting to feed off of him but he can't take it anymore?

(damn it, I wanna put a funny reaction pic in here but there's no option to add one ☹️☹️☹️)

You 🤝 me

Horny for Muzan

This is a follow up drabble to this

NSFW beneath the cut.

"Ohhh fuckfuckffffuck," he groaned, grabbing you by the hair and pulling you off his dick.

Muzan gasped, his back fully arching off the bed as he thrust up into your insatiable mouth. His eyes eyes rolled back and his heels dug into the mattress as you dragged him through yet another release.

You stuck out your tongue and lapped at the few drops of cum weeping from his overworked cock.

He panted, gritting his teeth as your tongue sent jolts of agonizing pleasure throughout his body. "That's enough, you wretched creature."

It had been days since you discovered you could draw strength from fluids other than his blood, and you were consuming his seed faster than his body could replenish it. How many times had you driven him to climax now? A hundred at least.

A hundred times and you were still far from satiated. "One more time! Please!"

"I have nothing left!" He moaned, voice cracking as you began to stroke his balls with the tips of your sharp fingernails.

He tried and failed to silence his cries by pressing the back of his hand to his lips. Oh he hated the way he sounded; so whiny and broken. Not even Yorichi had made him sound this pathetic.

You grinned as you watched him fall apart. "Just one more. I know you have one more for me, my king."

Muzan was infinitely more powerful than you; he could so easily put a stop to it. But he simply couldn't say no. Not to you.

"You are the bane of my damned existence." He released his hold on you, choking out a cry as your lips closed around his tip once more.

He would never admit it, but you were by far his favorite demon.

#muzan smut #muzan kibutsuji

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frogchiro · 4 months

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Silver fox! Makarov lurking outside the farm for kitty! Reader and tries to mount her at any chance he gets after courting (leaving small dead animals, some pelts he ‘found’, pretty flowers, yummy berries, anything for her) her, although she thinks he was simply being nice until he tries to knot her whenever those brutish guard dogs aren’t in sight. :’)

He definitely thinks his knot will fit in her far more better compared to others.

He was feeling romantical😭

And Vladimir's trying so so hard, really! He brings you dead animals, pelts, blankets and pillows he 'found' on someone's laundry line, he even brings you pretty forest flowers because it makes his tail wag and his sharp teeth show in a delighted smirk when he sees the pretty kitty girl swooning and fawning over his gifts!

And when you're distracted by touching and feeling the soft pelts or fawning over the pretty flowers he's cosying up to you, rubbing up against you to try and mark you with his scent so those pesky brutes back at the farm know who exactly got you. He'd nudge his head against you and try to nip on your bare shoulders before moving to your back to lick affectionally at your scruff and down the lucious, soft fur on your back before he'll finally try to get all nice and close to your back to mount you but you're...still distracted?

Makarov would let out a annoyed chuff as he noticed you're still eating those sweet berries he brought you as you purr in delight that the large male fox brought you all those gifts!

But he wants to mate with you so badly :(( Vladimir thinks that he's a much better option than those nasty dogs who just shove their cocks and knots inside you without abandon, treat you so roughly like some bitch but you're much smaller than them! More delicate! You're soft all over, your full curves and hips just begging to be worshipped and Makarov is convinced that hes the one to provide for you <3 Not to mention that he'd be a far better mate because you'd never have to 'work' again, you just lay back in his luxurious den, laid out on soft blankets and pelts and let him provide for you and fill you up with his kits <33

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #he wants a litter of nice chubby kits #hybrid au #hybrids au #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #makarov x reader #vladimir makarov cod #vladimir makarov #makarov cod #cod makarov

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glow-in-the-dark-death · 2 months

Text

Hunger

Okay hear me out!

We have all talked about how Jason gets pit rage because of the Lazarus waters being gross ecto, or how his obssession is the Joker and needing to kill him and a bunch of other things,

Yes?

With me so far?

Okay!

Let me give that a twist,

That Pit Rage Jason feels is hunger, specifically a ghosts hunger.

Jason came back from the dead not fully, he's a starving ghost with a malnourished proto-core, until he properly eats it will stay weak and hungry.

How does the Joker fit in all this?

Easy, With the lack of good ecto for Jason to feed and stabilize from the next best option is his murderer.

Consuming that who killed you is very nourishing for a new ghost.

So Jason getting angry with the bats and others when they tell him not to kill the Joker or actively prevent him from even getting near him is like putting all his favourite foods right in front of him and then taking it away from him,

Each time getting worse for Jason, only getting hungrier and hungrier each time it happens.

How would you feel if you were starving and people kept offering you food and then pulling it away before you could eat it?

Confused?

Desperate?

Anger?

It doesn't count as cannibalism if you're not the same

Jason biting the bars of his holding cell like a dog

Dick: "Is it just me or where his teeth always that sharp?"

Oracle: "I lost sight of the Joker!"

Jason hunched over with glowing green eyes while drooling: "No worries he's nearby I can smell him."

Other Bats listening on the comms: " ...What the hell do you mean smell ! Are you drooling ?!"

Bats: "Wow Jason sure is getting creative trying to get the Joker!"

Jason:

Check tags for some funny extras

Just an Idea

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ghouljams · 6 months

Text

More Viking!Soap because I couldn't think of anything to beat knight!Ghost with and I need something to be cathartic no matter how small that catharsis is.

It takes another day to reach the coast. The waves beat against the cliffside, Mactavish’s hand is tight around yours as he helps you down the rocky path. Your feet ache, and you do your best not to stumble. His hands grip your hips, lifting you up off a rock he’d jumped down from. As easy as moving a child. You’re set back on uneven ground and he doesn’t look at you. Singularly focused, you think to yourself.

You understand why. Down at the beach you can see men, fire, a long ship with a curling bow. You grip Mactavish’s hand tighter, a small comfort you cease as soon as you start. He doesn’t comment on it, except to squeeze your hand quickly in return.

“I should have asked earlier,” He mumbles, “you’re a healer, right?”

You feel your heart tumble into your stomach. That’s right, you’re only alive because you’re useful. Only brought along because he had no other options after your village was burned.

“I’m still learning,” You tell him quietly. He lets out a breath, nods shortly.

“Know more than the rest of ‘em, I’d bet.” He assures you with a smile. “Say yes the next time someone asks, you’ll live longer.”

It’s not a threat, not from him at least, but it’s a guarantee. Healers live longer, and you have nothing else to your name to defend yourself with. He certainly isn’t going to defend you. You think it might be a chill from the sea air that makes you shiver.

Mactavish walks in front of you down the beach. He keeps hold of your hand, as if you had somewhere to run to, and keeps you behind him as he approaches the other vikings. You peak around him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen men so big as them. The furs and paint on their faces denote their trade as easily as their braided hair and combed beards. Walking behind Mactavish you can see the tiny braids that wind through his hair as well, the small shiny beads and clips of metal hidden within the woody brown.

One of the men near the edge of camp spots you both and makes his way towards your companion. Your hand is dropped to clap into the waiting palm of the other viking, who embraces Mactavish with a smile.

“What took you? Thought we’d have to send out a search,” The man laughs. He feels friendly but his eyes, a warm russet against his dark skin, sharpen when they touch you. “Just the one?” He asks, “Thought there’d be more willing to work.” Your shoulders stiffen, your arms close against your sides. Danish, you think, maybe. You know it well enough to keep your mouth shut. Mactavish glances at you.

“They were burning by the time I got there,” He says quietly, the danish feels so foreign on his tongue after hearing him speak gaelic. It breaks your heart anew to hear your tragedy described so callously. It helps seeing the other man’s eyes soften. “Tell Ghost not to scare ‘er, had enough of that for a lifetime,” Mactavish finishes, and you feel something squeeze in your stomach. The other viking nods.

“Happy to have a healer aboard again,” The viking tells you, his accent is pretty decent, the gaelic smooth on his tongue. “She’s pretty,” He mumbles to Mactavish, switching back to danish as quick as could be.

“Leave it,” Mactavish warns, his teeth bared with a flash of white. You tune him out, translating is making you tired, and look around camp. The fire is roaring, and men stare at you with open curiosity. Their interest makes your skin crawl. So many men, unfamiliar men, with the same propensity for violence as all vikings. You can’t think of a deeper abyss to throw yourself into, more bears to surround yourself with. “You alright?” Mactavish asks you, the gaelic snapping you from your thoughts.

“What do you care?” You snap at him, trying to keep your barbs sharp in the hopes others will see your bite. Maybe it will keep you safe. Mactavish’s eyes slide from yours, looking at the other men in camp.

“They won’t hurt you,” He tells you. What does he know? Men never think their peers are capable of the things women warn each other about. You say nothing, and after a moment Mactavish moves. Out of the corner of your eye you see him unfasten the pin holding together the fur around his neck. He’s quick to wrap it around your shoulders, hardly bothered you haven’t tilted your chin for him as he fastens it to your earasaid. “Gods if I ever have the time,” He mumbles to himself, his fingers toying with the pin. You get the feeling he’s not used to his gaelic being understood.

“You’ll what?” You challenge, eyes still fixed on the camp. His fingers hold your chin, dragging your attention back to him. It’s a gentle movement, but you tense at his touch. He’s quick to release you.

“Court you properly,” Mactavish clears his throat, fingers fixing the fur into place, “but this’ll do for now. You have my word-” his eyes are more serious when you meet them, “-no one will touch you.”

Sure, you tug yourself from his grip, you’ll believe that when you see it.

#cod x reader #x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap modern warfare #soap cod #soap mw2 #viking!Soap #f!reader #x f!reader #hi Gaz good to see you're here #Soap staking his claim on little reader #yeah no one's gonna touch you darling don't worry

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